The long awaited sequel to USA Today Bestselling Waltzing with the Wallflower has arrived! Don't miss Anthony and Bridget's story! Rachel and I are so excited about this new release, we decided to celebrate with a giant giveaway! There are prizes and chances to win on both of our blogs, as well as things to do on our Facebook pages. You can test your knowledge of Waltzing with the Wallflower, Ambrose and Cordelia's story, with trivia questions, suggest ideas for the title of Wilde and Gemma's story, access buy links, and more!
Enter the giveaway for my blog below. Then go visit Rachel's blog and enter hers too! Double your chances at winning!
They walked in awkward silence all the way to the end of the block. Bridget stopped at the house on the corner and followed the path to the front door, and without knocking she let herself in.
“Are you mad? You cannot simply let yourself into someone’s house! Whatever would people think? What would they say—?”
“Bridget, my dear, is that you?” a man’s voice called.
Anthony cursed. “A man? You’re here to meet a man? And dressed as a boy? Could this possibly get worse? You shun my attentions for another?”
“Bridget?” The voice was hoarse and weak.
“Merciful heavens! I will never live this down,” Anthony mumbled to himself as he followed the girl around the corner.
His eyes fell on an elderly gentleman who seemed to have one foot in the grave. “Ah, Bridget, my dear, are you ready for your fencing lesson?”
“I was wrong. It just became much worse.” Anthony began to perspire as Bridget shed her coat and rolled up her sleeves. Smooth fair skin peeked out from her white shirt, causing his nostrils flare in agitation or arousal — he wasn’t quite sure which, but he was certain the temperature in the house just spiked at least ten degrees. And where was the blasted butler with refreshments?
“And you are?” the elderly gentleman asked.
“Viscount Maddox at your service.” He bowed curtly before the man and waited.
“I’m sorry, Lord Travis. He insisted on following me.”
“How fortuitous, my dear. You shall have a sparring partner.”
“Sparring partner?” Anthony repeated and began to laugh. “Surely you jest.”
“I never jest.” The man made no move to smile or breathe, it seemed.
“Right, then.” Anthony shifted on his heels. “So I’ll just…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead he silently cursed his brother and Wilde as he shook off his jacket and readied himself for battle… against a woman. The very woman he was supposed to be winning.
Truly, the odds were not in his favor.
“En garde!” Bridget yelled.