And the Bride Wore Plaid (Avon Historical Romance) [Karen Hawkins] on *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Devon St John has never had a. Editorial Reviews. About the Author. Karen Hawkins was raised in Tennessee, a member of a huge extended family that included her brother and sister. Devon St John has never had a problem in his life—until now. Born to wealth and privilege, surrounded by a warm and loving family, he has pursued a life of.

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December 31st, Home Log in! New Books This Week. Since your web browser does not support JavaScript, here is a non-JavaScript version of the image slideshow: It’s Christmastime, but not everyone is jolly Coming home has never felt paid good. A storm is brewing.

A new tale of terror and magic pplaid a brand new world. When those Jared loves are threatened, he calls on magic to survive.

A spellbinding murder investigation amidst crises of faith Katherine MacDonald; Devon St. John pages ISBN: I pity people who think to fool their fellow man.

Take poor Mary Gillenwather. She stuffed the front of her gown with paper in an effort to appear better endowed. We all knew she’d done it, but no one said a word; you simply cannot work that sort of thing into a genteel conversation. But it wasn’t necessary after all. Last night, at the Pooles’ dinner party, she sneezed and dropped an entire issue of the Morning Post into her soup.

Not a soft, whispering rain, the kind that mists the world into a greener, lusher place, but a harsh, heavy deluge that sopped the earth and saturated the very air with unending grayness. Water pooled, collected, swirled, swelled, and then burst into fields, raged through ditches, and rampaged across roads.

It was in this heavy, unending torrent that the lumbering carriage finally reached its destination late at night. The driver and footmen were exhausted, the horses straining heavily as they pulled the mud-coated ornate wheels through the muck and mire that had once been a road. Ten minutes later, around the curve of a hill, appeared a looming stone castle that stretched up into the blackness of night. The coachman didn’t even bother to wipe the rain from his face as he halted the carriage at the door.


And the Bride Wore Plaid

Too wet to do more than tilt his hat brim to empty it of whatever water had collected, he squinted at the dark edifice that loomed in front of them.

Beside him on the seat was Plaiid the footman, a relatively new arrival to Mr. John’s rather considerable staff. Paul was inclined to agree with John the coachman. It fair makes me shiver in me boots. Are ye sure we’ve come to the right place? John said to go to Kilkairn Castle and to Kilkairn Castle we’ve come. John has wire his noggin.

First he leaves his own brother’s weddin’ afore it even begins and then he orders us to bring him here, drivin’ through godforsaken rain fer days on ans.

And when we do get to this lumbering pile of stone, there’s nary a light on! Paul stood, stealing yet another glance at the dark edifice before them. While he wasn’t a great believer in ghosties, the castle definitely left him with an uneasy, spine-tingling sensation that was as unnerving as the constant pour of rain.

Biting back a sigh, Paul made his way down from the seat, landing in a huge puddle of muck that sank his wet boots up to his ankles. Didn’t they knowed we was comin’?

I posted the letter for Mr. He hoped the owner of the castle was not as ramshackle as his edifice and had a place prepared for them all. Holding this warming thought in place, the footman trudged back to open the door for his master, stopping to collect a lantern from a side hook. It took a while to get the blasted lamp lit. He carried the lantern to the door and hung it on a hook there, the golden pool of light greatly diminished by the weather.

He tugged on the door handle, opened it, and then thhe down the steps. Inside the plush carriage sprawled a long, elegant figure dressed in a nride coat and breeches, sparkling top boots, and a perfectly starched and folded cravat, set with a blue sapphire.


The jewel echoed the master’s blue eyes in an uncanny manner.

Karen Hawkins – And the Bride Wore Plaid

There was no mistaking a St. John — black hair and blue eyes, a square, determined chin, and a sharp wit marked them all. At the moment, though, Paul couldn’t make out his master’s face in the shadows, which left him momentarily anxious.

Though it was rare that Mr. John took an irritation, he could be cold and cutting when occasion called for it. Paul cleared his throat.

John, we have arrived at Kilkairn Castle. The figure inside stirred, stretching lazily. I fear I had fallen into a stupor when — good God! John’s blue eyes widened as he looked at Paul. Go ahead and say it — it’s wretched, horrid, awful, godforsaken rain and you wonder why we’re arriving so late at night. It’s a curse if there ever was one. It seems that whoever holds the bloody thing is doomed to wed. Paul had heard of the St.

Excerpt: AND THE BRIDE WORE PLAID, Karen Hawkins

John talisman ring, and it sounded horrid indeed. My brother Chase hid it in the blasted carriage. He must have known I’d flee before the wedding, the bastard.

I didn’t discover it until we were well on bgide way. On Top Shelf Melinda Leigh. Advanced Search Reviews Search. Also by Karen Hawkins: Chapter One I pity people who think to fool their fellow man. All that and more. Buy And the Bride Wore Plaid today: Yule Tidings — Great Reads for December!