Title: Beauty and the BritAuthor: Lizbeth Selvig
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publish Date: September 2, 2014
Publisher: Avon Impulse an imprint of HarperCollins
Synopsis
Tough and self-reliant Rio Montoya has looked after her two siblings for most of their lives. But when a gang leader makes threats against her sister Bonnie, even Rio isn't prepared for the storm that could destroy her family. When their dreams are shattered in one dangerous moment, Rio seeks refuge for them all at a peaceful horse farm in the small town of Kennison Falls, Minnesota.
Rio should feel safe in Kennison Falls, but her budding romance with the stable's owner, handsome British ex-pat David Pitts-Matherson, feels as dangerous as her past. The incredibly sexy David is as far from her type as any man could get, yet he tempts Rio in a way she never expected. But Rio knows that her time in Kennison Falls is limited, that her family is still in danger, and that she and David come from completely different worlds–a recipe for disaster.
David has his own secrets, and even the sparks he feels flying with the fiery and beautiful Rio may not be enough for him to let her into his heart. Can the beauty and the Brit ever find common ground? Or will their pasts stand in the way of true love?
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Excerpt of Beauty and the Brit by Lizbeth Selvig.
“I can’t believe you’ve been in this country ten years and this
is your first game of hoops. Sad, man. How’d they even grant you citizenship? ”
David Pitts-Matherson ignored the jibe and crouched in front of
his friend. Dr. Chase Preston looked very little like a physician at the
moment. He dribbled the ball slowly, intense as Kevin Love, the bounce echoing
through the cavernous gymnasium.
“Chatter on, mate,” David replied with a practiced sneer. “I’m a
fast study.”
“Sure y’are. I’ll go easy on you anyhow, Limey, so you
understand what you’re studyin’.”
David feinted left and then right, his shoes squeaking on the
polished wood floor. The fake worked. He batted the ball from Chase’s hand and
headed down the court, his dribble admittedly sloppy. When Chase reached him in
three long strides, David stopped, took hurried aim, and let the ball fly. It
missed the basket and the backboard by a foot, careened off a caged clock, took
a hearty bounce, and skittered into a wall.
Chase doubled over in laughter.
“What was that?” he crowed. “Thing had about as much
control as a fart in a fan factory.”
David choked, his own laughter wheezing free in a fit of
coughing. He might have a noticeable accent, but as far as he was concerned
nothing took the prize for sheer outlandishness like Chase’s Southern drawl and
resulting phrases of lunacy.
“Nice steal, though.” Chase wiped his eyes. “We’ll work on the
shooting.”
David retrieved the ball, dribbled three or four times, and took
a jump shot. The ball banked off the backboard and swished neatly through the
net.
“No need.”
“Did I ever tell you how much I hate British arrogance?” Chase
grinned and captured the ball, dribbled it to the free-throw line, turned, and
sank the shot. “Nothin’ but net.”
“Did I ever tell you how much I hate Americans showing off?”
“Yup. You have.”
David laughed again and clapped Chase on the arm. Not quite a
year before, Chase had married David’s good friend and colleague Jill
Carpenter, and this was the second time David had overnighted with Chase at
Crossroads youth and community center in Minneapolis. He was grateful for the
camaraderie, and for the free lodging on his supply runs to the city, but
mostly for the distraction from life at the stable back home in Kennison Falls.
Here there were no bills staring up at him from his desk, no finances to
finagle, no colicky horses. Here he could forget he was one disaster away
from . . . well, disaster.
It also boggled his mind that he and Chase had an entire
converted middle school to themselves.
“All right, play to thirty,” Chase said, tossing him the ball.
“Oughta take me no more’n three minutes to hang your limey ass out to dry.”
“Bring it on, Nancy-boy.”
A loud buzzer halted the game before it started.
“Isn’t that the front door?” David asked.
“Yeah.” Deep lines formed between Chase’s brows.
The center had officially closed an hour before at nine o’clock.
Members with ID pass cards could enter until eleven—but only did so for
emergencies. David followed Chase toward the gymnasium doors. Voices echoed
down the hallway.
“Stop pulling, Rio, you’re worse than Hector. He’s not going to
follow us in here.”
“It’s Bonnie and Rio Montoya.” Surprise colored Chase’s voice.
“Rio’s one of the really good ones. Sane. Hardworking. I can’t imagine why
she’s here.”
