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A LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE
A LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE
Marrying the Duke #0.5
Cathy Maxwell
Releasing Sept 22nd, 2015
Avon Romance
Grandmother, grandmother, who shall it be
Who shall it be who will marry me?
Duke, Earl, a powerful marquess?
When my heart is given to Fyclan Morris…
In New York Times bestselling author Cathy Maxwell’s new novella, beautiful Jennifer Tarleton has no lack of noble suitors, but the only man who captures her attention is the one her father will never let her marry: Fyclan Morris. He’s a brash adventurer, witty, courageous…and Irish! Even worse, her father blames her for their reversal of fortune…
And it’s a fortune—or rather his grandmother the fortune teller—who foretold that Fyclan would meet “the one”, a love prophesied in the stars. He vows nothing will stand in the way of making Jennifer his bride, but is the price too high? Or is a thing called love worth every challenge?
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From almost the day he of his birth, his Gran had cooed in his ear that he was destined for great things, something she’d never said to his brother—and her words had proven true. How else could a poor lad from County Cork find himself on the brink of being named a director to the powerful East India Company?
But it wasn’t just money his Gran had offered. “When you meet this woman, hold on to her,” she’d said. “Your children’s children will be dukes and princes. They will stride the world. But first, you must meet the woman.”
“Why will I need her?” he’d asked. “Mr. Fralin says I’m the smartest pupil he’s ever taught. I don’t need a lass to help me be important.”
His Gran had cupped his chin with her cold, frail hand. “You are right, my chava, but she will not be just any woman. She will be your destiny. Your purpose.”
To a boy, such talk was gibberish. Like every other Irish lad his age, Fyclan was mad for horses and adventure. This talk of “purpose” had been beyond his understanding—especially when it involved lasses. He was going to be a military man. He would win honor and glory and own a stable of a fifty horses, and he wasn’t going to share one of them with a lass.
However now, he was a man, and wiser to the ways of the world. He’d proven he understood money. He’d made fortunes for his superiors as well as his own. There was no telling how far he could climb, especially since many whispered Fyclan’s smart leadership had saved the Company from another bankruptcy. It was commonly allowed that if he kept his current path, he would someday be knighted.
And certainly, many of the current directors had their eye on him as a husband for their daughters, but Fyclan had not been tempted. No, he’d been waiting for her, the one his Gran had promised--the lady in blue with golden hair and creamy skin whose path had just crossed his.
But it wasn’t just money his Gran had offered. “When you meet this woman, hold on to her,” she’d said. “Your children’s children will be dukes and princes. They will stride the world. But first, you must meet the woman.”
“Why will I need her?” he’d asked. “Mr. Fralin says I’m the smartest pupil he’s ever taught. I don’t need a lass to help me be important.”
His Gran had cupped his chin with her cold, frail hand. “You are right, my chava, but she will not be just any woman. She will be your destiny. Your purpose.”
To a boy, such talk was gibberish. Like every other Irish lad his age, Fyclan was mad for horses and adventure. This talk of “purpose” had been beyond his understanding—especially when it involved lasses. He was going to be a military man. He would win honor and glory and own a stable of a fifty horses, and he wasn’t going to share one of them with a lass.
However now, he was a man, and wiser to the ways of the world. He’d proven he understood money. He’d made fortunes for his superiors as well as his own. There was no telling how far he could climb, especially since many whispered Fyclan’s smart leadership had saved the Company from another bankruptcy. It was commonly allowed that if he kept his current path, he would someday be knighted.
And certainly, many of the current directors had their eye on him as a husband for their daughters, but Fyclan had not been tempted. No, he’d been waiting for her, the one his Gran had promised--the lady in blue with golden hair and creamy skin whose path had just crossed his.
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New York Times Bestselling Author,
Cathy Maxwell, spends hours in front of
her computer pondering the question, “Why do people fall in love?” It remains
for her the great mystery of life and the secret to happiness. She lives in
beautiful Virginia with children, horses, dogs, and cats.
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THE MATCH OF THE CENTURY
Marrying the Duke #1
Coming November 24th
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