read. I read it a few years ago and when I found a copy of it, I bought
it and hung on to it.
Amazon Customer Overview:
A play manuscript written in Shakespeare’s own hand! Between Rogue rare-books dealer John Dryden and his prize is an obsessed librarian who wants to destroy it… and the heiress who can lead him to it, but only if he’s willing to risk his life, his freedom, and his loner’s heart.
Rasley’s Regencies have been compared to those of Carla Kelly and Loretta Chase– elegantly written and with lively plots and characters.
Crossing the line – an excerpt from Poetic Justice by Alicia Rasley
John said, “I’ve had enough of noblewomen thinking of me as some diversion from their own kind.”
“Diversion? What do you mean?”
“The peasant blood. Makes a man virile, you know.”
The scathing tone of his voice indicated that he was quoting this. From whom, Jessica didn’t want to imagine. But the implication that she might agree made her furious. “That’s absurd! I don’t see you as a diversion! From what would you be diverting me?”
“I’ve heard all about what in-breeding has done to the British peer— made him effete and effeminate and weak-boned, unable to perform. That’s what rough-hewn virile peasants are meant to make up for.”
It was so nonsensical that her anger vanished and she almost laughed. But she couldn’t let him go free so easily as that. “Well, you don’t seem the least rough-hewn to me. Your manners are every bit as insolent as a prince’s, and you must count your moral authority somewhere up there with the Archbishop of Canterbury’s. If all peasants in England were like you, we’d have been able to give the French lessons in revolution!”
“I have never set myself up as a moral authority.”
“You just did! Accusing me of desiring to kiss you for any reason beyond— well, desiring to kiss you! And, as for that peasant virility— ” She broke off, and stalked ahead. “Never mind.”
“Oh, no, please do go on.” Now there was laughter in his voice, but she chose to ignore it. “I wait with bated breath to hear this. As for my peasant virility—”
“I have only your word that it exists. Indeed, you are so sensitive about this virility issue, I must wonder. Have you cause?”
In response he took her arm and drew her to him. “Usually, when my manhood’s questioned, I resort to cutlasses. But in this case….”
Pressed against his chest this way, she could hardly find the breath to speak, but she said, “There are other ways, you know.”
And just as he bent his head, she raised hers, so that their mouths met. This kiss wasn’t tentative or onesided, but a lingering exploration of the possibilities. John’s rough sailor’s hand was gentle on her cheek, his mouth softened in response to hers. She closed her eyes, letting him draw her closer, opening her mouth to his searching. It was dizzying, dazzling, impossible.