The Charming Rogue by Cinnamon Worth
She’s the woman of his dreams. If only she didn’t despise him…
Everything has always come easily to Caleb James. Everything, that is, but Mary Walker. Her stunning beauty and independent nature enticed him from the start—and yet every romantic overture he made went so horribly awry that she can now barely tolerate him. But that’s all about to change. He has the perfect plan to redeem himself. When she arrives at his family estate, he’ll finally be able to win her heart. Too bad he’s not the only one there with the very same idea…
The last thing Mary wants is time alone with the insufferable Caleb. But since he’s one of her twin’s best friends, declining his invitation is out of the question. She’ll just have to do her best to ignore the charismatic, overly confident rogue. Only…he’s not acting like a rogue this time. Surely the little glimpses she catches of his softer, kinder side are an act…right?
Can Caleb and Mary overcome years’ worth of misunderstandings and missteps—not to mention a persistent rival for Mary’s affections—to find their very own happily ever after? Or, when all is said and done, will The Charming Rogue be left alone once again?
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Description
Find more from this author on:
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Cinnamon Worth is a San Diego native who is also the youngest of ten children. Growing up, she would listen to her siblings’ tales of shenanigans and escapades. Although she did not share her older siblings daring quest for adventure, she did find her imagination offered her all the excitement she craved from the safety of her room.
She discovered a love of reading at a young age and firmly believed that a good book should strive to make the reader feel uplifted. She was later shocked to find that nearly every English teacher she would study under disagreed with this philosophy. After countless hours reading assigned novels that included tragedies, melodramas, and modernism, Cinnamon was eventually convinced to admit that a good book does not require a happy ending. She does, however, strongly advocate for one.
In college, Cinnamon met her Prince Charming and then promptly left him to pursue an opportunity to study abroad in the beautiful English countryside. Fortunately, her Prince was a patient man who waited for her return, and he has since spent over 25 years teaching her the meaning of love, showing her the World, helping her to raise two wonderful children, and encouraging her to pursue her dreams.
Cinnamon enjoyed a long career in public sector finance, but she was delighted to leave the corporate world behind in 2014 to focus her efforts on being a homemaker. This shift gave her more time to explore new interests and hobbies which include traveling, cake decorating, crafting, and home renovations. Much to her surprise, she discovered, almost by chance, that she also loved to write.
Hoping to encourage her own children to embrace reading, Cinnamon started writing stories that she thought would cater to their preferences. She focused on plots that centered around popular manga and anime characters. Although she was informed by her children that her stories were, “good but contained too many words,” Cinnamon found an audience for her work after posting the stories on the internet. Soon, Cinnamon decided to shift her focus to writing stories based on some of her own favorite characters. Her first five novels have centered on characters from Jane Austin’s beloved book Pride and Prejudice. The Pathways to Romance Series is the first time Cinnamon is writing using characters she has created. This series, like all of her published work, focuses on romances formed during the Regency Era and relies on emotional, rather than physical, connections to show the progression of relationships.
What inspired you to write your book?
I was writing books based on Pride and Prejudice and had joined several Facebook groups to learn more about writing. There I read about the journey of a new author who also focused on Regency Era romances with a G-rating. She inspired me to try building my own world with my own characters. She suggested a series, and I really wanted the series to be tied together with one character who was absolutely perfect until he came into contact with the girl he’d been fawning over for years. Upon seeing her, he’d lose all his cool and become a fumbling idiot. I wanted his romance to be one where he kept trying to impress her and things kept going wrong. I thought it would be funny. Well, the first two books introduced this character, but I was super excited to release this book because it finally makes him the main lead.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Sitting at her pianoforte, Mary lifted her fingers from the ivory keys. The final notes of music lingered in the air as she released a breath and allowed herself to relax. A sense of accomplishment washed over her like a wave.
A soft clapping echoed across the room. It was their summer houseguest, Mr. Caleb James. Her heart fell, and with it, her smile evaporated. Soon, however, her parents and sibling joined in the applause. With effort, she forced herself to place the smile back on her face, stood from the bench, gave a small curtsy, and hurried to her seat.
“That was spectacular, Miss Walker. I did not know the piano could sound so lovely.”
Mary looked to their guest. What was he up to? She glanced at her parents. As expected, they were beaming at the man as if he was the most eloquent and polite person they had ever met. She quietly snorted before putting on her best smile and saying, “You are too kind.”
“James,” Anthony called from his seat. “Is it true that you play as well?”
The smile dropped from his face as Caleb turned to Anthony.
Is it possible? Is he actually turning red?
“What could make you think that?” he asked.
Anthony paused, lifting his chin as he searched his memory. “I think it was Ryland who mentioned it.”
Caleb’s eyebrows drew together, and his lips thinned into a line.
