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Once Upon a Dream Kindle Edition
The national bestselling author presents “an ardent and magical retooling of Cinderella . . . Emotionally compelling and intensely romantic” (Romance Forever).
Lucy Kincaid endures a life of drudgery and loneliness in her stepmother’s home, sustained only by her dreams of a better life and a man to share it with. She’s sure her wish is coming true when a golden stranger appears on the windswept cliffs of the Irish coast. But Lucy’s hopes are shattered when she realizes the man she lost her heart to is the despised Englishman whose family stole her birthright.
Raphael Montagu is obsessed with finding the mysterious Irish beauty who captured his heart at first sight. When he discovers fate has delivered her to him at a London ball, he’s crushed when she claims to have never seen him before. Even after sharing a kiss and hearing his declaration of undying love, the woman vanishes, leaving no clue as to her identity. Raphael’s only hope to find his true love is to return to the remote cliffs of Ireland and unravel the mystery keeping him from his heart’s desire.
“Miss Kingsley has woven a delightful tale . . . A sparkling gem.” —Romantic Times
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherDiversion Books
- Publication dateOctober 13, 2013
- File size5955 KB
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Editorial Reviews
From the Publisher
"Katherine Kingsley is a glorious treasure, touching our hearts with exquisite magic." --Romantic Times
"If you haven't discovered Katherine Kingsley, you don't know what you're missing." --Lindsay Chase
"Katherine Kingsley is a miracle worker, a writer who understands the map of the human heart." --Romantic Times
Hailed by Romantic Times as "one of the most beloved voices in romantic fiction," Katherine Kingsley has brought her unique style to the retelling of the Cinderella tale, as two star-crossed lovers play out a romance that is the stuff of legend.
--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.Review
Amazon.com Review
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Lady Kincaid slammed the cover back on the pot of stew Lucy had just hung over the kitchen fire and shoved her bony hands onto her bony hips with a grimace of disgust. "Can't you for once be a little more original, Lucy? This is the third time this week you've cooked that slop."
Lucy turned from the tub of washing in the sink, wringing out one of her stepsister's nightdresses. "I'm sorry, Aunt Eunice," she said, pushing a damp lock of hair off her forehead with one tired wrist. "A haunch of mutton was all I could find at the market this week that was affordable. There's not enough money left in this month's budget for anything else."
"And whose fault is that, I wonder? Certainly not mine. Certainly not Fiona's or Amaryllis's--my poor daughters have suffered aplenty because of you. You can lay the blame for our troubles at your own door, Miss Lucy Kincaid, and don't you forget it the next time you think to complain."
"Yes, Aunt Eunice," Lucy said wearily. There was nothing else to say, and in any case, she'd heard it all a hundred times before.
Her fault. Her fault that they lived in a ramshackle house on a windswept cliff, her fault that there was hardly enough money to support the four of them, her fault that Amaryllis and Fiona had to make do with last year's dresses and she had to make do with dresses she'd outgrown three years ago. Her fault, her fault, her fault. It was a never-ending litany of blame, heaped on her from morning until night. She bowed her head, wishing she was anywhere else than in this dark, dank kitchen, listening to her stepmother's shrill voice. But that was nothing new either.
"The girls and I are going into Ballina to pay calls," her stepmother said, pulling on her gloves. "We'll be back by six, and I expect the washing and ironing to be done and the house to be spotless. Oh, and Lucy, there's a basket of mending in my bedroom. Be sure you have it completed before we return."
"And my bed linen needs changing, Lucy," Fiona said, prancing into the kitchen. "I spilled my morning cocoa on it." Her long pointed nose went up in the air like a badger's, sniffing, then wrinkling in distaste. "Not mutton and cabbage again! Oh, Mama, I think I'm going to be sick. Can't you do something with the girl?"
"Poor darling, I know what a trial she is to you, but I'm afraid that, as usual, Lucy squandered our monthly allowance."
"Typical," Fiona said, plumping up the carrot-red hair that Lucy had painstakingly arranged for her. "She can't do anything right." She put her bonnet on top of the pile and marched over to Lucy. "Tie the bow, and for goodness sake, dry your hands first," she commanded, leaning forward and sticking her pointy chin within an inch of Lucy's face.
