\u00a0 The third Title: <\/b><\/span><\/span>A Tropical Rebel Gets The Duke<\/b><\/span><\/span> BLURB When she finds herself in danger, Apollo Sinclair Robles, the new Duke of Annan, offers his assistance, even though she despises him (or wants to despise him \u2013 that doesn\u2019t stop the several dalliances they have with one another). But he has many secrets of his own. He\u2019s still grappling with his newfound place in the British aristocracy, especially as a Black man. Now he is part of a world he despises with more than a few enemies waiting for any opportunity to disgrace him. <\/p>\n He should be focusing on finding a bride that can help him further his causes and leverage himself withing the highest echelons of power, but instead he\u2019s distracted with keeping Aurora Montalban safe. Aurora has been cut off from her family and has been living modestly for months. Once Apollo realizes the risks she\u2019s been taking with her clinics, he makes it his business to protect her. The woman is relentless in her endeavor to help women in need, even when it means putting herself at risk. Their closeness leads to discovering new sides to Aurora, and the more he learns about her the more he\u2019s convinced she\u2019s the perfect woman for him. But her past is complicated and having her as his duchess would make his bid for power more difficult. <\/p>\n PURCHASE LINKS EXCERPT\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n Prologue<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n July Paris, Aurora Montalban Wright was no rebel.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n At least that was what most who knew her In fact, twice in her past, she\u2019d broken No, Aurora was no rebel, but tonight she Her destination, the clandestine apartment As her fiacre came to a stop on the Rue de The building looked exactly as she When she reached the door, she took a She ought to go home, clean herself up and She wasn\u2019t presentable and she was The thought sent a flash of alarm through Undeterred, she pushed the door open and \u201cOui, madame.\u201d The porter greeted her with \u201cLord Darnick.\u201d The two words did the Clearly, women coming to see his lordship The evidence of that lay in the way he\u2019d He was arrogant, rude, and blatantly A smile tugged at her lips at the thought He would probably think she was out of her Out of her mind or not, she had it made up, Her heartbeat marked hurried footsteps on He looked like the very last stop on the Aurora, to her eternal shame was not immune \u201cBella Doctora, I didn\u2019t know you made \u201cDon\u2019t call me that,\u201d she rebuked, then \u201cMy key,\u201d he drawled, without reaching for \u201cI was looking in on a patient close by,\u201d \u201cAh yes, Doctora Montalban and her causes.\u201d \u201cWhy is it that every time you call me that \u201cThat might have more to do with you than It irked her that his barbs always hit She wished that diabolical grin of his He cocked a thick, dark eyebrow at whatever \u201cFirst you have to tell me what you\u2019re For over ten years, she\u2019d avoided any His closeness sent her blood from a canter \u201cI came here for sexual intercourse, Lord \u201cWell, in that case, do come in, Doctora She decided to ignore the sarcasm in his The moment she stepped inside, she was once He was rich, handsome, well-read and had an \u201cWhat?\u201d She sounded like a dolt. This was \u201cYour clothes, sweetheart.\u201d He wiggled two She took another look at him, those winged \u201cThis is just for tonight.\u201d It needed to be \u201cThat you don\u2019t need to worry about, She shrugged and looked away, what more was \u201cI\u2019d appreciate it if this stayed between \u201cKeeping secrets from your pride, are you?\u201d \u201cMy dear sister-in-law will be scandalized \u201cIt is not like you\u2019re the Marquis de Sade, \u201cTrue love is miraculous.\u201d For her friends, But even she had to admit, Luz Alana and Her friends believed in love worth any Love, for her, had only ever served to \u201cWhy are you really here, Doctora?\u201d Apollo She could confess that this very evening \u201cLet\u2019s just say I\u2019m in a fairly destructive Excerpted ABOUT THE AUTHOR\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/span><\/b><\/p>\n![](\"https:\/\/blogger.googleusercontent.com\/img\/b\/R29vZ2xl\/AVvXsEhSHiB8g3aerbUBEyM9SH8o6zGvACxPDlcG19AAShd_r55CeTnx8p-ugbBpEaiyjJLhkVI4Yy4ISo14_45UFKPWLiMgi1UCTAV8CPGWQPmmSlqX2YxNwSfskWu7g24c7faFn3WJN092OFTLHwaxZYVpx_ajc_kRTMoNCbY2FfDsn0VaZ8iUBYgq7HIPzioy\/s1500\/715-A-TROPICAL-REBEL-GETS-THE-DUKE-Blog-Tour-Banner-1500-x-500.jpg\")
\u00a0<\/a><\/p>\n
\nand final book in USA TODAY<\/i>
\nbestselling author Adriana Herrera’s smart, sensual Las Leonas series featuring
\nan ambitious doctor breaking societal norms and the reluctant Duke willing to
