Romance Readers Book Of The Week
October 3, 2005
ARCHIVED FEATURE
THE
THIRD SON
by T. L. Vance
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Formats: Trade Paperback, eBook
ISBN: 0595346049
Buy This Book:
Available at
www.thethirdson.com
www.authorsden.com/tlvance
FROM THE BACK COVER:
Born the third son of an English Duke,
Kellson Berkley yearns for the one thing his money can’t buy:
individual acceptance. But with a scandalous past and a father
who’s impossible to please, "Kells" vows to keep his mind on
business, and stay away from love. That is, until he returns
from abroad to be blindsided by the American beauty his flatmate
has moved in. Drawn instantly to her intelligence and wit, it
doesn’t take Kells long to understand why the womanizing Bryant
has coerced her into an engagement, or for him to realize he’d
risk everything to make her his own.
With values as deep as her Southern heritage, it’s difficult for
Cydney Nash to accept a proposal from a virtual stranger.
Nevertheless, when the opportunity arises to apprentice with one
of London’s most prestigious architectural agencies, she chases
her dream and moves into her "fiancé’s" flat, despite her
reservations or the disproval of her protective father.
Determined to stand on her own, Cydney's first sign of trouble
comes when it’s Bryant’s friend, Kells, who stirs her heart and
distracts her from her true agenda of becoming an architect.
Through their instantaneous friendship grows a passion too deep
for either to ignore, and the consequences of fate will leave
them struggling to free themselves from a web of greed and
deceit that they will be lucky to escape from alive.
WHAT OTHERS ARE SAYING ABOUT THIS
BOOK:
"The Third Son is a fun fast-paced read
that will keep you turning the pages. T.L. Vance's fast-past
novel of love, greed, violence, betrayal and deceit is loaded
with tension from the beginning to the end. The plot is
intriguing, and the characters are real and complex, faced with
dilemmas and choices."
~Armchair Interviews
"The Third Son has a good deal of drama and romance but is based
upon a firm foundation of friendship, common interests, and
respect. Unlike a lot of the whirlwind romances in other romance
novels, the romance in this book is much more realistic, more
complex, and more likely to create a lasting true love affair.
This is a true love affair that we can all dream of and attain,
even if we aren’t the rich boy or the beauty pageant winner."
~ TCM Reviews
"Before I read this book I never knew exactly what a beach read
was. Well this is it; pack a lunch and possibly a dinner because
you won't want to leave this book even to eat. Addicting isn't
even the word forthis book. There may be no words to describe
this book. I strongly recommend The Third Son to everyone
whether romance is something you usually read or not. I am
joining the others who have read this book and I'm hoping for a
sequel."
~ eBook Reviews Weekly
"THE THIRD SON by T.L. Vance is a wonderful romantic saga with a
touch of suspense thrown in. I was drawn into Kells and Cydney’s
world from the first chapter and laughed and cried with them as
they struggled to find happiness with each other. This is a
perfect book for readers that enjoy a story where characters
aren’t perfect, but struggle with problems each of us face
everyday."
~ Romance Junkies
"The Third Son is an impressive debut, from an author I’d like
to see more of, the romance is gripping, and the
characterizations are unusually layered (i.e. they possess very
distinct personalities). An author of obvious strengths and
talent, Ms. Vance has spun a fine tale about the wealthy,
privileged (and let’s not forget beautiful) few -- and all
without prodding the demons of jealousy to life in this
reviewer. Congratulations should go out to the author, then, for
a job well-done. Ms. Vance has won this reviewer over on the
first try, what's next on the agenda?"
~ Heartstrings Reviews
MEET THE AUTHOR:
Born
and raised in Memphis, TN, T.L. Vance now lives in Hernando, MS
with her husband of six years and their three-year-old son. An
avid reader since youth she has been a closet writer for over 20
years and began The Third Son while on maternity leave in 2002.
After returning to her full time job, she was urged by close
friends to finish this captivating story and persuaded into
publishing her first public release.
READ AN EXCERPT:
PRELUDE - Sitting back in his chair
Kellson Berkley watched the last person file out of the
conference room before he turned to look out over the dimming
skyline of Hong Kong. The sun that dipped behind the forest of
skyscrapers was a clear sign that the shareholders’ meeting had
lasted too long and he grew aggravated with the hour. He didn’t
like unexpected delays; and having anticipated being back aboard
his plane well before dark, he was now behind schedule. Turning
his thoughts to his agenda his annoyance slipped away as he
remembered that this was his last meeting, at least for a while
anyway. His Grandmother had been right when she’d told him that
he needed a break. It had taken a month of travel to get his
workload down, and he would be glad to get away from the
business and relax for a while.
