"Should She Marry or Wait for the Love of Her Life?"
Reviewed by Joanne Bozik
Posted June 17, 2013
Romance Historical
This is my first read by Jennifer Haymore and she's
fantastic! THE DUCHESS HUNT has great characters that draw
you into the story, sensuality, lust, romance and a
splendid ending for sure! The Hawkins family siblings all
play a part in this Historical Romance, each character
learns many secrets that were hidden in their lives, many
surprises, but a very loving family indeed! Sarah Hawkins,
who's father has been the gardener for many years for the
Duke of Trent's family, is well aware that her status will
never go higher then being the gardener's daughter. But
Sarah, and the now Duke of Trent, Simon who had grown up
together fill the air with electricity and a longing for
each other that has no boundaries.
Simon has always lived his life by strict rules, for his
family name had been tarnished years ago and he is most
protective of his family's honor. Even though he's fallen
in love with Sarah, he must marry some one in the upper
class and that means breaking her heart and his.
Sarah is
an amazing heroine, she knows her station, but she is not
giving up Simon and with her courage and
love for him she awaits what her future will bring. Every
time she see's Simon with his betrothed, Sarah's heart
breaks into
pieces. She must be strong, but she's running out
of strength and she wonders how long will her broken heart
last.
One of Simon's hired men falls hard for Sarah and
begs for her to marry him, but does she say yes? Or will
she live a life of heart ache and wanting for her true love
Simon? Oh this book kept me on my toes, my heart aching
for Sarah and Simon, but it's for you to find out the
ending. THE DUCHESS HUNT is a must amazing read!
Also, along with Simon and Sarah's eternal love that may
never be, Simon's mother went missing. This keeps all the
siblings of the Trent family on their toes. A fast paced
journey for everyone to find the Duchess. Simon and his
siblings learn of many hidden secrets their mother had
hidden for many years and they are hurt, confused, but will
not give up their search for their mother. A fast paced
journey of a love so strong and a family in dire straits
searching for their missing mother.
A recommended read for sure!!!!!!!!!!!
SUMMARY
THE DUKE'S DESIRE Simon Hawkins, duke of Trent, is no
stranger to scandal. Rumors and innuendo have darkened the
House of Trent for decades, and it has fallen to Simon to
restore his tattered family name. He lives by a strict code
of honor, but when he is called home to investigate his
mother's disappearance, the distinguished duke will tangle
with temptation. For there waits the only woman he has ever
loved-and the last woman he should desire . . . Sarah
Osborne has spent her life dreaming of Simon's touch. But
dukes do not long for lady's maids-or so Sarah believes,
until a stolen kiss sparks a passion that could be her
ultimate undoing. As the couple begins a forbidden romance,
a cunning enemy plots to destroy the duke and everything he
loves. Now, caught in a blackmailer's web, Simon faces an
agonizing choice: sacrifice his family's future or break
Sarah's heart.
ExcerptThrowing her cotton robe over her chemise, Sarah left her
room and tiptoed downstairs, making certain not to disturb
any of the other members of the household. In the corridor
outside the library, where she was intending to find a dull
book to read to help her fall sleep, she stopped short.
There was a line of light along the bottom of the door.
