When not cuddling inn signs in her beloved Scottish mountains alongside Mr Shey, Shehanne Moore writes dark and smexy historical romance, featuring bad boys who need a bad girl to sort them out. She firmly believes everyone deserves a little love, forgiveness and a second chance in life.

A woman not even the ghost of Sapphire can haunt. A man who knows exactly who she is. 

Only one man in England can identify her. Unfortunately he’s living next door. 

Ten years ago sixteen year old Sapphire, the greatest jewel thief England has ever known, ruined Lord Devorlane Hawley’s life by planting a stolen necklace on him.  Now she’s dead and buried, all Cassidy Armstrong wants is the chance to prove she was never that girl. 

But her new neighbor is hell-bent on revenge and his word can bring her down. So when he asks her to be his mistress, or leave the county with a price on her head, Sapphire, who hates being owned, must decide...  

What’s left for a woman with nowhere else to go, but to stay exactly where she is?

And hope, that when it comes to neighbors Devorlane Hawley won’t prove to be the one from hell. 


London Jewel Thieves

The bedroom door was flung open with such force the dents in the wall increased.


"Was it you who ordered Chasens to stop lacing my morning coffee with brandy?"


Splendor dismissed her rapidly shrinking scalp as quickly as she did the curtseying Mrs. Ferret. Not twenty-four hours in the place and already, if they were laid end to end on paper, the complaints would fill the building. The moaning would too.


The building? They would run from one end of the street to the other. And back again. After last night too. And with her hair like a bird's nest of knots and tangles on top of her head. Wherever Mrs. Ferret's skills lay, it wasn't in hairdressing. All that was needed was a few eggs stuck in it to complete things. Although really, Splendor was past thinking it mattered. A locked door was as good as a slammed one that way.


Chapter 115