By: Tammy L. Bailey
Released December 7, 2015
Wild Rose Press
Edmund Rushwood is a single English lord in possession of a great fortune who is in desperate need of a rich wife. In accordance with his father’s will, Edmund has until he turns twenty-six to find a wealthy bride or lose his vast inheritance. To retain his selfish lifestyle, he agrees to join an American dating game show to find the woman who can save him. He doesn’t bargain on meeting Abby Forester, an impoverished, spirited American woman who is content to live out her father’s dreams in his vintage record shop.
With covert intervention from an unlikely source, Abby lands on the dating game show as one of Edmund’s potential brides. As their worlds entangle and love begins to bloom, Abby discovers Edmund cannot marry her and retain his wealth at the same time. Will love keep them together, or will greed triumph and tear them apart?
Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2016/03/lord-bachelor-by-tammy-l-bailey.html
Tammy L. Bailey is a wife and a mother of a Jedi and a future fill-in drummer for The Rolling Stones, The Who, or any other 70's band. I enjoy watching Jane Austen movie adaptations, afternoon football, eating Thai food, and spending down time with my husband and two sons. I don't have any pets, but when I was young, I had a black lab we called Satan. Her name was originally Satin, but two very young girls with southern accents mispronounced the word. She was the best dog in the entire world. I have a twin sister and three other siblings. I am also a third generation veteran, and I love eating Milk Duds with my popcorn during Star Wars movie nights.
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“If you’re going to complain, you can leave now.”
Edmund sent her a seductive glare. Out of patience, and with the night growing late, she shook her head.
“That smoldering look might work on simpering females like Zella Pendleton, but not me.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Was I smoldering?”
Unnerved, she clicked her tongue. “You know what I mean.”
He nodded, but continued to glance around, his gaze intense and wide with amazement. When her parents acquired the record store over thirty years ago, they’d made the upstairs their home. After Abby was born, they moved across the street to a modest two bedroom apartment. It was here, however, where her mother painted and where they played dress-up and danced to her father’s favorite albums. It was where her memories lived, though fleeting.
“I’m sure my home is as big as your closet, so if you start to get claustrophobic, you are welcome to show yourself out.”
He placed his hands behind his back and shook his head. “No, no. It’s quite…cozy, in a primitive sort of way.”
“Just don’t make yourself too comfortable,” she said, pulling out a chair from under the drop leaf table.
He smiled and sauntered straight toward her futon bed.
“Especially not there!” she called out, but it was too late. His behind had already planted itself on the heavyweight quilt Raify had made her, sometime after Abby’s mother died.
While Abby tried not to let him affect her, his palm fell onto her pillow, caressing it with a masculine hand. She glanced away, but not before a ripple of exhilaration swirled down her spine. She tried to shake it off, blaming it on the near-death experience on the
“This isn’t 1811 England, you know,” he said, drawing her attention back to him. “And you won’t be ruined if I’m caught trespassing here. Other than that rather uncomfortable looking chair and the bathtub, it appears your bed is the only logical place for me to sit
at the moment.”
He hesitated, a spark of mischief lighting up those sea-green eyes. “Of course, I am in need of a good wash.”
He shrugged out of his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the powerful breadth of his lean torso.