Someone was inside.It had to be Simon. Who else would still be awake at this hour? Before she could think, before she could talk herself out of
it, she'd knocked on the door. "Come in." Simon sat on a chair by the hearth at the far end of the
long, narrow room, which was sparsely furnished except for
the rows of bookshelves along the walls and two carved
wooden chairs and a table near the hearth. He looked toward
the door with a bemused expression that relaxed when he saw
her hovering on the threshold. "Sarah. Come in," he
repeated, setting his full glass on a side table and rising
to greet her. "It's not necessary to stand, Your Grace." "Yes, it is, Miss Osborne." She couldn't help the pull of a smile on her lips at the way
he addressed her. Simon wasn't wearing his coats. Only his shirt, open at the
top and showing a vee of golden flesh, and the breeches he'd
worn to the ball. Instantly, a tingling flush rose to
Sarah's cheeks. Tearing her gaze away from the sight of him
so...undressed, she moved across the room toward the
chair he was gesturing to, inhaling the pleasant essences of
leather and cigar smoke. Simon had told her that his father
had the habit of smoking cheroots in this room, and the
smell had permeated into the walls and never faded away. He
resumed his seat when she lowered herself into hers. "I couldn't sleep," she admitted. "Nor I." "We both should sleep," she said. Their schedules
were busy tomorrow. He gave a soft laugh. "Probably." She stared at the hearth, but feeling his gaze on her, she
glanced at him. "Did you enjoy the evening?" He'd danced with six different young ladies—twice with
Miss Stanley. She'd counted. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. "It
was...acceptable." She cocked a brow at him, but only said, "Ah." They sat in comfortable silence. Simon retrieved his glass
from the table and took a few sips of the amber liquid.
Sarah soaked up the heat of the fire and basked in the
luxury of having Simon close to her without the presence of
others. "Lady Esme—" she finally began. Lord, how to finish
that sentence? "She...struggled." He nodded. "I know." "Oh." She hadn't been sure he'd noticed his sister's extreme
discomfort tonight, but she was glad he had. Sarah gave him
a sidelong glance. "And...?" He fingered the rim of his glass. "I think her reticence is
due to her being sheltered in the country. The more she is
exposed to such gatherings, the more comfortable she'll become." "Do you truly believe that?" "I do." "Perhaps your theory will prove true," she conceded after a
minute. "In the meantime...she tried so very hard tonight." "She performed..." he hesitated, then said, "adequately.
Better than her last ball, by far." Sarah didn't want to know what had transpired at Esme's last
ball if this showing had been far better. "She wants so desperately to please you." He frowned. "Please me? Why?" Sarah laughed. "How can you not know, Your Grace? You are
her older brother, the head of the family. You are the Duke
of Trent. Everyone wishes to please you, but probably no one
more than Esme." Except Sarah herself, of course. Now it was Simon who stared into the flames. "I am just her
brother. Just someone who wants the best for her. We'll keep
trying. She'll continue to improve." "I hope so." "I have thought more than once tonight that her improvement
was due to having you at her side." "Oh, no. Your mother was at her side last year, and the
duchess is a far more formidable ally than I." "She is that, but she is also quite social and had a
tendency to ignore my sister. Leaving her to the wolves, so
to speak." "Oh." Sarah's heart clenched. It made sense. The duchess
knew everyone, spoke to everyone, was the most gregarious
soul Sarah had ever known. She could see the older woman
flitting from person to person, leaving poor Esme to fend
for herself. "But you remained by her side," Simon said. "It is my duty to do so." "Still—I wish you would have danced." "What?" His eyes met hers, held her steady in his gaze. "I would
have liked to see you dance. I would have liked to dance
with you." "I do not stand at Lady Esme's side as her equal, Your
Grace," she reminded him gently. As Lady Esme's companion,
she could not encourage invitations to dance. Her duty was
to be an observer, a protector of her lady's interests. He was quiet for a moment, staring down into the liquid he
swirled in his glass. "I know Miss Farnshaw taught you how.
I watched you once, years ago." "Did you?" she breathed. "I did." He raised his gaze, met her eyes. "I watched you
dance a minuet in the parlor." "Oh." Something about the way he was looking at her sent a
soft heat flushing through her from the inside out. "I wanted to dance with you then. I wanted to dance with you
tonight, too. Did you not wish you had danced this evening?" She considered this. She would have liked to dance, yes, to
take the place of Miss Stanley on Simon's arm. But how could
she tell him that? Suddenly, firmly, he set the glass on the side table and
rose. He held out his hand to her. She stood without thinking, reached out to take his hand.
