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"Emily's joie de vivre is contagious, and Goodnight's romance is irresistible."
--- Maria Hatton for Booklist, reviewing Unladylike Pursuits
"This debut novel by Alyssa Goodnight is wonderful, filled with laughter and passion.
Ms. Goodnight promises to be an author to watch. I am eagerly anticipating her next book. Don't miss this winner."
--- Jeanine Birckbichler for Affaire de Coeur, reviewing Unladylike Pursuits
"...there is a charm and innocence about the book that I have not seen for some time. Of course, this may be due to the fact that the author
is new to the publishing world. Goodnight does not seem to be writing to achieve anything other than to write a delightful romance - and that is how the book comes across, as downright charming...
The book works because it knows what to focus on and does not try to be too many things at once. It also flows quite well, with an interesting plot and interwoven characters.
Ultimately, even with the minor flaws, this is really one of the better European Historicals that I have read this year and I certainly look forward to reading more from this author.
Hopefully, her future books will be able to retain the appealing innocence found in this one.
--- All About Romance, reviewing Unladylike Pursuits
Read the entire review!
"Author Alyssa Goodnight has crafted a superbly imaginative tale in UNLADYLIKE PURSUITS. Not only is the story extremely well written, but it holds the reader's attention in the way that only
a truly good story can. Once picking up UNLADYLIKE PURSUITS, I couldn't seem to put it down. Ms. Goodnight's novel has all the qualities of a first-rate historical romance: realistic and engaging characters; sweet and sexy romantic
encounters; a fast-moving plot; an engaging historical setting and a feel-good ending. Rife with humor, tenderness and romantic subtleties, UNLADYLIKE PURSUITS gifts readers with that most coveted of reading experiences: escape from
the daily grind into the welcome fantasy of a fairytale filled with love and adventure."
--- Janean Nusz for The Road to Romance, reviewing Unladylike Pursuits
Read the entire review!
"Secondary characters refuse to take a back seat in this light, humor-filled story set in English 1800s. Although some sections are heavy on introspection, it does permit the corresponding character's thoughts
and motivation to be captured in detail. I would like to have heard more from the hero throughout the book, since the second half of this story moves much more quickly once the hero plays a more prominent role. At that point, you won't want to put it down."
--- Margaret Ohmes for Fresh Fiction, reviewing Unladylike Pursuits
Read the entire review!
"Ms. Goodnight tells a good story and her imagery is the best I've read in a long while... Ms. Goodnight has a great wit and there were some very funny moments in the story...
Unladylike Pursuits is a fun story, with a loveable hero, a mostly likeable heroine, a truly sinister villain, and a feel-good ending. I look forward to reading Ms. Goodnight's future books as I think she has a lot of potential."
--- Valarie Pelissero for Rakehell, reviewing Unladylike Pursuits
Read the entire review!
"Alyssa Goodnight has written one of the most elegant stories that I have read in a long time...her words paint a masterpiece.
I would rank Alyssa Goodnight’s work with Kathleen Woodiwiss. I am honored to give this awesome book, UNLADYLIKE PURSUITS, Romance Junkie’s highest honor - 5 ribbons."
--- Big Momma for Romance Junkies, reviewing Unladylike Pursuits
Read the entire review!
"Goodnight brings such energy into the tale, she makes it fresh and a delight to read. Goodnight's story is imaginative, the characters charming, complex...A sexy romance that moves at a heady pace,
showing this is an author to take note of for future books."
--- Deborah MacGillivray for The Best Reviews, reviewing Unladylike Pursuits
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"It reminded me of the Jane Austen novel Pride and Prejudice. If you like Jane Austen novels, you will like this one."
--- Aliya N. Leigh for Book Review Cafe, reviewing Unladylike Pursuits
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"Alyssa Goodnight skillfully swaps between the main characters' point of view to give a compete picture of events that is often amusing to the reader.
A nice light read that is long enough to get involved with."
--- Tash for Beauty and Lace, reviewing Unladylike Pursuits
Read the entire review!
"This historical is full of adventure, secrets, and romance. The characters are exceptionally written, with plenty of depth and emotion. Historical lovers will not want to miss this fast paced, exciting romance." Rating: 5 cups
--- Wateena for Coffee Time Romance, reviewing Unladylike Pursuits
Read the entire review!
