Hester Fairfax abducts her childhood best friend, Benjamin Littleton before he succumbs to his father’s plans for his life – all for his own good, of course.
For fans of Alexandra Vasti and Felicity Niven comes a novella about chasing your dreams and finding yourself in only one bed with your best friend.
Hester Fairfax dreams of escaping her dull life in rural, landlocked Surrey. As a child she schemed to run away and become a pirate, but now as a 24-year-old spinster she’s resigned to moldering away beside her neglectful father. Her one chance at adventure is fulfilling an old promise to kidnap the most eligible bachelor in the neighborhood: Benjamin Littleton, the baronet’s son, before he moves to London.
Benjamin Littleton can barely keep his head above water. He’s drowning in obligations: studying to become a barrister, courting a woman his father chose, and living up to his family’s incessant demands. When his childhood friend abducts him just before he becomes betrothed, Benjamin discovers that everything he didn’t dare wish for is now within his grasp.
After a carriage crash, thunderstorm, and an unexpected night spent in an abandoned cottage, Hester and Benjamin realize they could chart a life together free from neglect and disapproval. If only they’re fierce enough to chase it.
Buy link: https://a.co/d/j1mK6Hm
An Excerpt from The Fiercest Pirate in Surrey
“Benji,” she said after a pause. “I’m not truly a lady. I might be a gentleman’s daughter, but most people just see me as an eccentric spinster.”
He looked her up and down, gaze inscrutable. “You’re no spinster.”
A flush spread across Hester’s body. Why? He said nothing inappropriate. And it’s only Benji. But something about the low, demanding tone and the way his eyes had lingered made her wonder… made her hope. Stop this foolishness. He’s marrying Miss Dunham. And since when did that matter to her? She gave him an impish grin. “But I am delightfully eccentric.”
“And I would never allow such a lovely and delightfully eccentric maiden out in such dangerous weather.” He paused. “I’ll beat you to the door if you try.”
Hester raised a brow and elaborately turned to look at the door behind her. “I’m closer.”
“I have longer legs.”
The air seemed charged with tension, as if there was another storm raging in the room between them. This wasn’t normal, this was different and strange and…not childlike at all. Desperate to bring this back to familiar corners, Hester threw him a smirk. “We’ll see about that.” And she flew backward to the door.
Her loose hair tangled around her, and a laugh burst out as she scrambled for the door handle. A heavy body slammed into her back, and then Benjamin somehow lurched forward, those giant arms outstretched, and he slammed both palms flat against the wooden door.
“No, you don’t,” he said in her ear, amusement leaking through.
Hester, trapped between his chest and the door, relented. She clutched her sprained wrist to her chest and leaned her forehead against the door, right between his palms. “I surrender,” she got out through chuckles.
Benjamin shifted behind her, and the heat of his chest burned against her shoulder blades. His breath warmed her neck. “Stay,” he whispered.
A shiver went down her spine. She closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of his arms. “I don’t think I have much of a choice,” she murmured.
He bent his head, and she felt the barest edge of his lips against the shell of her ear. “How the tables have turned, my captor.”
A ribbon of heat and desire unspooled in her chest, slipping through her belly like a butterfly and throbbing inside her core. Hester bit her lips to keep back a moan of delight.
His hips slotted against the small of her back, he was so tall compared to her, and he broadened his stance.
Hester opened her eyes and turned her cheek to the cool door. His left hand was mere inches away. His long fingers were flexed against the wood, the large hands warm and capable. What would those hands feel like on her? She shuddered at the thought.
Abruptly, Benjamin withdrew. The blast of cold air that wrapped her back and arms nearly made her cry out. “Forgive me, I forgot myself. We aren’t children anymore, are we?” His hands lifted from the door and he took two steps backward. “We should forsake childish games.”
Meet Anne Knight
Anne Knight has been writing stories since she was three years old. Before she could read or write, she followed her parents and babysitter around, begging them to dictate her words. Eventually she learned the alphabet and began writing herself. She sneaked her first romance novel when she was thirteen, but did not become an avid reader or writer of the genre until after college.
Anne lives in Arkansas with her real-life swoony hero, four children, and two cats. The cats are named Cyrano and Ivanhoe.