TO LOVE AND BE LOVED BY
HIM
Book 4 of the Seekers of
the Past series
Amy Valentini
Releasing April 16, 2019
Available for ebook Pre-Order Now at
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobobooks
iBooks | Smashwords
print coming at release time
Continue
the Journey to Where the Past Meets the Present
and
Love Lives Forever
Emma’s investigation of the
past leads her to Emily Embry. But will it lead her and Sam to the origins of
the gold? He’s beginning to believe she’s experiencing something amazing while
reading the young girl’s journal, but is it real? What might they learn as they
continue seeking the past?
Sent to England to marry a man
she’s never met, Emily Embry is determined to quit the contract made by her
parents. When tragedy strikes her ship along the way, she encounters a handsome
captain who captures her heart making her destiny even less desirable, even as
she wishes he was the man she was marrying.
Beau Hawkings is a man of the
sea and has no desire to settle down on land or with a wife. When he rescues the
woman his grandfather contracted him to marry, he finds her desirable but his desire
for freedom is greater—until she begins to claim his heart. Now his deception
might be the very thing which drives her away. While both protect their hearts,
they grow ever closer as fate voyages them home to where they belong—in love
and loved.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Excerpt:
Beau
withdrew expecting a rejection but when her only response was to widen her eyes
in surprise he took his offer as acceptable. His blood flared hot in his veins
when he saw her little pink tongue dart out again to moisten her lips. He took the
action and her silence as permission so he tightened his grip on her waist and
slid his free hand into her hair to cradle her neck before dipping his head to
catch her lips beneath his.
Soft lips fluttered
beneath his own as if she wanted to say something but was unable to form the
words. He moved his lips on hers and reveled in their warm satiny texture. When
he touched his tongue to the crease of her lips, she tensed but then relaxed. A
moment later, her lips parted. Stifling a smile, he pushed his tongue between
her lips and felt her inhalation. She pressed her hands flat against his chest
and started to withdraw. He suspected she had never been kissed like this
before but when her warm tongue suddenly stroked against his, he knew she liked
it. Smiling, he drew back and gazed down at closed eyes, long dark lashes
resting gently on flushed cheekbones. When her dark eyes fluttered open, he
smiled at her with an arrogant confidence he was sure was unflattering but
could not resist.
“I do not think you really wish to leave,” he
whispered as his mouth hovered over hers. “Stay, chérie, stay.”
He pressed his hips against her so she knew just how
much he desired her to do so. Suddenly, a sharp pain struck his foot. He
released her and she shoved him aside. A sharp throbbing was centered over the
top of his booted foot. The little vixen had stomped his foot and had done a
good job of it.
“You may think all women are your playthings,
Captain Hawkings,” Emily exclaimed, anger curling her lips so her tiny white
teeth were bared. “I am not!”
“Please, call me Beau, chérie. No one calls me
Captain Hawkings,” Beau pleaded even as he reached for her. “Even my men call
me Captain Hawke. For you, chérie, I shall make an exception and allow you to
call me Beau.”
He smiled down at her even as her brows furrowed
as if she had not heard him correctly. His foot throbbed painfully but he kept
smiling. He was not about to let her know how her tiny heel had bruised his
foot or his ego.
“I think I would prefer to call you Captain
Hawkings, thank you very much,” she exclaimed as she planted her fists squarely
on her hips and lifted her chin haughtily. “I do not wish to call you anything
else, if you do not mind.”
She turned toward the door with a toss of her
mahogany curls.
“You may call me whatever you wish, ma chérie,” he
answered with glee as he eyed the lovely view of her backside she was
presenting him.
“You mean like arrogant bastard?” Emily threw over her shoulder as she moved
further through the door.
“My parents were happily married, milady,” he
remarked in teasing.
His response stopped her. She turned and glared
at him with narrowed angry eyes.
“Captain Hawkings,” Emily began in a slow
cautionary tone. “I do have a name by the way. I would prefer you use it
instead of any of those ridiculous foreign intimacies which you prefer.”
Beau was impressed with her spirited nature and
was unable to resist a smile. “Ah well, since we have not actually been
properly introduced and I do not know your full name, I can only assume you
wish me to call you Emily which is by far more intimate than any endearments,
but if you prefer—”
“I do not prefer any such thing,” she replied
with a haughty tone as she lifted her chin defiantly. “My name is Embry, Emily
Embry…and you, sir, may call me Miss Embry.”
The name hung in the air even after she
disappeared into the dark passageway. He stood looking at the place where she
had just been with the name swirling in the air like an annoying insect. Had
she stayed, he was sure she would have inquired why he had suddenly paled.
Feeling as if he had just been sucker punched in the gut, he felt a shaking
surge of hysterical laughter rise up into his chest.
Beau pushed the door closed but failed to notice
it had not closed all the way. He staggered toward his seat behind the desk for
between her surname bouncing around in his head and the wine in which he had
over-indulged the floor seemed to tilt beneath his feet.
Bloody hell! Was this his punishment
for escaping his obligation to his grandfather’s wishes? Of all the women to
rescue from a sinking ship, had he truly had the misfortune to rescue the one
woman he had hope to avoid meeting in the first place? Perhaps it was mere coincidence.
Perhaps there are two women named Emily Embry.
Thinking himself a fool, he knew full well there
was only one Emily Embry who would be traveling to London to get married. She
must be the same Emily Embry whose name he had been looking at for the past six
weeks. The same name he had stared at while he decided what to do about the
prospect of marrying against his will. How he wished he had never stopped in
Ponta Delgada for then he might have missed the message intercepting him there.
However, they had no choice but to stop in the Azores for supplies even if they
had not decided to change course and sail to England after he learned of his
grandfather’s death.
Beau reached the desk. He pushed aside the
dishes and linen cloth, pouring himself another glass of wine before seating
himself behind the desk. He downed it quickly then began searching the desk’s
drawers for the letter and contract which his grandfather’s solicitor had
presented him upon arriving at the man’s London office.
“Why does it have to be you, chérie? Such a
cheeky firebrand as you, far more suited to be a delectable tumble between the
sheets than a wife. Why does it have to be you to whom I am promised in
marriage? Shaking his head as if in the hope of changing what he knew was the
truth, he searched through the desk drawers for the missive he knew was there.
“You may be a tasty sweet morsel, innocent for
sure, but are you worth being tied to forever? I think not. No woman is. No
matter how sweet, spirited, and beautiful.”
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