Rio? David searched his memory but could only recall ever
hearing the name in the Duran Duran song.
“Don’t be an idiot.” A second voice, filled with firm, angry
notes, rang out clearly as David neared the source. “Of course they’re
following us. They might not come inside, but they’ll be waiting, and you
cannot handle either of them no matter how much you think you can. Dr.
Preston’s on duty tonight. He might be able to run interference.”
“They won’t listen to him. To them he’s just a pretty face. Let
me talk to Heco. You never gave me the chance.”
“And I won’t, even if I have to lock you in juvie for a year.”
“God, Rio, you just don’t get it.”
“You’re right, Bonnie Marie. I don’t. What in God’s name
possessed you to meet Hector Black after curfew? Do you know what almost went
down in that parking lot? Do you know who that other dude was?”
Chase hustled through the doorway. “Rio? Bonnie? Something
happen?”
David followed five feet behind him. The hallway outside the gym
glowed with harsh fluorescent lighting. Chase had the attention of both girls,
but when David moved into view, one of them turned. A force field slammed him
out of nowhere—a force field made up of amber-red hair and blazing blue eyes.
Frozen to the spot, he stared and she stared back. Her hair
shone the color of new pennies on fire, and her complexion, more olive and
exotic than a typical pale redhead’s, captivated him. Her lips, parted and
uncertain, were pinup girl full. Her body, beneath a worn-to-softness plaid
flannel shirt, was molded into the kind of feminine curves that got a
shallow-thinking man in trouble. David normally prided himself on having left
such loutishness behind in his university days, but he was rapidly reverting.
“Rio? You all right?” Chase called, and she broke the staring
contest first.
David blinked.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m sorry to come in so late. I needed a safe
place for this one.”
The teenage girl with her couldn’t have been more her opposite.
Model slender and taller than Rio, a pair of dark eyes and a fall of glossy
black hair showed a rich Latina heritage.
“Very funny,” the teen said, her lip curled in disgust.
Chase gave an easy chuckle. “Not our sweet-tempered little
Bonita.” The teasing in his drawl coaxed a smile from the girl. “All right,
now. You both look terrified as june bugs in a twister. What’s goin’ on?”
“About five minutes ago I broke up a transaction that included
this one here. Paul and his asshat amigo, Hector, are beyond pissed off.
I don’t think we should go home, at least for a few minutes.”
Chase folded his arms. “It was smart to come. Do you want a
place to stay for the night?”
“No, no.” Rio dismissed the question. “Once we’re home we’ll be
fine. They just need some time, a chance for everyone to cool off.”
Chase nodded. “Let’s sit here awhile, then, and I’ll be glad to
take you home. But I’d feel better knowing what’s really going on.”
TURNING
A BRIT INTO A COWBOY – SORT OF
Hi
everyone! Thanks so much for having me here today to talk about my new release,
BEAUTY AND THE BRIT. I love this book
because it’s got such a mix of characters and plots in it—and I got a chance to
get to write about everyone from a gang member, to a teenager, to a
tough-but-vulnerable inner city heroine, to an understated, handsome, soul-searching
BRITISH hero!
It’s
my yummy, accented hero David Pitts-Matherson I’d love you to meet today. I
fell in love with David when he showed up in my second book RESCUED BY A
STRANGER as the incongruous owner of a high-end horse stable in my small, Minnesota
town, Kennison Falls. There he was in
the middle of corn and soybean country with a duke’s accent, a crazy last name,
a rather one-dimensional personality, but the protective wisdom of a hundred
big brothers. Who the heck was this man? Was he really as mellow and easy-going
as he seemed?
When
he let me into his life and past I found the answer was a resounding . . . heck no , , , yes! David turned out to be an
emotional enigma to say the least.
His
background is anything but bland. David is an ex-soldier who served in Basra
with the British Armed Forces. As a Boy
Scout in his youth he took an interest in survival and tracking skills, and
he’s a bit of a self-made expert. His CO in Iraq was more than happy to take
advantage of his skills—until tragedy struck his unit, and David’s decision at
a critical moment turned a routine scouting expedition into a life-changing
disaster. Even though David made a correct assessment and choice, his military
service ended in humiliation.
How
that brought him to America and a life with horses has a lot to do with his
father—a tough-minded ex-military man-turned-Olympic Equestrian—who couldn’t
deal well with a son unable to toughen up for the Army. When he couldn’t live
up to his father’s critical standards, David emigrated and found his home in
the U.S.
