How to Tame a Willful Wife (Shakespeare in Love #1)

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3.50 · 4 ratings · Published: Nov 6th, 2012 {{ book.ratingTitle }}
How To Tame A Willful Wife:

1. Forbid her from riding astride
2. Hide her dueling sword
3. Burn all her breeches and buy her silk drawers
4. Frisk her for hidden daggers
5. Don't get distracted while frisking her for hidden daggers...

Anthony Carrington, Earl of Ravensbrook, expects a biddable bride. A man of fiery passion tempered by the rigors of war into steely self-control, he demands obedience from his troops and his future wife. Regardless of how fetching she looks in breeches.

Promised to the Earl of Plump Pockets by her impoverished father, Caroline Montague is no simpering miss. She rides a war stallion named Hercules, fights with a blade, and can best most men with both bow and rifle. She finds Anthony autocratic, domineering, and...ridiculously gorgeous.

It's a duel of wit and wills in this charming retelling of The Taming of the Shrew. But the question is...who's taming whom?

An Excerpt from HOW TO TAME A WILLFUL WIFE:

“You need to work on the way you hold a blade,” Lord Ravensbrook said.

Caroline turned to find Anthony just beyond the riding ring. He stood with one polished boot raised on the lower rung of the fence. His obsidian hair fell to his collar in rich waves. His chestnut eyes held her as if she belonged to him already.

“I have been told I have a great deal of skill with a blade, my lord, both with a rapier and a dagger.”

“Then you’ve been lied to. I think we discovered your prowess is lacking when we met last night.”

She felt a frisson of irritation at that jibe, but she swallowed it down. “Do you fence, my lord?”

“Not with women or youths who do not know enough to hold the proper form.”

“And which am I? A woman, or a youth?”

“Dressed as you are, I cannot tell.”

Caroline laughed, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She knew she had scored a point. In spite of his words, she saw his eyes roaming over the curves of her hips and thighs, the softness of her breasts beneath her vest. He might call her boyish, but he was lying.

“Perhaps you will spar with me here.”

“I do not tutor amateurs.”

“Is that so?”

“Not in fencing, at any rate.”

She wondered what else he might seek to tutor her in. From the desire in his eyes, she could begin to guess.

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