Tempting back in paperback! Enjoy the first chapter FREE

Just in time for the winter holidays, Tempting is once more available in paperback! Check out the book, which RT BOOK Reviews nominated for “Best Unusual Historical Romance” on Amazon.

Tempting by Hope TarrAnd of course ebook readers can continue to find the Tempting ebook on Kindle Nook iBooks Kobo Smashwords — everywhere ebooks are sold. Meanwhile, enjoy the first chapter, my compliments, here.

Chapter One
London, October 1867

Simon Belleville was no stranger to squalor. He’d passed his first fifteen years in Whitechapel, the worst of the London stews, among the moneylenders, whores, and immigrants of Eastern Europe. The brothel staircase upon which he stood was every bit as narrow, as filthy, as dank as the ones he’d played upon as a child. Only now he was a man of four-and-thirty. A man of property and experience. A man who’d traveled to India and back—to Hell and back—to make his fortune. A fortune he’d doubled, no, quadrupled, many times over since his return. In a country where wealth and position were bestowed by birth or not at all, he was a self-made man, a living legend. At East India Company headquarters in Leadenhall, directors and shareholders and counting house clerks all uttered his name in reverent whispers. When he walked into the Royal Exchange, a hush fell over the central court as investors strained to hear what stocks he would buy, what others he would sell. And now he was poised to realize his next great ambition: a seat in the House of Commons.

Backing his aspiration was the Chancellor of the Exchequer in Lord Derby’s Conservative government, Benjamin Disraeli. When Disraeli had suggested Simon head Her Majesty’s Morality and Vice Commission, he’d had no thought of refusing. Distasteful as his duties were—if women elected to sell their bodies for a few quid and food in their bellies, who was he to stop them?—still the appointment was his chance to prove his worth to Disraeli, to the Conservatives, perhaps even to Victoria herself.

Over the past six months, Simon had led raids on twenty-odd brothels. The present establishment, Madame LeBow’s, was the very last on his list. Like the others, it offered the standard fare of flagellations, deflorations, and fellatio at working-class prices. Patrons liked their sex rough, their wine cheap, and their whores young. The close air stank of spilled seed and stale beer, and at least four of the eight prostitutes incarcerated in the police wagon outside were younger than sixteen.

Stopping on the stairwell, he stripped off his gloves and stuffed them in his coat pockets. Gloves were de rigor, of course, the hallmark of a gentleman, and yet wearing them he never felt as though his flesh could properly breathe. Wrapping one blissfully bare hand about the scarred newel post, he looked below to the four blue-suited police sergeants flanking the first floor entrance. A fifth officer was posted outside to guard the women. Simon had been about to issue the order to pull out when he’d overhead two of the prisoners whispering about the new girl in the attic. He might dislike discharging this particular set of duties, still he was a thorough man. A clean sweep meant just that, and he had no intention of allowing even one rabbit to escape from its warren.

Inspector Tolliver, lantern in hand, walked up the stairs, stopping a few steps below him. “Shall I light the way, sir?”

Simon shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll go alone.” He reached for the lantern, which Tolliver reluctantly handed up.

At the last whorehouse where he’d allowed Tolliver to lead an arrest, the madam had emerged with a blackened eye and split lip. Tolliver claimed she’d tripped and fallen on her way down the stairs. Simon had his doubts.

Tolliver twisted one waxed end of his handlebar mustache. “Are you certain, sir? It could be a trap.”

Unaccustomed to having his judgment questioned, Simon snapped, “I believe I can handle it, Inspector. By all accounts, there’s but one woman up there, and if she’s anything like the others, she’s little more than a child.”

Tolliver shifted his narrow shoulders. “Have it your way, guv. The lads and I’ll be below if you need us.” He patted the club swinging from his belt.

Watching him fumble his way back down in the dark, Simon suppressed a snort. With its bicycles and billy clubs and smart blue uniforms, London’s eight-man detective department fancied itself a force to be reckoned with. But then Tolliver and his men rarely ventured into the East End. Those dark, crooked lanes with their stench of urine, rotting rubbish, and spoiled dreams were a foreign land to them. To Simon, they would always be home.

