Spotlight & Giveaway: How Not to Marry a Duke by Tina Gabrielle

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Tina Gabrielle to HJ!

Hi Tina and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, How Not to Marry a Duke!

 
Hello! Thank you for having me at Harlequin Junkie to talk about the next book in my Daring Ladies series. The book features a diverse, Middle Eastern lady, an English duke, and a fake courtship. It’s full of fun and sexy banter!
 

Please summarize the book a la Twitter style for the readers here:

An antisocial duke and an earl’s spirted half-sister attempt to put differences aside long enough to fake a courtship in a fun, sexy romp. This is the second book in my Daring Ladies series.
 

Please share the opening lines of this book:

Daniel Millstone, the Duke of Warwick, tossed his quill on the desk in his study and pushed back his chair. He’d been trying to concentrate on his work, the mechanical drawings of a steam engine, but he’d been unable to focus.
What on earth is that terrible noise?

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• Heroine is a healer and has a diverse Arabic background.
• Hero is duke who is an inventor – the professor archetype.
• Heroine has a pet pig.
• Hero likes bacon (this results in immediate conflict!)
• You can find the recipe for traditional shish kebab in the back of the book.

What first attracts your main characters to each other?

Opposites attract! There’s lot of banter, but beneath it all they begin to admire each other’s intelligence. It helps that the hero is super hot!
 

Using just 5 words, how would you describe your main characters”love affair?

Enemies to Lovers. Opposites attract! Lots of fun bickering and sexual tension.
 

The First Kiss…

Before Adeline could ask what the duke meant, Warwick faced her, then lifted her hand, tugged her glove aside just enough to reveal a few inches of skin and placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. She gasped. The feel of his lips on her naked skin sent her stomach in a wild swirl. Just as quickly, he raised his head, his green eyes capturing hers for one second, then two…then three…before his lips curled in a tantalizing smile.

Without revealing too much, what is your favorite scene in the book?

