Posts Tagged ‘Matthew Goode’
Jackson Weldon
January 24, 2011 | 
Author Jackson Weldon as described by Nan Miller
Lightning briefly illuminated the strong curve of his stubble-rough jaw, devilish smile, and raven’s wing hair whipping in the wind. Damn, the man had no right to look so sexy in the middle of hell. He stripped off his black leather jacket, pushed her umbrella aside, and leaned in close.
“You bait a nice hook, sugar.”
“You. You Peeping Tom!” Her search for something sophisticated and deadly to say fizzled as ridiculous.
“Careful. You’re giving me ideas for a new profession.”
She didn’t have a chance to reply before his leather jacket descended over her head and his strong arm encircled her.
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Alexander Killdaren
Alexander Killdaren as described by Andromeda Andrews
My voice caught in my throat as I was about to comment that Gemini’s nose was already irrevocably red, even though it wasn’t. The sound of horse’s hooves on the shore along with the act of everyone around me turning and gasping with awe and fear told me that he had arrived to the docks. Lord Alexander Killdaren.
Though the mystery surrounding Mary’s death had been solved, the murder of Lady Helen Kennedy eight years ago had not been. Since Sean Killdaren and Lord Alexander Killdaren were the last ones to see her alive and a witness had seen one of them leaving the scene of the murder, a dark cloud of suspicion hung over their lives. To this day the villagers gave the Killdaren twins a wide berth. Neither Cassie nor I believed the rumors. She was sure Sean was innocent and I was convinced Lord Alexander was, too.
Sean Killdaren
Sean Killdaren as described by Cassie Andrews
Feeling like a thief, I slipped inside and would have been carried away by the multitude of books filling the massive shelves if I had not seen the painting first. The impact of the image literally stole my breath, and I stepped back from the life-sized portrait hanging above the mantel of a massive stone hearth.
His green eyes, so vibrantly realistic, stared directly at me from beneath dark brows over a chiseled nose and roughly hewn jaw. He wore a black suit, white ruffled shirt, and had a black cape flung over one shoulder. In one black-gloved hand he held a silver walking stick with what I thought was a fanged snake on its tip. But as I moved closer, I saw it was a dragon that curled up the cane. A force greater than my own will held me captive before him. Had he needed the night to hide his sins?
Stephen Trevelyan
Stephen Trevelyan as described by Juliet Boucheron.
I paused to take in the sweet smell of jasmine mingled with the mouthwatering aroma of Mama Lousia’s creamy red beans, andouille, and fresh bread. Mama Louisa’s cooking could warm the soul of a devil.
“Half light, half shade, She stood, a sight to make an old man young.”
“Mon Dieu!” Startled, I spun around to see who had spoken. A tall man stood beneath the shadows of a twisted live oak just behind me. The deep voice was unfamiliar, cultured, and sensual. I backed away several steps, chastising myself for being so lost in my thoughts that I’d been unaware of his presence.