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A reverberating clap of thunder startled Emily to attention, offering audible proof that the spike of lightning
she had decided to ignore had definitely been too close for comfort. Rain was coming down in sheets now, soaking
her to the skin; she needed to hurry. Perhaps even a prayer or two would be in order.
"Bloody hell," she yelped as her hair caught briefly on the low hanging branch of an oak tree as she flew past it.
A few more hairpins lost forever, she mused ruefully. It really was a wonder she had any left. Tangled tendrils
of hair now smacked wetly against her face and neck, and her beautiful new riding dress was plastered uncomfortably against her skin.
Beatrice would appreciate the fact that her riding hat was even now sitting high and dry in Gypsy's stable. The mare had
simply looked too silly to wear it out, and as Emily had assumed that she'd have looked equally ridiculous, she'd left it.
What she'd hoped would be a shortcut was turning out to be anything but. Strong winds and pelting rain had transformed
the less-traveled path into treacherous terrain, making navigation both difficult and dangerous.
She couldn't deny it had been a mistake in judgment. Although, in her own defense, she doubted the decision to shortcut
the journey had been a conscious one. Gypsy knew the path to the vicarage as well as she did, perhaps better. With her
thoughts in such an uproar, she had probably neglected to give the horse any direction. So here she was.
Well, it simply couldn't be helped. Compared to the storm that had been ravaging her thoughts since her father's surprise
announcement, Emily viewed the afternoon's weather as merely a minor inconvenience.
The highwayman, she had already refused to think about.
She was occupied with reminding herself of that very fact when she arrived, rather unexpectedly, at the point
where her messy shortcut intercepted the road. As Gypsy plunged out of the trees, a violent movement to their
left had Emily hauling back on the reins in shock and uncertainty. Gypsy reacted in outrage over the assumed
intrusion and reared back with teeth bared. Already leaning back heavily on the reins, Emily felt as if the
bottom had fallen out beneath her. She dug in her heels, tightened her knees, even grabbed at her horse’s mane
in an effort to keep her seat, but not surprisingly, the beast was slippery all over.
She landed on her backside in a newly formed puddle, her skirts rucked up enough to reveal a good deal more of her
leg than she cared to. A slippery coating of mud covered nearly every square inch of her.
Emily groaned, already foreseeing that the bruises that would result from the fall would be nothing compared to the
shrill reprimand she was likely to receive upon returning home. Her riding habit was in pitiful condition, soaked
and now filthy as well.
Lovely. Now she looked just as she felt. Hopefully Sophie could set her to rights. That is if she managed to
arrive at the vicarage before she perished from cold and self-pity. She scarcely wished to acknowledge that
there’d been another rider—it would be easier simply to pretend she’d fallen of her own accord. She could then
have merely re-seated herself and ridden away. But there was another rider, and manners forbade such an easy escape.
Content to ignore a disapproving stare, and even a mild level of censure, in the interest of quelling gossip and
easing her escape, she pushed back her sodden hair and started to rise, only to find herself caught in the watchful,
arrogant gaze of quite the most magnificent stallion she had ever seen. He was midnight black and beautifully
formed. She could have stared at him for several oblivious moments, but she wasn’t given the chance. Regally the
horse side-stepped, and its rider came into view.
Raising her eyes slowly from a glossy-wet, black Wellington boot,
Emily took in the tall rain-soaked body, the hard planes of the rider's face, and finally a pair of
stormy grey eyes. It seemed the highwayman had found her after all.
Not certain what she should expect of this mysterious stranger, Emily drew her breath in sharply and waited.
When he did nothing but continue to stare down at her in apparent disapproval, she decided he must be a
calculating villain intent on first flustering his victims with nervous uncertainty. Or…with luck he
was merely a harmless gentleman thoroughly unfamiliar with the dictates of chivalry.
"What is your intention, sir?" she inquired warily.
"An apology," he informed her in apparent surprise.
"Very well," she allowed expansively. Obviously he wished to choose his words carefully.
She would be particularly gracious in her acceptance.
Neither spoke; neither moved, except to simultaneously raise a single eyebrow in question.
