Friday, October 8, 2010

Dog Eared Publicity Presents The Book of Eli by Sam Moffie

About Sam Moffie

sam moffie

The Book of Eli is Sam Moffie's fourth novel. The other three have won numerous awards and received glowing reviews. When not writing or marketing, he can be found observing human nature at his bars in Youngstown, Ohio. Forty-nine years of age, Sam resides with Juliette and a host of family members who enjoy a good fire, fine wine, backyard foosball, good movies and of course good books. When all else fails, there is always a walk with the dogs. To find out more visit Sam at

About The Book of Eli

the book of eli
Eli Canaan is a believer. And, like many, he believes himself to be a principled and moral man. Well, for the most part anyway. But, after a series of missteps, sins, some would say, Eli's life is suddenly and unexpectedly altered forever. A spurned wife, a gypsy, a hex and spiritual intervention may all be at the root of Eli's unexpected, deep and earnest introspection, which is like nothing he has experienced before -

in THIS world. An uplifting story of hope and meaning and belief in the goodness that can come by opening one's eyes to he Heavens... The Book of Eli is a well crafted, highly entertaining read. In his trademark acerbic, yet strangely engaging style, author Sam Moffie presents the reader with a compelling tale of the sense of adventure and

Here's what reviewers have to say!

“The Book of Eli is both hilarious and thought provoking. This Heaven isn't exactly what we all picture. There are long line ups and lots of wine but no food. Atheists are more than welcome but for some being sent to Heaven seems more like a jail sentence. Then, there is being psychoanalyzed by Freud himself.” —Tami Brady    

Dog Eared Publicity Presents The Turn of the Karmic Wheel by Monica Brinkman

About Monica Brinkman

Monica Brinkman

Monica M. Brinkman lived in the Philadelphia, PA area, relocated to the California Bay, where she resided for thirty years and now resides in the St. Louis, MO area, which was the inspiration of her newest book, The Turn of the Karmic Wheel. She views herself as a citizen of all the States, finding that people throughout the country are warm, caring and most want the same things in life, to enjoy their passions, make a living and be surrounded by those they love. In her own words, "Life is truly an adventure. I believe in giving everyone the opportunity to go after their passions in life. To not do so, creates hostility, depression and emptiness." A free-lance author and poet, she embraces stories that have meaning and purpose. Though a bit of a rebel, when some authors told her that no one would ever read a story set in the Missouri Ozarks, nor would they wish to read a mixed genre, that was all it took. "How dare they insult the intelligence of our readers by placing them in a box". Off she went, and wrote this exact type of story, set in the small rural college town of Raleigh, MO. It is a mixed genre of suspense, horror, spiritutality and a touch of the paranormal. Monica is working on the sequel, The Wheels Final Turn, set in the State of California.

You can find out more about Monica and her work at

About The Turn of the Karmic Wheel

The Turn of the Karmic Wheel

The Turn of the Karmic Wheel is a unique, fresh approach of how each individual’s actions in life affect the masses.

Set in the small college town of Raleigh, MO, the author delves into the psyche of several residents who live vastly different lifestyles. From the affluent to the poor, we follow each characters’ journey through life be it one of faith, self-indulgence, greed, kindness or diversity. Angela Frank, a young wife, mother, psychiatrist and reluctant psychic, holds the key to unleashing a force more powerful than humankind has ever experienced as universal law takes hold, ultimately revealing the characters inner self, their soul. Under such scrutiny, some will face horrific consequences of their life’s actions, while others will find absolute pleasure. From Joshua Allen, an egotistical, handsome, dashing young man to Euclid Hannigan, a simple country middle-aged retiree, you will be moved with emotion when the demons hidden deep within or the joy of gentleness and compassion surface as each characters story unfolds to a final climatic finish.