He continued up the remaining three flights to the attic, rotting floorboards groaning beneath his boot soles. It was nearly twenty years, and yet it might have been yesterday that he’d listened for the landlord’s footfalls on a set of creaking stairs much like these.

“This isn’t a charity house,” the landlord, Mr. Plotkin, had said, after delivering what amounted to a death sentence. The three of them—Simon, his mother, and Rebecca—had twenty-four hours to gather their belongings and quit the premises; otherwise, he’d have them all hauled to debtors’ prison.

It was the first time Simon had seen his mother cry since his father’s death. Wringing her work-roughened hands, Lilith Belleville had looked from one child to the next and then back at the landlord. Then she’d done the unthinkable. She’d sunk to her knees and begged.

“Have pity, Mr. Plotkin. If you turn us out, where shall we go?”

“That is not my affair.” Stepping past her, Plotkin’s shoe had landed on the hem of her worn dress, leaving a dusty footprint on the clean calico.

The scene, like so many painful episodes from his past, remained branded on Simon’s brain. Now someone else, some other cringing scrap of humanity, waited behind a closed attic door for him to deliver the edict that would result in her being dispatched to Newgate Gaol or, worse still, one of the prison hulks moored along the Thames.

Like grinding an insect beneath his boot heel, Simon moved to squash what piddling pity still lived inside him. “That is not my affair,” he said softly, gaining the landing.

The attic door was a narrow planked archway barely broader than his shoulders. He slid back the bolt and the warped wood moaned open on rusted hinges. Ducking beneath the low lintel, he entered.

Inside the air was foul as a draining ditch, the heat as stifling as Calcutta at midday, the darkness unrelieved by any light save the one Simon bore. A latticework of cobwebs hung from the eaves, catching on the crown of his beaver hat. Brushing them aside, he held up the lantern and took stock. There was an old seaman’s chest, a slop bucket—full, judging from the stench—and a rope bed wedged beneath the slanted roof, an elaborately arranged pile of rags draped atop.

Securing the door, Simon moved toward the center of the room, his free hand pushing through dust motes, his footfalls on the floorboards sending mice scuttling. As he closed in, the bundle on the bed shifted as he’d well suspected it would.

He centered his light on the bed. “You can come out now.”

A gasp greeted that suggestion. Flinging the bedclothes aside, the girl bolted upright. “Ye keep away from me, d’ye hear?” Wide set eyes of an undeterminable color flashed in warning, the eyes of a wilding.

Simon shone the light on her. “Easy now, no one will harm you.”

She blinked owlishly, her little face puckering. This girl looked to be the youngest yet, but then those in the maiden trade were adept at the art of illusion. The childish night rail she wore, white cotton and buttoned to the neck, made her appear innocent, almost virginal.

Simon knew better.

Whatever her age, she was no beauty. Her eyes were too large, her breasts too small, and her waist-length hair of brownish hue hung in greasy strands about her pinched face. That any man would pay to lie with such a sad little waif was almost impossible to fathom. Then again London was rife with males who found it diverting to prey on the young and innocent. He thought again of Rebecca, and the familiar ache in his chest throbbed.

A few more measured steps brought him to the foot of the bed. She cringed when he closed in, falling back on her hands as though the light hurt her eyes. There was a dark blotch on her forehead that could have been a bruise, a birthmark, or simply more of the same filth that stained the front of her night rail. But there was no doubt that the small reddish crescent on her left cheek was anything but what it appeared.

A freshly cut scar.

Simon’s anger, never far from the surface, surged. No woman, lady or whore, deserved to be so foully abused. Resolved that the manacles he’d brought would remain in his coat pocket, he summoned his most soothing voice to say, “I’ve come to take you away.”

She lifted her face, pinning him with her wide-eyed stare. “Truly?”

Before he could answer, she did the one thing for which he was completely unprepared. She drew up on her knees and hurled herself against him.

“Oh sar, I’ve prayed and prayed that someone would come and just when I were a’most ready to give up, ’ere ye are.” She snatched his hand and pressed the palm to her mouth.