Just to mock him, his cell phone
vibrated inside the jacket of his dark tailored suit, and he
groaned inwardly, praying it wasn’t work related as he checked
the display. Seeing his flatmate’s cell number didn’t ease his
exasperation, because Bryant only called if there was trouble or
if he needed a favor. The edge in Bryant’s voice when he
answered was an indication that this call wasn’t going to be any
different.
“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I’ve got
a little situation I need to run by you. Do you remember the
girl from Boston I told you about?”
Taking a deep breath Kells prepared
himself for anything and kept his tone as neutral as possible.
“The one you fell in love with and proposed to in the middle of
a pub? The one that turned you down?”
He could hear the arrogance in Bryant’s
tone and wondered if he ever thought about consequences before
opening his mouth. “Only the first three times—you know how
persuasive I can be.”
Kells’ face fell to his hands, the
worst possible thing coming to mind as he remembered Bryant’s
tales of his last business trip to the States. “Bry, she’s
not...”
Bryant was quick to cut him off before
he could continue. “Lord no, I’m stupid, not an idiot. Well
actually, I may be an idiot too, because I talked her into
moving in for six months. I know I should have talked to you
first, but she’s had an offer to apprentice at a good firm here
and I guess I wanted to be able to step up and be the good guy.
Her Dad’s a bit controlling and was hassling her about crossing
the pond, but I finally convinced her that an engagement ring
would probably help with that.”
Kells shook his head as he cut Bryant
off, already knowing the answer to his question but asking
anyway. “You hardly know this girl, Bry. You guys had what,
three weeks together in Boston? You really think her father
would believe you’re serious about marrying his daughter after a
couple weeks?”
Sighing heavily Bryant ran a hand over
his face and confessed to the harder part of his proposal to
Cydney, which was getting her to lie to her father. “Well if it
ever comes up, we told him it was more like three months…”
Kells exhaled slowly counting to ten to
control his mounting anger. “She’s already there, isn’t she?”
Bryant gave another heavy sigh, hoping
Kells wouldn’t blow up over this. The last thing he needed was
for everything to fall apart now. “Yeah, but as usual, it gets
worse. Barnett wants me in Italy to start the Rome branch. It
will take about a month to a month and a half to set up the
exchange and train the staff.”
Kells gave an exasperated sigh,
misreading the favor altogether. “So you wouldn’t have told me
at all if another business trip hadn’t come up? You would have
let me come home to find out that you have moved another woman
into my house without warning? Christ, Bry, I’m about to leave
for Costa Rica for a month. I can’t very well cancel to come
home and baby-sit your beauty queen. Tell Barnett you can’t go.
Are you serious about this?”
With his pride pricked Bryant went on
the defensive, “I wouldn’t ask you to baby-sit, and I can’t tell
him no. This could be a really big deal for me. Believe me,
after five years in Boston Cydney can handle herself fine. Come
on, Kells, I screwed up and told her we shared the house; so I
can’t very well tell her to give up the job and go home now. It
means too much to her.” Bryant took a breath, his tone turning
slightly pleading when Kells said nothing. “I swear she probably
told me, but I had no clue the girl could even draw much less be
an architect. She’s actually got some talent and she’s real
sweet. I have no doubt she’ll look after things.”
Kells rubbed the throbbing spot in his
forehead. The prospect of leaving a strange woman in his house
wasn’t appealing, but it wasn’t where the majority of his
concern lay either. “Bry, when I ask if you’re serious about
this, I mean are you really going to marry this girl, or are you
going to string her along for a bit and break her heart like the
other two?” The line was dead for too long for him to need an
answer. His predictable friend was forever predictable.
Annoyed with the direction the
conversation had taken, Bryant was abrupt with his response, “I
don’t know what’s going to happen down the line, but my plane
leaves in fifteen minutes; so I can’t really think about her
right now. If things don’t work out, I’ll take care of it when I
get back. I doubt she’ll do much but work anyhow; that’s all
she’s done since she arrived.”
It was the disappointment in his voice
that humored Kells; it was about time he was caught in his own
game. “What’s wrong, Bry? Did you mess up and find one with a
brain? If you don’t slow down, you could end up on the business
end of a father’s shotgun. You really don’t have to propose to
them all, you know.”
