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Virgin River is abuzz with the news that a stranger bought the town's abandoned church on eBay. The buyer, a young widowed reverend, is a little like the building itself: in need of some loving care.

Noah Kincaid arrives ready to roll up his sleeves and revitalize his new purchase, but he's going to need some help. An ad in the local paper brings an improbable candidate his way.

"Pastor's assistant" is not a phrase that springs to mind when Noah meets brassy, beautiful Alicia Baldwin. With her colorful clothes and even more colorful past, Alicia needs a respectable job so she can regain custody of her children. Noah can't help but admire her spunk and determination, and she may just be the breath of fresh air he needs.

This unlikely duo may come from two different worlds, but they have more in common than anyone would have expected. And in Virgin River lasting happiness is never out of the question.

• Sales Rank: #532173 in Books
• Brand: Mira
• Published on: 2009-12-29
• Released on: 2009-12-29
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x 1.00" w x 4.21" l, .35 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 384 pages

Features

• Great product!

From Booklist
Noah Kincaid is a minister in search of a church when he stumbles across Hope McCrea’s eBay auction and impetuously decides to use his recent inheritance to finance his dreams. Ellie Baldwin is trying to rebuild her life and make a home for her kids away from her manipulative ex-husband, who currently has custody in an attempt to force her back into his arms. Flamboyant and attractive, Ellie is exactly the wrong person for the job of minister’s assistant, but when Noah’s compassion overrules his good sense, he discovers that she is also a hard worker and mature beyond her years. Carr’s hugely popular contemporary-romance series set in Virgin River, California, introduces new characters and revisits familiar ones as the relatively isolated mountain town continues to grow and its residents address social issues such as homelessness, poverty, and illness. --Lynne Welch

Review
"A pair of emotionally fragile protagonists make their relationship work in an engaging romance that is sexy, funny and intensely touching."

-Library Journal on The Chance

"As usual, Carr delves into the lives of others in town, laying the groundwork for future books. This cozy read satisfies." -Publisher's Weekly on The Chance

"Carr focuses her superior storytelling on one couple for a can't-put-down read."

-RT Book Reviews on The Chance

"A touch of danger and suspense make the latest in Carr's Thunder Point series a powerful read."

-RT Book Reviews on The Hero

"With her trademark mixture of humor, realistic conflict, and razor-sharp insights, Carr brings Thunder Point to vivid life."

-Library Journal on The Newcomer

"No one can do small-town life like Carr."

-RT Book Reviews on The Wanderer

"Carr has hit her stride with this captivating series."
-Library Journal on the Virgin River series

About the Author

Robyn Carr is a RITA® Award-winning, #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than forty novels, including the critically acclaimed Virgin River series. Robyn and her husband live in Las Vegas, Nevada. You can visit Robyn Carr’s website at www.RobynCarr.com.

Most helpful customer reviews

45 of 49 people found the following review helpful.
Good addition to the Virgin River series
By David Gordon
I've read all of the Virgin River books and was counting the days to this latest addition. Forbidden Falls is a good, sweet story; however, I was hoping to get caught up with many of the characters I've learned to know and love -- Jack, Mel, Rick, Liz, Walt, Muriel, Luke, Shelby, and even Cameron and Abby. But, it was not to be. I thought Paradise Valley (which precedes Forbidden Falls) did an excellent job of switching between characters' perspectives, developing multiple plots, while at the same time deepening our understanding and interest of many of the minor characters. This one fell short in that regard and is almost entirely devoted to the new characters, Noah and Ellie (likable and fun characters by the way). There is a brief subplot that revolves around Vannie and Paul, (they are faced with a difficult dilemma that rocks their marriage a bit) but I never really felt connected. The storyline was there, but I wasn't given the opportunity to go deep inside the characters' thoughts enough to feel their plight or to want to cheer them on. It's a good read, don't get me wrong, but after Paradise Valley I had hoped that the author would continue multiple subplots to develop the characters we already know, in addition to the introduction to our new Virgin River friends. I think Ms. Carr's best work is when she focuses in depth on a character and really brings him or her to life (as she has done perfectly with Mel and Shelby for example). I'll look forward to next month's installment of Angel's Peak, but I admit I'll be disappointed if my old friends don't come front and center for at least some of it. Thank you for another entertaining read, Ms. Carr; Please keep 'em coming!!!

18 of 21 people found the following review helpful.
missing my favorite characters
By Amazon Customer
Forbidden Falls introduces two new wonderful characters to the Virgin River community. Noah and Ellie are great people with a lot of history, brought together by luck, the redwoods (and maybe god ;) Noah is a preacher who buys the abandoned church and Ellie he hires as an assistant/ jill-of-all-trades. I love their story. It has a HEA but also has the drama and unexpected twists that I have come to expect and love about this series.

That being said, the only reason I didn't rate this 5 stars is because I missed the brief but wonderful point of view changes like the other books. I LOVE reading about the continuing stories of Jack/Mel, Preacher/Paige, Brie/Mike. We did get brief glimpses of Jack, Mel, Cameron, Rick, Mike and Brie but none of their perspective. The only subplot that is given any attention involves Paul and Vanni (which I won't spoil). It was heartbreaking and so real the way they struggled with this problem. We don't even get a paragraph about Liz, Abby/the twins, Sheryl and Dan, and Tom.
Shelby and Luke get married but nothing is written from their perspective which was more than disappointing. As I read I felt there should have been more in places, like more was possibly written and then edited out. I sincerely hope with further books there is more of the sidestories that I have come to love so much. I have found Robyn Carr to be one of my favorite authors and hope after the next two books in the series I can still say the same.
(It reminded me of reading Virgin River Christmas, which was a good story but I missed the cast of characters with every chapter).

I look forward to reading about Luke's brother Sean (and others I hope) with the next installment.

7 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
Sweet but predictable
By S. Thomas
"Forbidden Falls" is a sweet, old fashioned love story between Noah, the town preacher and Ellie and ex-stripper. Noah is a man in transition. He has just found a new church that needs a lot of TLC. He needs an assistant and in comes Ellie, an ex-stripper that needs steady employment to get her kids back.

Noah was a great character. Strong, smart, handsome and steady, he was the rock that Ellie so desperately needed. He was the opposite of the stereotypical preacher. He wasn't preachy, but a down to earth, passionate, nice guy. Patient, loving and caring, he was a willing ear for Ellie as well as the other characters in town.

Ellie was a breath of fresh air to Noah. Bright, sassy, strong and optimistic, she never let her hard knocks turn her bitter or mean. She was a good woman, whose focus was her kids. Ellie wasn't searching for a man, but boy was she happy when he turned up.

There was a host of other characters in addition to Ellie and Noah. There was Vanessa and Paul, coping with an unexpected addition to the family. Nic and Jo trying to mend their marriage. And one of my favorites, Lucy, the border collie with a heart of gold.

While I liked the book, it started to drag a little in the middle to me. I thought that the story with Ellie's ex was drawn out and I lost interest before it was resolved. I also found the story to be predictable in a lot of ways. I found myself skimming the last 50 pages or so.

"Forbidden Falls" is one of the Virgin River Novels. Although, prior to this novel, I had never read any of the books in this series, I found the book easy to follow.

"Forbidden Falls" was pretty predictable, but the book was well written and sweet. It wasn't the most exciting read, but it was nice.

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New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery's prose has been called "gritty and magical" and "luscious and provocative" (Publishers Weekly). Now she returns to Blackberry Island with the story of three women whose friendship will change their lives forever.

After Andi Gordon is jilted at the altar, she makes the most impetuous decision of her life—buying one of the famed Three Sisters Queen Anne houses on Blackberry Island. Now the proud-ish owner of the ugly duckling of the trio, she plans to open her own pediatric office on the first floor, just as soon as her hunky contractor completes the work. Andi's new future may be coming together, but the truth is she's just as badly in need of a major renovation as her house.