\nrisk it all for her…<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/b> <\/p>\n<\/a><\/div>\n
Author: <\/b><\/span><\/span>Adriana Herrera<\/b><\/span><\/span>
Publisher: <\/b><\/span><\/span>Canary Street Press, Harlequin Trade Publishing<\/b><\/span><\/span>
Release Date: <\/b><\/span><\/span>4th February 2025<\/b><\/span><\/span>
Aurora Montalban Wright has had a whirlwind summer in Paris but is finally settling down to the business she came to do: run an underground women\u2019s clinic. This venture is risky, not only because she\u2019s technically breaking the law, but because she is providing services to the daughters, wives and mistresses of powerful men who could get her into a lot of trouble. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
HarperCollins <\/a>
Amazon <\/a>
Barnes & Noble <\/a>
Bookshop.org<\/a><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n
\n1889<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nFrance<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nwould say. It was not an unfair assessment of her character. After all, true
\nrebels never bothered with consequences, not when a glorious mission lay in the
\nbalance. No one would label Aurora a carefree sort, and that was fine by her.
\nBecause what she\u2019d learned early in life was that rebellions cost blood, sweat
\nand tears, and she had none of those to spare. This, of course, did not mean
\nshe was above bending a rule\u2014or five\u2014if the situation called for it.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nevery rule set before her in order to escape her circumstances. Once,
\nhumiliatingly, for a man\u2014which came to a disastrous end. The other\u2014equally
\ncatastrophic\u2014for her freedom. Despite this, Aurora was not rebellious by
\nnature. It was simply that she was galvanized by the word no. The more she was
\ntold she could not do something, the more creative she became at conquering it.
\n<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nfelt like one. The worst possible news had come at the worst possible time and
\nshe desperately wanted a distraction. In fact, she wanted far more than that,
\nshe needed the kind of oblivion that only came from terrible decisions.
\nThankfully she was in a city where immoral diversions were easy enough to
\nprocure, if one knew which objectionable doors to darken.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nof Apollo C\u00e9sar Sinclair Robles\u2014a man who\u2019d just claimed his place as the heir
\nto a dukedom by destroying his own father\u2014could be considered a particularly
\nill-advised one.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nVolney, she fleetingly considered if there weren\u2019t less potentially disastrous
\nways to deal with her current mood. Then she felt the weight of the key she\u2019d
\nkept in her pocket for weeks and decided there definitely were, but she still
\nwanted to do this.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nremembered from the night she\u2019d spent here a month earlier. It was one of those
\nmodern, luxury apartment buildings near the Parc Monceau, kept by wealthy
\naristocrats and business titans to commit their more slanderous peccadillos in
\ndecadent discretion.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nmoment to examine herself in the sparkling glass window. The walking suit she\u2019d
\ndonned that morning showed the strain of the day. Her face was framed with
\nwisps of loose curls that had escaped the braid pinned to the nape of her neck.
\nHer hat was a bit more askew than what was fashionable and there was a stain on
\nher left cuff she could not quite identify and was reluctant to smell.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ncome another day.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ncertainly not in a state of mind to interact with someone who had a natural
\ngift for trying her patience. Coming to Apollo for what she needed tonight was
\nthe furthest from sensible she\u2019d been in a long time.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nher body. She decidedly ignored the cardiovascular admonition.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nstrode right up to the porter with the key dangling from her hand and her heart
\nmaking another valiant effort at warning her off.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthe detached politeness of someone too well trained to openly scowl at her
\nclothes, but too French not to appear at least marginally aggrieved at their
\ndeplorable state.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ntrick, and with a nod, he stepped aside and directed her toward the lift
\noperator, who was already pushing buttons.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nat all hours of the night was a regular occurrence. Not exactly a surprise.
