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March 12, 2010
 

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REVIEWS for Midnight Without a Moon [The Sinful Gentlemen 2]

5 Angels: "Midnight Without a Moon is erotic romance at its finest. Emma Wildes skillfully combines an intriguing plot, vibrant characters, and toe-curling sex. Jessica, our heroine, is strong and fearless, both in and out of the bedroom. Trenton is all alpha male, possessive and determined to protect his new bride. The villain is deliciously bad yet sympathetic. The other minor characters are interesting and fully fleshed out. Midnight Without a Moon is ninety-eight pages of perfection." —Kimber, Fallen Angel Reviews

5 Stars/Hot: "While I’m not usually drawn to historical romances, I couldn’t help but become helplessly drawn to Midnight Without a Moon. While this is the second in the Sinful Gentlemen Collection series, it is not connected to the previous story and is a stand-alone book. What made this book so invigorating is the intelligent and strong-willed Jessica. She is clever with an intelligent mind and a strong sense of self-worth. Both endearing and believable, she exudes a personality that shines with her glib comments and reasonable choices. Likewise, I greatly enjoyed Trenton. His father was a ruthless rogue and his talents with the ladies became Trenton’s talents as well. This leaves a slight undercurrent of coldness to Trenton’s personality as he is such a rogue that he doesn’t believe love is a possibility. This uncertainty makes you wondering if, or when, he’s going to slip up and become the cheater his father was. Trenton’s desire to fight the possibility of love drew me to him, along with his gentle yet firm ability to leave Jessica gasping with pleasure. These sex scenes are delicious, being both carnally passionate and delightfully descriptive. The plot has several slight twists, with enough action to keep me engaged by the storyline. There never was a dull moment and I found myself re-reading chapters because of how intense they were. Overall, I greatly enjoyed Midnight Without a Moon and will be placing Emma Wildes on my must-read list of authors." —Francesca, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

4 Blue Ribbons: "In Trenton Wyatt, we have a hero of the high-calibre we have come to expect from Emma Wildes. He is outwardly a rake, but inwardly a tender-hearted lover and the masterful rescuer of the reckless Jessica. Their journey of discovery together is as enjoyable as the espionage thread that runs within the story and proved to be an excellent platform for introducing the impetuous Jessica. Ms. Wildes’ talent for description draws the reader into her stories right along with her characters. No detail is ever overlooked, from the feelings that race through Jessica as she enjoys the first kiss with Trenton to the lavish descriptions of her clothing. In Midnight Without a Moon, Ms. Wildes has woven a tale of delightful adventure-both in and out of the bedroom ensuring that she is always a joy to read." —Deborah, Romance Junkies

"Midnight Without a Moon satisfied my romantic heart. I love nothing more than a hero coming in and saving the day and that is what Trenton did. So what if he is a bit controlling? Controlling aside, he was just plain luscious. Jessica was the picture of poor gentility trying to keep her head above water. I loved her loyalty to family and how she loved Trenton. 
     Midnight Without a Moon by Emma Wildes was a naughty romp with intrigue, suspense, and just the right amount of bed play. This is book 2 of The Sinful Gentlemen series and I, for one, can't wait for more!" —Talia Ricci, Joyfully Reviewed

STORY EXCERPT

“Well, it took you long enough, my lady.”

The sound of that softly drawled sentence made Jessica stumble, almost plowing into the tall figure that had ominously materialized in front of her. Two strong hands shot out to steady her, and she recoiled, panic flaring through every nerve ending in her body.

Dear God, no!

For a long moment, terror held her immobile before she began to struggle. “Let me go.”

“That’s not likely. Calm down, you reckless little fool. It’s me.”

A second before her foot connected solidly with her assailant’s shin, she registered the familiar deep timbre of the man’s voice, her eyes widening in surprise. His grunt of pain was real enough and his hands tightened on her shoulders through her cloak. Jessica gasped, “My lord, what on earth are you doing here? You frightened me half to death.”

“And you’ve crippled me for it. By the devil, woman, that hurts.”

“What do you expect, looming out of the dark like that and grabbing me!” she exclaimed tartly, her heart still pounding at a rate that made her feel dizzy.

His hold slackened, and in the dim light, Jessica made out the glint of his gaze and the clean, straight line of an unsmiling mouth. “I think the more appropriate question would be, what on earth are you doing here, Jess?”

It was damning, of course, to be caught out like this, for no respectable young lady had a good reason to wander the cliffs in the middle of a stormy night. Since she couldn’t think of a single believable response, she simply said stonily, “It’s none of your business.”

“I think it is.” Letting her go, Trenton Wyatt, the Earl of Declan, stepped back a pace, his chiseled features washed to bone and angle by a sudden flash of lightning. “My horse is tethered a few paces away. Come on.”

Jessica shook her head, feeling the rising wind tug on her cloak and blow teasing wisps of hair across her face. Above, the branches sighed mournfully. “I’ll get home on my own. It’s just a short way.”

“You aren’t going home, my dear.” His faint smile was a glimmer of white teeth in the shadows.

That kind of statement was high-handed, even for someone as infernally arrogant as Trenton , but there was a certain unsettling conviction in his voice. A stab of unease rippled through her. Jessica didn’t move but stood rooted in the thatch of woods, staring up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I think you’ve finally outdone yourself, Jess. You aren’t a child any longer, climbing trees and swimming in the cove against your mother’s wishes. This particular escapade is a little more serious. In case you haven’t been informed, smuggling is a crime.”

When she responded after a long heartbeat, her voice shook like the withering leaves overhead. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do. What’s worse, I’m not the only one who has deduced the beautiful female smuggler being whispered about on this coast just might be the lovely and aloof Lady Jessica Fairman.”