When Deanna Phillips confronts her husband about a suspected affair, she opens up a Pandora's box of unhappiness. And he claims that she is the problem. The terrible thing is, he's right. In her quest to be the perfect woman, she's lost herself, and she's in danger of losing her entire family if things don't change.

Next door, artist Boston King thought she and her college sweetheart would be married forever. Their passion for one another has always seemed indestructible. But after tragedy tears them apart, she's not so sure. Now it's time for them to move forward, with or without one another.

Thrown together by fate and geography, and bound by the strongest of friendships, these three women will discover what they're really made of: laughter, tears, love and all.

• Sales Rank: #120434 in Books
• Brand: Harlequin MIRA
• Published on: 2013-02-26
• Released on: 2013-02-26
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 8.38" h x .93" w x 5.85" l, .65 pounds
• Binding: Paperback
• 340 pages

Features

• Great product!

From Booklist
After being left at the altar, Andi makes a new life for herself on Blackberry Island. She buys one of the island’s Three Sisters, a trio of historic Queen Anne houses, and has it renovated so she can both live and house her pediatric practice there. Soon her life becomes intertwined with those of her Three Sisters neighbors. Boston, an artist, is struggling to cope with the sudden death of her 6-month-old son, and her grief is affecting her marriage and work. Their neighbor, Deanna, has her own troubles: her marriage is falling apart and her children are turning against her as she struggles to deal with the repercussions of childhood abuse. The three women grow inseparable as they help each other mend their broken hearts, and in Andi’s case, find love again. Mallery’s second novel set on Blackberry Island, following Barefoot Season (2012), is a compelling portrait of female friendship and starting over. --Aleksandra Walker

Review
"Barefoot Season is a well-written story of healing, letting go, and making room in your heart for hope." -USA TODAY

"This poignant tale of family dynamics, the jarring impact of change, and eventual acceptance and healing is sure to please Mallery's many devoted fans."

-Booklist on Already Home

"Gritty and magical, angst-ridden and sweet."

-Publishers Weekly on Barefoot Season

"An adorable, outspoken heroine and an intense hero...set the sparks flying in Mallery's latest lively, comic, and touching family-centered story."

-Library Journal on Only Yours

"Mallery...excels at creating varied, well-developed characters and an emotion-packed story gently infused with her trademark wit and humor."

-Booklist on Only Mine

"Mallery's prose is luscious and provocative."

-Publishers Weekly

About the Author

New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery has entertained millions of readers with her witty and emotional stories about women. Publishers Weekly calls Susan’s prose “luscious and provocative,” and Booklist says “Novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance, humor and superb storytelling.” Susan lives in Seattle with her husband and her tiny but intrepid toy poodle. Visit her at www.SusanMallery.com.

Most helpful customer reviews

106 of 111 people found the following review helpful.
Susan Mallery’s best book
By GwenL
Fans of Susan Mallery have come to expect family to play a large role in her books. Her series romance, such as the titles set in fictional Fools Gold, Calif., often feature families as the foundational characters who tie the different stories together.

Her newer, women’s fiction titles “Almost Home,” “Blackberry Island” and this newest — “Three Sisters” — instead look at the families we make through circumstance and choice.

The Three Sisters of the title refer to three Victorian homes set alone on the highest point of Blackberry Island. By the end of the book, however, Three Sisters also refers to our three heroines, Deanna, Boston and Andi, who live in the houses and find themselves sisters of the heart.

“Three Sisters” is Mallery’s best work to date. Her descriptions of Deanna, Boston and Andi; the situations they face in their lives and even the thoughts of other loved ones in their lives are written with a rich nuance. The book takes place over several months, not the typical few weeks of a series romance. The paths the three women walk are realistic. It’s easy to celebrate their successes and sympathize with their setbacks.

A key to keeping the stories moving along is switching among each woman’s viewpoint — and also throwing in some perspectives of secondary characters. Although I haven’t faced everything the three women were dealing with, I still saw pieces of myself in their stories.

“Three Sisters” is Book 2 of Mallery’s new Blackberry Island series, but it easily can be read independently. The setting and main characters of “Barefoot Season” (Blackberry Island Book 1) make a minor appearance toward the end of the book. Rather than what often seems like a gratuitous way to catch up from a previous title, their placement moves the plot of “Three Sisters” along with no additional background needed.

Fans of Susan Mallery will enjoy “Three Sisters.” For readers new to this author, “Three Sisters” is a great book to introduce you.

44 of 46 people found the following review helpful.
A Powerful Story of Friendship and Hope
By The Book Goddess
I think the Blackberry Island Novels may be Susan Mallery's greatest books yet. I have read all of her books and her romances are amazing, but Susan does something special with her more serious novels. I would definitely put this more in the genre of Women's Fiction, but don't worry, there are romantic storylines. At the heart of this story, is the deep friendship that is formed between our three heroines, Deanna, Andi and Boston. I think that Mallery did an amazing job developing the characters and giving us insight into their histories...which have formed their present. The story made me want to call my best friend and just thank her for always being there for me in my times of need. Mallery writes about serious, emotional life experiences and makes them relatable, as well as funny at times. I really found myself caring for these three women and their individual struggles and found myself sad when the story was over. If you want to read a book that is engaging, charming, emotionally moving and still provides moments of humor, then don't hesitate to buy this book right away. You won't be disappointed!

29 of 32 people found the following review helpful.
Just ok
By Raja M
I wanted to like this book, but it annoyed me more than anything. The majority of the story is about Andi, and she was my least favorite character. She moves to get away from her relationship troubles and swears off men, and yet, the entire story is consumed by her obsessing over a man.

Deanna is the most interesting character. She shows the most growth and real emotion, and yet, we hear the least about her.

Boston does the same two things during the entire story- talk about painting a mural and defending herself to her husband.

The most annoying thing is how the author keeps repeating information and situations. How many times do we have to hear the story of Andi being rejected? How many times will Boston's husband discover that she keeps painting Liam and
then walk out on her?

There's not much dialogue in the story, so you would expect the limited amount to be profound and poignant, but it is just the opposite-cold and ordinary.

I wasn't impressed.

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Criminal court judge Hannah Montgomery is presiding over a murder trial in Phoenix, Arizona. When the jury finds the defendant, Bobby Donahue, not guilty, Hannah is convinced they've reached the wrong verdict. Especially when strange things start happening around her…

For one thing, a judge she's always trusted is making decisions she doesn't understand. For another, her pediatrician is being questioned in the deaths of several young patients—including Hannah's adopted son. The police say it was murder. Dr. Brian Hampton says he's been framed.

Still reeling from grief at the loss of her child, Hannah no longer knows who to believe, who's lying and who's not. Despite her faith in Brian, she begins to wonder if he's betrayed her. Is he connected with Donahue? Is he responsible for her son's death?

• Sales Rank: #3117951 in Books
• Published on: 2008-12-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x 1.01" w x 4.21" l,
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 384 pages

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Members of the Phoenix press filled her courtroom. Tension filled her gut. Maricopa County Superior Court Judge Hannah Montgomery leaned forward.

"We are back on the record with case number CR2008-000351. Would those present please identify themselves?"

Hannah heard the attorneys state their names for the record. She knew both lawyers well. Had been listening to them drone on for six days now in this trial that seemed as though it would never end.

But she wasn't looking at them.

Her eyes locked on the dark-suited man who'd just slipped quietly into the back of the room. There wasn't anything particularly remarkable about him. He was twenty-nine years old. Average height. Average weight. His straight brown hair was thick and short. Wholesome. Businesslike.

Hannah couldn't seem to pull her focus away from him. Because she'd been dreading this moment for the entire nine months she'd been administering this hideous case? If so, the nondescript man would have been a disappointment.

Surely an icon, a godlike figure to his followers, should stand out more.

He met her gaze and nodded, his expression properly respectful. Taking a seat in the second row, arms at his sides, he glanced around with an air more curious—more childlike—than controlling.

Jaime, Hannah's bailiff, cleared her throat, catching Hannah's attention.

