For writer Jade Yeo, the Roaring Twenties are coming in with more of a purr. She's perfectly happy making a living by churning out articles on what the well-dressed woman is wearing. But when she pillories one of London's leading literary luminaries in a scathing review, she may have made the mistake of her career.
Sebastian Hardie is tall, dark and handsome--and more intrigued than annoyed. Jade is irresistibly drawn to the prospect of adventure he offers. But if she succumbs to temptation, she risks losing her hard-won freedom--and her best chance for love.
Hardie looked at me. I thought he was going to say something serious and philosophical about loneliness, but instead he lifted his hand and traced the air just above my cheekbones, almost touching me but not quite.
“It’s a shame I’m no sort of artist,” he said, so low I had to strain to hear him over the noise. “How I should like to paint those lines.”
Now what is one supposed to say to that?
“I’m sure you’d be nice to paint too,” I said, unable to think of anything better.
“Poor Ariel,” he said. “Alone on an incomprehensible island. Has any other mariner heard your whispers, or did they think it just the wind?”
“I’m really more of a Caliban,” I said primly.
Hardie tilted his head.
“Even better,” he said.