By:
Vanessa Kelly
Releasing
August 30, 2016.
Zebra
Zebra
BlurbFirst,
Vanessa Kelly brought readers The Renegade Royals. Now, in a
delightfully witty new series, she introduces The Improper
Princesses—three young women descended from royalty, each bound for
her own thrilling adventure . . .
Despite
being the illegitimate daughter of a prince, Gillian Dryden is
happily ignorant of all social graces. After growing up wild in
Italy, Gillian has been ordered home to England to find a suitable
husband. And Charles Valentine Penley, the excessively proper,
distractingly handsome Duke of Leverton, has agreed to help transform
her from a willful tomboy to a blushing debutante.
Powerful
and sophisticated, Charles can make or break reputations with a
well-placed word. But his new protégée, with her habit of hunting
bandits and punching earls, is a walking scandal. The ton is aghast .
. . but Charles is thoroughly intrigued. Tasked with taking the
hoyden in hand, he longs to take her in his arms instead. Can such an
outrageous attraction possibly lead to a fairytale ending?
Link
to Follow Tour:
http://www.tastybooktours.com/2016/05/my-fair-princess-improper-princesses-1.html
Goodreads
Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28109694-my-fair-princess
Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/172996-the-improper-princesses
Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/172996-the-improper-princesses
Buy Links: Amazon | B & N | Google Play | iTunes | Kobo
Google
Play:
https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Vanessa_Kelly
_My_Fair_Princess?id=cHgkCwAAQBAJ
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/my-fair-princess/id1086437948?mt=11
_My_Fair_Princess?id=cHgkCwAAQBAJ
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/my-fair-princess/id1086437948?mt=11
Author
Info
Vanessa Kelly is an award-winning author who was named by Booklist, the review journal of the American Library Association, as one of the “New Stars of Historical Romance.” Her Regency-set historical romances have been nominated for awards in a number of contests, and her second book, Sex and The Single Earl, won the prestigious Maggie Medallion for Best Historical Romance. Her current series, The Renegade Royals is a national bestseller. Vanessa also writes USA Today bestselling contemporary romance with her husband, under the pen name of VK Sykes.
Excerpt
The
bandit scum had killed Step-papa, his two bodyguards, and the young
groom accompanying him on that fateful trip through the Gorges of
Tiberio. It was fitting that Gillian would deliver justice in almost
the same spot where those innocents had breathed out their last
moments of existence.
Her
brother cursed under his breath. “Gillian, this should not be your
life.”
“Do
I look like a proper young lady to you?”
He
cast a sardonic glance at her attire—sheepskin coat, buckskin
breeches, and riding boots. “You could be. You’re an attractive,
respectable-looking girl when you’re not disguised as a
bloodthirsty ruffian.”
“I
thought you, of all people, would understand,” she said,
exasperated.
“I
do, but if you continue along this course, it will take its toll.
Killing always does.”
She
managed not to flinch. “I don’t have a choice.”
“There
is always a choice, Gillian.”
She
flicked her gaze back to Falcone, who was sitting on a rock as he
smoked a pipe. He was also splendidly out in the open, but she had to
get closer.
“There’s
no point in discussing this. I’m doing it,” she said.
“No,
I will—”
“It
was my fault,” she hissed. “That’s why I
have to do it. No one
else.”
He
frowned. “I don’t understand.”
She
had to swallow before she could answer. “It’s my fault that my
stepfather was murdered. I sent him straight into Falcone’s line of
fire.”
“So
. . . it’s guilt that motivates you. Killing Falcone will likely be
nothing more than an empty victory, if such is the case.” Griffin
squeezed her arm. “As long as you continue to blame yourself, you
will never find peace.”
She
hoped to God he was wrong. He had to be wrong. “You are the most
irritating man I have ever met.”
“So
my wife informs me on a regular basis.”
Below
them, Falcone knocked the tobacco out of his pipe and then hauled his
formidable bulk to his feet. Gillian mentally cursed as he began to
stroll over to join his men under the trees.
She
turned and signaled to Stefano and his grandson. The old man pulled
his pistol from the brace on his saddle, ready to cover her back.
“Griffin,
help me or not, but I’m doing this now.” Before he could answer,
she slung her rifle across her back and slithered away from the edge.
As quickly as she dared, she crawled down the narrow, rutted path
that ran along the rim of the gorge. If she stood, it was unlikely
the men below would notice her, but she was taking no chances.
Falcone had evaded her too many times over the years.
Her
brother followed her. She could practically feel him seething with
frustration, but he made not a sound. She had to give him credit—he
was awfully good.
A
few feet short of her goal, Gillian held up a hand to halt her
brother’s advance. She stole a quick glance over her shoulder. Just
behind them Stefano crouched, his tanned, leathery features cast into
shade by his broad-brimmed hat. Griffin’s expression registered
shock at the sight of the old man so close, pistols at the ready.
Stefano might be getting on in years, but he was still vital and
strong. He could move like a ghost, silent and lethal, at her
command.
After
crooking a finger to signal Griffin to follow, Gillian wriggled up to
the edge of the cliff. She cautiously peered over the rocks and saw
the bandits under a stand of beech trees, their attention on their
flasks of wine as they waited for the rabbits to cook over the open
flame. Unfortunately, Falcone was half obscured by one of his men and
was partly in shade. She would have to stand up if she wanted a clear
shot.
She
came up in a crouch and pulled the rifle from her back. She’d
already checked it three times, but did so once more. The Baker was a
fine weapon. It had belonged to a Hussar, and had a light, short
carbine, which made it easier to handle. But it was less accurate
than rifles used by sharpshooters. Although she could reload quickly
if she missed her shot, she’d make an inviting target while she
did.
So
get it right the first time.
Griffin
came up beside her. He gave her a terse nod as he brought his rifle
to bear on the men below. But he then sucked in a harsh breath when
Gillian rose swiftly to her feet, taking aim at Falcone.
As
bad luck would have it, an eagle soared right overhead, screeching
out a cry. The men below automatically glanced up, directly at her
and Griffin.
Gillian
fired. The shot echoed through the gorge in a deafening report.
Another boom followed as Griffin fired a second later. Falcone
stumbled against a low rock, roaring as he clutched his shoulder.
Another bandit went down like a sack of grain tossed from a cart.
The
other bandits scrambled for their weapons.
“Get
down, you daft woman,” Griffin barked, reaching to pull her away
from the edge.
Gillian
evaded his grasp, sliding on the rocky scree and almost losing her
footing. Still, she managed to recover and reload. Griffin did the
same as he let loose a string of hair-raising curses. She yanked up
her rifle, took aim, and fired again.
A
moment later, a bullet slammed into her shoulder, throwing her to the
ground. The back of her head connected with rock, and pain exploded
through her skull. Gillian lay there stunned, staring up at a sky
that shimmered with a milky haze. Her ears rang with the sound of a
thousand church bells.
Move,
you idiot.
She
couldn’t—not even one blessed finger.
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