Robert Keith, attorney for the defense, had rein-troduced the young man at his side, Kenny Hill. Mr. Hill, wearing a navy suit today, made eye contact with the jury.

Just as he did every time he was introduced.

The eighteen-year-old had more bravado than years and sense combined. As had his Ivory Nation compatriot who'd sat in that very seat twelve months earlier, in a trial almost as long as this one. That kid, another young "brother" in Arizona's most influential white supremacist organization, had cried in the end, though, when Hannah had sentenced him to twenty years for breaking and entering, kidnapping and weapons theft.

Her judgment had been overturned on appeal while Hannah was taking family leave, mourning for the adopted son she'd lost to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. A mistrial had been declared and that young man was free.

Sweating beneath the black folds of her robe, Hannah glanced at Keith. "You may call your next witness."

"The defense calls Bobby Donahue, Your Honor."

"Mr. Donahue." She forced herself to look at him again. And to look away. "Please step forward and be sworn in." She indicated Jaime, who'd risen from her seat to Hannah's left.

"Please raise your right hand and state your name." Jaime's voice didn't falter, and Hannah made a mental note to congratulate her youngest employee. Jaime had been nervous at the prospect of facing this dangerous leader.

"Bobby Donahue."

Bobby. Not Robert. Not Robert G. Just Bobby.

Bobby, who couldn't appear that morning, in spite of the subpoena, due to a Wednesday church service he'd officiated without absence for more than five years. Bobby, who'd offered to appear in her court at 1:30 that afternoon instead.

In the interests of justice and saving the state the money it would cost to enforce the original subpoena, Hannah had approved the request.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth…"

Jaime's voice faded as Hannah watched the witness, getting too clear a glimpse of the man's eyes. Ghost. God. Infallible. Unstoppable. All words she'd heard applied to Bobby Donahue over the years.

"I do." Donahue regarded Jaime with apparent respect.

He's vindictive. That was the warning Hannah and her staff had been given by other court employees, the press, even the honorable William Horne, Hannah's social companion and fellow judge who'd officiated far more Ivory Nation trials than Hannah.

While he had yet to get caught at any offense, Bobby Donahue never allowed a wrong to go unpunished, a disloyalty to go unavenged.

Or so they said.

And Hannah, having fought her way off the streets and into college, didn't compromise the law for anyone.

Dr. Brian Hampton was not in the mood to cooperate. Especially with a reporter. And dammit, why wasn't Hannah answering her phone? She'd said she was staying in her chambers for lunch, preparing for the afternoon session of a trial that was taking far too much out of her.

That last was his assessment. Not hers.

Not that he'd told her so. As a friend he'd earned the right to speak frankly with the beautiful, blond, too-smart-for-her-own-good woman. But he'd also learned when it was best for him to keep his mouth shut.

Hannah Montgomery had mastered the art of independence.

Right now, he needed her to answer the private line that rang at her massive cherrywood desk.

When his call went to voice mail a second time, Brian shoved up the sleeve of his blue dress shirt with barely controlled impatience, glancing at his watch. And stopped. Hell.

Where had that hour and a half gone? Last he'd looked, it had been barely noon. And now it was quarter to two?

He'd only seen…

Brian paused. Counted.

Okay, he'd seen seven patients in the past hour. Seven patients under four. Which explained the missing hour.

The explanation didn't help him at all.

He'd had a message that morning from a polite Sun News reporter who wanted to talk to him "at his earliest convenience." As long as Brian's convenience happened sometime that day—otherwise he was going to print his story with a "no comment" from Dr. Hampton.

His story. That was all. No hint about the content. Or even the topic.

For Brian, a man who spent his days with people under the age of twelve and his nights largely alone, a meeting with the local rag was not a comfortable proposition.

And what could they have on him anyway? His biggest offense was an inability to keep track of time, arriving either very early or very late—no prejudice either way—to just about every appointment he'd ever had.

As much as he tried to come up with even a parking infraction—or an unpaid speeding ticket— there were none.

He hadn't had his stereo on in weeks, didn't have anyone around to yell at, hadn't thrown a party since graduating from med school. And the only woman he'd slept with in the past year was his steady girlfriend, Cynthia, a twenty-seven-year-old single mother, so an exposé of his wild lifestyle was out.

Of course it was possible, probable even, that they wanted him to corroborate a juicy story about someone or something else.

The only juice he could think of was the glass of cranberry he'd gulped that morning.

Still, the thought of the four o'clock appointment he'd scheduled unsettled him. Brian did enough public speaking on behalf of his newest passion—the fight against SIDS—and he'd been misquoted enough to be wary of talking to the publication known for making mountains out of molehills that didn't exist.

This was a time when a man called on the help of his friends.

Friend.

The woman who was well connected enough to know, firsthand, practically every Sun News reporter in the city.

Where was his judge when he needed her?

"Do you know this man?"

"I do." Bobby Donahue identified the defendant.

Robert Keith's next questions were rote, but necessary to establish a fair trial. And a fair judgment from a jury who'd been sending Hannah pleading glances since the first day of testimony. That was when prosecutors described the sodomy and three-hour beating death the nineteen-year-old victim had suffered, allegedly at the hands of kind-looking Kenny Hill, whose affluent parents were sitting on the bench directly behind him. Right where they'd been every time their son's case had been on the docket over the past many months.

The victim, Camargo Cortes, was an illegal immigrant and, had he lived, would have stood trial for statutory rape of the seventeen-year-old daughter of the newly elected Arizona senator, George Moss.

When pictures of Cortes's body had been shown, Hannah had had to excuse two jurors to the restroom to be sick. At the request of the defense, she'd later dismissed both of them.

She wasn't taking any unnecessary chances that might result in a motion for mistrial. With luck, no one would have to repeat the past six days, to see the things that those present in the courtroom had seen.

With luck, Kenny Hill would be put to death.

Brian worked through the half hour he'd allowed himself for lunch. Three-year-old Felicia Summers had had a sore throat on and off for more than a month. He wouldn't be overly concerned except that the child was underweight. And had already had her tonsils removed.

He didn't even want to think about leukemia. Or any other serious condition. Certainly didn't intend to alarm her parents at this stage. But he'd ordered blood work, just to be sure, and went down before his two-thirty appointment to get the results.

A day that had been diving rapidly now sank completely.

"Mr. Donahue, where did you and Mr. Hill meet?"

"At church."

"How long have you known each other?"

"Most of his life. His parents and I have attended the same church for more than ten years."

With a short nod, Donahue acknowledged the older couple sitting, hands clasped, on the front bench. The corners of Mrs. Hill's trembling lips turned slightly up, before she lowered her gaze. Her husband, a bit more successful at hiding intense emotions, nodded back.

Both of them spent most of their courtroom time staring at the back of their only son's head.

Character reference questions continued for the next forty-five minutes. Hannah attempted to show no reaction to the jurors who continued to look to her for guidance. If she believed this witness, they would, too.

And if she didn't…

This was a jury trial for a reason. It was not her job to decide this particular verdict. She was here to officiate the process. To allow or disallow testimony. To apply the law when attorneys, in the name of winning, veered away from it. Or challenged it.

She was here to ensure that the defendant's rights were upheld.

They were talking about possibly taking a man's life here. A young man. Who deserved to die if, indeed, he'd committed t...

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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
The two main characters are helpless victims throughout the story. It was too depressing. I wanted it to be over.
By Jane
STORY BRIEF:
Ivory Nation is a white supremacy group, headed by Bobby, a religious fanatic who believes God directs him. Members of this group threaten, torture and kill nonwhite people and anyone who helps them. Kenny is a member of Ivory Nation. He is being tried for the murder of Cortes, an illegal immigrant, who had sex with a white woman he was dating. Hannah is the criminal court judge overseeing the trial. Her home and car have been damaged. Her cat has been killed. There is no proof of who did it. Hannah's good friend Brian is a pediatrician. He provides free medical services to low income families. Within the past year, several Hispanic babies have died shortly after receiving vaccinations from Brian. Evidence against him has been planted. He is being framed.

