Lord of Scoundrels

by Loretta Chase

Masculine pride was an exceedingly precious and fragile item. That was why males built fortresses about it, practically from infancy.

“In my dictionary, romance is not maudlin, treacly sentiment,” she said. “It is a curry, spiced with excitement and humor and a healthy dollop of cynicism.”

And in Lord Beelzebub’s dark, harsh Dartmoor of a heart, the sweet rain fell and a seedling of love sprouted in the once barren soil.