By Jennifer Wilde
Jennifer Wilde’s dazzlingly passionate, beautifully witty ny Times–bestselling novel a few schoolmaster’s daughter who turns into the toast of past due eighteenth-century London and the lady outstanding brothers vie to possess
Angela Howard, the lively daughter of a village schoolmaster, won't ever put out of your mind her first provocative glimpse of Lord Clinton Meredith, the beautiful, golden inheritor to terrific Greystone corridor. however it is Clinton’s illegitimate brother, Hugh Bradford, who claims Angie’s innocence—and her center. They percentage one excellent evening earlier than violence and tragedy separate them. Her middle shattered, Angie strikes to London, the place she meets the mercurial, sensual playwright James Lambert . . . and a portrait painter named Gainsborough vows to show her right into a legend.
But over the years of status and glory and wealth and luck past her wildest desires, Angie is haunted by way of the fellow she enjoyed and lost—a guy who won’t relaxation till she is his back.
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Extra info for Angel in Scarlet
Edward steps between his spread thighs. “In here,” he spits on his palm and slicks his erect cock, “territory is taken by force and maintained through violence. ” Edward spreads Harlan’s buttocks and circles his cockhead around Harlan’s bunghole. …Oh, ye’ve got a bonny wee arse… “Power struggles are swift…” Edward inserts his pecker into Harlan’s anus, “…vicious…” a sharp hiss between clenched teeth; a shuddering moan, “…and final…” thrusting with brutal strokes, busting Harlan wide open, sliding in on the blood.
I asked him what he was doing. He made no reply. I asked him to step away from the toilet. He did not. I summoned the guard and instructed Cranston for the last time to step forward. He charged at the bars, teeth bared, arms flailing, spitting and gibbering and hissing like some kind of rabid beast. We were all quite taken aback. He was shaking the bars and his knuckles were white around the metal. The following is only speculation: I believe Cranston was frightened. For the first time since I’d known him.
But such ambrosia should be sacred, not eaten simply to fuel our bodies. ” More men turn. They regard Jackson with a look he has come to recognize: Abject hopefulness, an aching need to believe. Jackson throws his arms wide as his voice climbs to pulpit-pitch. “Brothers, why do we remain in exile while the promised land is within our grasp? I have seen the men who keep us down—they are primitives! ” a voice from the back cries. ” “We all want our share, brother! ” Gregor says. “They are stronger than us.
Angel in Scarlet by Jennifer Wilde