Her lips were cool on his flesh, cool and ever so slightly trembling. Startled, Simon dropped his gaze and quite nearly the lantern. She still knelt before him, thin night rail twisted tight so that it hugged not only her hips and thighs but the mound between. The sudden urge to reach down with his kiss moistened hand and stroke her there, just there, shocked and sickened him. He’d never considered himself a passionate man, certainly not uncontrollably so. Self-mastery was everything to him, the cornerstone of his existence, the bulwark holding back the shadows. He couldn’t afford to lose it now. He forced his gaze back up to her face, safer terrain or so he thought. But the manner in which she met his stare, as though he was her personal messiah, unnerved him even more than his sordid, sensual fancies.

He snatched his hand away and set the lamp down. “How long have you been here, in the attic, that is?”

Kneeling still, she fretted her bottom lip. “A’most a week, I think, though ’tis terrible hard to tell night from day.”

Whoever she was, she was no Londoner. The rounded vowels of the Midlands were plain in her low voice. He looked beyond her to the small sealed casement window, the glass pane painted over with blacking. For a country-bred girl, being shut up thus would be an earthly hell.

Pity pricked his conscience. He fought it back, beckoning a businesslike briskness he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel. “Yes, well, you must dress and gather up your things. The others are waiting for us below. Outside,” he added by way of an enticement.

She beamed at him. “Oh, lovely, are ye rescuing ‘em too?”

The poor girl must be dim-witted indeed or mad or an opium fiend, perhaps all three. Looking into her dirty face for some sign of derangement, he observed that her eyes—brown, he decided—were clear, her cheekbones high, and her mouth full, the top and bottom lips near mirror images, an unusual and oddly tempting feature. How would it feel to have that mouth moving against his rather than only his hand? Soft, he imagined, and endearingly sweet.

He dealt himself a sound mental shake. Perhaps he was the one in danger of separating from his sanity? This girl was no sheltered innocent but an artful actress, a whore. Her feigned naïveté had likely persuaded a good many fools to part with their coin.

Simon was no fool.

He folded his arms lest she reach for him again. “You and the others will be conducted to Newgate where you will pass the night. In the morning you will be brought up before the Central Criminal Court.”

Her smile flattened and a furrow split her smooth brow. “The Old Bailey! But I’ve done naught wrong.”

Still hoping to take her the easy way, Simon steeled himself to patience. “Prostitution is a serious offense. Still, considering your youth… By the by, how old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Nineteen was well above the age of consent and yet young enough for Simon to feel sorry for her failed future. He cleared his throat, reminded of how very much older he was than she. “The judges may be prepared to show mercy… provided you surrender yourself quietly.”

Mercy? The workhouse instead of prison? Or perhaps if she were really fortunate, she’d be set free to… starve?

That is not my affair. He had only to carry out this last arrest and write up his report to Parliament, and then his obligation would be fulfilled. And another step—no, giant leap— toward the Parliamentary bench would have been made.

All he need do to get there was to stay strong, stay the course. Determined to squelch any remaining soft sentiments, he unfolded his arms and reached for her wrist. “Come, get up and get dressed.” Beyond all, he desperately needed her to be covered with clothes.

She wrenched free, the fierceness on her face confirming that further kisses were an unfounded fear. “I won’t.”

But she was trapped, and they both knew it. The window, assuming it could be opened, was too small for crawling through and, even if it weren’t, they were four flights above the ground.

Simon reached into the pocket for the manacles, hoping he’d only need them for show. “You are coming with me—now. Of your own accord, clothed or unclothed, matters not to me.”

Her bravado broke. She shrank away. “Oh please, sar, I’ve done nothin’ wrong. Can’t ye set me free?” She folded her hands, lacing the slender, nail-bitten fingers as if in prayer.

With her white clad form and guileless eyes, she was the very image of a supplicating saint he’d once seen in a stained glass window of St. Paul’s Cathedral, a saint with whom mere seconds ago he’d fantasized lying. His conscience niggled anew. Why not simply go below and say he’d found the attic empty?