Bryant was quick to pick up on the note
of acceptance in Kells’ voice. He’d known all along that Kells
wouldn’t put her out, because it wasn’t in his nature. “I know,”
he said, “it’s a sickness. Try not to worry about things, mate.
Go on your trip and, for Christ’s sake, try to relax. I’ll clean
house when I get back from Rome. Worst-case scenario, she’s here
for six months, her visa runs out, and she’ll have to leave.
You’ll see; everything will be fine.”
Kells shook his head, amazed at the
method in which Bryant’s brain worked and that after almost four
years he could still astonish him with his shallowness. It was
as if he had no concept of another’s feelings; everything he did
was for himself and damn the consequences. Kells fought the
concern he felt for someone he didn’t know and started stacking
folders in his briefcase, his tone short, “Fine, I have to go. I
just hope you made sure she can get along by herself before you
left her alone.”
“Jesus, you worry too much; I told you
she’ll be fine. She has my key to the garden door, so I doubt
you’ll even know she’s around.” The exasperation in Bryant’s
tone was nothing compared to what Kells felt, and one day he was
going to tell him how much of an ass he thought he was.
When the conference room door opened
Kells put a hand over the receiver as a sign for Percy to
continue. The young attorney cleared his throat nervously before
he spoke, “We’re finished, Mr. B. We can leave for the airport
whenever you’re ready.” Giving a nod for a response, the door
closed again; and Kells took a deep breath, deciding to let
Bryant handle this one on his own. “Whatever, Bry, I’m about to
officially fall off the face of the earth for a month. If
anything happens, you can handle it. I’ll see you at the end of
May, if you’re back.”
Determined to forget the rest of the
world for the next four weeks, Kells turned off his phone,
tossed it into his briefcase, and went to find his ride.
***
ONE - Handing the driver the fare
Cydney juggled her purse, portfolio, and blueprint tubes to get
out of the car, her smile instantaneous when the cabbie bid her
a good night. “See you tomorrow, Miss Nash. Try not to overdo
it.”
Having the same driver seventy percent
of the time she’d gotten to know the old man quite well, so her
voice was full of warmth when she responded to his fatherly
tone, “I won’t, Eddie. Hope Gracie feels better. See you
tomorrow.”
The bulk of too many tubes made
juggling a little awkward, and she chastised her ambitious self
for doing too much as she balanced everything on a hip to punch
in the code for the gate that led to the garden apartment of the
18th century townhouse. Once at the side door she had to shuffle
everything again to dig for her key and chastised herself again
for not being better prepared. Turning the lock, she bumped the
door with her hip; and not thinking she had hit it so hard,
frowned as it thumped soundly against the wall. Closing the door
with her heel she was about to set her things down on a sofa
when a great crack exploded behind her and brought her whirling
around, sending everything in her arms flying onto the floor.
The sight of someone bursting from the
closet sent her heart to her throat and her hand to her chest,
her irrepressible expletive a near squeal as she practically
jumped behind the couch, “Holy Shit!”
Kells stopped his forward momentum with
a little slide in his socked feet. His hands braced defensively
as he kept his voice calm. “It’s okay, I live here.” When he was
sure she wasn’t going to attack, he relaxed a little, his smile
crooked as the humor of the situation fought to emerge. “You…um,
I was putting some gear away, and you shut me up in the closet
when you came in. I really wasn’t trying to scare the hell out
of you, I swear.”
Even with Cydney standing there looking
at him like a deer caught in headlights, her hand over her
heart, and the couch between them for safety, he was still
struck by her extraordinary beauty, and he wondered how Bryant
had ever thought it possible he wouldn’t know she was around.
With a small step forward he extended his hand, his smile
broadening a bit, “Kellson Berkley, I live upstairs. It’s Cydney,
right?”
Cydney was trying to recover from two
separate shocks, the first and obvious being the man bursting
from the closet; the second, her instant and total attraction to
Bryant’s missing flatmate.
Withdrawing his hand, he absentmindedly
ran it through his disheveled black curls. His dimpled smile was
warm and charming, though his softly accented voice confirmed
the concern she read in his heavily lashed brown eyes. “Maybe
you should sit down for a moment; I think you may be in shock. I
really am sorry. I mean to fix that door; it sticks and is
bloody hell to open. You are Cydney, right?”
