California beaches have a special place in my heart. They come in wonderful varieties from one end of the state to the other, and from the lowest elevations to the highest. I spent long drowsy afternoons of my youth on the western shores of Lake Tahoe, stretched on a towel over sun-heated smooth black rocks with the lake lapping the shore and in the distance the roar of speedboats bumping over the glassy surface. Occasionally, our family would venture to the Nevada side for sandy beaches down steep paths through fragrant brush ending in great boulders, and waters as clear and aqua blue as the tropics. We would bake in the sun as long as we could before taking the plunge into the lake’s icy waters. I always had a fall fashion magazine to read, a notebook full of novel ideas, and a willingness to cast intriguing strangers as potential heroes and heroines. The family with assorted adults, from a grandmother in head-to-toe black to an uncle in a too-small Speedo, that arrived every afternoon in a hearse, were especially intriguing.
Once I met my surfer husband, the beach became not a summer destination, but a place to live. From our first house two blocks from a wide Southern California beach we could see the sweep of Santa Monica bay and hear the waves crack as they broke and thumped the shore. Now we live just a short drive from a fog-shrouded Northern California beach, wetsuits required, where you huddle in a parka and blanket and cling to your coffee while seals and gulls dive and pelicans skim the waves. Annually, we grab our State Parks day use pass and head down the Coast for a surf pilgrimage to our favorite spots. It’s a ritual that requires checking every surf break and eating at our favorite surfer hangouts–burritos, coffee, and ultimately, V-G’s donuts near Swami’s.
“A writer to treasure.” —Sabrina Jeffries, New York Times bestselling author
Beauty, wit, and charm may catch a gentleman’s eye, but nothing attracts suitors quite like property . . . as beloved, award-winning author Kate Moore reveals in this delightful Regency romp. For an innkeeper’s daughter new to the dance, a discreet volume of courtship wisdom may help discern the intentions of a mysterious newcomer.
Lucy Holbrook has recently inherited her father’s south London inn, the place she’s always called home. Now her fashionable friends, arming her with The Husband Hunter’s Guide to London, are urging her to sell the establishment and become a society lady, just as her father always hoped. Lucy would rather toss the little book into the hearth—she could never desert the alehouse or its patrons, including an elderly blind man who depends on her care. But she may need every bit of good advice when a handsome stranger arrives with a secret agenda and a baffling crime to solve . . . and Lucy finds herself navigating a most dangerous attraction!
Praise for Kate Moore’s previous novels:
“Moore writes with a lyrical beauty that will leave no heart untouched.” –RT Book Reviews
“Fans will hope for more of Moore’s sinful delights to come.” –Library Journal (starred review)
“Moore skillfully whets readers’ appetites . . .” –Booklist
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