Discover the Bow Street Brides!


Grant is charismatic, titled...and second-in-command of the Bow Street Runners. When his captain orders him to find and arrest the lad who has been stealing jewelry from the ton’s elite he thinks it’s just another job. Until the lad turns out to be a five foot, four inch red-haired hellion with a penchant for knives…and the softest lips he’s ever kissed. 


Juliet is beautiful, intelligent…and one of the best thieves in all of London. Raised in the cutthroat streets of St. Giles, she’s learned to survive by whatever means necessary. Even if those means include pretending to be a highborn lady to avoid capture by The Wolf, one of Bow Street’s most cunning runners…and the only man to ever set her blood on fire.

Juliet and Grant’s daring game of cat and mouse will take them from the glittering ballrooms of Grosvenor Square to the dangerous alleys of the East End as they try to outwit one another…and fight their growing passion. But when an enemy from Juliet’s past threatens her future, she has no other option except to trust the runner she has sworn to hate. Forced to choose between duty and desire, will Grant listen to his head…or risk everything to follow his heart? 



Slowly, carefully, Juliet drew the hem of her dress up to her knee, exposing the small dagger she had strapped to the inside of her calf. Removing it from its leather sheath, she held it reluctantly over her shoulder, the hilt pointing backwards. Grant snatched it away.


“Now the rest,” he said.


“That was the only one I–”


“The rest, Juliet.” It wasn’t a request, but a command. One he punctuated with a low growl that sent a shiver coursing down her spine. Bran, devil take him, had been right. The Wolf was ruthless. Now that he’d managed to sink his teeth into her, she didn’t see an easy means of escape. But no matter how sharp his claws or how vicious his bite, she would not – she could not – give up without a fight. It wasn’t in her nature to surrender. She was not a meek little lamb bound for slaughter. She was a lioness. And soon enough Grant would feel the sharpness of her claws.




“All right, all right. You needn’t be so testy,” she complained as she hitched her skirts up even higher and pulled out a pistol, then a second dagger.


“Toss them on the bed,” he ordered tersely.


She did as he asked, then waited with her hands loosely draped on her hips for his next command. It was a good thing she was facing away from him, for it meant he couldn’t see the calculating light in her eyes or the determined set of her jaw. She kept her leg poised on the edge of the bed, her bunched skirts revealing the creamy plumpness of her thigh and the slender curve of her calf. She could feel his gaze scorching her sensitive flesh and a small, catlike smile curved her lips. Grant may have forced her to get rid of her physical arsenal – with the exception of the small dagger she had tucked between her breasts – but there was one weapon he couldn’t strip her of.


Her feminine wiles. 


“Is that everything?” he asked, nodding at the pistol and dagger she’d thrown onto the bed.


“Of course. What?” She slanted him a sideways glance over her shoulder when she heard his incredulous snort. “Don’t believe me? I can’t say as I blame you. I suppose I could always disrobe completely. That’s the only way you would know for sure,” she purred, channeling the smoky voice she’d heard Sam use with her clients. While the art of seduction did not come as naturally to her as her friend, she’d always been a consummate actress. Not that her desire for Grant required much acting…


“That will not be necessary,” he said quickly. Too quickly to her way of thinking.


Ignoring him, she began to trail her hands up her body. His countenance unreadable, Grant remained motionless behind her. Were it not for the heat emanating from his smoldering gaze she might have thought he was unmoved by her little sensual display, but try as he might he couldn’t stop his gaze from following the slow, tantalizing trail of her fingertips as they slid over the swell of her breasts.


“What are you doing?” he demanded when she hooked her thumbs inside the capped sleeves of her gown and started to pull down her bodice.


“What does it look like I’m doing?” Touching her chin to her shoulder, she peeked up at him beneath long auburn lashes. From the clenched jaw and throbbing muscle high in his right cheek to the carnal longing in the depths of his green eyes, his handsome countenance was a myriad of contradictions. She could sense the battle within him, for it was the same battle she was fighting within herself. Need versus want. Instinct versus desire. Self-preservation versus insatiable lust…


“This isn’t going to work.” He grabbed her wrist abruptly, long fingers closing around the delicate bones in an unyielding grip. For all intents and purposes he might as well have shackled her…to himself.  


“What isn’t?” Using the wrist he held as a fulcrum, she pivoted towards him until they were facing one another with nary an inch of space in between. Were it not for the cold hard pistol pressed against her belly, they might have been in the middle of an elegant waltz instead of a tense standoff that was more likely than not going to end with one of them sprawled in a pool of their own blood.


“You’re mediocre attempts at seduction.” His gaze hardened as he stared down at her, his mouth curling into a sneer.


Juliet blinked.  


Mediocre? He thought she was mediocre?


Arrogant bastard.


She’d show him mediocre.


Without giving herself time to think of the consequences, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, rose up on her toes, and pressed her lips to his...




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