In colonial Australia, a fiesty American beauty challenges a rugged frontier man.
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Jo Saunders, a fiery American beauty, arrives in frontier Australia to save her debt- ridden brother’s farm. She clashes with her wealthy neighbor, Luke Campton, but neither of them can deny the attraction sizzling between them.
When Jo is involved in his brother’s death, Luke seeks revenge by forcing her to become his mistress. Branded a rich man’s whore and ostracized by the townsfolk, pride is the only thing between Jo and total degradation.
Hate, lust and murder. How can Jo and Luke overcome these obstacles and allow love to flourish?
1860’s North Eastern Victoria, Australia.
“Bloody fool.” Luke Campton stepped forward as the driver hauled in on the reins to pull up the Melbourne stagecoach. The horses’ sides heaved, sweat glistened on their coats and flecks of foam clung to the harnesses. They had been driven hard under the whip. No need for such cruelty. If any Campton employee had showed such little regard for an animal, he would be dismissed.
With any luck the English letter he had been waiting months for would be amongst the mail. He flicked a cursory glance at the young female passenger as she alighted, but when she stepped away from the coach and he could see her full on, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
What a beauty. A swathe of flame-colored hair had escaped from the confines of her green bonnet and drifted across one milky white cheek. As he gazed into her fiery emerald eyes, his heartbeat escalated. He surveyed her now, making no attempt to disguise his admiration. She had undone the top two buttons on her gown, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of smooth creamy flesh. What he saw he liked.
Jo Saunders returned the tall stranger’s intense gaze. What a splendid specimen of arrogant, proud manhood. His snug fitting brown moleskin trousers accentuated his long legs and strong masculine thighs.
His charcoal grey eyes were bold, assessing. Full, sensuous lips parting into a smile softened his ruthless features. He wasn’t classically handsome. His character-filled face, like the front cover of a well-read book, appeared worn and jaded.
How would it feel to have those hot lips pressed against her own, to taste their fiery passion? Was she mad? The sun must have addled her brain. She shook her head to clear it. Well brought up young women did not think of men in such a wanton fashion. Her genteel mother would have had a fit of the vapors. As for her father, he might have been a military man, but this kind of boldness from his only daughter would be abhorrent to him.
Of course, her nerves were shredded. She had just survived a stagecoach hold up hadn’t she? The driver had driven like a man possessed then dumped her in the middle of nowhere. No wonder she had these wicked fantasies.