What do you think?
Rate this book


375 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published February 27, 2007













Emma’s shock gave way to rage, a deep, burning fire in her belly. Never had she felt so close to violence. All this time, all these years, he’d only been pretending to consider her work. It was all a lie.Emma, finally finding the strength to turn her life around, resigns and starts publishing her work at a rival newspaper that Harry's been wanting to buy out for ages. Harry is dumbfounded, to say the least. Never having considered his treatment of Emma, he finds himself in a serious predicament.
“What does her happiness have to do with anything? I don’t pay her to be happy.” He snatched the letter back. “She came here originally to apply for a post as a typist. In giving Miss Dove the position as my secretary, I did her a great favor. I hired a woman, and a woman with no experience in secretarial duties, at that. I pay her a salary far greater than she could ever expect to receive anywhere else. She can be happy on her own time.”He's right, of course, considering the time and circumstances, but he fails to see that it takes more than a good salary to keep an employee like Emma with her talents happy.
This was the dawn of a new day, and a new Emma Dove. Never again was she going to sit by while life went on around her. Never again was she going to wait for fate to hand her what she wanted. From now on, she was going to reach out and grab her dreams and not let go. She had never been more scared in her life.(Written January 2010)
Her eyes narrowed, and he saw his chances of getting her into bed diminishing, but he was so frustrated, he almost didn’t care. “You’re not Mrs. Bartleby. You’re not Aunt Lydia. You’re Emma.” He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake, wishing he could shake some sense into her stubborn brain. “You swear and you read naughty books. You’re passionate and warm and the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. And I don’t think you really believe I was wrong to divorce my wife, and I don’t think you disapprove of me nearly as much as you think you ought. If you did, you would never have agreed to come back and write for me. And I know damn well you don’t believe kissing me is wrong.”
“If two people are not married nor engaged to be married, it is wrong! It is!” She tried to jerk free, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“Why? Because of what you’ve been told, but it’s not what you feel. And I’ve known that since the day I kissed you in that bookshop, because I saw your face afterward. God, Emma, it was radiant, your face, all lit up from the inside like sunshine. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And tonight you didn’t believe it was wrong when I touched you, or you would have stopped me. When I said those things earlier, you could have told me to leave. You could have slapped my face. You could have dressed me down in spades, but you didn’t. You wanted me to say those things. You wanted to hear them. You did, Emma, you know you did.
[...]
Why can’t you be honest about what you really think and how you really feel? Where is Emma? What happened to her? What happened to the little girl who liked rolling in the mud and singing off-key?”
Her face twisted, and she made a choked sound like a sob.
He knew he was hurting her, but he was driven to say these things, for he was at the end of his tether. “I’ll tell you what happened to her. She’s been stifled and smothered by people and their opinions her entire life. […] But they didn’t succeed in snuffing Emma out completely, did they? There are times when she breaks through, and when she does, Lord, she’s so lovely she makes me ache with wanting her.”
She sagged and all the fight went out of her. “Go away,” she said. “Please, just go away.”
“You’ve called me insincere, Emma, but it’s you who lies. You lie to yourself. You push aside what you want to do in favor of what you should do. You ignore what you really think in favor of what you ought to think. You are dishonest in your own heart, and that’s the worst dishonesty there is. You’re so damned concerned about being a lady. Why can’t you just allow yourself to be a woman?” (p.280-282)