Warwick’s first impression of his closest neighbor was not a favorable one. A shutter on the house hung askew, and the hedgerows were overgrown. The door needed a good coat of paint and was missing its knocker. A cart loaded with baggage rested on the small patch of grass. A makeshift pen beside the cottage contained numerous animals—goats, sheep, and a cow. An old bay was hitched to a post and eating a bucket of grain. Two hunting hounds—the source of the disruption—were in a fenced kennel. Both resumed barking as soon as they saw him.
He glowered at the dogs. “What will it take to get you to stop that infernal barking?”
What is going on here? Where in God’s name is the owner?
He quickened his pace until he was at the front door. Without a door knocker, he was forced to pound on the wood with his fist.
No answer. If the hounds hadn’t alerted the occupant that someone was on his property, what would?
“Hello!” he called out. When still no one answered, he pounded harder on the door. “Whoever is home, you must get your hounds to cease this racket!”
A laugh sounded from the side of the cottage.
His lips thinned with irritation. Is someone laughing? At me? Fists clenched at his sides, he marched full steam toward the noise and collided with a body.
A very soft one.
“Oh!” a feminine voice cried out.
Instinctively he reached out to grasp the woman’s arm before she tumbled to the ground. “My apologies, I—”
“My goodness! You gave me a fright, sir.”
She lifted her face to look into his eyes. His heart pounded as he took in her features one at a time. A curly mass of long dark hair and an oval face with an aquiline nose and full, pink lips. Her complexion was a dusky shade, not as fair as the ladies of the beau monde. But it was her blue eyes that captivated him. The irises were lined with a darker blue and framed by thick, dark lashes.
“I was in the garden.” She held a basket of newly pulled carrots balanced precariously on one hip.
She met his gaze, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself speechless. The contrast of those blue eyes and midnight hair against olive skin was stunning.
He cleared his throat. “Pardon, miss,” he said as he dropped his hand and stepped away. “I am looking for the owner of this cottage.”
“You found the owner, sir.”
Truly? How was it possible one small woman, no matter how beautiful, could own the dogs that had distracted him from his work for three long days?
“I’m Miss Adeline. How can I help you, sir?”
He’d had his speech prepared, or rather his list of complaints for the fellow who owned such unruly dogs, but he’d been taken aback by the fact his neighbor was a young woman—a very pretty one. Was she married? It would be easier to confront a husband.
She looked up expectantly at him, waiting.
“The truth is, I’m here because of your—”
A blur from around the corner of the cottage drew his eye. What the devil!
A giant pig barreled full speed toward them with no sign of slowing. Unthinking, Warwick hauled the woman behind him. “Watch out!”
“Wait—”
With the cottage to one side and Miss Adeline behind him, Warwick’s options were limited. Heart hammering, he had just enough time to angle her away from the attack and brace himself as about two hundred pounds of solid farm animal barreled headfirst into him.
The threesome tumbled to the ground, man, woman, and swine. He took the brunt of it, cushioning the lady’s fall with his body. They landed in dirt and a patch of mud.
A sharp pain raced down his arm. Through the roaring din, he swore.
His prior injury hadn’t fully healed, but at least the pain had eased to a constant dull ache. But now, the stabbing pain was like a rasp on his skin, and he knew the wound had reopened.
He sat upright and eyed the corpulent beast. White with black spots and a spotted black-and-white snout with a tail that curled upward, the animal had charged him like a bull. As far as pigs went, he was ordinary, except for the glimmer of intelligence in his beady black eyes. Rather than wander off, the pig snuffled in Warwick’s face.
The woman shoved herself from beneath Warwick to sit. “Henry, no!” She wagged a finger at the pig. Her tone was one of pure admonishment.
Amazingly, the pig responded, and, with a snort, he turned away from Warwick to waddle to her side. Her lips curved in a fond smile as she gave him a pat on the head. The pig snorted once more, then wandered off to his pen and started guzzling food from a bucket of feed. Warwick noticed the door to the pen was ajar.
He rose and reached down to grasp the woman around the waist and help her to her feet. Her waist was trim and fit the curve of his hand, her curves soft as she briefly pressed against him.
She stood straight and looked up at him. “I apologize. He’s never done that before and is quite docile. I believe you frightened him when you shouted.”
Warwick’s eyes widened. He couldn’t fathom her defense of the animal. His arm began to throb, and his already strained temper flared. “I frightened him? Your pig is a nuisance and attacked me.” Just saying it out loud was ludicrous. His clothes were ruined, and he didn’t bother to wipe away the dirt, dust, and mud from his trousers and once-white shirt. Mud clung to the skirts of her dress.
Her eyebrows drew together. “Only to greet you. Henry is friendly and wouldn’t harm anyone.”
Warwick cradled his arm. “Henry is oversized and dangerous.”
She glared. “He is not fat! He was the runt of the litter. He’s also my beloved pet.” His heartbeat hammered. “Your pet? A pig cannot be a pet. It’s a farm animal.”
“That’s untrue. They are quite affectionate.”
“I doubt a pig can express affection.” His tone was surly.
“You, sir, don’t have much experience with pigs.”
“Only the bacon or pork they provide on my table.”
She gasped and her eyes narrowed.
As angry as he was, he couldn’t help but notice she was beautiful. Bits of straw clung to her hair and his fingers itched to pluck them out. Still, she was either mad or simply illogical, and arguing with her over a pig was not why he was here.

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would be absolutely crucial to include?

As far as questions went, the lady’s was succinct and to the point. It was the same question Warwick had been asking himself in the few moments since Lord Foster had departed.
What the hell had I been thinking to claim I was courting her?
A logical man thought things through. Spontaneity was not in his nature. Impulsiveness led to dangerous experiments and failed laboratory results. The burn on his arm was evidence of this fact. He’d been pressed to show his results with his experiment of a fast burning gunpowder, and he’d experienced the consequences of his haste. Perhaps the heightened pain of the burn had affected his behavior.
It was suddenly quiet in the cottage, and he was aware of Adeline’s gaze. The shade of blue was unlike any other he’d seen. Not quite sapphire. Not cornflower blue. A deep azure with chips of black.
Good God. Why am I thinking of her eye color?
There had to be a good reason for his behavior. Except, there wasn’t.
Which left him one option—bluff.
“It makes perfect sense.” His voice held an entirely fabricated note of confidence.
“How so, Your Grace?”
The sarcasm in Adeline’s tone when she used his title was apparent. He couldn’t fault her. He’d had no intention of revealing his identity; he’d planned on residing in the small village with no one the wiser. But he’d also never anticipated that his neighbor would be the Earl of Foster’s sister. Of all the rotten luck.
She tapped a toe. “Well?”
How to explain his behavior? “Well, I overheard your predicament with your brother, Lord Foster.”
“My half brother.” Her brow furrowed. “You eavesdropped?”
“Not quite. A person eavesdrops only if they have intent to do so. I had no such interest. Your argument was loud enough to wake the dead.”
Indignation lit her eyes. “I beg your pardon. You’re the one who trespassed on my property, not once, but twice.”
“I had no choice. Your pig trespassed on mine.”
Her eyebrows arched. “I find that hard to believe. Henry has never wandered away before.”
“Not only did he wander, but he also entered my home.” The memory of the pig helping himself to the pillow on the sofa in his study was not one he would easily forget. “I had to bribe him with food to return here.”
“He must like you. Otherwise, Henry wouldn’t have visited.” She bit her bottom lip, and his gaze lowered to her mouth. She had kissable lips, plump and pink.
Do not think of her lips. Or her eyes, no matter how fascinating the color.

