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.:Reviews:.A Devil’s Proposal is the first book in the Devil’s Trilogy and is a mesmerizing page-turner.
The dialogue between the characters really sparks interest and their storyline keeps the reader’s interest...
Jodici Belle gives such imagery and lovely detail to this romance that the reader cannot help but feel all
the sensations that weave in and out the story. She incorporates a splendid read. Ms. Belle has an awesome talent for telling a hot story that will hook the readers and keep them
hooked until the very end. A Devil’s Proposal will keep the readers on an emotional roller coaster ride
and have them coming back for more. Jodici Belle's A DEVIL'S PROPOSAL is a beautifully written love story about a wonderfully flawed hero and a wary heroine. .:Excerpt:.Ransom, the Earl of Leahaven, sighed as he leaned on the railing and stared down at the crowd below, twirling to the music of the orchestra. Yet another mundane ball in another mundane Season. He turned his head and observed the equally bored expressions on the faces of his two friends. “I say, would you think it badly done of us if we were to take our leave?” he asked. Simon, the Earl of Carlyle, passed him a horrified glance, his green eyes darkened in censure, a frown marking his brow. “We shall not be doing that. I hardly relish the idea of standing under my sister's ever-present fury while you fellows run off and leave her to ring a fine peal over me.” Chuckling at the image, Ransom pushed off the smooth mahogany railing and tilted forward to gain a better look of Anterton who stood in a quiet repose. “What say you?” Cool blue eyes snapped to attention, the Marquis' lips pursed together in irritation. “What?” Not at all offended by his friend's abrupt manner, he grinned. “Should we leave him to face his sister alone?” Anterton frowned, and cast a glance at Carlyle. “What for?” Ransom leaned back on the balustrade with his elbow and sighed. “For the fun of it.” “Bored?” Leahaven's attention focused on Anterton as he attempted to stay the scowl at the Marquis's matter-of-fact question. “Of course.” His lips tilted in a wry grin. “It's all the same, isn't it? We come, we dance, and we have a rousing good time.” Carlyle elbowed him in the side. “This is my sister's Season, and I'm holding you to your promise to attend.” Rolling his eyes, he sighed and wished he hadn't been so quick to agree. “I am well aware of that fact. It's just deuced boring dancing with all those fresh-faced gels and simpering debutantes.” Anterton tilted forward over the railing. “You are not the only one suffering. Five ladies have swooned before me tonight.” “That's because you're bracket-faced,” he said as he slid in a jibe he couldn't quite resist. Anterton nodded at the ribbing, taking it as his due. A chuckle at the obvious joke revealed his lighthearted humor toward his notorious attractiveness. Ransom wasn't jealous of his friend's good looks, far from it. Of the three of them, Anterton was whispered about the most by women young and old because of his handsomeness. He had cold-as-ice eyes and russet hair that curled just so, combined with a perfectly symmetrical cleft in his chin. His cut features made him look as though he belonged in a pantheon and not London Town. The man couldn't walk into a room without being noted. Ransom released another soft laugh. Indeed, none of them could go anywhere without creating a hum of speculation. The Devil's Trio they were called, and aptly so. “So what do you propose we do? We promised Carlyle here to stand by him,” Anterton pointed out, nudging his famous chin in his friend's direction. “I'm standing here, you know,” Carlyle stated, with an indignant scowl. “We know, bright eyes,” Ransom announced, producing a deeper frown from Simon. “I told you not to call me that,” he growled, his green eyes lightened to an almost gold fury. “Come now,” Ransom said, chuckling. “Bat those lashes for me.” “You better watch yourself. I'm likely to draw your cork at the rate you're going,” Carlyle said. Ransom said, “It's all in good fun.” Carlyle glared at him. “Well, keep your forked tongue to yourself.” Recoiling at his words, Leahaven relented and fell into a somber quietude as dull remorse came over him. His wit could turn a woman's head or cut a man down. His silver tongue had proved both a gift and a curse. On many occasions he'd offended some fellow and been forced to settle matters in the most barbaric form. A bubble of heated emotion rose up, long repressed and urging him to release it, but he resisted. It surged in one final effort then ebbed into nothingness once more and he was able to continue, the drones of varying conversations coming to the forefront. Anterton stared at him with a piercing look. “Something amiss?” “It's just so damnably boring,” he groaned. “Are you after a challenge?” Ransom cast his attention on Anterton, who dropped his hands on the balustrade to stare at the crowd below. Turning, he rested his elbows on the railing and threw his glance over the silk skirts below in an attempt to discover what had caught the Marquis's eye. “What do you propose?” Anterton nudged his head toward the right area of the room. “Lady Winifred.” His gaze shot over to the furthermost corner where he found his challenge standing. The Marquis of Samford's very plump daughter. Indeed, she had a handsome face, a button nose, round cheeks and soft chin. In fact, the only thing at all breathtaking about her had to be her strawberry blonde curls. An unusual color. At that moment, her aquamarine eyes traveled over the crowd in boredom while she fanned herself, a small frown of irritation marking her brow. “What's the challenge there?” “I propose you won't be able to sway her to marry you, even with that golden tongue of yours.” “You don't think? That gel begs to be seduced,” Ransom scoffed. “And besides, it seems hardly fair for you to set the parson's mousetrap for me.” Anterton rose a brow. “I doubt that is likely to happen.” “How so?” “Her father would hardly approve your suit. He is known to be quite strict with his daughter, wants her to marry no less than a duke. And with your not quite pristine background and financial woes, you won't get within five feet of her.” With the gauntlet laid down, Ransom found he couldn't resist. He adjusted his jacket with sharp jerks and stared over the crowd, a speculative eye on his challenge. “I beg to differ. I'll have a yea out of her by the end of this week.” “Tar an' hounds! Are you fellows dicked in the nob! That is going too far,” Carlyle warned. Eying his friend, Ransom chuckled with self-confidence. “How so?” “You could be brought down by a breach of promise, you know,” Carlyle said. Ransom sobered at the thought. He didn't have the blunt to pay financial compensation. His brows drew together in concentration, then cleared with a lopsided grin. “I won't approach the father. We are after a yea from her. It's doubtful that anyone would believe I made an offer.” Carlyle only shook his head in response. Ignoring his friend's disapproval, he turned to Anterton. “Very well, I accept your challenge.” |
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