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Scandalized by My Prince: Linked Across Time, #8
Scandalized by My Prince: Linked Across Time, #8
Scandalized by My Prince: Linked Across Time, #8
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Scandalized by My Prince: Linked Across Time, #8

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Dr. Aubriella Byrne caught a glimpse a man and an overwhelming need to help him overcame her better instincts. Taking a leap of faith she steps through time to find him and ease his suffering. She didn't count on her own feelings or what impact they might have on them both.

Killian Lynwood, Earl of Thornbury finds Aubriella wandering the lands outside his castle. She has an ethereal beauty and frailty that makes him want to protect her. Safeguarding those he loves has been his duty since he was a small boy starting with his mother and Aubriella quickly becomes a female he cares deeply for.

There is danger in going back to the past and Aubriella has many decisions to make. The biggest one: Admit her love or return home with a broken hear

LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 5, 2017
ISBN9781386639046
Scandalized by My Prince: Linked Across Time, #8
Author

Dawn Brower

USA TODAY Bestselling author, DAWN BROWER writes both historical and contemporary romance.There are always stories inside her head; she just never thought she could make them come to life. That creativity has finally found an outlet.Growing up she was the only girl out of six children. She is a single mother of two teenage boys; there is never a dull moment in her life. Reading books is her favorite hobby and she loves all genres.For more information about upcoming releases or to contact Dawn Brower go to her website: authordawnbrower.com

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    Book preview

    Scandalized by My Prince - Dawn Brower

    Scandalized by My Prince

    Scandalized by My Prince

    Linked Across Time

    Dawn Brower

    Contents

    Untitled

    Author’s Note

    Prologue

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Epilogue

    Dawn Brower

    Excerpt: Scheming with My Duke

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Afterword

    About The Author

    Also by Dawn Brower

    Untitled

    Book Eight

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

    Scandalized by My Prince Copyright © 2017 Dawn Brower

    Cover art and edits by Victoria Miller

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

    Created with Vellum Created with Vellum

    Author’s Note

    Love is a funny thing. It is the one word that has so many distinct connotations for different people and things. A lot of my characters don’t believe they deserve love, and yet love deeply. Killian, more than any of them, fits that description the most. He needs and craves love, but is equally afraid of it.

    The lesson from this story is when you find love don’t let your fear stop you from accepting it. Sometimes the greatest gifts come to you when you least expect them; as well as, need them the most.

    This book is for all my readers. You are the best. I hope you enjoy Killian and Aubriella’s story. Thank you for reading the stories that won’t leave my head. It’s wonderful to hear how much you love this world.

    Prologue

    Dr. Aubriella Byrne pulled up in front of Weston Manor and blew out a breath. She was on a mission and Trenton Quinn would let her help whether he liked it or not. Her cousin, Genevieve had been missing for too many years now. Eve, as everyone called her, was more than family to her. She was her best friend, and Aubriella had sorely missed her. It was time to bring her home where she belonged.

    She slid open the front door and peeked around. No butler and no residents to be found. Sneaking wasn’t something she usually did, but desperate times meant she’d do a lot she normally wouldn’t. Where would Trenton be in this mausoleum? The library would be the best choice for someone studying—at least, that was where she’d be in his place.

    After she’d heard from a mutual acquaintance, a certain professor at Oxford, that Trenton was studying the Marquess of Seabrook’s family journals, she high-tailed it to Weston to confront him. Why wouldn’t he have told her what he suspected happened to Genevieve? He was well aware how close she and Genevieve were. If her cousin was still alive, Aubriella had a right to know about it.

    Aubriella took quiet steps down the hall, heading toward the room she believed Trenton to be in. She didn’t want to alert anyone to her presence before she had the opportunity to talk to him. He’d probably throw her out immediately, but it was a risk she was willing to take. This was too important for her to give up easily.

    This is useless, Trenton shouted as he picked up a leather-bound journal and tossed it against a nearby wall.

    Easy, tiger, Aubriella said and ducked in the doorway as she dodged the flying journal. She held up her hands and walked into the room slowly. I come in peace.

    Trenton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She had no idea what was going through that thick skull of his, but his emotions were broadcasting loud and clear. He was frustrated and about to give up. Whatever was in that journal he’d thrown against the wall hadn’t been the enlightenment he’d hoped to gain. Lucky for him, she was here now. Maybe she would be able to decipher something he had been unable to. At least she hoped to.