Book Excerpt

“You’ll be able to pick up the rifle tomorrow. Give me a call mid-morning. Should be cleared and ready to go by that time.” Euclid nodded and exited the store. Harry had owned his shop for many years, seen some come in and go out in a sea of police gunfire, but, hell, he couldn’t worry about every customer who purchased a weapon. Fact was, he had given up trying to figure out man’s nature years ago. Course, Euclid wasn’t one to carry arms of any sort. He didn’t remember him ever going hunting or even showing interest in the sport. Perhaps now that he was alone in life, with much time on his hands, he had decided to take it up and save some money by providing his own meat for the table. In any event, Harry knew Euclid to be a solid citizen of Raleigh, a man with a pure heart. Yes, he was a good man and a great friend. Harry went to the window and watched his friend walk down the street. He wondered if he should be concerned. For some reason, he felt a bit of uneasiness; just couldn’t put his finger on the why or wherefore. Aw, hell, he reasoned, it ain't none of my business. Yet there was something eating at his mind, a voice telling him to go no further with this transaction. It was a gut feeling he couldn’t shake, a feeling that his friend and neighbor of over 30 years was not ‘quite right’. There was definitely something ‘off the scale’ about Euclid today. A vivid image entered his mind. A vision so unfathomable he had to let it go. Harry shivered as he moved to slowly close the store’s door, continuing to watch the retreating figure kicking stones along the road, unable to shake his feelings of dread. .

Dog Eared Publicity Presents Hoodoo Sea by Rolf Hitzer

About Rolf Hitzer

Rolf Hitzer was born in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada in 1959 and raised by his parents, Erna and Julius Hitzer. Rolf attended Princess Margaret Elementary School, John Pritchard Junior High and Graduated from Kildonan East Regional Secondary School where he had majored in Culinary Arts. Rolf is married to his wife Irma since 1997. Together they have a wonderful blended family with Rita and Clark Bodoano and Grand children, Alexandria, Patrick and Braeden. Jason and Leah Tutlies, and Grandson Easton. Mandel Hitzer, and the youngest Jessica Hitzer. Clearly the growth of his family is still a work in progress. Rolf Hitzer has several passions besides writing, they include being at the log cabin on weekends. Spending time on the water with a fishing pole in hand. Wildlife viewing and especially Moose calling during the fall rut. Playing a range of Poker card games and a variety of board games. Rolf is a Member of the Winnipeg Real Estate Board, The Manitoba Real Estate Association and the Canadian Real Estate Association. He is currently working on his second novel.

For more information on his book visit: Hoodoo Sea is his first novel.

About Hoodoo Sea

The government of the United States of America is on the verge of startling the world.
Billions of dollars had been invested in its space program. And now, the moment of truth has arrived…

Scott Reed is the man for the historic mission. He is the Wing Commander chosen by the elite brass at NASA. The assignment to test flight the first speed of light craft, held top secret, was about to shock the world. The risk? Utter and complete failure. The reward? Being a part of the greatest human accomplishment ever known to mankind. Major James Harrow, second in command of the four person crew, despised his Wing Commander. Harrow was a proud and patriotic American. What was NASA thinking when they selected a Canadian to pilot the voyage? There was no comparison as to who was the better skilled aviator. This was his time, his moment. Major James Harrow was about to prove to everybody they were wrong to bypass him as Commander. The weather conditions were perfect and lift-off for the test flight was text book. The triumphant cheers from Mission Control in Houston were echoed all the way to Cape Canaveral. The silent fear of the first hurdle of the flight had been succumbed. All systems were go! That is, until the crew and SOLT-X1 entered the Bermuda Triangle…

Book Excerpt

White. The room was a sterile, monotonous white. Had you been standing there blindfolded and then had the blind removed, you’d be convinced this was the cell of an asylum. But there was no padding on these walls. This was the briefing room at the Kennedy Space Center, Cape Canaveral, Florida. Even the uniforms were white – with the exception of the bright blue NASA crests just below the left shoulder. Wing Commander Scott Reed wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. His crew was at his side. Everyone stared at the white walls in complete silence as they awaited their final instructions. As a unit they had never been this quiet for so long. The hours, days and months of training drills were now over. They were ready for the adventure of a lifetime. The mission they’d prepared for would be historic. These astronauts were about to perform the first test flight ever at the speed of light. “Warp speed” was the language they used at NASA. At the time of the selection protocol, there had been thirty potential recruits. After each training module and testing round came the elimination stage. Scott and his crew were the final four left standing. Scott had absolute confidence in his team. They were disciplined and tough. Each member had a particular area of expertise that would contribute to the success of the mission. Scott was the only Canadian. Considering the recent political mood since the Iraq War, he’d been surprised when NASA had called upon him to lead the mission. Not bad for a kid from Winnipeg, Manitoba, where he still lived when he wasn’t on duty. The years he had dedicated himself in the Aeronautics and Astronautics program at MIT were now worth every minute.

