Nancy_Jim

[ON HIATUS!!!!]

What are the chances that a selfish, spoiled and arrogant daughter of a noble man in the little town of Griffinwald would fall head over heels in love with a foreigner, an affluent merchant who bathes in the very waters of pride, arrogance and bloated ego?

 What are the odds that the universe would plan their meet in the most dramatic way; a missing handkerchief flying off with the wind; Scared horses whinning loudly in the distance, a banging thunderstorm is the grand plan.

 What if this merchant has travelled this far to seek out a certain girl who should become his bride, only to land his heart in another woman's bosoms? 

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EXCERPT
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"The housekeeper is not," said she. "And I am not dumb enough as you think. I can figure my way out of here."


"You can?"


"Yes, I can."


"Hm." Rochester travelled his hand up to his lips. Bussing his mouth sensually with his thumb, he felt his lips divide. Hoping it would have the desired effect on the girl, he said, "I am still confused. Why haven't you left here already? Is there perhaps something else you would need me to do for you? Want to warm my bed perhaps?"


"You are disgusting, sir! And I hate you!" Louisa yelled, and in a couple of sprints, she was outside his chamber, shutting the door with a slam.


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PS. This book is set in thesame fantasy world as my other book, "The Dark Lord's Maiden." You could add up the other book to binge read up to the latest chapters to understand the personality of these characters. But then again this book can also be read as a stand-alone, apart from TDLM.

NOTE BELOW!

The first chapter has been renamed “Prologue [Silver blue] ” and the former content has been changed. Please clear cache or re-add to Library if you cannot access it.

Cheers! And happy reading

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ínstαgrαm hαndlє: @nαncчjímσffícíαl
fαcєвσσk @ Nαncєє Jímí
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The Merchant's Bride

"I think that if Ms. Hazel walked up to her to pacify her, she might relax a little."


"Hazel.…" Rochester found that he'd started to feel upset for a different matter entirely. Running his tired hands through his greasy hair, he repressed a shoulder as he asked, "Why did you never mention anything to me about a Thomas Roman Phellipe staying in my house?"


"Oh, I presume that you've met him then since you are just asking me now."


"That is far from the answer I expected from you, Mrs. Phellipe." Gesturing a brow upward, he said, "If there happens to be a stranger in my home —pardon me for a proper word choice— but shouldn't I be the first to know? I am afraid I cannot condone a similar slackness on your part if it were to ever repeat itself."


Roman ll.