The Passionate Love of a Rake
Jane Lark
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Contents
I love writing authentic, passionate and emotional love stories.
I began my first novel, a historical, when I was sixteen, but life derailed me a bit when I started suffering with Ankylosing Spondylitis, so I didn’t complete a novel until after I was thirty when I put it on my to do before I’m forty list.
Now I love getting caught up in the lives and traumas of my characters, and I’m so thrilled to be giving my characters life in others’ imaginations, especially when readers tell me they’ve read the characters just as I’ve tried to portray them.
“Jane Lark has an incredible talent to draw the reader in from the first page onwards.”
Cosmo Chick Litan Book Reviews
"Any description that I give you would not only spoil the story but could not give this book a tenth of the justice that it deserves. Wonderful!"
Candy Coated Book Blog
"This book held me captive after the first 2 pages. If I could crawl inside and live in there with the characters I would."
A Reading Nurse Blogspot
“The book swings from truly swoon-worthy, tense and heart wrenching, highly erotic and everything else in between.”
Best Chick Lit.com
“I love Ms. Lark's style—beautifully descriptive, emotional and can I say, just plain delicious reading? This is the kind of mixer upper I've been looking for in romance lately.”
Devastating Reads BlogSpot
“If you think I shall allow you to rob me of my inheritance, then you may think again!” Hector had given his fortune to her freely. Had she not been through enough? She’d earned every penny of it, spending her life closeted away, body and soul, trapped in her dead husband’s private form of hell. She had earned her independence, and Hector had given it to her. She would not let his son take it away again!
Jane Grey, the young Dowager Duchess of Sutton, leaned backward, inwardly cursing herself for even this outward sign that her stepson’s intimidation was succeeding. The tenth Duke of Sutton, a man over twenty years her senior, loomed over her, applying the threat of his greater height and physical strength.
His eyes fixed on hers with a clear intent to intimidate and his hands gripped the arms of the delicate Chesterfield chair in which she sat. A chair in which she had been sitting, taking her afternoon tea in peace and solitude until his rude and uninvited intrusion.
“I am not afraid of you, Your Grace,” she hissed into his face, which was barely two inches from her own, lying through her teeth. Of course, she was, she was terrified, but she refused to let him have the upper hand. In answer, he merely growled, making her flinch and proving how fraudulent her brave words were.
He’d never actually raised a hand to her yet. However, that he was capable of it and willing to be physically violent she did not doubt. Until now, Hector had always been there. Hector had liked to play his little mind games and cared not a jot for her happiness or well-being, but out of sheer spite, he would not have let Joshua harm her. Now, there was no Hector, and no one to protect her from his arrogant, evil son.
“No,