I just discovered Loretta Chase.
I mean, I had heard of her, of course. But I'd never gotten around to reading her, despite the numerous recommendations I'd received. You can lead a horse to water, or me to a good book, but you can't make me read it.
Then Jane Porter sent me a copy of Mr. Impossible, I picked it up to glance at the first page, and that was that.
If you haven't discovered Loretta Chase already, you must be living under the same rock that I've been using for shelter. And this is an excellent book to jump in with, I promise.
The delectable Rupert Carsington, who will be the first to tell you how stupid he is, and yet of course is no such thing. The remarkably brainy Daphne, who needs a great dumb ox but instead gets Rupert, all maddening attraction and carefree chatter with a brain to match beneath. Throw them together in Egypt of all places and the result is something like Indiana Jones with far more sexual anticipation and a fantastic female protagonist. Not to mention the glorious, witty writing.
I've already gulped down another book in the Carsington series, and have the rest on order. So will you!