By Julia Quinn
"*Anne Wynter will not be who she says she is . . .*
But she's dealing with fairly good as a governess to threehighborn younger girls. Her activity could be a challenge—in a singleweek she unearths herself hiding in a closet jam-packed with tubas, playingan evil queen in a play that would be a tragedy (or mightbe a comedy—no one is sure), and tending to the injuries ofthe oh-so-dashing Earl of Winstead. After years of dodgingunwanted advances, he's the 1st guy who has really temptedher, and it's getting tougher and tougher to remind herself governess has no company flirting with a nobleman.
*Daniel Smythe-Smith may be in mortal hazard . . .*
But that's not likely to prevent the younger earl from fallingin love. And while he spies a mysterious girl at his family'sannual musicale, he vows to pursue her, whether that meansspending his days with a ten-year-old who thinks she's aunicorn. yet Daniel has an enemy, person who has vowed to seehim lifeless. And while Anne is thrown into peril,he will cease at not anything to ensuretheir satisfied finishing . . .
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Extra resources for A Night Like This (Smythe-Smith Quartet, Book 2)
I knew that. Teachers are usually teachers and players are players. As far as I knew, Dino had never taken a student before. But more importantly, Dino didn't have the patience instructing would require. He would get irritated when he couldn't figure out how to turn on the television, for God's sake. You'd think he of all people could locate a power button. I got a little worried for that boy now, alone with Dino in his office. I went downstairs, caught Mom coming back inside from giving Rocket her water.
Shit, deprogramming necessary. We are going to walk down to 7-Eleven. We are going to have a Slurpee. Corn Nuts. Or one of those scary revolving hot dogs. " "I hear the door," Siang said. I froze. Listened. "You're right. " We hurried out. My heart was pounding like crazy, and my hand was shaky on the key as I locked the door again. " "It's just Mom," I said. My chest actually hurt from the relief. We walked casually into the kitchen. At least I did. God knows what Siang was doing behind me--probably putting her hands up in the air like a captured criminal in a cop show.
But Dino wasn't a teacher. First, the best music teachers weren't necessarily virtuoso players. I knew that. Teachers are usually teachers and players are players. As far as I knew, Dino had never taken a student before. But more importantly, Dino didn't have the patience instructing would require. He would get irritated when he couldn't figure out how to turn on the television, for God's sake. You'd think he of all people could locate a power button. I got a little worried for that boy now, alone with Dino in his office.