What do you think?
Rate this book


368 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published August 25, 2015
"It was not in her nature to be a wife: to subordinate her own desires and needs to a man’s, and to knit patiently by the fire in expectation of his return from the office. She had her own office, her own work, and a gentleman would never allow that."Single minded and unique in her pursuit of obtaining sole proprietorship of her father's auction house Everleigh's, she doesn't shy away from booting her waste of space of a brother out of the business. She's also not above using other people - here it's Nick - to reach her goal. All this doesn't necessarily endear Catherine to the reader, but it speaks volumes that Ms. Duran slowly strips Catherine of her layers and we see what drives Catherine in the first place. She is a very stand-off-ish sort of person but she's also vulnerable; flawed with lots of misconceptions but also full of suppressed emotions; cold on the outside but full of passion once Nick tears down her barriers.
"What she called business, he called passion—and she had it in spades, albeit for dusty relics of the past."It takes Catherine a while to see his acknowledgment, but again, it's only natural that it takes her a while because the role of a woman in her social circles is that of a wife and mother, not that of a businesswoman.
"It aggravated him that she looked untouched, for he himself felt . . . rubbed up against, disordered, all messed and tousled inside. What had happened in that bed today? He was Irish enough to think of witchcraft, and modern enough to dismiss it instantly. But the conviction lingered, unsettling and unwelcome, that something had happened that changed him, knocked him off-kilter the slightest degree, so her face now seemed like the only thing worth looking at."Nothing bores me more than when - just as an example - the hero simply knows what and how the heroine feels from the start and he only has to 'nudge' her often enough into the 'right' direction until she sees the light. Sorry, but bollocks to that.
“Oh, ho!” He clapped his hat on his head. “Always business with you.”See what I mean? Despite the seriousness of the issues, Ms. Duran finds a way to not only make light of it, but reveal her main characters' little ticks as well.
Her face got hotter. “You were the one who suggested—”
“Wasn’t an insult,” he said with a wink. “You’re my kind of woman. Ninety-ten split, you say?”
Now she must be red as a cherry. “Hardly! Sixty-forty is the typical arrangement.”
His eyes widened. “Highway robbery, that. I’ll take eighty-five percent, and no argument.”
“I’ll give you seventy-five,” she shot back. “Everleigh’s will bear all the expenses of restoration and transport, and assuming the collection merits it, we’ll pay for advertising, too.”
“Eighty,” he said, “and it all hinges on you telling a very pretty lie[...]"
She crossed her arms and looked over his shoulder towards the tenement. "Please go."
"In a minute, I'm tossing you over my shoulder."
She recoiled. "You wouldn't dare."
But perhaps he would. His smile looked rakish. "You might enjoy it. I seem to recall a fine compliment to my shoulders, last time we met. I'd put it down to the drink, but you say you were sober. Well, then. Your sober self, Miss Everliegh, adjudged me a handsomely equipped man."
Mortification crawled through her. "You're a churl."
"Maybe. Course, a churl wouldn't drive you home. He might throw you over his shoulder and carry you to his coach, though. Why don't you think on it for a moment." As another spate of rain dampened them, he grimaced and said, "I'll give you five seconds."
She darted another glance at the tenement. Peter might be in that building for hours, yet, and the light was fading now. "Fine. I will allow you to hail me a hackney."
"It's a wonder," he said, "that you ain't been robbed yet. You travel much by cab?"
"I would sooner trust a cabman than you," she said through her teeth.
"You think you've got anything I want?"


His mouth softened. Not quite a smile. “You idiot,” he said gently. “This … between us … it isn’t supposed to feel wise. Even I know that. And nobody ever called me a romantic.”Excerpt. Note, this isn't a spoiler, it's just long as all fuck, so I put it in spoiler quotes.
He leaned down. His lips brushed hers softly—too softly; he didn’t try to open her mouth, to clasp her against him or deepen the kiss, even when she caught his shoulders and squeezed in a silent petition.
And when he pulled away from her, she could not work out the grounds by which she might pull him back.