Doing so would make me a damned fool, that’s why.

Disraeli rewarded those who served him well. He was equally lavish in punishing those who failed him. Without his endorsement, Simon’s dream of holding a seat in the Commons would remain just that, a dream.

“Regrettably I cannot.” Leaning over, he grabbed her sharply boned wrists in one hand, pulling her back up onto her knees, this time taking care to keep his gaze trained on her face.

“I ain’t goin’.” She hesitated. “Leastwise not wi’out Puss.” She swiveled to look over his right shoulder.

“Puss?” Still holding her, he swung around, wondering if she might have a roommate or, worse still, an armed keeper lying in wait.

Then he saw it. A skinny black-and-silver tabby cat slinked out from a wicker basket set in the corner. It stopped to stretch, striped forepaws straining as it regarded Simon with its slanted eyes. Rebecca had kept a cat just like it once. This flea-bitten beast might have been its twin. For the second time in as many minutes, Simon felt the keen stab of unwanted memory, a resurrection of the old soul splitting ache.

Stiffening, he turned back to the girl, her eyes vast and luminous in her thin, pale face. “You cannot keep a cat in a gaol cell.” Self-loathing roughened his voice. “And cease looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Her eyes widened even further, making her look even more guileless if that was indeed possible.

“Like you’re some damned… innocent.” Maddened by the skill with which she worked her ruse, he seized hold of her upper arms, his fingers biting into flesh-veiled bone.

His manhandling won her wince. “But I am innocent! And I won’t go to gaol or anywhere else without my cat.”

Gentling his grip, he said, “You’ll go and do as you’re told from here on.”

She glared. “Your arse I will.” She turned her head and suddenly his left hand sang with pain.

Releasing her, he jerked back and stared down.

By God, the little bitch had bit him!

Pinpoints of blood welled where her teeth had torn. He reached inside his breast pocket for a handkerchief, allowing that shucking off his gloves had been an exceptionally bad idea. Wrapping the linen about his throbbing palm, he fumbled in his other pocket for the iron cuffs.

But when he turned his attention back to the girl, he saw the restraint would not be needed after all.

She’d fainted.

Holding his bleeding hand aloft, he ran his gaze down the length of her, doing his level best to observe her with a dispassionate eye. She was skin-and-bones to a shocking degree, shocking for all that Simon full knew what it was to hunger.

Feeling awkward, he gave her shoulder a sharp poke. “Girl, wake up.” Belatedly it occurred to him he hadn’t thought to take down her name.

He brushed a tickling finger across the bottom of one long, slender foot. She still didn’t stir. Satisfied she wasn’t feigning, he straightened, wondering what the devil he was to do. When she’d been awake and fighting him, the path had seemed so clear, but now… She was completely senseless, completely vulnerable, completely at his… mercy?

His gaze settled once more on the raw mark marring her cheek. He’d spent years armoring his soul until he’d satisfied himself it must be as callused as once his hands had been. But somehow this slip of a girl seemed to have located a heretofore hidden chink.

But it wouldn’t do to let Tolliver and the others see the damage his foolish dallying had wrought. He took a moment to pull on his gloves, wincing when the tight leather rolled over his swelling skin, the hand she’d bit as any cornered animal would do. Try as he might, he couldn’t hold it against her.

He slipped a forearm beneath her limp form and lifted her against him. She was so slight he might have held a bale of feathers in his outstretched arms rather than a woman grown.

Simon let out a curse from his dockyard days. “Whoever you are, girl, you’ve shown yourself a more formidable foe than the entirety of the Liberal Party leadership.”

Newgate Gaol would have to make do with one fewer inmate.

********************************************************************************

BUY THE BOOK:

A Very…TEMPTING Giveaway!

Tempting_SpanishXCvrTEMPTING, praised as “an absolutely gorgeous Victorian romance,” is now available in Spanish as NO SE PUEDE VIVIR SIN AMOR! Download the e-book at any of the following:

Share the love – leave a review! Help get the book to its first 10, 15, 20, and 25+ reviews on any of the above platforms and, at each milestone made, I’ll give away one e-book copy from my critically-acclaimed Men of Roxbury House/Los Hombres de Roxbury House #historical #romances:  VENCIDA, INDOMITA and RENDIDA to one randomly selected reader-reviewer, in Spanish or English – your choice!