    Trenton opened his eyes and faced her. What are you doing here?

    I’m not welcome at Weston Manor any longer? She lifted a brow and then snapped her fingers. That’s right, I never really was, but too bad. I’m here to help you even though you keep turning me down. This is what I did my dissertation on, remember? History is my thing.

    I don’t want you here. Duh. Aubriella refrained from saying that aloud and stared at him as he reiterated his lack of intelligence. He glared at her. The muscles in his jaw twitched and then Trenton hammered home the final blow, I’ve been clear on that point.

    Yeah, he had—many times. As a rule, she didn’t believe in listening to idiots. She’d respected his wishes at first, but the time had come to toss that aside. He hadn’t brought her cousin home, and she was tired of waiting for him to.

    And I believe I vetoed that already. She walked over and picked up the journal he’d thrown. Is this any way to treat a priceless artifact? I have half a mind to tell the Marquess of Seabrook how you’re treating his family’s journals. The book was old, and his mistreatment could very well destroy it. His carelessness could be the reason Genevieve was never found.

    That one doesn’t belong to him, Trenton said. If it didn’t belong to the Marquess of Seabrook, who owned it? She was about to ask him when he held out his hand and demanded, Give it to me.

    She ignored him and opened the journal. If he didn’t want her to look at it, of course she had to. She might discover something, and that was all the incentive she needed. He wasn’t going to get rid of her as easily as he had before. She’d dog his heels until he had no choice but to let her in. Aubriella wanted to find her cousin, or at least, aid in helping.

    She scanned the pages, reading each word. This was absolutely amazing. The historian in her was thrilled to read a firsthand account from that time period.

    You just found this? Excitement thrummed through her like electricity buzzing on a live wire.

    Why do you ask? he asked in a cautious tone.

    She flipped through the pages more rapidly now. Oh, this is so interesting—if I’d had this when I wrote my thesis… Aubriella chewed on her bottom lip and stared down at the pages. Do you know what this means?

    Amazing… How long had he had this journal?

    Why are you still here? He reached for the book and almost managed to snatch it out of her hands. She jerked back before he fully grasped it.

    I’m not done reading this.

    She lifted her hand and brushed one of her rose-gold locks behind her ear. Her focus was on the journal. She was completely engrossed in the contents. Trenton’s presence started to disappear as she studied the words on the page. This was her specialty and she had an accounting of something she’d theorized on. She’d studied history as an undergrad and finished her doctorate after Genevieve disappeared. She’d believed time travel to be possible, but hadn’t been able to figure it out. It was hard to prove something that was more a concept than a reality. She liked the idea of time travel, and that was why she’d studied the possibility of it. The problem was that even though she’d researched it she hadn’t fully believed it possible. This journal though—no better key existed than it. If she had an idea of what time period her cousin had traveled to, she might be able to find her.

    Aubriella The sound of her name being said echoed in her ear, but she ignored it. Continuing to read the journal and discovering its secrets were far more important. Trenton shouted, Damn it, Brie, give me the journal.

    Her head jerked up and she met his gaze. The cobwebs of her engrossment still threaded through her mind. She blinked several times clearing her thoughts. Trenton hoped to go back to find her cousin. You want to travel though the mirrors.

    She wasn’t sure if he understood what he’d read. Time travel was not only possible, but her cousin seemed to be lost somewhere in the past. At least, that is the gist of it. Why hadn’t Trenton explained any of this to her?

    According to this journal, Elizabeth Kendall had the ability to push her hand through the mirror here at Weston Manor, but she never did more than that. It freaked her husband out. She frowned. I can’t say I blame the guy. Anything of a supernatural nature must have been disconcerting to someone in the nineteenth century.

    Actually, he was from the eighteenth century, Trenton said drolly.

    Come again? She raised an eyebrow. He must have read something incorrectly. The date on this journal clearly says 1840. That’s the nineteenth century. Are you sure you read this right?

    The corner of his lip quirked upward. He lifted his hand over his heart and said, I’m wounded. You think I’m dumb?

    She narrowed her eyes and studied him. Are you drunk?

    He sighed. "Lady Elizabeth Kendall married the Duke of Whitewood, otherwise known as

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