"I'm waiting!" Emily exclaimed finally, more irritated with this awkward delay than with her
painful, messy fall.
"Yes, I've noticed. I confess I've no idea as to why you might choose to do that. We are, after all,
out in the elements, and I don't suppose you're at all comfortable."
Judging from the laughter twitching his lips and shining in his eyes, he thought the entire situation
amusing. She wished she could enjoy such a luxury. But today was likely to hold very little pleasantness
at all.
"If you are possessed of any manners whatsoever," she informed him slowly, "you'll
apologize for knocking me off my horse and help me up."
"I am not in the habit of issuing apologies-,"
"I'd puzzled that out for myself," came the muttered interruption.
"-for matters in which I am clearly not at fault," he finished, his smile still firmly in place.
"Say no more. It has become unattractively clear that your arrogance forbids such a courtesy."
"Not arrogance, love, competence. Not to mention sitting clearly in the right of matters.
If I'm not mistaken, it was I riding along the path, and you plunging recklessly
through the trees with nary a thought for the more…ah…civilized travelers."
Emily's eyes skewered him, willing him to adopt a more somber, less irksome attitude, wishing him, and his
wicked smile, far, far away. "Indeed. Then I must offer my apologies."
"Ah…at long last."
She would not smile. It would be horrendously misinterpreted.
"Or, perhaps my condolences would be more appropriate. I fear you've either been struck by lightning
or smacked by an errant tree branch." Her feigned sympathy transitioned smoothly to conviction,
"Because it is clear that your judgment is lacking--you are most definitely at fault. The road,
when wet, is a bog, whereas the path through the trees is sufficiently layered with leaves as to make
it easily passable."She was only slightly fibbing after all. If it wasn't actually storming, the
shortcut through the trees was a preferable choice. Still, he didn't need to know the particulars.
She'd been willing to concede partial blame for the accident--full blame if the rider was an acquaintance
of her father's, strictly in the interest of self-preservation--but this stranger was a different matter. His
presumption had grated, and now she hadn't the slightest intention of giving him the satisfaction.
"Your concern is heartwarming but misplaced. Only one of us was unseated, a single reputation muddied,
so to speak."
Emily sucked in her breath with an exasperated hiss and seriously considered muddying a good bit of his despicable person.
Despite his mocking tone, he obediently dismounted and held out his gloved hand, a much-delayed picture of
chivalry.
"I am indeed a gentleman. When it suits me. And as such, it is my duty to assist even ill-mannered
ladies. He raised his eyebrows with a challenge of his own. "I am at your service, Miss…?"
Emily pointedly ignored both hand and query and slowly stood, tense with anger and stiff with soreness.
"I could quite easily have been injured you know." Faced with his obvious, and rather insulting,
lack of concern, she couldn't help but point out this possibility.
"A cursory inspection provided sufficient assurance that the only injury of any consequence was to your pride.
Never fear, judging by the look of you, it will recover quite nicely."
With no ready quip on her tongue, Emily clenched her teeth and wished it were possible to actually 'stare daggers' at someone.
He nodded his head, quite obviously under the assumption that the matter had been tidily dispatched, and then
turned slightly away, but not quite enough to hide his grin.
Using her sleeve to wipe the mud from her face, she surreptitiously studied him from beneath her lashes,
reluctantly conceding the existence of a single redeeming quality. He was inescapably, inarguably, a
magnificent specimen. But quite obviously for display only, not to be touched or tampered with. And never
to be spoken to.
Odd that she hadn't noticed until now.
He was quite tall, she imagined at least six feet, and despite the obvious bulk of hard-earned muscle, he
wore his sodden clothes with an ease she envied in her own sorry state. His dark hair had gotten so wet
that it was impossible to determine its true color, but it was plainly longer than fashion dictated. His
movements had been smooth and efficient, and he clearly had an enviable rapport with his stallion. She was
fairly certain that under different circumstances she would have admired him very much. At least until he
opened his mouth.
Now that she considered it, his mouth was quite nice, and she could have stared at it for some time. She
had even noticed a slight dimple as he'd turned away, and she supposed he knew precisely how to put it to
good use where the fairer sex was concerned. Such thoughts had her pulse quickening, which was surely ridiculous.