Readers should read this book …

If you love the fake engagement historical romance and a strong, smart heroine and a sexy hero who isn’t intimidated by a woman’s intelligence, then you will enjoy the book. Toss in the diversity of London during the Regency period as well as lots of banter and conflict, of course!

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

I’m writing the third book in my diverse Daring Ladies series. The working title is “The Trouble with Lady Phoebe.” I also have a cozy mystery anthology releasing in May 2023, “Murder at Sea,” written as Tian Kashian. My story is “The Sail of Two Continents.”

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

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Excerpt from How Not to Marry a Duke:

As far as questions went, Adeline’s was succinct and to the point. It was the same question Warwick had been asking himself in the few moments since Lord Foster had departed.
What the hell had I been thinking to claim I was courting her?
A logical man thought things through. Spontaneity was not in his nature. Impulsiveness led to dangerous experiments and failed laboratory results. The burn on his arm was evidence of this fact. He’d been pressed to show his results with his experiment of a fast-burning gunpowder, and he’d experienced the consequences of his haste. Perhaps the heightened pain of the burn had affected his behavior.
It was suddenly quiet in the cottage, and he was aware of Adeline’s gaze. The shade of blue was unlike any other he’d seen. Not quite sapphire. Not cornflower blue. A deep azure with chips of black.
Good God. Why am I thinking of her eye color?
There had to be a good reason for his behavior. Except, there wasn’t.
Which left him one option—bluff.
“It makes perfect sense.” His voice held an entirely fabricated note of confidence.
“How so, Your Grace?”
The sarcasm in her tone when she used his title was apparent. He couldn’t fault her. He’d had no intention of revealing his identity; he’d planned on residing in the small village with no one the wiser. But he’d also never anticipated that his neighbor would be the Earl of Foster’s sister. Of all the rotten luck.
She tapped a toe. “Well?”
How to explain his behavior? “Well, I overheard your predicament with your brother, Lord Foster.”
“My half brother.” Her brow furrowed. “You eavesdropped?”
“Not quite. A person eavesdrops only if they have intent to do so. I had no such interest. Your argument was loud enough to wake the dead.”
Indignation lit her eyes. “I beg your pardon. You’re the one who trespassed on my property, not once, but twice.”
“I had no choice. Your pig trespassed on mine.”
Her eyebrows arched. “I find that hard to believe. Henry has never wandered away be-fore.”
“Not only did he wander, but he also entered my home.” The memory of the pig helping himself to the pillow on the sofa in his study was not one he would easily forget. “I had to bribe him with food to return here.”
“He must like you. Otherwise, Henry wouldn’t have visited.” She bit her bottom lip, and his gaze lowered to her mouth. She had kissable lips, plump and pink.
Do not think of her lips. Or her eyes, no matter how fascinating the color.
“As I told you before, I doubt a pig can express affection.” He heard the surliness in his voice.
“As I told you before, you don’t have much experience with pigs. Henry is my pet. I allow him in my own home at times. He must have thought he was welcome to enter yours.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You may be a lady, but you need a lesson in manners.”
“Me! What about you? I do not care if you are a duke. You are truly ill-mannered.”
Her eyes were dazzling with fury. Rather than respond with anger, he found himself entranced. His heart thundered as his eyes raked boldly over her. There was no rationale behind these feelings. None at all. He cleared his throat. “If the former duke and duchess were alive, I believe they would agree with you.”
His parents had hired numerous tutors in Greek, Latin, mathematics, geography, and other subjects the young men of the aristocracy were expected to learn. His tutors had lasted only a few weeks, some even less, before departing—often fleeing—the ducal mansion. Warwick had swiftly mastered the subjects and grown bored and restless. His inability to focus had often been interpreted as a challenge to their authority and a lack of discipline. Those hired to teach him gentlemanly manners often became even more frustrated by his lack of interest.
Her expression softened momentarily, but then she let out a huff. “Do not change the subject. Why did you tell Edwin that you are courting me?”
He hadn’t a clue. But he needed to find an answer not just for the lady but for himself.
True, his godmother’s letter had been rattling around his brain, but that wasn’t enough to blurt out their courtship to Edwin. It had been something more that had made him act, and—after more thought—he precisely knew the cause. The moment Edwin had grasped Adeline’s arm and her blue eyes had met his, a tightness had spread within his chest. He couldn’t leave her at Edwin’s mercy, couldn’t allow him to force her against her will. All rational thought had fled and had spurred him to act.
“You do not wish to marry the moneylender, Mr. Slade. My godmother, Lady Heywood, is pressuring me to marry.”
“So? Your godmother is right. You are a duke and must produce an heir and spare. And what does that have to do with me? I do not want to be your wife.”
“I understand my duty all too well. However, I wish to put off marriage for the Season to finish my work.”
Her delicate brows drew together, and she threw her hands up in exasperation. “What work? Dukes don’t work.”
He took offense. “Untrue. Other than the management of my estates, overseeing my staff and tenants, my seat in the House of Lords, and other ducal matters, I am an inventor. My current innovations are the sole reason I’m in the country. I seek temporary peace and quiet away from the hubbub of London.”
She eyed him warily. “What types of inventions?”
He shook his head. “They are of no importance to you.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t think a woman is intelligent enough to comprehend your work?”
“More that I don’t have time to explain my work.”
A flash of anger lit her gaze. The tension stretched even tighter between them. “Then let me see if my simple female mind can summarize your dilemma. You wish to avoid your matchmaking godmother and the bevy of debutantes who are no doubt after your title and wealth? A duke is the ultimate prize, after all.”