REVIEWER'S OPINION:
Members of Ivory Nation are everywhere including police, politicians, and courtroom employees. They get whatever they want through their connections and by threatening people. They can get anyone to do anything by threatening their children. No one can succeed against them. It's a hopeless, helpless view of the world. This theme carries throughout the book. I was depressed throughout the book. Bad things are happening to good people, and they can do nothing about it. Finally, there is a decent ending but it was because one of the bad guys (I will call him BG) did something. BG did something that proved Brian was wrongly framed, but BG's motive was not to help Brian. BG's motive was to hurt something else. It was mere luck for Brian that BG decided to do this. Otherwise Brian would have gone to jail for life. I prefer stories where the hero or heroine has some skills, abilities or growth to be able to overcome adversity. In this book, the good guys were losers. There was no way they could win without the convenience of luck. The only positive was that Hannah kept her integrity and performed her judicial duties honestly, even though she was afraid.

CAUTION SPOILER:
An example of the Ivory Nation ability follows. Kenny is guilty and is found guilty by the jury. Previous threats to the judge had not helped. Therefore, after the verdict, the Ivory Nation leader Bobby confesses that he personally committed the crime. He gets a police officer to testify that the officer saw Bobby do it. Bobby says that the ring that hit the victim was his. So, Kenny is set free. Then a courtroom employee steals the ring out of evidence so it can't be used. The police officer is killed and can't testify. Bobby walks free along with Kenny. The judge had done what was right but was helpless.

DATA:
Story length: 370 pages. Swearing language: moderate. Sexual language: moderate. Number of sex scenes: 5. Total number of sex scene pages: 8. Setting: current day Arizona. Copyright: 2008. Genre: mystery suspense with a little romance.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
A celebration of spinelessness
By Evan the Dweezil
This book never gets off its feet and moving like the previous two novels in this series. The whole thing reads like an orgiastic pity party. Hannah snivels, then Brian snivels, then William lets loose a snively warning, Hannah snivels some more, Bobby snivels, you get the point.

I'm glad I didn't break down and pay full cover for this one, instead waiting for it to show up at my favorite used book store. At Close Range is a sad finale for what was a decent series.

2 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
New Reader
By melynda christensen
I used to read a ton of books when I was younger and I have not read any for a really long time. Every book I picked up I could not get into it. I bought this book for a plane ride and I almost finished the whole thing. I couldn't put it down. I really liked that it jumped around to each person throughout the whole thing. It kept my attention and I really liked it.

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No strings. No regrets. And no going back.

I didn't think he wanted me. And I wasn't about to get involved with him, not after what I'd heard. Alex Kennedy was tall, dark and unbearably hot, but I've been burned before. Maybe it was stupid of me to offer, but he needed a place to crash and I needed to pay the rent, but now he's my tenant…with benefits. And now that we've crossed that line, I can't seem to find my way back.

But I can't give my heart to a man who's so…unconventional. His last relationship was with a married couple. It's enough that my ex-fiancé preferred men—I won't take that chance again no matter how much my body thrives on Alex's touch. I can't risk it, but I can't resist it, either.

Alex can be very convincing when he wants something.

And he wants me.

• Sales Rank: #233631 in Books
• Brand: Brand: Harlequin MIRA
• Published on: 2013
• Released on: 2013-06-25
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 8.24" h x 1.03" w x 5.37" l, .61 pounds
• Binding: Paperback
• 384 pages

Features

• Used Book in Good Condition

About the Author

Megan Hart is the award-winning and multi-published author of more than thirty novels, novellas and short stories. Her work has been published in almost every genre, including contemporary women’s fiction, historical romance, romantic suspense and erotica. Megan lives in the deep, dark woods of Pennsylvania with her husband and children, and is currently working on her next novel for MIRA Books. You can contact Megan through her website at www.MeganHart.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


"Alex doesn't like girls." Patrick said this like a warning.

I'd been staring at the man from the corner of my eye, framing him as part of the overall picture here at Patrick's annual Chrismukkah party. Alex was prettier than the bunches of Martha Stewart-inspired poinsettias and twinkling fairy lights, but so were all the men here. Patrick had the hottest friends I'd ever seen. Seriously, it was like a convention of hot men. After Patrick's admonishment I looked Alex over again more closely, mostly just to jerk Patrick's chain. He was so easy that way.

"Is that his name?"

Patrick gave a low snort of disapproval. "Yes, that's his name."

"Alex what?"

"Kennedy," Patrick said. "But he doesn't—"

"I heard you." I pressed my lips to the rim of my wineglass, warming it. The rich, strong scent of red wine wafted under my nostrils. I could taste the aroma on the back of my tongue, but I didn't sip. "He doesn't like girls, huh?"

Patrick pursed his mouth and crossed his arms. "No. Jesus, Olivia, stop ogling his ass."

I raised an eyebrow, mirroring Patrick's earlier expression. An old habit and one I knew irritated the shit out of him. It seemed like that kind of night. "Why do you invite me to your parties if it's not to ogle men's asses?"

Patrick huffed and puffed and frowned briefly before he must've remembered what that did to the lines around his mouth, and he forced his face to neutral smoothness. His gaze followed mine across the dining room and through the archway. Alex had his back to us, one arm on the mantelpiece of the living-room fireplace. He had a glass of Guinness. He'd been holding it for as long as I'd been watching, but I hadn't seen him drink from it even once.

"And you feel an especial need to point this out to me…why?" I sipped more wine and stared him down.

Patrick shrugged. "Just thought I'd make sure you knew."

I looked around at the half-dozen men helping themselves to the buffet, and then through the arch to the living room where another dozen men chatted or danced or flirted. Ninety-nine percent of them were gay and the other one percent was thinking about it. "I think I know better than to expect to get laid at one of your parties, Patrick."

Before I could comment further, a pair of thick, muscled arms gripped my waist from behind and a tight belly pressed along my back. "Run away with me and see how long it takes before he notices we're gone," said a deep voice directly into my ear.

I twisted, giving in to laughter at the tickling touch of a beard on my earlobe, and turned. "Patrick, you didn't tell me you were inviting Billy Dee Williams to your party! Oh, wait…Billy Dee would never wear that sweater. Hey, Teddy."

"Girl, don't you be making fun of this sweater. Mama McDonald sent me this sweater and her boy Patrick got one just like it." Teddy dropped Patrick a wink. "Difference is, I'm man enough to wear it."

I got a hug, a squeeze, a kiss and a pat on the ass all within the span of seconds before Teddy moved on to provide the same for Patrick. Patrick, still pouting, swatted at the bigger man and pushed him away while Teddy laughed and swiped a hand over Patrick's hair. Patrick scowled and smoothed his ruffled feathers, but allowed Teddy to kiss his cheek a moment later.

I gestured with my wineglass. "He's trying to tell me not to ogle an ass."

"What? I thought we were all here to ogle men's asses."

Teddy shook his, I shook mine; we did The Bump and dissolved into the sort of laughter helped along by a liberal helping of holiday cheer. Patrick watched us with his arms crossed and eyebrow lifted. Then he shook his head.

"Pardon me for trying to be a friend," he said.

Patrick and I had been friends for a long time. Once, long ago, we'd been more than that. Patrick thought that gave him the right to be my aunt Nancy and I let him because…well, because I loved him. And because there was never been too much love in my life to turn any small bit of it away.

This, though, seemed a little excessive even for Patrick. Teddy and I shared a glance. I shrugged.

"I'm making a run to the kitchen for some more wine, loves," Teddy said. "Do you want any?"

"I'm good." I held up my glass, still halffull.

Patrick shook his head. We both watched Teddy make his way through the crowd. Only when he was out of earshot did I turn back to my ex-boyfriend.

"Patrick, if you're trying to tell me in a not-so-subtle way that you fucked that guy—"

Patrick's short, sharp bark was so different from his normal laughter it startled me to silence. He shook his head. "Oh, no. Not him."

I didn't miss the way he cut his gaze from mine. That more than anything told me an entire story that needed no words. Hell. It didn't even need a picture to make it clear.