He had a strong nose and slashing brows over heavy-lidded eyes that appeared
dark grey, lit with flecks of gold. Emily was busy pondering that strange combination when she realized
that those very eyes now stared mockingly back. Startled, she looked quickly away, hoping he wouldn't
notice the color that had likely settled on her cheeks.
"Hasn't anyone ever warned you about staring at a man in such a fashion?" he inquired.
Turning back to him, she noticed the tense line of his shoulders.
"I hardly think you are in any position to instruct me on the subject of manners."
"Nor do I desire the task. Tempt me further though, and it will be my pleasure to enlighten you on
other, considerably more diverting, matters."
Emily was certain her blush deepened well past flattering, but she hadn't expected the odd fluttering she felt
around her heart. It had the exuberance of dancers, and, all at once, her breath came short. She wanted to
reach her hand up to press against the rhythmic beat, to stifle it if she could, but then changed her mind
against it. It wasn't particularly unpleasant, and beyond that, she didn't need this stranger thinking any more
of himself than he already did. Needing, however, a moment to regain her composure, she tossed her leg over
Gypsy and settled herself back in the saddle before responding.
"And it will be mine to acquaint you with my boot," she parried prettily.
She watched as he assessed her, apparently deciding how best to deal with the messy picture she presented.
She smiled a chilly bit of encouragement.
"Very well, I'll offer only a bit of advice. In future, you may wish to either adopt a slower pace
or consider a less spirited mount," he suggested blandly.
Emily stiffened. She took inordinate pride in her abilities as a horsewoman and immediately took his
suggestion as a challenge. Raising her chin a few inches, she gave him a look of disdain.
"I'd wager I could manage your stallion."
"I rather doubt it. But as I don't plan to offer you the opportunity, your ability will remain
uncontested."
"Perhaps you'd care to race then? A true test of horseflesh versus skill? You may boast the former,
I the latter." While absently patting Gypsy, she stared down the stranger, willing him to agree.
Faced with his narrowed eyes and lack of response, she bit her lip to hold back a grin
and tossed out, "Not arrogance, but competence, remember?"
The stranger's lips twitched and Emily could well imagine the train of his thoughts. She's but a slip of
a girl. What can she be thinking in boldly challenging a strange gentleman to a race? She needs to be taught
a lesson. And it would be my pleasure to oblige…
"Are you certain your pride could manage the end result?" came his answer, all but confirming
her suspicions.
"I daresay considerably better than yours as I plan to win," she quipped.
"In that case, I accept," he announced with a confident smile. "Will one week from today
suit you?"
"Do you need the time to practice?" she inquired prettily.
"Sheath your claws," he said around a chuckle, "I have business in Cornwall and can't be
certain when I'll return."
"Very well then, one week," she conceded, a smile pulling at her lips.
"At the north edge of this blasted forest," he declared, running his fingers through his hair and
sending rivulets of rainwater slipping down the sides of his neck to disappear into the V of his shirt.
"Come at dawn," she ordered imperiously, determined not to ponder over those daring rivulets any
further.
Nodding his head in deference to her curt demand, he quietly answered, "Until then."
Smug with satisfaction, Emily could easily imagine herself victorious, could even imagine her boot positioned on his
chest pressing him into the mud. "Victory will be sweet," she murmured to herself.
"Indeed." Apparently he'd heard her. His smile was wicked and mocking both, and Emily could think of no appropriate response.
She paused in the act of swinging her mare away from him when she heard his voice once again, smooth and
almost seductive, "But not as sweet as its prize."
Feeling strangely unsteady and oddly confused, she nudged Gypsy around and attempted to make a dignified exit.
She wished she had not felt compelled to glance back over her shoulder. For there he stood, an enigmatic
smile on his lips, waiting for her to succumb to that very weakness.
Devil take the man!
His grin set her heart aflutter a second time, and worse, this time she was almost certain he
knew it.
Such a reaction would have been disturbing enough in its unexpectedness, but it was considerably more so when
paired with the awareness that this…stranger…had been responsible for the only times it had ever happened.
She would make certain it was his last victory over her.
End of excerpt.
Enjoy it? Order it.
Unladylike Pursuits, Impress Ink
ISBN 0-9759190-0-8
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