This truly could not be happening. He was wrong. Her reputation was pristine. “What nonsense.”

“Is it?” Harshly, Trenton rasped, “Devil take it, you rash, headstrong wench. Did it ever occur to you that the state of your family finances is not a secret? Servants talk, merchants gossip. It’s the way of the world. When you can suddenly pay your bills and the money has no legitimate source, people begin to wonder. Tell me, my dear. Have you heard the latest rumor? The revenue men have started calling the ringleader of the local smugglers the Golden Angel. They believe she is a French spy, selling secrets to Bonaparte for boatloads of contraband brandy and wine.”

The blood drained from Jessica’s face, and she felt herself go cold.

Relentlessly, he went on, the lash of the wind no worse than the stinging content of his words. “We can count on the possibility they are watching the house as we speak, waiting for you to slink back from your damnable rendezvous.”

“I am not a French spy,” she said hotly, fear making her lose all sense of discretion. “Just the opposite.”

His laugh cracked through the wild night. “Oh, wonderful. Now, I suppose you’re telling me you’ve been spying for us, carrying messages for communication to Wellington ? That’s not any better, Jess. If the French realized you’ve been using the smuggling ring to further our cause against their emperor, you’ll be marked a target.”

That had been a possibility all along. She had been just desperate enough to risk it.

One long-fingered hand reached out and snared her wrist, jerking hard. “Look.” Trenton Wyatt, the man she’d known all her life, her brother’s oldest friend, pulled her nearly off her feet, his face thrusting close. “We’re leaving now. You are getting with me on my horse, and we’re riding to Declan Manor. Understand?”

Wildly, she shook her head. “No.”

Hands grasped her waist, and suddenly, she found herself swung into a pair of uncompromisingly strong arms. “Yes.”

Desperate and frightened, she shoved ineffectually at his broad shoulders. “ Trenton , put me down. I have to return home. If I’m not there in the morning, what will people think? Don’t be daft. I can’t go home with you. If you want to play the rescuing angel, take me home and help me get safely inside.”

His expression was dark as he strode out of the woods, his mouth tight and implacable, his hair wind-tossed and unruly. Sure enough, his horse grazed quietly on tufts of grass that grew in haphazard straggles by the cliff. “Sorry, love. If I’m an angel, it is only of the darkest sort.”

It was warm in his embrace, and his chest felt strong and secure. Jessica resisted the irrational urge to cling to him. “If I am under suspicion, not going home won’t help that situation. Don’t you see? You’ll simply be labeled my accomplice.”

“No, I won’t.” He promptly swung her onto the back of his horse and then vaulted into the saddle behind her, picking up the reins with competent hands. “I’ll be labeled your lover.”

ADULT EXCERPT

[Scene note: An assassin watches the hero and the heroine make love.]

“Trenton,” the breathless whisper came clearly. “Oh…yes.”

The woman was on her back, her voluptuous gleaming body nude, her long hair in riotous waves of shimmering softness around her shoulders. Full ivory breasts quivered as she arched upwards in small, restless movements. Her knees were bent and spread wide open, her dainty feet resting on the mattress. Eyes closed, she gasped and mumbled something, her slender fingers threading through the dark hair of the man lying between her legs, his mouth hungrily eating at the apex between her thighs. The soft wet sounds of his oral ministrations were punctuated by the woman’s rising moans, and when she began to tremble violently, the man grasped her slim hips and cradled her in his large hands, prolonging her orgasm with his mouth on her sex until she went limp and breathlessly begged for him to stop.

In the firelight, Lord Declan's grin gleamed wickedly as he shifted, sliding upward in one smooth movement of his muscular body. Covering the body of the blonde woman, he kissed her with an almost leisurely evident enjoyment at odds with the fully aroused state of his body, his erection dark against the woman’s pale skin.

Watching from the shadows, no longer particularly afraid they would see him, at least if he stayed still and made no noise, Gaston noted the impressive width of the earl’s shoulders, and the toned state of his body. From what information he could gather, by all accounts, the earl might be a force to reckon with, deadly with a pistol, athletic and intelligent. He didn’t seem like a man who would allow harm to come to his very lovely wife.

Especially when he seemed to so fully enjoy her charms.

“Can you feel me, Jess?” Gaston could hear him ask in a low growl. “I’m so damned hard I can feel my heart beating in my cock. I need to be inside you.”

His wife’s response seemed to be a choked sigh, her slim arms twining around his neck, her body overtly accepting as the Earl of Declan positioned himself between her thighs and began to penetrate, his hard buttocks flexing as he pushed deep into her body and started to move in the carnal rhythm of sexual intercourse.

For him, Gaston always viewed sex as a necessary part of life, something to be done to relieve the need—like eating or sleeping. He used prostitutes more often as not, as they were simple, the deal a straightforward exchange without emotion. The concept of love and marriage was abstract to him, like understanding the objection of the rest of Europe to his emperor’s ambition.

However, this might be a problem, he mused as he continued to watch them couple, finally hearing the countess expire in a small blissful scream, her husband making a low sound of satisfaction as he went rigid against her open legs, his head tilted back and his eyes tightly shut as he climaxed. 

If he was going to complete his task, Gaston mused, edging back a little, he would need to be able to get the girl alone. Considering he was so noticeable as a Frenchman in a time when England ’s tensions with his country ran high, he was going to have to plan carefully.

And, he conceded, abandon the idea of catching Jessica Wyatt peacefully asleep in bed, for he somehow doubted after tonight’s passionate performance she ever slept alone.

It was an obstacle, he told himself with practicality as he stealthily tread across the balcony and easily swung a leg over the railing. An obstacle he could overcome.

She would die at his hands.

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