Like when he'd helped her into the carriage earlier, his
grasp was warm and strong, but now was different. Now she
touched his bare skin, felt the roughness of his fingertips
under the sensitive flesh of her palm. His hand was warm and
dry. Intoxicating. Touching him like this, skin to skin, was
a heady feeling, indeed. "A minuet," he murmured. "Dance with me, Sarah." He stepped back and bowed formally to her. Entranced, she
curtsied back. They both took a step, and he swept up her
right hand once more in his firm grip. They turned to face
the closed door at the other end of the room, and as he
hummed the notes, they danced forward then began the figures
and turns of the minuet. Throughout it all, Simon's lips
pressed together, humming the notes in a low tenor, and his
eyes never left hers. In the minuet, the couple came in contact with each other
infrequently, and when they were separated and dancing to
the corners of the room or turning to complete their
figures, Sarah ached for the moment when they would come
together again, only their hands contacting, those strong
fingers curving around her palm. It was the slightest touch, the rarest contact between the
two of them. But with his green eyes focused solely on her,
his bare hand touching nothing but her, Sarah had never felt
anything so erotic. Each time her skin connected with his, a
deep shudder ran through her. Finally he gathered both her hands in his, and as they
turned, Sarah realized this was the end. The humming notes
stopped, and he let her go, stepping back once more to bow. She curtsied, and he straightened as she rose. They stood there, in the center of the room, staring at each
other. The depths of his dark green eyes held her in his
thrall, so heavy with the weight of the world, and at that
moment, she wanted to wipe it all away—the pressures
of Parliament and government and his position. Worries about
his sister...and his mother. "I wished it had been me," she said softly. "When you were
dancing with Miss Stanley and the others. I wished you were
dancing with me." He gazed at her unspeaking for a moment. Then he said, "I
did, too." He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed
his lips to hers. The feel of him, of their lips gliding against each other,
sent fireworks exploding through her. She dragged him harder
against her, heard his ragged whisper, "Sarah." Their lips moved in a hot, sensual slide. His hand rubbed
tight circles over her lower back...and lower, until he
cupped her bottom, pulling her against him so the hard ridge
of his arousal pressed against her abdomen. The feel of it,
of that most primitive, masculine part of him, sent a carnal
shudder racing through her. His mouth moved down her chin, and she kissed his rough
cheek, then tilted her neck as he moved her braid aside with
his free hand to kiss her there. His lips pressed against her jaw, then caressed the shell of
her ear before kissing their way back to her mouth, seeking,
exploring. Sensation washed over her. Not only in the places his mouth
touched, but all over and through her. Deep yearning.
Longing. Need. She gave a small whimper, clutched him tighter, kissed his
bare, warm skin wherever her mouth could reach him. She
wanted more. So much more. His arousal grew, pressed against her lower belly, so hard
and so hot she could feel the heat between the layers of
their clothes. His hand moved from her neck to the opening in her robe,
cupping her breast over her nightgown, his thumb running
over her nipple, hardening it into a sensitized nub that
strained against the fabric of her chemise. She pressed her body tighter against him, blindly seeking
his lips with her own. She caught them, moving against him in a brazen kiss that
she hadn't known she was capable of. He tasted like man and
desire. Cedar and spice. So delicious. She didn't know how
she'd ever get enough. Suddenly his hands moved from her buttocks and breast to her
upper arms. With a low groan, he pushed her back. "Stop." She gazed at him, clawing through the haze of desire that
had overcome her. "No, Simon." He blinked at the use of the familiar name and, from a part
of her deep inside, she froze. Reality crashed in. Forcing her frozen neck to move, she
swung her head away. "Sarah, look at me." He cupped her hands in his palms, and
warmth instantly flushed through her, combating the cold. "I...Sarah, I want you. But I don't want to hurt you.
I'm not the kind of man who...uses women." "I know you're not." One of the reasons she adored him. "So you see why we can't, why I can't...?" "I'm not a fool, Your Grace," she said softly. Sarah knew
that no matter what happened between them, no matter what
power he had over her, Simon would never take advantage of
her. "I know what I am doing. What I want." Simon flinched. "I don't want to ruin you." "I know," she whispered. "But sometimes I wish you did." With that, and with a huge force of will, she turned and
left the room.
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