“I did not believe him at first,” Anthony continued, oblivious to his friend’s change in mood, “but he was insistent. He mentioned you provided the musical accompaniment for the freshman performance.”
Caleb’s hands balled into fists, and his eyes narrowed.
“How wonderful!” Mrs. Walker said. “Imagine, a young gentleman finding the time to attend music lessons.”
Caleb shook his head and turned to his hostess. “I assure you, Mrs. Walker, I play very poorly. It has been many years since I have taken any lessons.”
Anthony clapped him on the back. “Then you absolutely need to perform. I simply must see Caleb James struggle through something.”
Caleb looked across the room, his eyes met Mary’s. “No, I cannot. After the lovely performance we just enjoyed, my feeble attempts would ruin the evening.”
“Leave the boy be,” Mr. Walker chimed in.
Mary’s eyes sparkled. Three weeks she had been forced to endure this man. Twenty-one days she had watched and listened to his feats and accomplishments. She wanted to see him fail. “But, Papa, it is so seldom I have an opportunity to listen to others entertain. I have some easier pieces. Perhaps, Mr. James might want to look at those before coming to a decision about performing.”
“Now Mary,” her mother chided, “your father has…”
“Actually,” Caleb said softly. “I am among friends. If you will not begrudge me the assault on your ears, I would be honored to play for you.”
Mary smiled and hopped up. She rushed to the basket which held her sheet music, but before she had reached it, Mr. James had already taken his seat at the piano. “Do you not need music, Mr. James?” she asked.
“I am afraid it has been so long; I would be unable to remember how to read the notes,” he said with a smile. “I will attempt to play something by ear.” He turned toward the keys and stretched his fingers.
As his hands hovered over the keyboard, Mary and Anthony exchanged an amused look. But their smirks were quickly washed away when the room filled with breathtaking music. Mary’s face fell. The song continued, and the music grew more powerful. A wrong note or two were lost in the swell of emotion that filled the room. Mrs. Walker brought a handkerchief to the corner of her eye. Mary scowled.
She had been duped. She had worked on her piece, daily, for two-months. She had performed it without error. She had been proud of herself. Yet, Mr. James could not accept sharing even a fraction of time with another. Instead, he required the attention be firmly and squarely focused on him. He had hoped to be invited to play. She was sure of it. He must have known showing his interest in pianos would trigger her brother’s memory resulting in such an invitation. He feigned inexperience so his achievement would appear all the more impressive. And she had bought the entire act.
She practically demanded he once again demonstrate his superiority. Her anger mounted as the rhythm of the piece again shifted. His technique was flawless; his passion unbridled. The music took on a life of its own. She wanted to cry but not because of the aching sadness oozing from the piano. Quietly she tiptoed to her mother.
“Mama,” she whispered in her mother’s ear. “I suddenly have a splitting headache. Might I be excused?”
At first, her mother turned to her with surprise. Mary could practically read her thoughts. How could anyone pass by on the opportunity to watch such a perfect performance? But she had worn her best look of fatigue and pain, and no sooner had her mother looked at her, then her expression turned to concern. It only took a nod before Mary swept noiselessly from the room. She hurried to her bedchamber. Once inside, she locked the door, threw herself on her bed, and screamed into her pillow. Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. It was settled. She hated Caleb Ethan Edgar James.
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I’m an author, actor and dad living outside Washington, DC with my wife, baby girl, and a brawling pair of cats.
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Sample from Book:
Ensie smoothed out the dog-eared corner of the blueprints for the dozenth time. She shifted her weight on the bench, feeling the warmth of the sun on the back of her neck. She was too poor to own a watch, but she resisted the temptation to duck out into the hallway again and check the sepia-faced clock mounted on the wall. It had been 10:20 on the spot when she’d checked it moments ago. That meant that, by now, twenty-five minutes at most had passed since she’d left Mister Upforth and the rest of his team. And Upforth had said Cooper—or was it Carper?—would meet her in fifteen minutes. But the drafting room might be hard to find, for a civilian who’d never seen the Aerial compound before. And there had been an awful lot of wood left in that cart for just one person to move quickly. Even someone so tall, with those big arms and broad shoulders…
“You need to get a hold of yourself,” she said aloud, pressing her palm against the desk. She closed her eyes.
You’re an Aerial technician. Your ‘naut wants a consultation from a civilian firm. You’ve been trusted with getting information vital to the success of your project. This is Business with a capital B. Not some kind of private—
—and don’t you dare even finish that thought, because seriously: this is Business.
She scratched the space between her too-thick eyebrows as she looked at the door.
