This week on Excerpt Thursday, we're welcoming historical romance author Kate Rothwell, (who also writes as Summer Devon). Her title, SOMEONE TO CHERISH, (formerly published as The Rat Catcher) features a heroine down on her luck in 19th-century New York City. Join us Sunday, when Kate be here to talk about the novel and give away a copy. Here's the blurb:
The death of Callie Scott’s fashionable father left her with nothing—except an inquisitive mind not even her grandmother’s puritanical upbringing could quash. An adventurous spirit doesn’t help the sheltered young lady in 1884 New York City, and she must accept an abysmal position as a companion.
Things are looking up when she lands a trial job in a “special” library. Her benefactor’s offer of wine before noon should have signaled something amiss—not to mention the heated text she’s asked to translate. The more she reads, the more wine she needs to cool her blush.
Detective Cutter can’t quite place the tipsy young woman he encounters in a notorious brothel, but when she plants a dizzying kiss on his lips, he’s sure she doesn’t belong there. The resulting scandal of the police raid leaves Callie on the street, and Cutter feels responsible for her welfare.
Despite the cruel knowledge that he will never be part of her world, Cutter impulsively offers her a job in his home, where she turns out to possess more than the face of an angel. She has an irresistible, innocent sensuality—and an insatiable curiosity that could bring her one step too close to a murderer.
The death of Callie Scott’s fashionable father left her with nothing—except an inquisitive mind not even her grandmother’s puritanical upbringing could quash. An adventurous spirit doesn’t help the sheltered young lady in 1884 New York City, and she must accept an abysmal position as a companion.
Things are looking up when she lands a trial job in a “special” library. Her benefactor’s offer of wine before noon should have signaled something amiss—not to mention the heated text she’s asked to translate. The more she reads, the more wine she needs to cool her blush.
Detective Cutter can’t quite place the tipsy young woman he encounters in a notorious brothel, but when she plants a dizzying kiss on his lips, he’s sure she doesn’t belong there. The resulting scandal of the police raid leaves Callie on the street, and Cutter feels responsible for her welfare.
Despite the cruel knowledge that he will never be part of her world, Cutter impulsively offers her a job in his home, where she turns out to possess more than the face of an angel. She has an irresistible, innocent sensuality—and an insatiable curiosity that could bring her one step too close to a murderer.
**An Excerpt from Someone To Cherish**
The three-story brownstone lay not far from Gramercy Square. Not
at all the sort of residence one expected a police officer could afford. She
supposed that the house had been carved into apartments and that explained the
matter. She'd heard mutterings from Mrs. Lucien about how the old neighborhoods
were dying and the best residences were being built further and further uptown.
Officer Cutter answered the door. She tried not to stare, but he
was dressed in blue trousers, shirtsleeves, no jacket or waistcoat, with his
suspenders showing. He had his sleeves pushed up to reveal strong forearms that
had discernable brown hair on them. His collar was gone and she could see the
dip at the base of his throat.
Callie was not used to seeing men in dishabille. Her face grew
hot and she stared at the floor.
"Come on," he said. He must have seen her discomfort
for he rolled down his shirtsleeves and when she felt brave enough to look up,
he grinned at her. Oh, goodness. She'd forgotten how his grin transformed his
features to an almost puckish intelligence. Her face grew so hot she wondered
how she could see through the red haze.
He took a step back and she realized she still stood on the
doorsill.
"I won't hurt you," he said mildly.
"No, of course not. I didn't think you would." Her
nervousness made her sound waspish. Hardly the way to begin a working
relationship with an employer.
"I, er, assumed you did not mind Mauschen?" She
shifted the dog under her arm forward for his inspection.
"Suppose not."
"She's not very active."
He eyed the dog doubtfully. "Sure she's still alive?"
"Usually. Sometimes I feel I should check her
breathing." Callie smiled, grateful that the peculiar tension between them
had eased. "She is content, I hope."
He led her through the high-ceilinged room on the first floor
and she was struck by the odd contrast. She caught sight of elegant molding,
huge windows, a marble fireplace but she only had glimpses because so many
things cluttered the space. A stuffed blue jay perched on a pedestal next to an
iron, which lay on top of a cracked firescreen, next to a stack of books near
an empty elaborate wrought-iron cage of some sort. A path was cleared through
the haphazard stacks of objects, but she still had to step over a dusty
belljar.
"Granny," he explained. "A collector, or
was."
"I see." Callie disengaged her skirt that caught on
the spindle of a broken chair. "Er. Why?"
He rubbed his chin."I'd best explain. Come on."
They threaded their way through the stacks and piles to the
kitchen that felt huge because it was nearly empty.
"Her stuff's only in two rooms," he said. "Want
coffee? Tea?"
"Coffee, please." She wondered if she should offer to
make it, but realized she had no idea how to brew coffee.
As Officer Cutter turned the handle to grind the beans, he
spoke. "Granny's eccentric. Suspicious of most people. Happiest going
through rubbish. Was doing that when I met her."
"When you met her? But I thought..."
Before she could think of a polite way of phrasing it, he shook
his head. "Naw. Ain't my real Granny. Don't have one." He pulled out
the drawer from the mill and dumped the coffee into the pot. His motions were
clean and deft, as if he made hundreds of pots of coffee every day.
"You were saying," she prompted.
He gave her an impassive look. "She lived in a pit--a
basement. Rags and bones. I changed it slow, so she wouldn't notice. Always
been... eccentric. She's sick now. So. That's all. If she takes to you, I'll
pay five dollars a week. And room and board."
Callie gasped. "That's far too generous."
"Not if she's safe. Might not work. I've tried
before." He rubbed his knuckle over his upper lip. She'd seen him do that
before. It brought back the confused frightful feeling she'd had that day in
the library. She'd wanted to feel that lip too. Oh, goodness, please not
another blush, but she could feel the heat rise.
He didn't seem to notice. "Hmmm. Pretend you're related. Or
a friend, come to call. Maybe a lady's companion." He smirked slightly, no
doubt recalling her recent past. "Yah. Could work. She might be used to
it. I think she's from your world."
"My world?"
"Money." He plunked down two mismatched cups on the
table with no saucers. "Respectable. She wasn't always a trash
picker."
"But she was when you met her." Callie wondered if she
would risk rudeness if she pressed him about Granny's past, or his own.
"Yup."
Apparently he wasn't going to volunteer more.
He poured out the coffee and sat down across from her at the
small table. How large he seemed. And every time she snuck a peek at him, he
was watching her with those steady blue eyes. The same thoughtful examination
he'd given her in Panz's library. One corner of his mouth quirked up into a
grin and she realized she'd been staring at him as she tried to remember
exactly what that kiss had been like.
"Willing to try?"
Heaven help her. For the briefest moment she wondered if he
meant another kiss. "Yes, please, I would like to see if I can take care
of your, um, Granny."