Suffering from “digital fatigue”? No woes or worries – the print book will release worldwide this September 2016.

Vencida_PNGIndomita_BookXJacketRendida

GIVEAWAY! More Free Books!

ClaimedByTheRogue_Cvr w Quote_300dpiAnd the winners are… Robin Greene, Diane Sallans, Deb Yates, Desiree Cleary, Aileen Davis, Juanita Decuir, Marie Woodfolk, Kelly Braun, Mary Kay Gaunt & Joy Isley! Thanks to all who entered. Please check back here at HopeTarr.com for updates on giveaways, new book projects and the the general latest good news. Happy Summer/Happy Reading! Hope

Enter my new Giveaway and you may win a FREE trade paperback copy of my latest historical romance, CLAIMED BY BY THE ROGUE signed by me! (1 book per winner; open to US residents only).  Early fans of my romance debut, A ROGUE’S PLEASURE, this is your chance to FINALLY find out what happens to Robert and Phoebe, that impromptu coupling of unlikely young lovers from book #1.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Happy Mother’s Day Month,
Hope

Get CLAIMED BY THE ROGUE for 99 Cents & Win a Gift Basket, Gift Card + More!

Hope_Gift BasketClaimedByTheRogue_Cvr w Quote_300dpiCLAIMED BY THE ROGUE, my first single title historical romance since 2008, releases in print on 3-3-15! Between now and Release Day, we’re offering the e-book for just 99 cents across the following platforms:

Kindle
Nook
iBooks
Kobo
Google Play
Samhain Store

But, there’s more…

Help me keep the party going now through Release Week and enter the Giveaway below (Rafflecopter Entry Form at the end of this post). We’ll have twelve winners in total–and one of them may be YOU!

Grand Prize: Gift basket of pamper-you goodies (love poems, candle, votive, and of course, chocolate!) PLUS, signed-by-me hard cover copies of m/our erotic romances, SUGAR and HONEY–think Fifty Shades of Grey with grownups–the TEMPTING audiobook and the SCRIBBLING WOMEN anthology (28 romance authors including Yours Truly dishing on our Real-Life Love Stories, for charity).

Amazon Gift Card ImgAmazon Gift CardSecond Prize: $25 Amazon Gift Card (one winner)

Third Prize(s):  Autographed copy of SUGAR or HONEY, one book per winner; 10 individual winners.

 

 

 

 

To enter:

 

The more times you enter, the more chances you have to win!

Giveaway ends 3/6/15. Entries limited to US residents only.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Last Day to Get TEMPTING for FREE! Plus, Never Before Released Excerpt!

Ever After Romance LogoTEMPTING_New Cvr_Pink Pearls_Final_12-9-11

 

Today (2/9) is your LAST DAY to get my Victorian set historical, TEMPTING for FREE, and I don’t want any of you, my dear readers, to miss out, especially when it’s all so perfectly simple and refreshingly easy. Download the awesome–and also #FREE–EverAfter Romance ebook app: http://bit.ly/12jLGry (iOS) & http://bit.ly/1wNJT9t (Android). In less than a minute, the book will appear on your shelf.

Already have the app? Even better, just enter Code: htfree

Still need help deciding? Enjoy this never before released snippet from TEMPTING.

 

Hope reading TEMPTING_2-2-15
Reading TEMPTING at Lady Jane’s Salon® on 2-2-15.

TEMPTING, © Hope Tarr, That Book, Inc.

Simon paced from one end of the fringed foyer runner to the other, white-gloved hands folded behind him. Piles of paperwork awaited him on his desk and yet with time on his hands still he hadn’t managed to make heads or tails of any of it. A soft sound stalled his steps. Expecting Mrs. Griffith or one of the housemaids, he looked to the staircase. And saw Christine.