And even if it wasn’t Business, the morose thought crept through her defenses, it’s not as if anything’s going to happen. Any friendly vibes you’re getting are because he’s good at his job. Do you really think that there’s anything about you that would inspire unprofessional thoughts in a civilian guy like him? When he’s meeting all the other wisecracking Aerial girls and the Parade squad knockouts on the same day? Count yourself lucky you’re getting to talk to him at all. You’re just—
The door inched open. Ensie leapt to her feet behind the desk. There he was.
“There you are,” she said, rubbing her hands against her hips.
“So sorry,” he mumbled, turning sideways to come through the narrow door. He sounded a little out of breath. “I… I thought I heard you say ‘third building on the right,’ but I must have misheard. That’s actually the, uh, fuel center, I learned, where you guys are doing some crazy things with petrolatum…”
“Oh, gosh, you went to the refinery?”
“Yeah, through a back door. Got a little turned around with the fumes. But then someone—I forgot his name—pointed me here…”
“Spheres, I led you to the refinery without a mask! I am so sorry. I don’t know why I… I meant to say ‘first building on your—’”
“You did. I’m sure you did. I just heard it wrong—”
“No, no, I’m sure I said… I don’t know what I said!”
“Listen, with these ears, all bets are off. It’s a miracle I’m here at all.”
“It is.”
They stood facing each other with their hands flat against their hips. The sunlight illuminated the lower halves of their bodies.
“I’m Ensie,” she said, for no reason.
Why, oh why, oh why do I speak?
He smiled at her. His teeth were a little small and his gums were a little long, so when he smiled he looked like a kid, with a child’s whole-hearted good humor. “That makes, what, the third time we’ve done introductions?”
“I’m sure, probably,” she laughed. She touched her fingertips to the desk and found herself leaning towards him. “My third time, at least. And somehow I’m still not sure what your name is! Carper? Cooper? Caper?”
“Cooper Carper, actually.”
She felt herself smiling like a porpoise. She ordered her lips to stand down. Business. “Nice to meet you, Mister Carper,” she said, very professionally.
“You too, technician.”
She tilted her head at him. ‘Technician?’ Who are you, Sir Tomas? “You can call me Ensie.”
“Well, then,” he said, pressing the door closed behind him with a click, “you can call me Cooper.”
Business!
“I’m on a project now for a concept craft called the Flicker,” she said, brushing the blueprints with her hands as she stared fixedly at the parchment. Cooper came over to the side of the desk to look. His hands floated in space for a moment as he considered resting a big palm on top of the desk to lean over the plans, as she was doing, which would have brought their heads very close together. But instead his hands interlocked behind his back in a sort of parade rest and he just bent his head to look down. Ensie tried not to watch him as she folded the dog-eared corner back into place for the thirteenth time.
She laid out the specifications for the grasshopper-like craft, discussing fuel projections, the airflow models they’d run, and the properties of the alloys they’d debated for the hollow, curved wings. Cooper’s head bobbed up and down, and he offered a succession of mmm’s and I see’s at appropriate times. As she heard herself talk, she fidgeted with the bottom edge of the desk and only allowed herself quick glances up at his face. It was hard to tell if he was following the run-down at all, which gave her a heavy feeling in her stomach.
Burn me. Maybe Mister Upforth had a good reason for wanting that woman Skye to be the one to talk to me…
“So,” he said at last, shifting his weight. She looked up at him. “What exactly do you need us for?”
“Just wanted to, uh, forge a partnership with Upforth’s for a consultation on our ranine apparatus. That’s all.”
Cooper nodded. His forehead was wrinkled with vigorous thought. Ensie folded her hands together and tried not to let her disappointment show. He had the look of someone at an absolute loss for the right thing to say. Please, please, don’t be stupid.
“Honestly?” Cooper said.
“Mmm-hmm?” she said, tucking one of her bangs back into her hairnet.
For a long moment, he just looked at the plans. Then he shook his head and gave a heavy sigh. His hands reappeared from behind his back and he leaned down so quickly their foreheads almost brushed.
“Mister Upforth’s going to kill me,” he said, “but I don’t think you need us at all. The ranine designs you already deploy don’t have any trouble getting a Bulwark Petronaut off the ground, do they? And a Bulwark ‘naut in full armor’s gotta be eighty percent of the weight of this Flicker; maybe even the same, if their suits are steel and this alloy of yours is as light as all that. And I can’t imagine your test pilots are bulked-up the way Bulwark grunts are. I mean, who flies your things?”
“Knighted ‘nauts and expert techs, mostly,” Ensie said, her eyes widening. There was a whole new energy to him.
“So, right! When I think of a burly man or woman in armor jumping through the air no problem, and then I envision someone on the svelte side—like you—piloting a Flicker that, all things being equal, is the same weight but with, you know, better airflow?”
“Hang on,” she said.
“Sure. Sorry. I know I don’t have the right terminology—”
“Did you say, uh.”