He didn’t miss the continued censure in her voice. He chose to ignore it. “Precisely. Which leads me to my offer. If we agree to a fake courtship, Society will believe I have every intention of proposing marriage and you have every intention of accepting. As you said, what woman wouldn’t want to catch a duke? It’s the perfect plan.”
“Oh, really? The perfect plan, you say?”
“Yes.”
“You are forgetting one glaring question.”
“Which is?”
“What happens at the end of the Season?”
That part felt easy enough to understand. “Mr. Slade is seeking to marry by the end of this Season, correct?”
“Apparently.”
“Then after the Season ends, we go our separate ways. You return to the country and your home here.” He tried not to flinch as he waved a hand around the disheveled parlor. “I shall finish my work, then return to my London residence. It’s a logical plan. What do you say?”
Adeline unfolded her arms and shot him an incredulous look. “Logical? I don’t think there is one smidge”—she held up a forefinger and thumb pressed tightly together—“of logic in your outrageous plan.”
He bristled at her choice of words. No one had ever had the nerve to challenge his decisions. “I’d hardly call it outrageous.”
She held up a hand and started to pace. Warwick imagined all the scenarios flitting through her pretty head. As she moved, his gaze roved over her face, and lower to the swell of her breasts above the foreign-looking garment. From the side, the curve of her breast was visible beneath the fine linen.
Her eyes. Her lips. Now her breasts. He tore his gaze away, but the image was hard to scrub from his mind. What was wrong with him?
Biology. What red-blooded man wouldn’t notice?
She halted and measured him with a cool, appraising look. “If I agree to this, we’d have to return to Town.”
The simple statement had the same effect as if she’d tossed a bucket of cold water over his head. His gaze snapped back to hers. “What? Why?”
This was unexpected and unwanted. He hadn’t intended to return to London during the current Season, but to remain in Kent until all his work was completed to his specifications.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t be daft! How else are we to convince both Lord Foster and your godmother of the charade? We must be seen together in London. Do you have a better idea?”
He felt as if a suffocating hand was closing around his throat. She was right, dammit. Still, he loathed to consent. He had no wish to return and face the beau monde…or his godmother. He hated Society events. “A week at most.”
She tossed a lock of dark hair across her shoulder and shook her head. “Two, at least. We have to attend balls, garden parties, and be seen together by High Society.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How many balls and parties?”
“As many as needed. And you’d have to woo me with flowers, chocolate, and poetry.”
He scrunched his nose at the last item on her list. “You cannot be serious.”
Her lips twisted upward in a half smile. “You told Edwin as much regarding poetry.”
Among other things, he regretted ever mentioning poetry to Lord Foster. He supposed he could hire someone to write a blasted poem or two. Starving artists were plentiful in town. He needed all his spare time to improve the efficiency of the high-pressure steam pistons.
She bit her full lower lip. “We must rehearse. Get to know basic facts about each other.”
“Such as?” He had made the offer, but she was quickly taking over with stipulations. Had he made a mistake? At each item she listed, his nerves tightened incrementally like one of his workshop screws. Clearly, he hadn’t thought everything through. Another first for him.
She waved a hand. “Oh, all the ordinary things couples know about each other. Our favorite pastimes, favorite colors, funny stories about our childhoods. Lord Foster will not easily be misled.”
And his godmother was far shrewder than Edwin. He supposed it was a good idea to know these things about each other before he introduced Adeline to Lady Heywood. He anticipated that she would have dozens of questions for him and Adeline. His godmother was not an ordinary lady and could be quite eccentric. If anyone could ferret out their charade, it would be his godmother.
“You agree?” Adeline folded her hands before her and waited.
The initial idea had been his own. As for her terms, he had quickly realized that he had little choice. “I suppose.”
“You suppose? Do you consent or not?”
Christ! She was bossy and argumentative. “Yes. Yes, I agree.”
She nodded. “Good. It’s settled then.”
The tightening in his chest eased, but at the same time, the burn on his forearm began to throb anew. It was as if now that they had an understanding, he grew more aware of his own discomfort.
The wound was tightly wrapped beneath his shirtsleeve, and he couldn’t wait to remove the constraining bandages. He needed to get back home. His trusted butler, Nelson, had been following the doctor’s orders, and Warwick needed another treatment. And a glass of whisky. Or two.
“How did you injure your arm, Your Grace?” Adeline’s voice was soft and inquisitive. Her tone was different, and it caught him off guard.
She was no longer looking at him, but her gaze had lowered to his arm. He realized he’d been clutching his forearm just above the wound. He dropped his hand.
The burn was hidden beneath his shirtsleeves. “It’s nothing. An old injury.”
“I don’t believe that. You flinched when Henry first greeted you.”
“He didn’t greet me, he charged me.”
Her eyes flashed blue fire. Whatever softness had touched her voice was gone. “You are in the country. Mishaps with farm animals are a risk.”
“A risk! You said he was a pet, remember?” He shot her a stern look. Once more, she seemed to ignore it.
“I remember. Now may I see?”
“No.”
Her brow furrowed. “If it’s nothing, then you shouldn’t mind if I take a look.”
“Do not trouble yourself.”
“Are you this stubborn about everything, Your Grace? If so, then I don’t think our plan will work.”
Warwick’s jaw tightened. He knew when he was outmaneuvered. He was also aware of his faults…and sheer stubbornness was one of them. He was a duke. His word was all but law, and his staff and acquaintances never questioned his requests.
Clearly, this woman was not easily cowed. She spoke her mind and challenged him. He almost admired her courage. Almost.
She came close and reached for his sleeve. “Let me see.”

