What A Lady Needs for Christmas

What A Lady Needs for Christmas

Book - 2014
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"The best gifts are the unexpected ones...To escape a scandal, Lady Joan Flynn flees to her family's estate in the Scottish Highlands. She needs a husband by Christmas, or the holidays will ring in nothing but ruin. Practical, ambitious mill owner Dante Hartwell offers to marry Joan, because a wellborn wife is his best chance of gaining access to aristocratic investors. As Christmas--and trouble--draw nearer, Dante and Joan's marriage of convenience blossoms into unexpected intimacy, for true love often hides beneath the most unassuming holiday wrapping"--Page [4] of cover.
Publisher: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Casablanca, [2014]
ISBN: 9781402278815
Branch Call Number: F BUR NVD
Characteristics: 407 pages ; 18 cm


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Jan 25, 2018

Enjoyable read. The ill-used Lady Joan Flynn is rescued by a child and her single father when she’s found on her own without a train ticket or proper luggage. Her handsome kilted rescuer is a faithful friend, something new to Joan. She takes him into her confidence and shares about her pending ruin. His offer to shield her with marriage is something that both grow to find very agreeable. I loved that the man doesn’t find instant success in the marriage bed, in the way that so many romances read. The threat of ruin maintains suspense, although I found aspects of the resolution a tad unrealistic.

Chapel_Hill_KateM Dec 21, 2014

Interesting characters, but the story was too slow.

Dec 01, 2014

Maybe it's just me, but the the writing was choppy, instead of being snappy.


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Jan 25, 2018

“Listen to me, my lady. The genius of the institution of marriage is that husband and wife enter the race from the same starting line at the same time. We’re fumbling around in this marriage together, hoping good luck, good faith, and time will mature our union into a partnership. I’m hoping that, at least.” (p. 288)

Jan 25, 2018

“Hale Flynn, Marquess of Quinworth, hated Christmas. He hated the foolishness of eating like a market hog when the weather was too foul to allow a man to regularly ride his acres. He hated the social deception of claiming to be glad to see people whose names he’d happily forgotten. He hated eggnog. He hated endless renditions of Handel, and this latest business of whacking down entire trees to dress them up like debutantes at an engagement ball … / Sheer buffoonery.” (p. 162)

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