Here's what reviewers have to say!

"When I started reading Hoodoo Sea, I couldn't stop. I read from cover to cover in a matter of hours. The book is very well written, keeps you in suspense until the very end, where you don't want to end. Growing up in Manitoba, I could see the places he was describing in the book which was awesome for me. The book was easy to read and had the reader in its grasp the whole book. If you like Stephen King novels or novels like it, you'll love Hoodoo Sea by Rolf Hitzer." —R. Bodoano, Amazon 

“Science fiction is not the type of book I usually read but when I finished this book I felt like I just had to read more. This book is captivating and unique and at times sent chills down my spine. I could not wait to see what was about to happen next to Scott Read and his crew. The ending is simply jaw dropping. Very unique and thought provoking. Excellent job for a first time novelist.” —T. Smith, Amazon Reviewer

Dog Eared Publicity Presents Making Light of Being Heavy by Kandy Siahaya

About Kandy Siahaya

kandy siahaya

Kandy Siahaya was raised in a small town in Maine where she graduated from high school in 1984.  She worked her way up from her first job as CSW to Manager of Kentucky Fried Chicken and ended up in Brunswick, Maine.  When she decided to leave the fried chicken business at age 22, she packed up her little Chevy Chevette and moved to Florida, where she worked as a waitress and had a great time as a single girl in her 20’s.  Reality hit when she was 25 years old and she went back to Maine and received her Associate’s Degree at Beal College and promptly moved back to Florida and started a career in medical transcription.  In 1995 at age 29, she moved to Miami, Florida, and continued with transcription starting her own business.  In 2002, Kandy left Florida and moved back to Maine with her 5-year-old son and continued medical transcription but had an unexpected decline in work which left her with a lot of time on her hands.  This is when she decided to write the book, something she had been thinking about for a few years but never had the time because she was always so busy with her business.  It was meant to be a quick and funny read, something to brighten the outlook of many that really do not see the light through their own tunnel vision.  It was also intended to be insightful for those that could never possibly relate to this specific subject. 

Kandy has succeeded in doing just that with Making Light of Being Heavy.

For more information on Kandy and her book visit

About Making Light of Being Heavy


These days everyone has a society-driven mindset and totally forget to laugh, especially at themselves. This may be cliche but the author truly believes that laughter is the best medicine and thinks everybody should laugh every day. Period. Over the years as a person blessed with the fat gene, Kandy has been in many situations where if she could not find humor she probably would end up on the couch in the psychiatrist s office. This book is about as politically incorrect as it gets for such a subject but it is also based on reality. This is a reality that many women have just like Kandy but do not think they can (or should) at times just laugh about it. Her intention when she started writing this book was to hopefully give insight to many who could never relate but at the same time perhaps provide a different perspective to women just like her. It is a point of view that has given her the strength to live her life happily and project these feelings onto everyone she comes in contact with. She has a great sense of humor and a quick wit and guarantees you will be laughing (and thinking) with each chapter of Making Light of Being Heavy.  

Book Excerpt

How about that Cabbage Soup diet? Yuck. That is the kind of diet you try to get all the people in your office to try at the same time so the residual side effects (make sure your desk is near the restroom) can never be blamed on one specific person. I personally liked the Richard Simmons diet because it seemed pretty easy and you could eat whatever but you had to account for everything you ate with these demonstrative food cards. I would start out the day with a certain amount of cards allowed for the day that represented fats, dairy, starch, protein, etc. and would just move them from one side of my Deal-a-Meal folder to the other side as they were used up in the course of the day. This was like a built in food diary and was quite handy. Unfortunately, I usually didn’t make it past 11:00 a.m. on most days without all the cards being used up which meant technically I couldn’t eat any more for the rest of the day. I wasn’t expecting a McDonald’s Sausage Biscuit with Egg and Cheese and large coffee with extra cream and sugar to use up so many cards…

