Storm’s Passion: Christine Young

In Storm’s Passion HE TRIED TO REFUSE…

For Hadden Johnston life has provided everything he ever wanted, including a sanctuary for homeless children. He is wealthy, handsome and happily unencumbered…until

REVIEW: Storm’s Passion

Reviewed by Kinky Vanilla

http://www.kinkyvanillaromance.blogspot.com/

By all accounts, Storm Graham is brazen, strong-willed, and beautiful. She despises her father and loves her horses. So when Storm discovers that her father has signed a contract that forces her (and her horses) into the hands of one of the region’s wealthiest and most despicable bachelors, she does not take it lying down.

After evaluating her options, she determines that her best bet is to convince the region’s wealthiest bachelor to marry her. She believes that Hadden Johnston’s money and power can protect her from the evil clutches of Charles Robertson (and his father). In return, she can offer her interest in the family’s horse and brewery businesses. The problem? Hadden and Storm are merely business acquaintances and neither is really interested in getting married.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Storm has nothing to lose by proposing marriage. Well, maybe a little pride. And Hadden knows all too well the ugliness that lurks in Charles’ mind. How could he not try to intervene on her behalf? Combine that with the sparks of attraction between Hadden and Storm, and you’ll end up with a marriage of convenience that had me wanting my own Hadden.

“This is an outrageous game you’re playing Miss Graham. But I do understand how loathsome marrying Charles would be. I wouldn’t wish it on my best friend and for some reason I’ve a need to protect you.” – Hadden Johnston

Rich, powerful, and cruel, Charles is also not one to take things lying down…

Storm’s Passion is a fast-paced, easy-to-read novel. I read it over a weekend. Luckily for us readers, the marriage turns out to be more than Hadden and Storm bargained for. They have a chemistry that is fun to read and watch grow. Storm isn’t the stereotypical damsel in distress. She is a heroine that you really get behind and pull for as the story plays out.

I think that Storm’s Passion is a great choice for people who enjoy historical romance stories. I must admit, I was a little thrown off by the book cover at first. It didn’t really scream historical romance to me. But don’t let all that hunkiness fool you. The book is set in England in 1818.

I look forward to reading more of Christine Young’s work.

EXCERPT: Storm’s Passion

“Did you or did you not set out to seduce me?” he queried, laughing a bit inside but relishing her innocence.

“Yes, yes I did,” she told him.

Her honesty might just be his undoing. “What if I told you your plan was a success? Consider me thoroughly seduced and ready for your next plot.”

“Oh, I don’t have one.” She lowered her lashes before looking back to him.

He bent over and kissed her, their lips melding together. Take it slow. Don’t scare her. You don’t want her to tell you to stop. He groaned, bloody hell that would be hard. For a moment, he wished she did have an agenda because he bloody well wasn’t sure about his.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips, parting them slightly. They’d been down this road before, and he hoped she remembered the other kisses, sweet poignant kisses but innocent as hell.

Smiling when he heard a tiny moan of pleasure, he deepened the kiss. His hands around her waist, he pulled her closer, and the feel of her breasts against his chest sent a funnel cloud of heat coursing through him.

Sensations so deep he’d never felt anything like these flowed inside. Spreading his hand on her back, he waited for another response as his tongue reached inside her mouth, tasting her, exploring.

She ran her fingers through his hair then tugged his head closer before releasing him and their first contact.

“Is this how seduction feels?” Her warm breath feathered across his cheek.

When he looked down, he saw breasts and shadowed, titillating cleavage. Deep evocative sensations pulsed through him. He moved his hand from her waist across her bared shoulder, the contrast mercuric. The urge to dip his finger into the valley between her breasts overpowered common sense. She’d purposely designed the dress for him, for his touch. She was lush and ripe, and he realized she was not protesting as he had expected.

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