One pragmatic industrialist is about to learn
that a man may make his own destiny,
but love is a matter of fortune . . .
BARON
The Knickerbocker Club #2
Joanna Shupe
Releasing Oct 25th, 2016
Kensington Zebra
New York
City’s Gilded Age shines as bright as the power-wielding men of the
Knickerbocker Club. And one pragmatic industrialist is about to learn that a
man may make his own destiny, but love is a matter of fortune . . .
Born into one of New York’s most
respected families, William Sloane is a railroad baron who has all the right
friends in all the right places. But no matter how much success he achieves, he
always wants more. Having secured his place atop the city’s highest echelons of
society, he’s now setting his sights on a political run. Nothing can distract
him from his next pursuit—except, perhaps, the enchanting con artist he never
saw coming . . .
Ava Jones has eked out a living the
only way she knows how. As “Madame Zolikoff,” she hoodwinks gullible audiences
into believing she can communicate with the spirit world. But her carefully
crafted persona is nearly destroyed when Will Sloane walks into her life—and
lays bare her latest scheme. The charlatan is certain she can seduce the
handsome millionaire into keeping her secret and using her skills for his
campaign—unless he’s the one who’s already put a spell on her . . .
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Will dropped his arm, releasing her. “You don’t seem to
grasp the gravity of the situation. My job is to make you understand. By
whatever means necessary.”
“Whatever means necessary? Goodness, you are determined. What
if I said I’d leave John alone if you agreed to play a part in my act
next Monday?”
“A-a part . . in your act?” He threw his head back and
laughed, the strong cords of his throat popping and shifting under rough skin.
Ava suddenly experienced a sharp urge to drag her tongue over those ridges, to
taste his laugh on her lips.
Sakes alive, she had to stop this. She jerked her gaze to the
street, mortification burning through her veins. There could be no thoughts of
that nature, especially around William Sloane. For pity’s sake,
he probably demanded proof of a woman’s pedigree before he
agreed to kiss her. Besides, she’d flirted with her baser
nature years ago, as a young girl, and where had that gotten her? A lump formed
in her throat, and the heavy weight of regret stole her breath.
You played with fire, girl. Now you’ve
gone and gotten yourself burned.
Her mother’s shrill voice rang in Ava’s head.
Yes, she had been stupid. Not a day went by when she didn’t remind
herself never to be stupid again.
He finally stopped laughing, the cad. “I would not lower
myself to a part in your act if it would secure me the presidency.”
“Are you certain? Because I can easily convince John he needs
to see me twice a week.”
That drove the amusement from his expression. “You wouldn’t dare. I
swear, if you do—”
“Calm down, railroad man. I do have other clients. Even for
John, I’m not certain I have the time.” She shot him a glare. “But I
could make the time if you don’t leave me alone.”
“I cannot leave you alone until you promise to leave John
alone. I have too much to lose if this gets out. Or if you decide to sell his
secrets.”
“You have my word I won’t,” she snapped. “Why can’t you
accept it and go back to passing out campaign buttons?”
“Forgive me if I have a problem accepting the word of a woman
donning a blond wig and adopting a Russian accent—which is abysmal, by the way.
Have you ever met a real Russian?”
Mercy, she was tired of the insults from this man. As if he
had to remind everyone he met how inferior they were to his sublime greatness.
“Don’t you have an empire to run? How is it that a man in charge
of so much has this much free time to gad about the city?”
“I do not possess any free time,” he said. “Absolutely none.
In fact, I left a very important meeting when I learned you were at Bennett’s. Which
means my nine o’clock dinner reservations will be forfeit for supper at my
desk instead.”
She slid her bottom lip out in a pout. “Oh, you poor, poor millionaire. I’m sure
whichever half-witted innocent you were escorting tonight will understand.”
Funny, his eyes stayed on her lips. Did railroad man have an
affinity for plump lips? Hers were on the large side, along with her bosom. He’d stared
at that a time or two as well, she’d noticed. No doubt he was
used to the thin, graceful women of the upper Fifth Avenue set, pale women who
remained indoors. Who never had a hair out of place. Who could afford a decent
corset to flatten their breasts. Ava’s curves and olive skin
probably fascinated him, like one of Barnum’s
oddities.
Well, he could stare all he liked. Perhaps she could even use
his fascination to her advantage. Men like Will Sloane would not care for an
aggressive, modern woman. Undoubtedly, he’d prefer a docile creature
who stayed at home, sipping tea, until he returned from his club. Was that not
what every spoiled, rich man desired?
If such was the case, a little boldness on her part should
scare him off for good.
“Do you ever back down?” he asked her.
She leaned in, pleased to see his gray eyes flash and darken.
He smelled faintly of expensive soap, like sandalwood and lemons, and she
looked at him through her lashes. “Never,” she whispered. “I never back down,
and you would do well to remember it, Mr. Sloane.”
Raising a fist, she pounded on the side of the carriage.
“Here, if you please!” The driver pulled to the side of the street and slowed
the horse. When they came to a stop, she opened the door. “Thank you for the
ride.” Jumping down to the sidewalk, she disappeared into the crowd.
Thank you for hosting BARON today!
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