THE DUKE IS WICKED by Tracy Sumner - Excerpt
A wicked duke. A troublesome beauty. And the forbidden desire they can't deny. Enjoy a peek at Tracy Sumner's League of Lords series with an excerpt from The Duke is Wicked.
The Duke is Wicked
THE NEVERS + BRIDGERTON mashup! Historical romance with a sexy splash of the supernatural.
The wild child of America meets the Duke. AKA The Fireball.
“Regency fans will savor the romantic fireworks! Sparks fly between a sultry English lord and a feisty American heiress!”—Kirkus Reviews
He's harboring a fiery secret....
The Duke of Ashcroft is determined to keep the League of Lords under wraps. After all, the group's supernatural gifts brought the mystical misfits together and nobody is going to tear them apart. Intelligent and wily, Sebastian knows better than to trust anyone--especially an impulsive and intrusive American woman.
She's looking for answers...
Competitive and confident, Delaney Temple is hellbent on uncovering the truth about the League. She'll stop at nothing to unearth the secrets they're burying. But when Sebastian is in trouble and Delaney comes to his rescue, their contempt turns to a burning desire. Suddenly, with their passion ignited, they can no longer deny their attraction.
A wicked duke. A troublesome beauty. And the forbidden desire they can't deny.
League of Lords series (steamy Victorian psychic romance):
#1 The Lady is Trouble (Julian & Piper)
#2 The Rake is Taken (Finn & Victoria)
#3 The Duke is Wicked (Sebastian & Delaney)
#4 The Hellion is Tamed (Simon & Emma)
"The Duke is Wicked will light a fire!"—Fresh Fiction
In the author's words . . .
The League of Lords is very unique to the genre and was a TRUE passion project. Think sexy dukes who have mystical powers! I loved writing the series (which is standing at four right now -- and may grow) because it's been a fun job of world-building and building incredible love stories! Happy reading!
Enjoy an Excerpt from
The Duke is Wicked
Later that night, Delaney stuffed her hair beneath the plaid paddy cap and regarded herself in the mirror.
A pair of her brother’s trousers, badly hemmed and roughed up a bit, hugged her hips. A ratty shirt and coat she’d purchased from the rag-and-bone man with coins she was still getting used to, ones the trader had snatched from her hand before she was able to do a proper exchange in her head. The riding boots were her own, but nicked and muddy, hidden in the back of her wardrobe, away from the fastidious eyes of her maid. She could certainly pass as a delivery boy, a scamp creeping through the night. Her curves were few, her frame slender. Her breasts, alas not so small, tightly bound and out of sight. Many a twelve-year-old had more bulk than she did.
She wondered what accent would work best, puzzling over it as she sneaked down the narrow service staircase through the vacant kitchens and into the side garden. The cap looked Irish, and she’d been practicing that one. But her cockney was very, very good, and as her papa used to say, why mend what wasn’t broken?
She passed the duke’s ground-level bedroom and came to a skidding halt. The window was open, the velvet curtain drawing in and out like a breath. She’d gotten a good look inside the room—and seen no duke.
She’d revealed too much earlier after touching that blasted rock, mentioning her attic, then had to stand there and watch him try to jam the pieces of her life’s puzzle into place. But what it had done, that hunk of fluorite, had knocked her off her feet. Illumination wasn’t a suitable description. It had been like stepping into a cave first exposed to sunlight and finally seeing the drawings on the wall. Her attic, for the first time, had been brilliantly lit. Every book, every word, visible.
When Sebastian Tremont had ripped the Soul Catcher from her hand, she’d experienced a moment’s panic, envy, hunger. Dangerous feelings, dangerous need.
She wasn’t getting tripped up, involved any more than a duke and his unfortunate allergy to bee stings had already involved her.
“Well, well, this night is full of surprises. Here I am, looking at the stars and wishing this teacup was filled with gin, and what do I find? A young man peering into my window with a perplexed look on her, I mean his, face. A young man with riding boots more costly than a year’s lease on many a hovel in this city, creatively scuffed though they may be. A young man, I suspect, in the midst of a caper.” Sebastian issued a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort. Disdainful, whatever it was. “The good news is, with you to entertain me, I no longer need opium.”
Delaney bit the inside of her cheek and glanced over her shoulder. Moonlight speared the yard, diluted by the choking haze that seemed a never-ending part of this blighted city, but it was enough. The Duke of Ashcroft leaned casually against her garden wall, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other wrapped around a teacup that looked ridiculously fragile in his grasp, shirttail flowing over his hips, collar and cuffs absent. His voice was polished and precise, all that was English refinement, but the man looked more bandit than duke. He would have fit in well on the high seas with a sword tucked in his fist.
Appealing, this juxtaposition, because she was foolish and attracted to trouble.
Only foolish people liked life’s petite calamities.
“Come and let me look at this disguise of yours.” Snaking his hand from his pocket, he beckoned with a crook of his finger, and her blood simmered as it galloped through her veins. Anger and attraction. “What one chooses to hide behind is usually a self-portrait.”
She cursed sharply and stalked from the garden, sure his frailty would render him unable to catch her. Of all the arrogant…he had no sway over her, no influence, no control. But he was quick, although winded, when he reached her, grasping her arm and spinning her to face him with a surprising show of might. “You’re mad if you think you’re marching out of here at midnight dressed like that.”
“I have a meeting, and I’m not going to miss it. Unhand me, Tremont. I’m not one of your withering English roses.” She yanked on her arm, but he only tightened his hold.
“Does your brother, the better half of the Terrible Two, know about this?”
Oh, he wanted to get her that way. Men. She balled her hands into fists, refusing to answer. Which was all the answer he needed.
“Shall I find him, ask him to provide proper accompaniment?”
“You mongrel.” And with this yank, Sebastian released her.
End of Excerpt.
Excerpt Copyright © Tracy Sumner. Shared with permission.
“Serious steaminess!" — Coffee Time Romance Reviews
Award-winning author Tracy Sumner’s storytelling career began when she picked up a historical romance on a college beach trip, and she fondly blames LaVyrle Spencer for her obsession with the genre. She’s a recipient of the National Reader’s Choice, and her novels have been translated into Dutch, German, Portuguese and Spanish. She lived in New York, Paris and Taipei before finding her way back to the Lowcountry of South Carolina.
When not writing sizzling love stories about feisty heroines and their temperamental-but-entirely-lovable heroes, Tracy enjoys reading, snowboarding, college football (Go Tigers!), yoga, and travel. She loves to hear from romance readers!
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: League of Lords, book 3
Release: March 2, 2021
Content Rating: 4 Hearts: We're getting hot in here! These characters know how to have a good time. Lucky for us, they don't go into too much detail. R (1)
Limited Time Giveaway
Answer one of the questions below for a chance to win two signed copies of The Duke is Wicked or The Ice Duchess, with bookmarks and cover magnet + stickers!
Question 1: What is a special power of one of the heroes in the League of Lords? Julian -- Finn -- Bastian -- Simon.
Question 2: What book made you fall in love with the romance genre?
This giveaway is open everywhere. Contiguous US shipping only for print copies; digital for all other locations. You must be 18 years of age or older to enter. Void where prohibited by law. Giveaway is sponsored by the author. Ends 9/31/2021.
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