Message From The Author

Author's Message

Oh, how proud my eighth-grade American history teacher would be of me! Because I finally get it, deep down in my bones, I understand! It being our precious Freedom of the Pressthe free exchange of information between citizens. When i learned of the repressive laws enacted by the British Parliament against the press the Taxes on Knowledge that kept newspapers out of the hands of the working class; laws against printing criticisms against the government in any way; and heavy penalties exacted against those who broke the lawthe idea for MY WICKED EARL was born.

With my American sensibilities ablaze, I created Hollie Finch, a ruthless and radical reformer, who inherited her beloved fathers print shop and newspaper when he was killed in a peaceful political rally that turned bloody. Her nemesis is Lord Charles Stirling, the seventh Earl of Everingham, the peer in charge of the Home Office inquiry into the tragedyhardly a man with an unbiased opinion, according to Hollie. Her secret quest to see justice done and those responsible charged with murder lands a price on her head, leads her directly into Charless path and right into his heart.

Heres an excerpt:

Hollie scooted past Everingham and put a chair between them. Its very late, my lord.

Indeed. A solitary, darkly silken word, a test, a challenge. He let the threat hang between them as he studied her more closely, his gaze sweeping across her face in a methodical fashion.

Im tired

So am I.

And Im not your captain Spindleshanks fellow.

He cocked his headinsufferably amused, and more than dangerously suspicious. Obviously, he said too mildly.

Obviously! Then he still didnt suspect the truth. There was hope after all! If she played this right.

Good, then, my lord. You finally recognize your error, the first step at righting a terrible wrong. Which means that youll also understand that I want to go home to my bed where I belong. She stuck out her hands, bound by the two D-shaped steel bands and the short length of chain between them. Unlock me. If you please.

But he made no move at all. I dont please at all, madam.
As I dont please anyone running from me.

You seemed to be finished with me, my lord, so I

Im not finished with you, Miss Finch. The flick of his dark eyes set her heart loose of its orderly rhythms, left it skidding around in her chest. Not nearly finished.


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