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Stephanie Laurens

All About Passion

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New York Times bestselling Australian author Stephanie Laurens delivers the latest tale in the immensely popular Cynster series. When Chillington is elected an ′honorary Cynster′ at the end of All About Love, he knows he needs a wife , and an heir. His goal; a simple marriage without romance. He agrees to marry a woman he believes to be pliant and quiet. Unfortunately for him, the woman he thinks is Francesca Rawling is really her cousin, Franni.Francesca herself is proud, passionate and opinionated in short, the perfect bride for a Cynster…
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478 printed pages
Publication year
2009
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Impressions

  • Amber Kintzigershared an impression6 years ago
    💞Loved Up

    Such a good story about Chillingworth finding love!!!

  • Nicole Denoga Arceñoshared an impression4 years ago
    👎Give This a Miss
    💤Borrrriiinnng!

  • Maria Frefel Espanolashared an impression5 years ago
    👍Worth reading
    🎯Worthwhile

Quotes

  • karin anderssonhas quoted5 years ago
    But she wanted to avoid any unnecessary encounter with Gyles. If he didn’t want her in his life, so be it—she was too proud to beg. Since the evening he’d elected to spend his after-dinner hours separate from her, she’d ensured she made no demands on his time beyond the absolutely necessary.

    He still came to her bed and her arms every night, but that was different. Neither she nor he would allow what occurred between them outside her bedchamber to interfere with what lay between them inside it.

    On that, at least, they were as one.

    She hadn’t been back to the Dower House. While she would have liked to indulge in the comfort and support of her mother-in-law and aunt-in-law, the first question they would ask was how she was getting on, meaning getting on with her husband.

    She didn’t know how to answer, couldn’t conceive how to explain or make sense of it. His rejection—how else was she to interpret it?—had been a blow, yet, stubbornly, she refused to give up hope. Not while he continued to come to her every night—not while, during the day, she would catch him watching her, a frown, not one of displeasure but of uncertainty, in his grey eyes.

    No—she hadn’t lost hope, but she’d learned not to prod.

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