Excerpts. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Two unlikely allies make for one scandalous courtship…

From the moment her pet pig attacks him, Adeline Foster knows she does not care at all for the Duke of Warwick. Certainly the man is handsome, but such an arrogant arse. But when her scoundrel half brother demands she marry a stranger over a failed investment, the duke does something shocking…he announces he’s courting her.

One moment, Daniel Millstone is enjoying tinkering with his inventions in his quiet country home with relative anonymity. The next, he’s courting the willful Miss Adeline. It might have begun as a way to vex her half brother—his childhood nemesis—but her striking beauty and kissable lips prove an irresistible temptation.

Now Adeline and her faux beau must convince the ton and their families that they’re an item. It doesn’t matter if they can barely tolerate each other. It doesn’t matter that scandal is only a touch away. Because if this charade doesn’t work, Adeline will find herself in dangerous hands…
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Meet the Author:

Best-selling author Tina Gabrielle is an attorney and mechanical engineer whose love of reading for pleasure helped her get through years of academia. She is the author of adventurous Regency historical romances for Entangled Publishing and Kensington Books. Tina also writes the diverse best-selling Kebab Kitchen Mediterranean cozy mystery series for Kensington as Tina Kashian, and her first book, Hummus and Homicide, spent six weeks on the Barnes and Noble bestseller list. Tina grew up in the restaurant business, as her Armenian parents owned a restaurant for thirty years. She lives in New Jersey and is married to her own hero and is blessed with two daughters.
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