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370 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published June 4, 2013
On the Cover:This is one of those rare “first in a series” books that doesn’t feel like a first. The world is interesting, exciting, and complex, but not so complex that you need a glossary of terms or pedigree chart to understand what’s happening. Instead of seasons, balls, the ton, peerage and all the other mundane happenings associated with the men and women of the era, this is a gritty world where murder, rape, and thievery go unpunished if you have the right title. And, should you attempt to rectify the wrongs against the innocents, you’re likely to become a target yourself.
When Jack Dalton escapes from Dunmoor Prison, he has only one thing in mind—finding the nobleman who murdered his sister and making him pay. But when he reaches the inn where the Lord Rockley is rumored to be staying, three well-dressed strangers are there to meet him instead. And the pretty blonde is aiming a pistol right at his head …
Joining Nemesis, Unlimited has made Eva Warrick much more than the well-mannered lady she appears to be—one who can shoot, fight, and outsmart any man in the quest to right the injustices so often suffered by the innocent. She’s not afraid of the burly escaped convict, but she is startled by their shared attraction. She and her partners need Jack’s help to get to Rockley, but Eva finds she wants Jack for scandalous reasons all her own…
"...He won't let a piece of filth like me disrupt that."
She looked at him sharply. "Why would you say that?"
"Because to Rockley," he said, spreading his hands, "there's nothing more important than appearance."
"No, I mean, why would you call yourself a piece of filth? Do you really think of yourself that way?"
He blinked. "I don't think of myself in any way. I just am."
The idea seemed to flat out puzzle her. "You've got to have some conceptualization of yourself. Some idea of who you believe yourself to be."
He gave a quick bark of laughter. "Self-reflection -- I think that's the word for ti -- that's a luxury for them that don't have to worry about their next meal, or whether the rain will come through the holes in the roof. There's only survival. And if you don't fight to survive" -- he shrugged -- "you don't."
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"Just picture it: the only family you got in the whole world, stretched out at your feet, dying too slow to be merciful but too fast to get a doctor. Picture that" -- he pointed at finger at her -- "and then tell me you'd be satisfied with ruination."
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