Dog Eared Publicity Presents Beneath the Silver Lining by Amanda Wolfe

About Amanda Wolfe

Amanda Wolfe 1

Amanda Wolfe was born in Ottawa, Canada in the mid ‘60s. She matured at a very young age out of necessity growing up in unusual circumstances. She has always been a happy-go-lucky, carefree spirit and a very strong-willed person. She has done everything from waitressing to owning her own restaurant and selling things from Mary Kay cosmetics to real estate. She is married to a wonderful man. They currently reside in the great state of Texas with their horses. When she is not at home writing her latest novel, you will find her and her husband flying in their plane and traveling the world together.

 For more information on Amanda and her book visit Beneath the Silver Lining is her first book.

About Beneath the Silver Lining Trilogy

Beneath the silver lining
On the outside, her family appeared to be one big, happy family. Their house, with her parents, three sisters, and two brothers, was the epitome of a simple yet fulfilling life lived in a small town. But as the author would soon discover, her childhood was in fact a nightmarish phase of her life she would always be running from. Growing up as a carefree girl, Wolfe struggled to comprehend why she was reared in a family where children are deprived of their right to know the truth, adults are always right, and smoothing out a misunderstanding is never an option. At the young age of nine, she started experiencing cruelty at the hands of her father, who not only abused her emotionally, but physically and sexually as well. Her mother, whose love she sought, was a stern woman who refused to see her husband's mistakes. As if her deeply troubled relationship with her parents was not enough, Wolfe also had to deal with inner secrets involving creepy characters from the afterlife. Feeling tormented, confused, solitary, and even filthy, this naïve girl had yet to be transformed into a strong-willed woman who would become cynical about love and learn to depend on no one but herself while facing more of life's bitterness.

The first of a series of three, Beneath the Silver Lining Trilogy: Secrets of the Black Box chronicles the author's journey along a perplexing road of growing up. It was originally written as a therapeutic way to heal her inner wounds and to let go of the pain and anger. However, it is now shared to bring inspiration to readers -- especially women.

Amanda Wolfe's BENEATH THE SILVER LINING TRILOGY'S VIRTUAL BOOK TOUR ‘10 will officially begin on November 2nd and ends on January 28th. If you would like to participate in this tour, please contact Tracee Gleichner at tgleichner(at)live(dot)com. Thank you!

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Dog Eared Publicity Presents When Harry Met Molly by Kieran Kramer

About Kieran Kramer


 Kieran, a former CIA employee, journalist, and English teacher, lives in the Lowcountry of South Carolina with her family. Game show veteran, karaoke enthusiast, and general adventurer, her motto is, "Life rewards action." Find her on Facebook, Twitter, and at When Harry Met Molly is her first novel.

About When Harry Met Molly

Kieran Kramer transports you to London, and a time where a wager can be placed by royal decree—and romance is always in season…

HE’S ALWAYS BEEN A PLAYER. Dashing Lord Harry Traemore is perfectly content to live out his days in the pursuit of pleasure. But when he’s named by the Prince Regent as one of society’s “Impossible Bachelors,” Harry is drafted into a ribald romantic wager. The rules of engagement are scandalously simple: The bachelor whose mistress wins the title of “Most Delectable Companion” gets to remain unmarried. Harry is utterly unconcerned about his status…until his latest lightskirt abandons him.

 WHO WILL WIN THIS GAME OF LOVE? Enter Lady Molly Fairbanks. Harry’s childhood friend—actually, “foe” is more like it—is the most unlikely companion of all. She’s attractive but hot-headed, and in no mood for games. Besides, what could the self-indulgent Harry possibly know about what makes a woman delectable? It’s time for Molly to teach him a lesson once and for all…but will it lead to “happily ever after?”

