**Scandal’s Promise by Pamela Gibson**
Good Morning,
Everyone! So thrilled to see you all today! I am thrilled to be able to share a
new-to-me author with you all today. I love discovering authors and this is a
fantastic way to get a glimpse into compatibility between a reader and author.
So let’s go for it! Please allow me to introduce to the blog Pamela Gibson and
her latest release, SCANDAL’S PROMISE … Plus, a GIVEAWAY!
**PAMELA GIBSON**
**BIO**
Author
of eight books on California history and fifteen romance novels, Pamela
Gibson is a former City Manager who lives in the Nevada desert.
Having spent the last three years messing about in boats, a hobby that
included a five-thousand-mile trip in a 32-foot Nordic Tug,
she now spends most of her time indoors happily reading, writing,
cooking and keeping up with the antics of Ralph, the Rescue Cat.
To
find out more about Ms. Gibson, please visit:
**SCANDAL’S PROMISE**
Publication
date:
August 19th, 2020
Genres:
Adult, Historical Romance
**BLURB**
Haunted by questions and her
own insecurities, Lady Emily Sinclair longs to discover why her betrothed
abandoned her and married another. Seven years have passed, but the pain of his
betrayal still lingers, buried beneath layers of humiliation and mistrust.
When he returns after the Napoleonic Wars, she vows to avoid him. If only her
foolish heart felt the same.
Broken and addicted to his medication, widower Andrew Quimby,
Lord Cardmore, rattles around his ancient manor, oblivious to his deteriorating
health and state of mind. When he learns the woman he was forced to
abandon remains unmarried, he vows to try to win her back, even if it means
returning to a society he despises.
But Andrew soon discovers he has a secret enemy. Threatening
notes appear and sinister accidents put those in his inner circle in danger.
Can he overcome his demons in time to keep them safe or will everyone and
everything he loves disappear forever.
**EXCERPT**
She found her room and closed her door,
breathing hard. Her hand still tingled from the physical contact, and her body
trembled with delicious aches she refused to name. She was exhausted, and the
wine had dissolved her usual barriers. If Andrew had tugged a little harder,
she would have dropped into his lap and made a proper fool of herself.
Her room, right across the hall from
Andrew’s, enveloped her in warmth as she disrobed and found her nightwear in
the valise Aunt Lily had sent. Someone had freshened the water in the ewer and
placed a drying towel next to it. A lighted candle was placed on a table close
to the bed. Andrew knew she loved to read and probably had it put there in case
she couldn’t sleep.
That would not be the case tonight.
She felt like the ghost of Hamlet’s father,
walking the parapets with unseeing eyes. Her movements were methodical, but if
she looked in a mirror, she’d see blank eyes glazed over from a full stomach,
wine, and fatigue.
Mrs. Townsend was to wake her at midnight.
Thank God. She probably would not be able to wake herself.
She dropped into bed and pulled up the
coverlet, leaving the candle lit. She closed her eyes, lying rigidly in the
center of her bed. Sleep would not come. Her thoughts were not on the child,
but on Andrew. God help her, she burned for him. When he’d held her arm in the
library, then let his hand drift to her palm, stroking the tender skin gently
with his thumb, she’d nearly melted into a puddle of treacle.
She wanted his hands and mouth on her. She
wanted to run her hands down his muscular arms, reach around his back, and pull
his body against hers to ease the pulsing between her thighs. She wanted to
know what it felt like to lay skin against skin instead of always with a layer
of clothing between them.
She didn’t want to die never having
experienced physical intimacy with a man. Andrew wanted her, she was sure. But
if she walked across the hall and entered his room, she’d be no better than Caroline
Woodley.
Scrunching into a ball, she tightened every
muscle, wishing this longing would go away. She could never marry anyone else,
not even for children. Every time she closed her eyes in the marriage bed, she
would pretend it was him.
You
have to stop this nonsense right away, or you will be too weary to be useful
when it’s time for you to tend the child.
He was inside his room now. She’d heard his
footfalls not five minutes past.
She’d resigned herself to spinsterhood. She
had Aunt Lily as a companion, a house full of books with a pianoforte and a
sewing room to indulge her creativity. What more could she possibly want?
A door closed, and someone walked down the
hall. Lester—she recognized his heavy tread. Andrew was alone.
She uncurled and tried to relax. Her breath
caught in her throat. What was she? Some kind of wanton? Did she really want to
“let go” as Aunt Lily put it?
You’ve
been raised as a lady. You know what you want to do would seal your fate. There
would be no marriage ever in your future, not even to a widower because you
would be used, soiled, no better than a barque of frailty.
“Damn.”
She rose from her bed,
leaving the lighted candle, and jerked open the door.
Buy Links
**GIVEAWAY**
Blitz-wide Giveaway (INT)
$20 Amazon gift card
Thanks so much for joining us today!
HAPPY READING!!!
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