She pressed her lips together. Business! But there was no hope.
“Did you say I’m ‘on the svelte side?’”
Cooper’s looked down at her. His face went gray with horror.
“I hope that word means what I think it means,” he whispered.
She looked to the far wall. Cute? Petite? Is that what you meant? She longed to ask him that like a Parade squad nymph would say it, drifting towards him with an archly raised eyebrow and a lazy, kissable half-smile. But just playacting through the line in her head set a swarm of nervous giggles buzzing around in her throat, perilously close to her voice box, and it was all she could do to keep a lid on them.
“You’re.” Was that my voice? The word was a mortifying squeak.
Ensie swallowed and tried again. “You’re right that the aerodynamic profile of the Flicker sure beats an armored ‘naut,” she said, folding the corner of the blueprints back for the fourteenth time. “And weights are comparable. But the jumping action we’re thinking of is on a different scale.”
“Ah, okay. Higher elevations.”
“Yes, but more importantly, jumping’s the primary locomotion for the Flicker. A ‘naut can leap around from time to time, sure, but most of what they do is run. A totally different use of the coils and their, uh, built-in suspensions. Their legs.”
“Whereas the Flicker does nothing but jump,” Cooper said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Jump, and glide, and jump, and glide. You see? That’s why we need to make sure the coil box we build can handle tons of impacts, and launch with tons of force; but not so much force that the pilot loses control. See? It’s tricky.”
“It’s tricky,” he agreed. Cooper raised his hands. “To be honest, though, I’d trust you Aerials more to make it work right than I’d trust us.”
“But, uh.” Was he really going to walk out of her life because he was too honest to land his company a contract? Keep him. Keep him here! a hungry voice blared out somewhere inside her.
“You must have done something this size before,” she said, hurriedly.
“Oh, sure. We’ve worked big carriage suspensions. A motorized dais that raised and lowered, too, and had a bunch of dancers leaping around on it for, uh, a play or something.”
“See? So Upforth’s could lend experience with scale, while we figure out the whole ‘aloft’ part.”
“Ensie. I just want to be sure we wouldn’t waste your time.”
Ensie took a deep breath through her nose. “It would take a lot of time,” she said slowly. She curled her hands into little fists, rubbing her thumbs against her fingers as she looked up at him. No giggling. No giggling!
“We’d have to meet, uh… quite a few times, probably.”
Cooper looked down at her. His hands unlocked from behind his back and floated to his sides. “Quite a few times?” he said, quietly.
“Oh, yeah. A big project like this could take hours and hours of collaboration.”
He nodded. One of his large fingers pointed to the desk. “Here?”
As he tapped the surface of the desk, Ensie thought of purposes for the wide flat surface that had never even crossed her mind before. She’d never wanted to get started on a collaboration so badly.
“Or your workshop,” she said. “You know. Whichever sounds more productive.”
“Either sounds good to me.”
“Great.”
“Great. Can I say—”
“I just want to—”
They both spoke up simultaneously, and leaned a little closer at the same time. It brought them many centimeters closer than either had meant independently. Ensie froze there. He was so close that her hairnet was almost brushing the center of his chest. She turned her face up to him and saw something very interesting in his eyes.
“You first,” she whispered.
Cooper took a long moment before speaking. “Can I just tell you that I’m looking forward to working with you?”
“Likewise…” Ensie shifted her hand so their fingertips on the desk were touching. “Cooper.”
He shifted his hand on top of hers. Warm pressure, skin-to-skin, flooded up her arm and into her chest. The contours of his rough palm were fascinating as she explored them through the fine hairs and delicate nerves of the back of her hand. Her vision went a little blurry as she dedicated all her brainpower to experiencing his touch against her skin.
A massive noise clattered through the hallway just outside. Ensie recoiled before she recognized the sound of the tool cart for what it was. Cooper started too, raising his hand up and away. He flushed the color of an overripe apple and he refused to meet her eyes as the tech outside pushed the noisy cart from one workroom to the next.
“I.” Ensie brushed the nonexistent dust off the blueprints again, trying to get her voice under control again. Cooper slowly put his hands behind his back.
“That, uh.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. That was unprofessional of me, and I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him.
“I shouldn’t have… I mean, I didn’t mean anything by, by touching you.”
“You didn’t?”
“Well, I… it’s not… There’s a time and a place, that’s all. Unprofessional,” he rambled, shaking his head.
Ensie felt the grain of the desk beneath her hand. “I made you think unprofessional thoughts,” she murmured.
Their eyes met.
“It’ll never happen again,” he said, something low coloring his voice.
Ensie raised one eyebrow in an unspoken ‘really?’ she would have been very proud of if she had been able to see herself.
Sunlight flooded the room as their lips pressed together.
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