My grin faded. Patrick had never made a secret of his private life, and I'd heard more stories about the men he'd slept with than I ever wanted to. Patrick didn't get turned down, at least not often. I watched the red flush creep up his perfect, high cheekbones.

I looked again across the room at Alex Kennedy. "He turned you down?"

"Shh! " Patrick hissed, though the music and conversation was so loud nobody could've overheard us.

"Wow."

His mouth clamped tighter. "Not another word."

I looked again across the room at Alex Kennedy, still standing with one arm on the mantel. Now I paid attention to the crease in his black trousers and the way the soft black knit of his sweater clung to his broad shoulders and lean waist. He wore the clothes well, but so did all the other men here. From this distance I could see darkish eyes and longish medium-brown hair that looked as though he'd run a hand through it one too many times—or just rolled out of bed. Hair like that took lots of product and effort to look good, and his did. I had an impression of handsome features more than an actual view, and some of that was assumption. Alex was very pretty, there was no doubt about it, but if Patrick hadn't gone all "don'tcha dare" on me, I probably would've looked once, maybe twice, and never again.

"How come I've never met him?"

"He's not from around here," Patrick said.

I looked back at the man Patrick seemed so desperate for me to ignore. Alex appeared to be locked in deep conversation with another of Patrick's friends, their faces intense and serious. Not flirting. The man across from Alex drank angrily, his throat working.

I didn't need to lift my hands, thumb to thumb and pointer to pointer, to make a frame for the picture I was composing. My mind did that automatically at the same time it filled in the details of their story. Snap, click. I didn't have my camera, but I could imagine the shot, just the same. I framed Alex in my head, slightly off center and a little out of focus.

Patrick muttered and poked me in the side. "Olivia! "

I looked at him again. "Stop being such a mother hen, Patrick. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

He frowned. "No. I don't think you're an idiot. I just don't want."

Teddy came back just then, so whatever Patrick wanted got swallowed behind a tight, hard smile. I recognized it, along with the look in his eyes. I hadn't seen it for a long time, but I knew it. Patrick was hiding something.

Teddy slung an arm over Patrick's shoulders and pulled him close to nuzzle at his cheek. "Come on. The cheese tray's been decimated and we're almost out of wine. Come to the kitchen with me, love, and I'll give you a little treat."

Until Teddy, Patrick had never stayed with anyone longer than he'd been with me. I adored Teddy despite this, or maybe because of it. I knew Patrick loved him, though he hardly ever said so, and because I loved Patrick I wanted him to be happy.

Patrick's hard glance cut across the room again, to Alex and back to me. I thought he might say something more, but instead he shook his head and let Teddy lead him away. Me, I took another ogle at Alex Kennedy's very, very fine ass.

"Livvy! Merry holidays!" This came from Jerald, another of Patrick's friends, and a man who'd done some modeling for me more than once. I traded him some nice head shots for his portfolio in exchange for using him in some stock photos I needed for my graphic design business. "When are you going to take more pictures of me, huh?"

"When can you come in?"

Jerald grinned with perfect white teeth and a smile as straight as he was not. "Whenever you need me."

We chatted for a few minutes about when and where, and for what, and then Jerald gave me a hug and a squeeze and a kiss before abandoning me in search of someone with a penis. That was all right. I didn't need Patrick to hover over me to make me feel at home. I knew most of his friends. The ones of recent acquaintance viewed me as a curiosity, a relic, the woman who'd been with Patrick before he came out, but they were friendly enough. Liquor helped, of course. Friends who'd known Patrick and me since college, on the other hand, could all still laugh about the good times that had happened when Patrick and I were a couple without the half-disguised gleam of pity his newer, gay friends often gave me. Booze helped that, too.

Wineglass in hand, I made my way over to the buffet to load my plate with all sorts of delicacies. Squares of Indian naan bread paired with spicy hummus, cubes of cheese dipped in cranberry honey mustard, a few purple grapes still clinging to their stem. Patrick and Teddy knew how to throw a party, and even the Saturday after Thanksgiving, I still had room for food as good as they served. I was debating about sampling the slices of rare roast beef settled next to the crusty French rolls or the waistline-conscious strawberry walnut salad when a tap on my shoulder turned me.

"Hey, girl!"

I stopped with a roll in my hand, halfway to my plate. I knew Patrick's neighbor, Nadia. She'd always gone out of her way to be friendly to me, not that she had any reason not to be. I'd always thought Nadia's overtures of friendship had less to do with me and more with her, and tonight was proving that suspicion correct.

"I want you to meet Carlos. My boyfriend." Nadia had a pretty smile in an otherwise unremarkable face, but when she used it I wanted to take her picture. It transformed her.

"Meetcha," Carlos mumbled, his eyes on the food, though Nadia's hand held him in such a tight grip he couldn't actually grab any.

"Nice to meet you, Carlos."

Nadia gave us both an expectant look. Carlos and I gave each other the once-over, his dark eyes traveling over my entire face before meeting my gaze. He glanced at Nadia, whose fingers were curled into the crook of his elbow. Her skin was very white against his. I think we both knew what she wanted, but neither of us was going to give it.

I didn't know I was black until second grade. Oh, sure, I'd always known my skin was darker than my parents' and brothers'. My features not the same. They'd never hidden the fact that I was adopted, and we celebrated not only my birthday but the date I became part of their family. I never felt anything less than loved completely. Cherished. Spoiled, even, by two much older brothers, and parents I'd know later were trying to overcompensate for the cesspool their marriage had become.

I'd always believed I was special, but until second grade I'd never understood I was…different.

Desiree Johnson moved to my school in Ardmore from someplace closer to inner-city Philadelphia. She wore her hair in hundreds of tiny braids close to her scalp and clipped at the ends with plastic barrettes. She wore T-shirts with gold shiny lettering, and soft velour track pants, her sneakers star-tlingly white and huge for the size of her feet. She was different, and we all stared when she came into our classroom.

The teacher, Miss Dippold, had told us only that morning we'd be getting a new student. She'd taken care to mention how important it was to be kind to new students, especially those who weren't "the same." She'd read us a story about Zeke, the pony with stripes who'd turned out not to be a pony at all but a zebra. Even in second grade, I'd seen the end of that one coming from a mile away.

What I hadn't seen coming was Miss Dippold's command to me to shift my desk so Desiree could sit beside me. I obeyed, of course, atingle with delight at being chosen to befriend the new girl. Was it because I was the class's top speller for that week, with my name on the board and first-in-line privileges for recess? Or had Miss Dippold noticed how I'd lent Billy Miller my best pencil, since he'd left his at home again? My desk scraped along the floor, curling small shavings of polish off the wood as I moved it aside so Randall, the janitor, could fit in another desk and chair for Desiree.

It was none of those reasons, but one I'd never have guessed.

"There," Miss Dippold said when Desiree had settled herself into the new desk and chair. "Desiree, this is Olivia. I'm sure you'll be best friends."

Desiree's barrettes clacked against one another as she turned her head to look up and down at my pleated skirt, knee-high socks and buckled Mary Janes. My hair, twisted into tight curls and held back with a matching headband. My cardigan sweater.

For a second-grader, Desiree already had a lot of attitude. "You got to be kidding me."

Miss Dippold blinked behind her huge tortoiseshell glasses. "Desiree? Is there a problem?"

She gave a world-weary sigh. "No, Miss Dippold. Nothing wrong with me."

Later, just before lunch, I leaned to take a peek at the drawings she was making on her notepad. Mostly swirls and circles, shaded with pencil. I showed her my own doodles, which weren't as elaborate.

"I like to draw, too," I said.

Desiree checked out my drawings and snorted. "Uh-huh."

"Maybe that's why Miss Dippold thought we'd be friends," I explained patiently, still trying. "Because we both like to draw."

Desiree's brows rose up to meet her hairline. She looked around at the others, classmates who were getting restless in anticipation of sloppy joes and afternoon recess. She looked back at me, then took my hand and laid it next to hers. Against the pale gray desktops, our fingers stood out like shadows.

