New York Times bestselling author Hannah Howell enthralls readers with her unforgettable tales of the love between fierce knights and their passionate women, weaving her storytelling genius to give us one of her best romances yet...
Beauty And The Beast
On the eve of her wedding to the heir of Saiturn Manor, the stunningly beautiful Gytha is shocked to learn that her betrothed, a man she barely knew, is dead. Now she must marry the new heir, Thayer Saiturn, a battle-hardened knight known as the Red Devil...
With a face scarred in battle and a heart broken in love, Thayer has no interest in marriage. But not even the Red Devil can break the promise his foster-father made years ago and soon finds himself married to a woman whose exquisite beauty and sweet innocence intrigue him. But can his new bride look beyond his scars to find a hidden passion and undying love locked deep inside him?
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1 . Ugh....
Posted November 24, 2008 by Cooper , HoustonDon't waste valuable time reading this book. It was boring. They were in love and in bed before page # 200. No suspense, no plot, just empty words. I have read one or two of Hannah Howell books in the past (forgettable), I can't remember which ones, but this are the last.
March 31, 2007
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Excerpt from Beauty and the Beast by Hannah Howell
"Fell off his mount. Snapped his neck."
Gytha blinked, then stared closely at her father. She saw no sign of lying in his round, plain face, although he did look strangely uncomfortable. She waited to feel grief for the loss of her betrothed, the handsome and gallant baron, William Saitun. A pang came and went. She had seen little of him, after all. What puzzled her now was why the wedding preparations continued. If William was dead, then surely the wedding could not go on? A moment later her mother revealed that her thoughts had followed the same path.
"But what of the wedding? The feast is being prepared even now." Bertha's ever-rounding figure trembled as she grew increasingly upset. "The guests are arriving. Should I turn them away?"
"No need to do that, Bertha, loving."
"Papa, I cannot marry a dead man."
"Of course you cannot, dearling." John Raouille briefly covered his daughter's delicate hand with his thick, calloused one.
"Then the preparations must be halted." Gytha frowned in confusion when her father still did nothing.
"Now, my sweet child, the agreement made with my good friend, Baron Saitun, God bless his soul, was that you would marry the heir to Saitun Manor."
"And that was William."
"True, true, but there are other heirs. The one following William was Thayer."
"Then, are you saying I am now to marry Thayer?" She was not sure she understood the arrangement her father spoke of.
"Alas, nay. He died in France."
Either she was cursed or the Saituns were an ill-fated lot, she mused. "Am I to be wed or not, Papa?"
"You are. The third heir is Robert. He is the one you will wed on the morrow. I believe you have met the fellow."
Her memory was something many admired her for. It was quick and very exact, even the smallest details clear and precise. She put it to good use now, but what was called forth left her feeling little joy. If she had not been gifted with such an acute memory, she knew Robert Saitun would not have lingered in her mind. He had been William's shadow and had spent most of his time trying to avoid being kicked or cuffed by William or his own uncle, a rather unpleasant man who had exerted complete control over Robert.
"Aye, I did. Is it not--well, disrespectful to William to wed another man so soon?"
"Er--William died a while back. He was far afield, so you could not be called to his side."
Or told, she mused. "As was the second heir? This Thayer I have never met?"
"I told you, daughter, he died in France. I do not mean to be unkind, but mayhaps 'tis just as well. He was not the man for you, Gytha."
Removing the woman's hand from where it rested in the mat of flame red curls adorning his broad chest, Thayer Saitun sat up. "Morning is here, woman. Time for you to be on your way."
Taking his purse out from beneath his pillow, he extracted a few coins and tossed them at her. She caught them with ease. His smile was tainted with cynicism as he watched her weigh them in her hand before smiling at him. It had ever been so. He was weighted with honor, his name respected--even feared--by men, but women needed to see the glint of his coin before they showed any interest.
Flopping onto his back and crossing his arms beneath his head, he idly watched her dress. He grew weary of nameless whores, but at least there was an honesty about them, and they could not afford to show any displeasure with his size, his plain looks, or--he grimaced as he glanced down at himself--his redness. While his skin had none of the ruddy hue that often cursed redheads, he knew few people really noticed that. Flame- red hair and freckles too often hid the color of his skin. Even his large size worked against him, for it simply provided a greater area for the wretched flame color to display itself. The sound of the door opening pulled him from his self-denigration.