Book Excerpt

Molly stood on the road beside Harry and watched the vehicle carrying Cedric and his Aphrodite disappear around a bend in the road. Her ears began to buzz. In the distance, the chickens, the oak tree, the woman and child climbing into a wagon in the stableyard—all became wavy, like ribbons of taffy. God, no. This couldn’t be happening to her. Everything, everything…was wrong, upside-down. She blinked slowly, several times, to make the waves go away. When they did, she found her feet again, one of which she promptly stomped at Harry. “Now see what you’ve done,” she said. “I’m stranded here because your fit of temper caused your lightskirt to throw herself into the arms of my intended!” Harry brought his face a mere few inches from her own. “And your intended obviously had had enough of your bossiness. So much so that he took off with my lightskirt!” “You shouldn’t have a lightskirt,” said Molly. “What would your mother say?” “And you shouldn’t be running off to Gretna Green with a spineless fop.” Molly refused to blink. “He wasn’t spineless. Simply…sensitive.” Although she had no idea why she was defending Cedric. It was Harry’s fault, of course. He always brought out the irrational in her. Harry scoffed. “Alliston sensitive? He was about as sensitive as a tree stump.” She crossed her arms. “And your lightskirt was about as intelligent as…as an insect.” Harry’s smile was wicked. “She doesn’t require intelligence for what I need her for.” If he intended to make her blush, Molly wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She turned her back and put up her parasol. Never in a million years would she ask Harry’s help. But help was what she needed. She was stranded at a remote hostelry in the middle of England, unchaperoned and without even the excuse of going to Gretna Green with her intended to protect her reputation. If anyone back home found out what was happening to her, she was a fallen woman. ### Harry watched Molly march onto the dusty road, the silliest of striped parasols opened above her head. She stared down both ways with a wrinkle on her brow. He recalled that there were no farmhouses or places to stop for at least ten miles southward, but the north road led her even farther from home. “Here now!” he called to her. She turned around. “I’ve nothing to say to you.” She put her chin in the air and headed south. Harry trotted after her, grabbed her elbow, and swung her around. “You’re not going to disappear and leave me in an awkward situation.” Her cheeks were spotted pink. “Oh, and I’m not in one myself? Any gentleman would have noticed I am! But no, you’re no gentleman. The whole world knows that.” She hit him on the chest with her reticule. It felt empty, except for maybe a coin. He sighed. “That doesn’t help anything.” She inhaled through her nose and let her breath out in a gusty sigh. “I’m sorry. A lady doesn’t hit people. Even though you deserve it, cavorting with a woman who’s no lady at all, running off with any man she sees!” He scoffed. “Are you telling me you’re a lady? You put a thistle in my seat and a rock in my wine goblet last time I dined at Marble Hill.” “That was a long time ago.” “It was at Penelope and Roderick’s bon voyage celebration before they took the girls to Italy. Barely four months ago.” “Yes, but how is that worse than pulling someone’s chair out a little too far? You did it the very evening after your dear Aunt Cora expired! I almost fell on my bottom at supper, in front of all your grieving family, thanks to you.” “I did it for Aunt Cora,” he said. “She liked practical jokes.” “A poor excuse,” Molly replied. They glared at each other. Neither one spoke for a minute, and then she said, rather thickly, “We’re both in trouble.” He hoped she wouldn’t become a watering pot. It was the last thing he needed, to be in the presence of a stubborn shrew who was also crying. “Perhaps we should help each other out of it,” he said very reluctantly. Oh, how it cost him! “That’s what I was thinking,” she said, brightening a bit. Thank God. Although seeing her brighten was something he usually wouldn’t encourage. “Exactly what is your situation?” she asked him. “I’m travelling to a house party, a rather lively one. I can take you with me.” “Lively?” “Let’s just say it’s not the sort of house party you‘d typically attend. Or most members of the ton, for that matter. It’s…unique. This year I’ve been designated the host.” She waved him off and kept walking. “And I need a mistress to take with me!” he called after her, refusing to look or sound ashamed. She wheeled around. “I should have known you’d propose something scandalous.” And then marched off again in an even greater huff. “You’d be my false mistress, not a real one, you foolish chit!” As usual, she had his blood boiling. She turned again, stopped, stuck an index finger on her chest. “Me? Foolish?” “Yes, you. Walking