His comment made her realize she had
exceeded her acceptable period of shock and was now just plain
staring, so she swallowed the lump in her throat and gave
herself a little mental shake before walking around the couch
and stepping over her scattered drawings to shake his hand. “I’m
sorry, yes, I’m Cydney, or Cyd. And yes, you scared the hell out
of me. I knew it was getting close, but I wasn’t really sure
when to expect you home.”
Kells knelt to help gather her
scattered drawings, his attention immediately drawn to her work
and causing his tone to be slightly preoccupied. “I came back a
few days early to get some things done around here. It’s an old
place and I never seem to be able to keep up with the repairs.”
His quick eye recognized the extraordinary talent in even the
most basic of the sketches, and he found himself impressed to
his surprise. Realizing why he was surprised, it saddened him to
think he had already stereotyped her; and he was glad it seemed
that she would contradict every preconceived idea he’d had about
her even before she informed him of the year the house was built
and who built it.
She blushed when she looked up and
found him looking at her so intently, and instantly felt like a
blithering idiot. “I’m sorry, I’ve been living and breathing
British Architecture for the last four years. I’m really trying
to quit, but I still get a little overly excited about being
here. How was your trip? You went to Costa Rica, right? I hear
the rainforest there is breathtaking.”
She’d changed paths so quickly he took
a moment to answer. “Yes, it is, it was incredible. I think
you’re right about the house, the year at least. I haven’t a
clue who built it. Has everything been all right here? Have you
been getting along okay on your own?”
She shrugged slightly as she stood and
dropped her things on the coffee table, pulling the clip from
her hair and running her fingers through the tangled chestnut
curls as she walked to the bar separating the kitchen from the
common area. “Everything’s been great here; it’s been really
quiet.” Picking up the mail that had accumulated over the last
month, she scanned through it again to make sure none of hers
had been mixed in with his. Taking a steadying breath she looked
up at him with a warm smile, her nervousness undetectable as she
extended her gratitude for his generosity. “I’m glad to finally
meet you. I know with you occupying the majority of the house,
it had to be hard to leave a stranger alone here; and, well, I
just wanted you to know I really appreciate it.”
Taking a breath she stacked the mail
together and turned toward him with a crooked grin. “I brought
everything in. Besides mine, it was all for you, anyway.”
Still feeling gut punched by the urge
to bury his face in the shoulder length curls she’d been toying
with, he wasn’t prepared for the added jolt he felt when she
stopped in front of him and smiled. Her jade green eyes were
bright and full of life; her small dimples accentuated the heart
shape of her face and the fullness of her lips, lips that Kells
thought were just begging to be kissed. Quick to push that
thought from his mind, he still felt as though he couldn’t
breathe and wanted nothing more than to get away from her to
collect himself. When Bryant had said “beauty queen,” he had
automatically pictured his stereotypical blonde with the big
chest and empty head. His assumptions had left him ill prepared
for the green eyed, dark haired beauty in front of him. Taking
the stack of envelopes from her, he stepped back, his smile a
little strained as he fought to keep his voice light. “It’s not
a problem. I’m sure we’ll get along fine, and I really
appreciate you collecting this for me too; but I’d better get
back to unpacking. I have an early game in the morning. It was
good to finally meet you though.”
Cydney nodded, her smile perfection,
her insides chaos. “It’ll be nice to have somebody around again.
This big old place gets kind of creepy at night, and at least
now when I hear noises up there I can explain them away.”
Kells stopped on the stairs leading to
the main house, his mischievousness uncontrollable and
undetectable in the serious tone of his voice. “Oh, that’s easy
to explain, the third floor is haunted; but don’t be alarmed,
they’re harmless. Again, I’m really sorry for startling you. I
hope you have a pleasant evening Cydney.”
She looked up at him as if she thought
he’d lost his mind, absently pulling the tail of her blouse from
her slacks as she shook her head slowly and grinned. “Oh, thanks
a lot, that’s just what I need before climbing into that monster
of a bed and trying to go to sleep.”
He already knew he was going to have
trouble getting her honey rich voice out of his head, and now
there was this vision she’d just created. He’d slept in that
room, in that bed. The picture was way too clear for him, and he
was relieved to find some humor in her rambling as it reached
him at the top of the stairs.
“Scare ten years off my life; tell me
the house is haunted. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me Jack
the Ripper lived next door while you’re at it? Make it three for
three.” When the door closed behind him, Cydney’s expression
fell, her knees barely holding her up as she collapsed onto the
couch and covered her face with her hands. Why was it whenever
she thought she had a handle on things, something always came
along to prove her wrong? She never in a million years expected
this man to come home and knock her socks off with his dark
messy hair and dimpled smile, but both had decimated her
immediately.
