Donna Hatch is the author of the
best-selling “Rogue Hearts Series,” and a winner of writing awards such as The
Golden Quill and the International Digital Award.
A hopeless romantic and
adventurer at heart, she discovered her writing passion at the tender age of 8
and has been listening to those voices ever since. She has become a
sought-after workshop presenter, and also juggles freelance editing, multiple
volunteer positions, and most of all, her six children (seven, counting her
husband).
A native of Arizona who recently transplanted to the Pacific
Northwest, she and her husband of over twenty years are living proof that there
really is a happily ever after.
The last thing Hannah Palmer wants to
do is flirt with men in a crowded ballroom, but when her sister, the Countess
of Tarrington, throws a Masquerade Ball, Hannah can’t say no to the invitation.
Taking comfort behind her disguise, she dances with a charming masked
gentleman, matching him wit for wit. When the glorious evening culminates in a
kiss, and the two remove their masks, Hannah is horrified to discover the man
she’s been flirting with all night is her most despised neighbor, the Duke of
Suttenberg.
No matter how charming the duke was at the ball, and how wonderful
the kiss, he is the last man she could ever love.
Snippet:
As the visitor strode to the steps toward the front door, Hannah
wrinkled her nose. Though his hat concealed most of his hair and shadowed his
face, only the Duke of Suttenberg possessed such arrogant mastery, as if he
viewed himself ruler of all the earth instead of only his own properties.
Though she’d planned to enter through a side door, Hannah followed him
up the front stairs so she could better observe the full force of his snobbery.
And if she were honest, catching a glimpse of his handsome face would be no
hardship. As long as he didn’t turn his intimidating stare her way, she ought
to manage to hold on to her wits.
He glanced over his shoulder. Her breath stilled. Though she’d spent
time in his company four times—yes, she’d kept track—she was never fully
prepared for his masculine allure. She’d seen plenty of gentlemen, including
her brother-in-law, Cole. But the Duke of Suttenberg’s face never failed to
turn her to a blithering pool of mush.
The duke cast a passing glance over her and intoned, “Inform your master
I am arrived.”
Hannah’s mouth dropped open, and her face burned with one-part
humiliation and two-parts anger. He didn’t remember her. Worse, he’d mistaken
her for some house girl. A servant.
The butler opened the front door, drawing the duke’s attention. “Ah,
Your Grace. My lord is expecting you.”
The duke entered without casting a second look at Hannah. Arrogant,
thoughtless cad! That he would forget someone whom he should recognize by now
spoke volumes to his conceit. Clearly, he viewed her as too far beneath his
notice to have gone to all the trouble of remembering her face. True, she
didn’t like being the center of attention, but neither did she want to be
treated as if she were a patch of mud to be scraped off one’s boots.