into certain danger on that road.” He felt his nostrils flare like a bull’s. There was not a person in the world who could rile him the way Molly Fairbanks did. “Dangerous?” She put a fist on her hip. “How is walking on a road more dangerous than attending a gathering with you, where there’ll be sure to be drunken louts falling everywhere and lightskirts gadding about half-clothed? And why would anyone need a false mistress anyway? It’s a ludicrous concept.” Harry crossed his arms and prayed for patience. “First of all, we shan’t be drunk all the time.” Molly rolled her eyes. “There is some strategy involved.” “Such as?” “If I show up with no mistress at all,” he explained, “I’ll lose the wager immediately. So I must bring someone. Your presence will at least keep me in the game.” She opened her mouth to rip into him–he saw the flare of battle in her eyes –but he put his index finger in the air. “I’m willing to make you a mistress in name only to protect your virtue.” She should be pleased. “Although no one else shall know of our arrangement, of course.” He’d be the only man at the house party with a false mistress. Did she not appreciate his sacrifice? She lowered her brows. “I knew it was something like that. What exactly do you mean by ‘game?’” “We compete. Whoever brings the finest mistress wins.” “Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Do go on.” “Each woman shall be judged on her beauty–extra points for beauty, actually, especially if we can see much of it.” Molly’s brow wrinkled. “‘See much of it?’” “Yes. ” He bit his lip, not caring to explain. “And then, of course, she shall be judged on her conversation. And her wit.” He snapped his fingers. “ If she’s skilled at gambling with ha’pennies, laughs frequently at men’s jokes, and notices when their brandy snifters need replenishing, so much the better.” “You’re joking.” Harry shrugged. “Not at all. To sum up, she’ll be judged on almost all the things that make a female, shall we say, mesmerizing to a man.” Molly sighed and tapped her foot. “What do you win if you bring the, erm, finest of the mistresses?” “She gets the glory of winning the title–’The Most Delectable Companion, ’” he said as if he were announcing the tightrope walker at the travelling circus. “And a crown of paste,” he remembered to add. She twisted her face up. “That’s all? She receives no tangible reward beyond a worthless title and tiara?” He shifted, suddenly feeling doubtful. Molly had a way of making him feel like a…a dunderhead. He hadn’t felt that way since– Since he’d last seen her! “You should at least give the Most Delectable Companion loads of money,” she said, her chin back in the air. “God knows she’ll deserve it. Any lightskirt of yours would require the patience of a saint!” She paused only long enough to get her breath. “What does her consort win?” “Another year of freedom from parson’s noose,” he said with relish, because he knew she would hate to hear him say it. “And every matchmaking mama, all the dragon ladies who rule Almack’s, and every bettor at every club in London will know he’s off the market. Thanks to a royal decree put forth by Prinny himself.” “Prinny?” Her lip curled. “You mean, the Prince Regent will give you permission to enjoy shirking your duty by your family.” “What duty?” Harry said coolly. “Roderick shall be the next Duke of Mallan, and Penelope will be sure to produce a son soon. He’ll already have four big sisters to boss him about. The line is thriving, I assure you.” “But you must marry as well.” She sounded exactly like his mother. And his sister-in-law. And his father and brother. “I am the spare,” he ground out. “I can stay a bachelor as long as I’d like. They merely need me if Roderick sticks his spoon in the wall before his son is born, and my brother is a hale, hearty fellow who shall be around for another seventy years at least.” “But your mama will want more grandchildren,” Molly persisted, twirling her parasol as if they were conversing about the weather. She must quite enjoy bickering, Harry thought. Perhaps it was her favorite pastime. He felt his mouth become a grim line. “I’d rather not discuss it. It is, quite frankly, none of your business, Molly Fairbanks.” “Ohhhh,” she growled, and lowered her parasol to glare at him. As if he couldn’t see the intensity of that fierce look unless the sun were full upon her face. They were getting nowhere. Fast. And she was working herself up to hitting him again with that blasted reticule. “Let’s get back to business, shall we?” he said. “The men whose mistresses don’t win the contest must pull straws to see who must get legshackled to the woman handpicked for him by the board of their club. So we have an obvious winner and an obvious loser.” Molly brightened. “If you lose this year, you’d have to marry Anne Riordan.” “How did you know?” “Easy. Your papa’s on your club board. And he’s told everyone he believes she’ll have a calming influence on you.” She inclined her head and smiled. “I will quite enjoy that, seeing you and Anne married.