Publication Order of Short Story Collections Four Weddings and a Sixpence Beschreibung bei Amazon Elizabeth Boyle is one of the prominent authors of America who has written a number of exciting novels based on the historical and contemporary romance genres. The members of her family say that she has always been an excellent storyteller. Moving ahead with her far-fetched tales about her imaginary cow or several other fictitious accounts, she went on to write and publish her first novel titles Brazen Angel. This novel made its entry with a bang and won the Dell Diamond Award in the category of the best debut novel. Since then, author Boyle has gone on to pen down more than 20 adventurous and romance books in her writing career. As many as 17 of her novels have appeared on the bestseller lists of a number of literary magazines such as the New York Times, the USA Today, etc.
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Brazen Temptress has been published in Italian, German and Russian. Sensous, adventuresome, and enthralling, Elizabeth Boyle weaves a tale of splendor. Highly recommended. The deception are peeled away, revealing one surprise after another. The black robed magistrate of the Admiralty court continued his high-pitched rail at a ragtag group of prisoners standing before him. In the last bench near the doorway, the Lord Admiral shook his head. If only Captain Johnston could be so lucky to have a dying father—at least a wealthy titled one.
Instead, he was the fifth son of a poor fisherman, who had barely a net to cast out, let alone a title. Still, what was a captain without a ship? He barely listened to the proceedings before them, for he knew that Porter loved the sound of his own voice and the poor buggers would be half-dead before they ever saw the hangman. He was almost as anxious as the smugglers to learn what Porter had in store for them.
A ship. The Lord Admiral had the largesse and the power to grant one. And Will needed a ship. Almost as much as he needed a drink.
Shifting in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest and held back the shakes threatening to reveal his poor condition to the very man who could give him what he wanted. The Lord Admiral. He glanced over at the man beside him, his pressed and crisp uniform glittering in sharp contrast to the wrinkled tatters worn by the prisoners.
An admiral! Now look at them—an Admiral, a respected magistrate, and a tired, broken captain. The image of the beautiful lady rose up before his weary eyes as if in portent of a future so close at hand. Beneath his feet he could almost feel the pitch of the deck as the bonny new ship danced with the waves, the sun in his eye as he charted a new course, the smell of tar and pitch and new paint filling his nostrils. Never mind that a war raged out on those seas.
A man could forget about his thirst when such things surrounded him, ruled his life. Why after that damned pirate de Ryes sunk the Greco and the Joyful, he sailed right up into a Scottish harbor and demanded the villagers provision him out of the government stores. Damn cheek, these Americans. He had no desire to go out and seek fame and fortune by hunting down the likes of de Ryes. No, he just wanted a nice packet to sail. Steady work, commanding a packet.
No worries about privateers seeking their fortunes against you. Just back and forth between England and some far flung port. The Lord Admiral shot a scornful look up at the prisoners before them. And you right alongside me, my friend. He was already on half pay, and even that he knew was only through the generosity of his old shipmate, the Lord Admiral.
But go after de Ryes? He licked his lips and thought about the bottle of rum he had hidden in his study back home. De Ryes. The notorious American privateer had sunk far better sailors than Will, and now the Lord Admiral thought to send him out into that fray? Will might need a commission, but not one that would leave him in an icy Atlantic grave. I need your help. Our lives. He knows their cargo and when they are sailing. While his wife, Mary, was the daughter of a viscount, and still had some connections in the ton, their financial situation had limited their social rank.
The type of society that would give de Ryes access to such highly secretive information could come only at the top levels. You and Porter are my oldest friends. There would be no ship, not today. Perhaps he even had a plan, one he needed Porter and him to implement, to do his dirty work. Something he would be for the rest of his days. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Up at the bench, Porter cleared his throat. And you, Captain Hawthorne, fate has different course for you.
I order that you be hanged by your neck until dead. He perked up in his seat to study the prisoner at the end of the row. Too slight, and too straight for a man in his sixties. Even if he was alive, which was highly unlikely. Will glanced over at the Lord Admiral to see if the name affected him in any way, but Cottwell sat with his usual ramrod posture and unruffled features.
Captain Hawthorne, indeed. It was this damn lack of drink—it was making him hear things. Will blinked and looked closer. Traders indeed! The Lord Admiral bowed his head slightly, then stood. Like the waters off a far away Caribbean island. Warm and deep and clear. And familiar. Too familiar. But not this woman. All it garnered from her was a cocky lift of one dark brow.
Then her knowing glance fell on Will. Her eyes held him in a wary trance. Years slipped away and he was once again in a courtroom looking into a pair of eyes that blamed him, cursed him. And now they beheld him once again. No, he told himself. He washed the thought away. It was an idea worse than a life without rum.
But the girl still studied at him as if she sensed his fears. She was right. Cottwell glared at the guards, who finally got back to the task at hand and prodded their prisoners forward. But Maureen Hawthorne was not done. Someone like me. Enough to know what he looks like. It was her turn to rise up to her full height.
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