"Miss Dippold didn't know anything about my drawing," Desiree said. "She meant it's cuz we're both, you know."

"Both what?"

Now she gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes at me. Her whole tone changed. "Because we're both black."

It was my turn to blink rapidly, trying to take all of this in. I looked around the room, at a sea of white faces. Caitlyn Caruso was adopted, too, from China, and she looked different than the other kids. But Desiree was right. She'd pointed it out as if I should've known all along.

Most helpful customer reviews

34 of 35 people found the following review helpful.
An absolute keeper!
By SusiSunshine
Warning: This will be an ode to the awesomeness that is Megan Hart so expect to read the words love and adore often in this review.

I admit this is the first book I read twice before I started to review it. First time I was too enthralled to make any notes and the only thing I could say about it afterwards was WOW. That would have been a really short review so I started it again and forced myself to take breaks and write down what I thought. Long list and now I'm trying to get the things in order for you.

Naked is finally Alex Kennedy's book but that's by far not the only reason I loved it. I waited so long for his HEA and I knew the moment I had the ebook that I couldn't wait any second longer to start it. And I loved every word written in it. It's hard to explain but this book was for me one big OMG-So-Good-Moment. I couldn't stop and I wanted more at the end. I enjoyed reading it twice and today Caroline told me she started it and I thought: "You have to read it again." That's how much I loved it.

Naked is written out of Olivia Mackey's POV. She is a woman with a past. Olivia got burned by a man in the past. She was hurt but still couldn't cut all the emotional strings attaching her to him. She knows she should but you know how that can go- it can be hard to let go. But when she meets Alex she sees the potential even if she's still cautious about the danger he represents. She decides to grab her chance for happiness. She developed a method to avoid being hurt: just don't ask about the uncomfortable things. She is still insecure but which girl wouldn't be after that last relationship. Olivia is strong at heart and she works hard to get what she wants. She still tries to find her way in life and sometimes she feels a bit lost in the middle of everything.

Alex is still Mr. Mysterious but he shows more of his vulnerabilities in this novel (we met him for the first time in Tempted). He tries hard to be seen as more than a world travelling gay guy. He wants to be seen as the character he is, as a person who deserves the complete focus, love and adoration of someone- no sharing for him anymore. He is such a caring and loving character- sure he has his quirks from time to time too but most of his actions are based on his yearning for acceptance, appreciation and love. He's says the sweetest things and he totally melted my heart to a puddle of goo. I love him and I know I want an Alex of my own. *dreams*

Besides our couple Naked is full of other great characters. I adore Sarah, Olivia's BFF. She's one of the funniest persons ever and she made me laugh so hard that I had tears in my eyes. I just say Cunnilingus Phone Survey. We also meet some characters from former novels again and I'm always squeeing when I read about those. They all found a place in my heart and it makes me smile to see them happy or on the way to get there. ;)

The story focuses on family, homosexuality and religion- and how they influenced Olivia. All can be touchy topics but Mrs. Hart handles them great. I loved how she explained Olivia's way of finding her own religion. She showed how hard it is to find what fits you best. Being agnostic, or whatever it's called, myself I usually don't appreciate much religious talk but she never ventured into the preaching site of it- she just told about experience and not about how to convert someone. She also included some rather sensitive family problems. She made me think about myself and my life again and that's one of the main reasons why I love her books so much. And she has those wonderful Star Trek and Douglas Adams references I adore so much.

Naked is a very sexy thought provoking novel. The writing is outstanding and the characters will draw you in from the start. Naked made me laugh, think and cry and I loved every second of it. When you want a book that will touch you deep inside and entertain you the whole time this is the book for you. I'm sure it will be at the top of my Best Reads in 2010 list. An absolute Keeper and I'm sure I will talk about this book for a long time to come.

12 of 12 people found the following review helpful.
Another bold, emotional novel by Megan Hart
By tmsmith
4 1/2 Stars! Megan Hart remains true to her style with another bold, emotional novel that deals with real-world issues, and believable flawed characters. Her voice pulls you in and does not let you go, almost as if you are having a conversation with the main character.

Alex, who is a returning character from a previous Hart novel, meets Olivia at a party of her former ex-fiancé. They are nearly immediately comfortable with each other, yet through the space of the novel, continue to fight their respective history's roaring up to backlash at them.

I thoroughly enjoyed their story. I appreciated the bluntness that Hart provides, not ceding to soft words, or glossing over what may be offensive. My only problem, which I can handle, is that the story ended, in my opinion, rather abruptly. I would have liked to see a bit more of Olivia's ending thoughts.

Oh, and by the way, Alex is very, very hot! :-)

Now, to go back and read a few of Megan Hart's books I seemed to have missed....including the one where Alex appears prominently. I highly recommend Naked!

23 of 27 people found the following review helpful.
Love Hart - Just Couldn't Love Naked
By Countess Chocula
Naked traces the developing relationship between Olivia and Alex, as well as tackling a number of larger issues involving self-identification of race, sexuality and religion.

I wanted to love Naked. This is a good erotic novel, although I'm not sure I'd call it an erotic romance. I liked certain aspects of it and I certainly thought parts of it were thought-provoking. Unfortunately what I didn't like ended up being either main character.

Olivia never seemed to know what to make of herself, but she generally did know that people ought to feel sorry for her. As the narrator, it was of course necessary to set the premise of the book up and discuss how her former fiancé Patrick had been cheating on her with every man he could find before bothering to come out to her, but then she martyrs herself by remaining his best friend. She has issues with her family (her mother doesn't like her, understand her or approve of her), her religion (she's not Catholic or Jewish and if she was, she's not Jewish enough) and she's either working, thinking about working, telling someone she has to work or arguing with someone about why she wants to work. Olivia brings up the issue of her being biracial several times and discusses her terrific hair quite a few, but it's generally in the context of "look how different I am." We get it. You're a snowflake.

Alex surprised me, because I started out liking his nearly too good to be true character. Handsome, sexy, charming, sweet, rich enough not to have to work, motivated enough to want to anyway, Alex stumbles into Olivia's life apparently in between relationships. In spite of her issues with Patrick, Olivia didn't seem to have any problems with Alex being bisexual, as long as he was monogamous and he seemed happy to be, because he was head over heels in lust/love with Olivia. Any early issues in their relationship were strictly hers, unless you count passive-aggressiveness as an issue.

I could almost mark the crossover place in the book where my feelings toward each of them changed.

It's weirdly the evolution of Olivia that begins the devolution of Alex; he loves to be loved and the most important thing ever in Olivia's life. When the Mexico trip comes up and she tells him she has to work, he sulks, drinks on the trip, then inappropriately flirts with the guy next to him on the flight back - and tells Olivia about it. Of course, he's suitably sorry about it when he sees he's hurt her, but he's made his point. He wants Olivia to be jealous and is angry when she isn't; he picks fights and sometimes seems to go out of his way to undermine her self-confidence. He seems out of control and by the time he and Olivia take the trip back to his hometown, it's a foregone conclusion that he's hiding something.

Events from an earlier book, Tempted, end up influencing Alex and Olivia's story. There are elements written here that change the entire tone of this couple's romance though, things that may have been true to Tempted that didn't necessarily still have to be true or at least be said here. When added in, they made the ultimate ending feel fragile at best and at worse, false. Alex pledged not to lie to Olivia and at the end of Naked, I'm not sure if he was looking her in the eye still or not.

Told in first person narrative with a very slight amount of m/m content at the beginning.

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~ PDF Download At the King's Command (The Tudor Rose Trilogy), by Susan Wiggs

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Frustrated by his own failures at matrimony, King Henry VIII punishes an insolent nobleman by commanding him to marry the vagabond woman caught stealing his horse. Stephen de Lacey is a cold and bitter widower, long accustomed to the sovereign's capricious and malicious whims. He regards his new bride as utterly inconvenient…though undeniably fetching.