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You always were cruel.” She laughed. “Tell me, Harry, what would I get out of being your–ahem– false mistress?” He crossed his arms. “Safe, anonymous travel back to Marble Hill. I assume your father is traipsing about Europe somewhere and that you somehow pulled the wool over his cousin Augusta’s eyes?” “How did you know?” “Easy. You’re extremely predictable.” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like how you said that.” He shrugged. “Take it as you wish.” She bit her thumbnail. “But the gentlemen at the house party. What if they recognize me in Town? Now that I’m not marrying Cedric, I shall have to have a Season.” “You’ll wear loads of face powder and rouge.” “They’ll itch.” She knew from experimenting with Cousin Augusta’s. “And you must use a false name.” “I’ll forget it. I know it.” He sighed. “You can’t afford to forget it.” “Then it must be Delilah,” she said. “It’s the only name I’ll be able to remember.” “Why Delilah?” “I don’t know. But I already know I won’t forget it.” Harry shook his head. He would never quite understand women and the way their minds worked, especially Molly’s–thank God. “You needn’t be overly worried about being found out,” he said. “The gentlemen will be mildly pickled half the time–when we’re out shooting–and severely so the other half. Plus, they’ll be looking down almost always.” He cocked one brow. Her face grew red. “Do you mean–?” She glanced down at her own bodice. “Yes.” She shuddered. “This house party sounds awful.” “It will be.” He grinned. “Positively dreadful.” She narrowed her eyes, kicked a stone in the road, and then whirled back to face him. “Why me?” she demanded. “Why not ask that buxom barmaid back at the inn to be your real mistress? She’s a willing handful, isn’t she?” He resented having to venture into truth territory, where vague notions about saving damsels in distress claimed priority over his own more immediate needs and wants. “Believe me,” he said. “I thought about asking her, even if she is a bit rustic. But I can’t allow a gently bred lady to be thrust out into the world unprotected. Even if that so-called lady“–he put as much sarcasm in the word as possible–”is you.” “Oh.” She drew back. “Oh,” she said again, softer this time, and bit her lip. He’d gone too far. And yes, he felt guilty. Roderick would have his hide if he’d heard Harry address his sister-in-law so. But Molly was so…provoking. Always had been. From the time she’d discovered, at age four, a sack of acorns he’d spent two weeks gathering for a game of war with Roderick and redistributed them to the squirrels at Marble Hill. She shook her head. “I won’t go with you. But thank you for asking.” Her voice was small. She lowered her parasol and took off down the road again, this time looking not so much like Napoleon. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, not swinging boldly. Her stride had shortened as well. She stumbled over a rock. “Wait!” he called to her. She recovered and kept walking. He strode after her. “Will you stop?” She quickened her pace. He caught up to her, and she began to run. Dash it all, he would have to run, too! In one fell swoop, he lifted her over his shoulder and turned back to the inn. She screamed and kicked and beat him with her parasol, but he paid no heed to her pathetic attempts to make him submit to her shrill threats and simply kept walking. “Thrash and scream to your heart’s content,” he said, ignoring the ringing in his ears. “Perhaps it will tire you out.” A remark which his captive took to heart. Seemingly by the grace of God alone, Harry made it to the stableyard without too much bodily damage. “Ready?” he called to his coachman, who’d been ready this age, and was agog at the sight of his master toting a screaming virago who was, at the same time, obviously a well-bred young lady, over his shoulder. Harry opened the door to the carriage, stuffed Molly in, and jumped in himself, pulling the door quickly behind him and holding it shut. He put his hand on the other door as well to keep it sealed. The carriage rocked forward and began a brisk roll out of the stableyard. They were on the road north again. Molly clenched the seat cushion and drew in huge lungfuls of air. “I told you I hated you, Harry,” she said between breaths. “But the truth is I hate you with a capital H. That’s even more than I hated you before.” He would allow her that diatribe. As penance for his “you’re-no-lady” dig. “Nevertheless,” he replied coolly. “We’re stuck together. For one week.” Inwardly, he sighed. Then reassured himself–if he could handle Waterloo, he could most certainly deal with Molly Fairbanks.