\nFrom the moment she\u2019d met the man at a soiree months earlier, he\u2019d been an
\nunapologetic reprobate. She\u2019d never encountered anyone who cared less about
\nother people\u2019s opinions than Apollo C\u00e9sar Sinclair Robles.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\narrived in Edinburgh like a dark avenging angel and exposed his father as a
\nliar and a thief. Upending in a single night, one of the oldest dukedoms in
\nBritain while establishing himself as its rightful heir, leaving the peerage
\nreeling, and his own father a social pariah.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nridiculed the societal norms she\u2019d so carefully ascribed to. From that first
\nmeeting, she\u2019d found herself equally appalled and intrigued by him.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nof what the new Earl of Darnick would do when she turned up at his apartment
\nand told him she was there for sex, and the more depraved, the better.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nmind.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nand whatever lapse this was, she would deal with it in the morning. Four steps
\nforward and two firm knocks were all it took for her, a respected physician, to
\nannounce herself at a man\u2019s tryst apartment somewhere between one and two in
\nthe morning.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthe other side, while she took in slow, calming breaths. The moment the door
\nfinally opened, it was suddenly very clear that she had not properly prepared
\nherself. The rapid escalation of her pulse told the story.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ntrain to ruination. All languid grace, and the ease of a man who was well aware
\nof the damage he could do on a woman\u2019s good sense with a mere wink and a smile.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nto either.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nhouse calls.\u201d He spoke in that lazy drawl he always used with her, but there
\nwas an alertness to his gaze that betrayed his indifference.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nremembered she was here to ask for something and tempered her manner with what
\nshe hoped was a comely smile. \u201cI came to return your key.\u201d She held it up as
\nshe endeavored, and failed, not to gape at the triangle of bronzed, muscled
\nchest. She didn\u2019t dare look below his sternum lest she encountered bare
\nforearms and swooned before she could tell the man what she was about.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nit. \u201cAfter more than a month, you\u2019ve decided to deliver it at one in the
\nmorning, on a Tuesday.\u201d He\u2019d given it to her on the night he\u2019d brought her
\nhere, after her friend Manuela\u2019s wedding day devolved into a scandal that had
\nall of Paris talking for weeks. She hadn\u2019t seen him since.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nshe retorted, truthfully, dropping the key into the pocket of his dressing
\ngown. The other truth she failed to disclose was that she\u2019d kept the damned key
\nin her pocket like some kind of talisman since he\u2019d given it to her.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nHis voice dripped with cynicism, as if it amused him that she considered her
\nprofession anything serious.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nit feels like an insult?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nwith me.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ntheir targets. She\u2019d made an art of letting men\u2019s opinions roll off her back,
\nnot a difficult task, since a significant number of men she encountered were
\nimbeciles. But not this earl, not the man who\u2019d ambushed the British
\naristocracy like Sim\u00f3n Bol\u00edvar did with the Spanish at Boyac\u00e1.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ndidn\u2019t start a sizzle under her skin. \u201cAre you going to invite me in?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nhe heard in her tone, but instead of inviting her inside, he braced a large
\nhand on the top corner of the doorjamb, until his very distracting mouth was
\nclose enough to kiss. She swallowed audibly when she caught a glimpse of the
\ncorded muscle of his forearm, thick veins and dusting of dark hair. Her
\nsalivary glands seemed to run out of fluid just then.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nreally here for, Doctora.\u201d He was showing off his size for her and it was
\nfruitless to pretend it had no effect on her. Everything about the man eroded
\nevery preservation instinct she had.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nscenario that could place her in a vulnerable position. She\u2019d practically
\nforgotten that under her walking suits lived a woman with very real urges and
\nburning desires. Until this man had crossed her path. Since then, he\u2019d been
\nlike a toothache. Making himself known, throbbing, gnawing at her, until she\u2019d
\nhad to do something about it.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nto a gallop, and her breaths became shorter, more erratic. The undeniable
\nbiological evidence of arousal and desire. She might as well get on with it.