But Juliana Romanov is no ordinary thief—she is a Russian princess forced into hiding by the traitorous cabal who slaughtered her family. One day she hopes to return to Muscovy to seek vengeance.

What begins as a mockery of a marriage ultimately blossoms into deepest love.

• Sales Rank: #913558 in Books
• Brand: Wiggs, Susan
• Published on: 2009-07-28
• Released on: 2009-07-28
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x .83" w x 4.21" l, .37 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 384 pages

About the Author

Susan Wiggs is the author of many beloved bestsellers, including the popular Lakeshore Chronicles series. She has won many awards for her work, including a RITA from Romance Writers of America. Visit her website at www.SusanWiggs.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


Richmond Palace, England 1538

Stephen de Lacey, baron of Wimberleigh, walked into the Royal Bedchamber to find his betrothed in bed with the king.

His face as cold and unflinching as a Holbein portrait, Stephen stared at the dark-eyed Welsh beauty all but hidden beneath the quilted silk counterpane. A hissing tide of resentment roiled deep inside him, threatening to drown him. Clenching his fists at his sides, Stephen conquered the turmoil within. Through deliberately blank eyes, he looked at King Henry VIII.

"My liege," he said, blowing stiffly, inhaling the scent of dried lavender and bergamot from the sachets in the bed hangings. By the time he straightened up, the king's attendants had arrived to groom their sovereign for the day.

"Ah, Wimberleigh." The king put out his arms as an attendant scurried forward and helped him don a loose silk jacket. Henry smiled. In that smile there lingered yet a hint of the old charm, the derring-do of a golden young prince. A prince whom Stephen, as a boy, had idolized as the second Arthur.

The legendary Arthur had died young, in a blaze of glory. Henry had made the mistake of living on into the corrupt mediocrity of middle age.

"Come, come," said Henry, beckoning. He swung his swollen legs over the side of the bed and pushed his pale feet into a pair of brocade slippers held by a kneeling servant. "You may approach the royal bed. See what I've found you."

As he crossed the huge room, Stephen felt the searing curiosity of the sovereign's attendants. By now the chamber was crowded with titled gentlemen, all engaged to supervise the most intimate bodily functions of the king—and also to influence the policies of the realm.

Sir Lambert Wilmeth, groom of the stool, took His Majesty's bowel movements as seriously as Scottish border disputes. Lord Harold Blodsmoor, surveyor of the wardrobe, regarded the king's collection of shoes as highly as the crown jewels. Yet at the moment, the attention of these great gentlemen burned into Stephen de Lacey.

The girl smiled shyly and even managed to summon an artful blush. She stretched with catlike grace, a bare shoulder emerging from the bedclothes. Like most of the king's mistresses, she took a perverse pride in sharing the bed of the sovereign.

After so many betrayals, Stephen should have known better than to trust the king. Should have known that the summons could only mean more petty cruelty.

"I was feeling frisky today." Henry's grin held both mischief and subtle rancor. Limping slightly, he went to the royal stool, speaking over his shoulder as he relieved himself. "I decided to exercise the droit du seigneur— again. An antiquated notion, to be sure, but one that has its merits and deserves to be revived from time to time. Now, make a gracious greeting to your lady Gwenyth, and then we'll—"

"Sire," Stephen broke in, heedless of the gasps from the noblemen present. No one interrupted the king. In the thirty years of his reign, Henry VIII had put men to death for lesser offenses.

Instantly Stephen regretted the risk he had taken. With that one blurted word he might have jeopardized everything.

"Yes?" The king seemed only mildly annoyed as his gentlemen helped him into doublet and hose. "What is it, Wimberleigh?"

Stephen couldn't help himself. A killing rage rose like a fountain of fire inside him. "To hell with your droit du seigneur."

He turned on his heel and strode from the Royal Bedchamber. Though well aware of the infraction he was committing, he could not be a willing player in the familiar, vicious diversion that so delighted Henry.

The red-and-white livery of the king's Welsh yeomen passed in a blur as Stephen strode out into the paved central court. Seeking a place to cool his temper in private, he stalked into a walled garden. A pebbled path led him through tortured little plots of whitethorn and sweetbriar. The flower beds had been arranged geometrically, so that they resembled rather coarse mosaics.

Stephen wished for the hundredth time that he had ignored the king's annual summons and stayed in Wiltshire.

But to refuse the command was to risk the one thing Stephen would kill to safeguard. If the price of keeping his secret was to have his heart ripped out and his pride publicly shredded, then so be it.

His conviction that the king hadn't finished with him proved correct, for an hour later, a haughty majordomo summoned him to the Presence Chamber.

An open-timbered ceiling arched high over the hall. The watery sunlight of early spring streamed in through twin banks of mullioned windows. Colored glass made a shifting, jeweled pattern on the walls and floor. Somewhere, an unseen lute player strummed softly, the shimmering music a sweet undercurrent to the murmur of voices.

Members of the Privy Council stood by, sharp eyed, their shoulders hunched beneath heavy, long robes.

Stephen paced over the smooth flagstones to the gold-and-scarlet-draped dais. There he stopped, swept his satin-lined cloak back over one shoulder, and sank into a formal obeisance. Even without looking at the king, he knew Henry relished the submissive pose of a man of Stephen's height. Henry took pleasure in anything that made Stephen feel smaller.

He rose with hatred and defiance clear in his eyes, and a gift in his extended hands.

Henry sat upon his massive carved chair, looking like Bacchus clad in silver and gold. In recent years, his face had grown as large as a haunch of beef.

"What's this?" he asked, nodding to a page. The lad took the small wooden coffer from Stephen and offered it to the king. With childlike haste, Henry opened it and extracted a tiny watch on a golden chain. "Marry, my lord, you never fail to amaze me."

"A trinket, no more," Stephen said in a flat, dead voice. Henry had many appetites, most of them insatiable. Satisfying his craving for unique gifts was no challenge.

Henry slipped the chain through the baldric that encircled his ample girth. "I assume the design is original."

Stephen nodded.

"You've a rare talent for inventions of all sorts, Wim-berleigh. A pity you are so lacking in plain manners." The breadth of his cheeks made his eyes look beady, his mouth thin lipped and tight. "You left the Royal Bedchamber without begging leave, my lord."

"So I did, sire."

Henry's hand, pudgy and sparkling with rings, smacked down on the arm of his chair. His fingers strangled a carved gargoyle. "Damn your eyes, Wimberleigh. Must you always breach the limits of propriety and decorum?"

"Only when provoked, sire."

The king's expression did not change, yet his small bright eyes took fire. "Has it never occurred to you," he asked in a soft, deadly voice, "that you might do better to dance with your betrothed rather than with my patience? Lady Gwenyth is beautiful. She's well-bred and reasonably wealthy."

"She is also ruined, sire."

"I did honor to the wench," Henry snapped. "There is only one king of England, just as there is only one sun. My favor is not for one alone."

Stephen bit his tongue to stop himself from responding. It was useless to quarrel with a man who likened himself to a heavenly body. He could satisfy his every whim all too easily, for what sane man or woman would dare refuse him?

"For God's sake, Stephen," Henry thundered, "your evasiveness bedevils me. I've found you four eligible ladies in the past year, and you've refused them all. What is it that makes you so much better than any other noble?"

"I do not wish to marry again," Stephen stated. He could not resist adding, "My favor is for no one, not even that silly Welsh comfit I found in your bed."

"Comfits are sweet and agreeable to the palate," Henry pointed out.

"Aye, but when handled by too many fingers, they lose their savor. And when left long enough to themselves, they rot."

Without taking his eyes off Stephen, the king held out his hand. A servitor stepped forward and placed in it a silver cup of sack. Henry drank deeply of the Canary wine, then said, "Ah. Still you pine for your Margaret, now seven years cold."

With all that he was, Stephen resisted the urge to bury his fist in his sovereign's face. How blithely Henry spoke of Meg—as if he had never even known her at all.

"Was she so very dear to you, then," the king went on, twisting the knife, "that you cannot love another?"