But
not exactly as a cowboy? He made himself into a mild-mannered, non-confrontational,
businessman—and then he met Rio Montoya. And then he invited her and her
teen-age sister to come and stay at his farm in order to protect them from a
gang leader’s menacing threats. Rio—a product of the inner city—dreams of open
spaces and hunky cowboys. What she gets as a safe haven is a stable where the
riders where breeches and helmets, jump obstacles in English saddles, and are
as far from cowboys as they can be.
Fortunately,
steamy attraction for a strong-willed woman will lead a Brit to a Stetson
faster than a dog to a steak. With a little help from a pair of chaps, a
bareback ride and a secluded cabin—David found his inner cowboy. Along the way
he found his inner strength, too..
I
loved watching David learn to stand up for himself and accept his past. I loved
hearing his accent and using subtle little turns of phrase to bring it alive on
the pages. I loved the way he wore his jeans when he changed out of his sexy
breeches I loved how Rio fell in love with her Brit just as hard and fast as I
hoped she would!
So—that’s
how I made my Brit into a cowboy. I might have stretched the cowboy promise a
little—but I hope that you’ll read
BEAUTY AND THE BRIT and think David looks just as good in a Stetson as
any hard core cowboy out there!
Here’s
a little taste from BEAUTY AND THE BRIT:
Rio’s stomach fluttered. “You
aren’t too bad either. With your hair a little mussed like it is, that
saddlebag over your shoulder . . . those chaps. If you took off your shirt
you’d look just like the cowboy in the picture I used to have on my wall.”
Obvious pleasure pulled the corners
of his lips upward. “We have the compliments well in hand. Excellent.”
“I know what you’re trying to
do—keep me from being nervous about tomorrow. But I’m fine.”
“Not frightened?”
“Apprehensive, but not scared.
We’re meeting in a safe place that Paul chose. He won’t do anything.”
“I think you’re amazingly brave.
I’m quite proud of you.”
She didn’t know how to respond. She
wasn’t brave; she was desperate to be done with this
and . . . and what? Go back home? Where was home?
“I’ve had a lot of
help . . .”
She stopped midsentence and stared.
David hadn’t moved, but he grasped the hem of his gray T-shirt with both hands
and drew it up and over his head. It landed on the floor in a heap.
“Best I can do,” he said.
His best beat the lost cowboy from
her old wall by miles. She didn’t speak. She barely kept drool off her chin.
“Not good enough, ’eh?” His teasing
grin turned the flutters in her stomach into full-fledged trembles of
excitement.
His hands dropped to the small
buckle at the front of the chaps. Wordlessly he pulled the leather strap free
of the buckle prong, then he bent forward and slid a zipper down the outside of
the left leg. He did the same to the right. He pulled the chaps off with the
slow flair of a Chippendale dancer.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rio
whispered, her throat dry. “Are you trying
to turn me on?”
His brows arched. “Is it working?”
“It’s been working for the past
three days.”
He strode to her in three steps as
if his patience had evaporated, hauled her against his bare chest, and sent his
fingers diving into her hair. The heat of his kiss flowed over her, melting her
will, her knees, and their kiss into delectable sweetness. She explored his
back, kneading and stroking the broad muscles, then she smoothed down his
tapered waist and gripped the seat of his jeans.
“Now who’s trying to turn whom on?”
“I do love your proper grammar.”
“Dukes must have it.”
“There’s no duke here. Just some
hot American cowboy.”
He released her, stepped back
slightly for balance, and lifted her into his arms. “We’re going to build a
fire and then pretend it’s a campfire. If you want cowboy . . .”
“I don’t see anything to build a
fire with.”
“Leave it to me.”
Now I’d like to
ask you—what’s your favorite foreign accent?
I wax on about British accents but there are so many sexy ones out
there. I’d love to hear.
Thanks
again for hosting me today!
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About the Author
Lizbeth Selvig lives in Minnesota with her cradle-robbing husband and a border collie that inspired the character Dug (”Squirrel!”) in the Disney movie Up.After working as a journalist and editor and raising an equine veterinarian daughter and a talented musician son, Liz entered and won RWA’s Golden Heart® contest in 2010 with her contemporary romance T he Rancher and the Rock Star. In her spare time, she loves to hike, quilt, read, horseback ride, and play with her nearly twenty four-legged grandchildren.
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