          Garbed in a gown of saffron silk, her hair swept up into an intricate confection of ringlets, her bared shoulders held back to reveal every proud inch of her lithe frame, she graced him with a soft smile. “Simon.”

          Descending, she seemed more fantasy than flesh-and-blood, an exquisite angel floating toward him despite the hint of a hitch to her step. The hall was chilly but, inside him, heat spiked. Like a sleepwalker, he felt himself moving toward her, every glib greeting and clichéd compliment fleeing his brain. Only one word remained.    

          “Christine.”

          She stepped off the landing, and he reached up to take her hand in his. “I’m not late, am I?”

          That made him smile. Despite her finery, she was so unspoiled, so… dear. “To be truly fashionable, you should have kept me waiting for at least a half hour.” Realizing he still held onto her hand, he released it with regret.

          Her smile dimmed. “Oh dear, I’ve gone about it all wrong again, haven’t I?”

          Her words touched off the tenderness in his heart. “No, I’m glad you’re here.” He took the cape from her and hung it upon the hall tree. Turning back, he said, “I have a present for you.”

          He led her over to the pier glass. Stepping behind her, he caught his first glimpse of her gown’s low back. All that beautiful bareness had him searching for his next breath.

          Finding it, he said, “Close your eyes.”

          She obeyed, and he reached into the inner pocket of his cutaway jacket and withdrew the black velvet box. “No peeking,” he chided, seeing her eyelid flicker. He snapped open the box. Withdrawing the necklace, he brought the gold chain about her throat.

          “It’s cold.” She reached up, her fingertips brushing the pendant dangling just above the swell of her breasts.

          “It was a long and rather bracing ride back from town,” he admitted.

          “Your business was to buy me a gift?” Eyes still closed, she leaned back ever so slightly against him.

          “It was.” He fumbled but finally fastened the clasp. He lingered a moment more, inhaling her sweet, clean scent, then stepped back. “Open your eyes.”

          She did, and their gazes met in the mirror. She looked down at the necklace and uttered an exclamation of delight. “Oh, Simon, it’s fair near the same color as my gown. How did you know?”

          “My spies are everywhere.” He winked, feeling light and young and altogether freer than he had in years, quite possibly ever. That the pendant complemented her gown was pure happenstance. He’d bought the amber because the color made him think of her eyes, eyes capable of capturing men’s hearts with a single, liquid look. “Do you like it?”

          She whisked about to face him. “It’s the loveliest gift I’ve ever gotten.”

          You’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, he thought but didn’t dare say.

          “I’m glad,” he said, both happy and humbled that his token had made her so happy.

          She took a step back. “Do I look—” She faltered, brow furrowed, likely searching for one of the long, elegant words she shored up for such occasions. “Do I look…ravished?”

          Accustomed as he’d become to the artful simpering of society beauties, Christine’s guilelessness was akin to being handed a glass of iced lemonade after hours of sun baked toil. Refreshing, delicious, sweet—and yet tartly tempting.

          Pressing a hand to the small of her back, he felt her shiver against his fingertips. “Not yet…but then the evening is young.”

                 ~~~ ~~~  

 

 

Get Tempting for FREE at Ever After

Ever After Romance LogoTEMPTING_New Cvr_Pink Pearls_Final_12-9-11

 

February is the official Month of Hearts and Flowers, the host month to Valentine’s Day, a (mostly) stress-free holiday centered on that most elevating–and essential–of emotions: LOVE. To kick off the celebration, I’ve partnered with Ever After Romance, the awesome new **FREE** e-book app devoted exclusively to romance fiction. Now through February 10th, Ever After is giving away my Victorian romance, TEMPTING **FREE** to new users! Just download the app, create an account in two seconds, and voila, the book appears in your library. Already have the app? Even better! Use Code htfree and you can get Tempting free, too.  Below are the links:

 

 

 

 

‘Tis the Season: OPERATION CINDERELLA for FREE

Operation_Cinderella_cvr_RV_July 2013The winter holidays are the perfect time to press pause on busy lives and say thank you to the people (and pets!) who make our lives brighter every day of the year, not only December 25th. To show our appreciation to YOU, my Dear Readers, we’re offering OPERATION CINDERELLA, the first book in my Suddenly Cinderella series, FREE across platforms now through January 11.  Below are the links to download the title.