Stephen held himself motionless as his mind filled with memories of Meg. Peeking at him timidly from behind her veil on their wedding day. Weeping in pain and fear in their marriage bed. Hiding her secrets from the husband who adored her. Dying in a sea of blood and bitter curses.

"Margaret was—" Stephen cleared his throat"—a child. Gullible. Easily impressed." With terrible, blade-sharp guilt, he knew he had forced her into womanhood and then into motherhood. And finally and most unforgivably, into death.

"I know well what it is to mourn a wife," Henry said, an unexpected note of sympathy in his voice. Stephen knew he was thinking of quiet, dutiful Jane Seymour, who had died giving the king the one gift he craved above all others: a male heir to the throne.

"However," Henry continued, imperious again, "a wife is a necessary ornament to a man's station, and old memories should not make you balk at duty. Now. As to the Welsh lady—"

"Sire, I humbly beg your pardon." He dropped his voice so only the king could hear. "I will not take any man's leavings—not even those of the king of England. I'll not be a salve to your conscience."

"My conscience?" Henry's mouth curved into a cold sickle of amusement. His voice was a whisper meant for Stephen alone. "My dear lord of Wimberleigh, where on earth did you get the notion that I had one?"

Stephen's neck tingled. He reminded himself that Henry VIII had put aside his first wife and brought about the execution of the second. He had appropriated the authority of the church, taken possession of monasteries, driven the poor from their lands. The mere ruining of a young virgin would hardly trouble a man like Henry Tudor.

"My mistake," Stephen replied softly. "But never mind, the Lady Gwenyth would not want me anyway."

"Ah, your tarnished reputation," Henry said, waving his now-empty cup. "Wild revels, gambling and rapine. The gossip does find its way to court. Marry, sir, every maiden in the realm quails in fright at the very thought of you."

Stephen preferred it that way. He had worked hard to hide his few good qualities beneath a patina of ill repute. "I am a man of low morals. An unfortunate flaw in my character. And now if it please Your Majesty, I must withdraw from court."

With a swiftness that belied his age and bulk, the king came out of his chair. His thick-fingered hand closed in the front of Stephen's quilted doublet. "By God, it does not please me." He put his face very close to Stephen's, so close that Stephen could smell the warm sweetness of sack on his breath. "Get you a wife, Wimberleigh, and then get you a proper heir, else all of England will know what you hide at your Wiltshire estate."

An animal roar of denial surged to Stephen's throat. With an effort born of years of iron control, he forced himself to keep from tearing into the royal face. How Henry had come to know Stephen's terrible secret was a mystery; how he intended to use the knowledge was becoming painfully obvious.

With a will, Stephen expelled his breath slowly and stepped back. The king no longer gripped him, yet the hold lingered invisibly—would linger until Stephen shed himself once and for all of the king's ire.

"To your knees, Wimberleigh."

His cheeks on fire with rage, Stephen sank down.

"Now swear it. Let me hear you vow that you will obey me." The king's voice rang loud. "Let me hear that you will wed—if not Lady Gwenyth, then another."

The command hung, suspended, in the deafening silence that followed. From his low perspective, Stephen caught details with uncommon clarity: the ancient dust clinging to the hem of the king's cloak, the faint, septic smell of the ulcer on Henry's leg, the soft chink of the sovereign's chain of office as his massive chest rose and fell, and the dying echo of a plucked lute string.

All the court waited in a state of breath-held anticipation. The king had flung down the gauntlet, had challenged one of the few men in the realm who dared defy him.

Stephen de Lacey was no fool, and he valued his neck. The years, at least, had taught him to equivocate. "Your will be done, sire." He spoke clearly so all could hear, for he knew if he mumbled the pledge, the king would make him repeat it.

A collective sigh came from the Privy Councillors. How they loved seeing one of their own humiliated.

Henry lowered his vast bulk onto the throne. "I trust you'll obey this time."

Stephen stood. The king dismissed him with a curt nod. Almost immediately, Henry began to bellow for his attendants. "Saddle my horse, I wish to go riding."

Stephen left the Presence Chamber and passed through the antechamber. The air of corruption lingered even here, in the heavy scent of sandalwood burning in a corner brazier, in the stale mats of rushes that had not been changed in months.

Prior to his audience, Stephen had requested that his horse be brought out, for he wanted to be away swiftly. The grooms of the royal stables had promised to have the tall Neapolitan mare ready outside the west gate.

Stephen strode across the courtyard and passed between the octagonal-shaped twin towers. He paused beneath the ornate portcullis, the pointed wrought-iron bars aimed straight down at his head.

As promised, his mare stood ready in saddle and trappings, tethered to an iron loop in the shade of a spreading oak some distance beyond the gatehouse.

He frowned at the negligence of the grooms. Didn't they know better than to leave a valuable animal unattended? And where the devil was Kit, his squire?

Cocking his head, Stephen saw a movement beside the mare. A wraithlike shadow, secretive as an uncon-fessed sin.

A filthy gypsy woman was stealing his horse.

Juliana could not believe her luck. So desperately had she needed a horse for the fair in Runnymede tomorrow, she had been prepared to enter the very walls of the riverside palace and boldly steal an animal.

Instead, as she crouched in a stand of copper beeches and regarded the glistening walls and gilt turrets of Richmond Palace, a groom had emerged with one of the most magnificent beasts she had ever seen. The horse was fitted out with trappings of silver and Morocco leather that would, if traded, feed the gypsy tribe for a decade.

Pavlo, her windhound, had scared the lad off. By now it was a common ploy. No Englishman had ever seen a borzoya, and most thought the huge white dog some sort of mythical beast.

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
2 Unlikely People
By WindRider
Good storylines, really good people shown in the book. Interesting, complex main characters and also political intrigue. Stephen de Lacey, has so often suffered at the whims of his King, Henry V111.
This book had some interesting groups of people that made up the story, including the Gypsy tribe that had "adopted" Juliana. Lazlo, was a major person in her life, who became like a second father to her.
This story is not without a few twists and turns, that when they are revealed, it made me go, "yes, of course."
As time went on, the story dragged a bit for me. It came with the times when Stephen seemed to grow cold towards Juliana. Usually just after he allowed a fraction of his attraction to her to be seen. His coldness seemed to be for no reason, at least to her. But as a reader, we got some insight as to what was driving him. I loved the spunk that Juliana showed at those times as well as other times.
I give the author good marks for the good Epilogue, I enjoyed that part too.

11 of 13 people found the following review helpful.
A pleasant read on a rainy day...3.5 Stars
By shanfried
At the King's Command is a new edition of an older novel originally titled Circle in the Water. The heroine, Juliana Romanov, is a Russian princess who flees to England with a gypsy friend after the murder of her family. The hero, Stephen de Lacy, is ordered by Henry VIII to marry Juliana after she is caught trying to steal a horse. The marriage is only in name to appease the whim of the King. Both expect that they can get an annulment once the King grows bored with his prank.

This wasn't the strongest love story. In fact it was very hard, at times, to understand what Juliana saw in Stephen. But the story moved at a good (if somewhat predictable) pace, and managed to hold my attention for an afternoon. I was hesitant to read a novel about a princess - as I usually hate that device, but she was not in line to take the throne. It was also a treat to read an historical from Wiggs, who now devotes herself to contemporary romances.

5 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
Beautifully well written Historical Romance
By Mrs. Freehart
Not to totally disagree with Shanfried but this was my first book that I ever read by Susan Wiggs and it was this book that really touched me deeply and made me start buying all of her books left and right. You already know the story line because everyone's done a good job of decribing it in detail.
Some people marry for other things rather then love and later fall in love, but yes you can't tell what Juliana's feelings for Stephen are because she doesn't know it yet herself so how could she even let her feelings be known? I thought that this book was fantanstic because you can see that Stephen and Juliana's love is growing through out the entire book and I think these kind of marriages are always the ones that have something much deeper then love.
So give this book a shot, you might just find that there's more to this book then meets the eye.

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