And that wasn’t even the worst part.
She might have been okay after the initial shock had worn off,
but then he’d opened his mouth, and her knees had gone all
mushy. The man had a voice that could melt ice; and with that
accent and those dark soulful eyes, she fully expected an
invasion of her dreams. Hell, she looked forward to it. Rubbing
her hands over her weary eyes, she chastised herself for being
so theatrical and pushed her exhausted body from the couch
mumbling sarcastically to her dramatic self. “Yeah Cyd, and
maybe if you ask real nice, he’ll read you to sleep.”
Trying to steer her thoughts back to
the work she had to do, she absently thought about Bryant. He
had been gone a month and was due back in two or three weeks.
She could behave that long, couldn’t she? With an angry hand she
threw her shoes into the closet, knowing exactly what was wrong.
If she had cared anything at all about Bryant, the sight of his
flatmate wouldn’t have made her heart jump to her throat, and
she wouldn’t be concerned about behaving. Firming her resolve
she told herself to get over it; she’d been around plenty of
handsome men. “Why was he bothering you?” she thought. “After
all, Bryant was a good looking guy, blonde, blue eyes, nice
smile. The pesky little voice in her head that loved to cry
“bullshit” when she was trying to fool herself sounded
suspiciously like her best friend, Sara, when she heard it
whisper, “Yeah, but Bryant never once made your knees go weak
with a smile or your whole arm tingle from a handshake, Cydney.”
Sighing heavily she told the little
voice to shut up and go to hell as she went to wash her face.
ROMANCE READERS CHATS WITH THE
AUTHOR:
How long have you been writing?
Although I’ve never taken courses or
attended college I’ve always had a hidden desire to be a
published author, I’ve been secretly writing as a hobby since
junior high school, about 25 years or so now.
Do you remember the first thing you wrote?
A friend of mine and I started a short
story that we would trade off as we switched classes throughout
the day, it ended up being a hilarious collaboration of our
imaginations. After that it snowballed into novellas that I
shared only with my closest friends.
What would you tell people who aspire to be a writer?
Never give up and believe in yourself.
It took many, many years and a good deal of friends to persuade
me to follow my dream because I was insecure about my talent. Or
lack there of. After the reception The Third Son has received I
regret not applying myself at an earlier age.
What inspired you to self publish The Third Son now?
In my life I’ve only shared my work
with a few people, when I started this story in 2002 while on
maternity leave; I let my best friend read the first chapters
and she encouraged me to finish the project after I returned to
my full time position. As the story progressed, as did my group
of readers, until eventually, the opinions of seven avid readers
from four different states convinced me to publishing this
novel.
Do you have any advice for authors interested in self
publishing?
No matter what you have to be committed
to your work, if you can not afford the chosen company’s
promotional and marketing services, you must be prepared to do a
lot of extra work yourself. If you can’t afford their editing
services, find an outside source; do not rely on your self for
editing. It’s too crucial. Have no expectations, rejoice in
every accomplishment.
How do you find time to write with a full time job, a
husband, and 3 yr old?
I steal it from anywhere possible, I
work when my son is napping or late at night while everyone
sleeps. Sometimes I may spend my lunch hour working on a scene
or take a day of vacation to dedicate solely to writing.
Being from the South yourself, what inspired you to pick
London as the prime setting for The Third Son?
I love to travel and without the means,
I’ve always seen my imagination as a tool for escape. Choosing
places I’ve yet to visit gives me the opportunity to learn
everything I can about that country through research.
Will there be a sequel to The Third Son?
I’ve had readers and reviewers alike
ask that very question. Everyone seems very attached to these
characters and their collective lives. I have jotted down a few
ideas for a sequel, but prior commitments keep this from the
forefront of my mind.
Is there other project in the works? What can we expect to
see next from T.L. Vance?
I’m about 10 chapters into a story I’ve
named Flowers for Emily, it’s about a feisty criminal
psychologist who follows a serial killer to America to avenge
her sisters murder. I hope to have it completed by Spring for a
Summer 2006 release and excerpts are posted at my Authors Den
website.
What are your aspirations for The Third Son and yourself?
I hope that The Third Son will garner
enough attention to pay for itself and possibly the publication
of my next novel. In my perfect world, I would pick up a
publishing house, an agent, and the ability to write full time.
As for now, I’ll have to stick with my day job.