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With her meager inheritance almost gone, young Isabel Gannon had little hope but to stake her future on a risky gamble. Accepting an offer originally meant for her late father, the lovely botanist agreed to accompany a shipment of wild orchids to the lush New Zealand home of the darkly handsome Richard Julian. There she was determined to nurture the precious plants--and resist the lure of her employer's strong arms. But even as Isabel felt herself blossom beneath Richard's tender touch, she sensed something else lurking on the exotic estate. A strange cry in the night, a mysterious light--something sinister that threatened to nip her newfound happiness in the bud. Now Isabel would have to unravel a web of secrets if she wanted to preserve their halcyon days and savor the passion of their wild Waitangi Nights.
"Alice Gaines’ prose is smooth, her characters deftly drawn, her story
unusual and interesting. If you’re looking for something a little different Waitangi Nights may prove to be just the ticket." "Waitangi Nights has the allure of precious
diamonds waiting to be uncovered. Readers will not want to miss this treasure trove of
adventure and romance in an intoxicating casket of supernatural suspense."
"…you are the most disgraceful charlatan, Miss Gannon." Isabel placed the towel on the drainboard. "I won’t stand here and be insulted." "Don’t get your feathers all aflutter," Mr. Julian said. "I didn’t mean that as an insult." "I fail to see how it could be taken any other way." "I should have said ‘delightful charlatan.’" He quirked a brow in that evil manner of his. "Your fake sophistication amuses me more than I can tell you." She put her hands on her hips. "Well, I really…" "You know nothing about men and how they respond to women," he said. "For example, I doubt you could do something as simple as giving me a drink of brandy without your innocence betraying you somehow." "What a ridiculous thing to say." "As a matter of fact, I’ll wager that if you got any closer to me than you are right now, a cautious arm’s length, you’d turn bright red and dart away like a scared deer." Isabel glared at him. Men in general didn’t frighten her. She had seen the South Americans as God had made them, whether this particular man cared to believe her or not. She found him rather different, however. But he needn’t know that. "Where’s the brandy?" she asked. "On the sideboard. There are glasses, too." She crossed the room, found the brandy, and poured a quarter inch into a snifter, the lip of the decanter tapping audibly against the glass as she did. More soft laughter came from behind her. "Nervous already?" he asked. "You haven’t come near me yet." She recapped the decanter, straightened her shoulders, and turned. In the dim light Mr. Julian cast quite a spell around him. Untamed hair, open collar, and lips parted in a wicked smile. She walked to him and held out the glass. "Oh, no," he said. "My hands are soapy, bring the drink to my mouth." Isabel hesitated. He asked no more than she had done dozens of times before. To lift a cup to someone’s lips. Yet, he made the act seem indecent. She took a small step toward him and raised the snifter. He stared at her, singeing her with the fire of his gaze. And he stood absolutely still, not bending an inch to help. Slowly she approached until she stood nearly on top of him, surrounded by steam from the dishwater and his own scent of musk and spice. She lifted the glass higher, her hand trembling. His smile broadened, and then, without warning, he dipped his head and took the glass between his lips. He tipped it up, sending the amber liquid to his mouth, and letting a bit escape from the side. She lowered the snifter and watched in fascination as a golden drop formed at the corner of his mouth and nestled between his lips. Slowly, slowly the tip of his tongue emerged, ran along the length of his mouth and retrieved the errant brandy. He swallowed and smiled again. "You surprise me, Miss Gannon," he murmured. "Now let’s see just how much backbone you have." His eyes closed, dark lashes brushing his cheeks. He lowered his head again, this time toward hers. Dear heaven. The man planned to kiss her, and she wanted him to. How she hungered to take the taste of that brandy from his lips to hers. With her free hand, she reached for him, her fingers touching the satin of his waistcoat. Her own eyes fluttered closed, and she tipped her face up to his. If this was sin, then let her be a sinner. But she would know the feel of his mouth on hers.
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