Kindle edition from Amazon.com
Nook edition from Barnes&Noble
Kobo edition
iTunes edition

Wishing you a holiday season and New Year brimming with fairytale dreams come true,

Hope

 

GIVEAWAY! Calling All Cinderellas

Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m not only In Love. I’m In Lust.

content_Fall-Accessories-2With a pair of shoes.

Purple velvet jeweled heels, to be exact, from the incomparable Dolce & Gabbana. Flipping through Gotham magazine, it was lust at first sight.  I mean, just look at this photo. How can you not…Want…Those? They’re seriously gorgeous, Cinderella worthy.

These shoes are so on my Wish List–and at a smidgen under $3K, they’re going to have to stay there.

Along with the hefty price tag, think of all the “incidental” costs associated with owning them. No way would I walk the NYC streets with these on my feet. The mere thought of dinging that fragile, gilded window of a heel on a curb back has me cringing. Ditto for talking the Subway or hailing a cab. What if there was–gasp–a splash! Nope, it would have to be Uber all the way. Come to think of it, my own coach–I mean car–and driver would be all kinds of better.

What totally impractical item do you covet?

Tweet me your comment @HopeTarr #SuddenlyCinderella, and you may win a copy of OPERATION CINDERELLA, the launch to my #Suddenly Cinderella contemporary fairytale series, optioned for feature film by FOX. (There is another fab pair of shoes passed among the Cinderella heroine of each book).

*Winner selected randomly from among the first 20 people to comment on Twitter using #SuddenlyCinderella.

**Above image courtesy of DolceGabbana.com.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Release Day! CLAIMED BY THE ROGUE + Giveaway

It’s Release Day for CLAIMED BY THE ROGUE, and this is a special-to-me day indeed for several reasons.

ClaimedByTheRogue_Cvr w Quote_300dpiFirst, CLAIMED BY THE ROGUE is my first single-title historical since I concluded my Men of Roxbury House trilogy in 2008.

Originally conceived as the sequel to my very first book, A ROGUE’S PLEASURE, originally published in 2000 by Berkley/Jove and now available as a digital book from Harlequin’s Carina Press.

CLAIMED BY THE ROGUE picks up six years later, in 1820. Lady Phoebe Tremont and (now) Captain Robert Bellamy finally have their opportunity at Happily Ever After. Only the course of true love rarely runs smoothly, not even in romance! The couple have several steep obstacles to surmount including a six year separation during which Robert was believed to have been drowned at sea.

rogue_276The book has a superbly beautiful cover thanks to the talented folks at Samhain Publishing. And gracing that cover is a phenomenally flattering quote from the insanely talented Anna Campbell.

Is it any wonder I feel like celebrating!?!

To that end, between today (3-4-14) and the end of the month (3-31-14), I will give away one e-book copy of my Victorian set romance,TEMPTING to everyone who purchases a copy of CLAIMED BY THE ROGUE anywhere online.

To receive your FREE copy, post your proof of purchase HERE, to THIS POST, and I will email you TEMPTING. (Offer limited to 1 book per individual).

It’s my way of saying thank you for all your support over the past 14 years–and almost 25 books. 🙂

TEMPTING_New Cvr_Pink Pearls_Final_12-9-11Huzzah to Happily Ever After!

Hope

 

 

Release Day for THE CINDERELLA SEDUCTION!

TCS_Cvr w Red Shoe1.6.14 Congratulations to Brandee Price, the winner of my blog tour grand prize: a $30 Amazon or Barnes & Noble gift certificate. Thanks to all who entered and helped to make my release month+ so special with your Tweets, Facebook posts, Goodreads adds etc.

Please stay tuned for my next round of giveaways (coming later this January ’14). For now…

Happy 2014! Hope

It’s Release Day for THE CINDERELLA SEDUCTION, the finale to my Suddenly Cinderella Series with Entangled Publishing. Let’s celebrate!

a Rafflecopter giveaway