\nShe locked her own gaze with the new Earl of Darnick\u2019s, took a breath and
\nleaned in.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nDarnick.\u201d It was gratifying to see his predatory gaze replaced by genuine
\nshock. But as expected with a hunter, he recovered quickly.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nMontalban,\u201d he told her with a wave of his hand before stepping aside.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nvoice and walked into the apartment.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nagain surprised by how different this place was to what she envisioned for
\nApollo\u2019s lair. Instead of a showroom full of ostentatious furniture and
\nexcessive gilt, what she found was a comfortable, unpretentious room. He had an
\nimpressive collection of books. One of which was sitting open on the armrest of
\na chair by the fire, next to a tumbler of amber liquid. He also collected art,
\nwhich to her astonishment were tasteful and interesting.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nuncanny eye for art. Not that any of it mattered, to her. She was not here for
\na marriage proposal, she off from the door and taking a few steps toward her
\nplace by the bookshelf. \u201cLet\u2019s reserve the endearments for later and see what
\nwe can do about all these clothes you\u2019re wearing.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nwhat she\u2019d told him she wanted. What did she expect after propositioning a
\nscoundrel? Sweet nothings in her ear, passionate declarations?<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nfingers somewhere in the vicinity of her chest. \u201cThe infernally unending layers
\nof fabric you insist on wearing. They give a man a devil of a time surmising
\nwhat you\u2019ve got under all that wool and linen.\u201d He made a face, and her mouth
\ntwitched. Of all the things to fluster the wicked Earl of Darnick.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ncheekbones, skin like the most perfect caramel, and the umber curls, which made
\nher think of days in bed and rumpled, sweat-soaked sheets. It was a face a
\nwoman could ruin her life over. It was a good thing she\u2019d already done that
\nonce and had no intention of ever doing it again.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nsaid, but he remained unbothered.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nsweetheart.\u201d He lifted a shoulder, his gaze still suspended somewhere below her
\nneck. \u201cI\u2019ve never had much craving for seconds.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthere to say to that?<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nus.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nhe asked in a mocking tone. He was referring to her two dearest friends. The
\nfriends with which she arrived here in Paris four months earlier: Luz Alana and
\nManuela. The only two people in the world who knew every one of her secrets,
\nexcept for this one now, she thought grimly.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nto know you\u2019ve come to me in your hour of need.\u201d Of all the unlikely twists of
\nfate the last few months in Paris had yielded, Luz Alana finding a love match
\nwith a Scottish whisky distiller, who turned out to be an earl and Apollo\u2019s
\nhalf-brother, had been one of the most surprising.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nyou\u2019re just convenient.\u201d He laughed again and this time it reached his eyes.
\n\u201cBesides, Luz Alana and Manuela have their own lives.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nit seemed to be. She\u2019d seen enough people entrapped into those cageless prisons
\nof duty and guilt to have any use for the sentiment.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nManuela seemed to have found partners worthy of their devotion. She was glad
\nfor them, but that was not what she searched for.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nsacrifice. That soulmates and fairy tales were possible. Aurora did not. Not
\nfor herself, at least. She was too\u2026marked. Too jaded to ever believe in the
\nlies of the heart.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nremind her of the ways she never quite measured up, how hard it was for her to
\ninspire that sentiment in another, and she would never again risk her freedom
\nfor that chimera. She had a feeling Apollo C\u00e9sar Sinclair Robles, in this at
\nleast, was a kindred spirit.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nasked, taking another step in her direction. He was merely a couple of feet
\naway now. From this distance she could see that his lips had a pink tint to
\nthem. She allowed herself the distraction of that perfect mouth for a moment as
\nshe considered his question.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nshe\u2019d received a letter from her brothers informing her they\u2019d suspended her
\nability to withdraw funds from her trust. She could tell him she\u2019d been using
\nthose funds to operate a clandestine clinic that helped women in a certain kind
\nof trouble. She could even say that the friend who delivered the correspondence
\nhad seen the man who\u2019d ruined Aurora at the of age fifteen aboard a steamer
\nheaded to France. She might even admit that the possibility of running into the
\nvillain of her past made her so sick with dread and shame she\u2019d run here, to
\nApollo. To ruin herself again, by choice, this time. But none of those pitiful
\nconfessions would be conducive to what she\u2019d come here for, not comfort or
\nsolace, but escape.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nmood,\u201d she declared, looking at him square in the eyes. \u201cI would very much like
\nto do something utterly ruinous and you were the first thing that came to
\nmind.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nfrom A Tropical Rebel Gets the Duke by Adriana Herrera. Copyright \u00a9 2025 by Adriana
\nHerrera. Published by Canary Street Press.<\/span><\/i><\/span><\/span><\/b><\/p>\n