Lucy obliged, silently longing to pull the bonnet right down over Fiona's ears. "There," she said, turning back to the washing, wishing they would go and leave her in peace. Peace. That was a joke. She hadn't had a moment's peace since the day eight years before when her stepmother had arrived on her father's arm and turned her life into a living hell. It had only gone downhill from there.
"Mama! Mama, Fiona's stolen my petticoat, the one with the lace trimming," Amaryllis cried, barreling into the kitchen, her round, pimply face mottled red with rage.
"I did not," Fiona said, turning on her sister. "It's mine, mine I say! You tore yours last week, remember, and you sneaked it into my drawer after Lucy mended it, thinking I wouldn't notice that you exchanged them."
"Liar! I did not. It was you who tore your petticoat last week. Isn't that right, Lucy?"
"I wouldn't know," Lucy said, disgusted with both of them. Would they never stop squabbling? "They both look the same to me, and what difference does it really make? The tear is virtually invisible now."
"You may think so, but I know it's there," Amaryllis said sulkily.
"Look." She hoisted her skirt, showing one plump calf, and stretched out a length of white material. "There's the rip, right there, as plain as day."
Lucy peered at the tiny stitches that bound the flounce to the linen. She could barely see them herself, and she knew exactly where they were, for it had taken her over an hour to painstakingly execute them. Amaryllis had never offered a word of thanks, but then if she had, Lucy would have fallen on her backside in shock. "I'm sorry the stitching is not to your satisfaction," she said curtly. "I'd offer you my own petticoat, but I don't think you'd care for the coarse cotton."
Eunice ignored her, waving her hand at her daughters. "Come along, girls. Time is wasting. Let us leave Lucy to her cleaning or she'll never have it done by the time we return."
She swept out of the kitchen, Fiona and Amaryllis in tow, the sounds of squabbling fading as the front door slammed.
They were gone. "Thank the Good Lord for small mercies," Lucy whispered, glancing up at the clock, already bone weary. Eleven o'clock, and she had at least two days' work to fit into seven hours. But if she was quick and thorough, she'd be able to escape for a walk before they returned. Her stolen time outside, drinking in fresh air and walking over the land she loved, was the only thing that renewed her, that kept her sane.
Oh, for the old days at Kincaid . . .
Once life had been so grand, so glorious, when Kincaid and its people had prospered under her father's tender care. And then it had all fallen apart.
Kincaid. Lucy covered her eyes with her hand, willing away the image of lush trees and rolling green fields cut through by the sparkling blue of the River Moy, willing away the memory of the great stone house where sunshine blazed at the windows in summer and winters were warmed by roaring fires in the grates.
Kincaid, where she had spent her childhood with a mother and father who loved her and gave her a life as free as a bird in the sky. Gone, all gone now, both her parents dead and the house fallen into neglect, the man who had stolen the estate from her father not even caring enough to look after it. Thomas Montagu had been nothing more than a boozing absentee squireen who had allowed his land agent to evict more innocent tenants than she could count and who had brought the very land to ruin from sheer negligence, interested only in enriching himself at the expense of the poor.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, willing away the tears that threatened. She would not cry. She'd given up crying six years ago, on the day she'd buried her father, the day that her stepmother of only twenty months had boxed her ears and told that she wouldn't stand for tears, that their impoverished situation was all Lucy's fault and she'd spend the rest of her life paying for it. So far she had, and there was no end in sight.
Nothing was ever good enough for Eunice, not that there was money to manage anything else, thanks to the dishonorable Mr. Montagu. But a fat lot of good it did to blame him now, with him six feet under and no way to put the situation back the way it had been.
Oh, she had rejoiced indeed when news had come the year before that Thomas Montagu had broken his filthy English neck on the hunt field. She hoped with everything in her that his black soul would burn in hell for all eternity for what he'd done to her father, although the question now was what further calamity was going to befall Kincaid, now that Thomas Montagu's cousin was the new owner.
Not a word had been heard from him since his cousin had died. What did Kincaid matter to him? What did he care about the suffering of the evicted tenants, whose bellies ached with hunger and whose children had little chance of surviving rampant disease even if they didn't die of starvation?
Lucy glanced out the window of their bleak house on the edge of the peat bog and gazed longingly toward the cliffs of Downpatrick Head where terns and seagulls wheeled freely and unfettered in the overcast sky, beckoning to her.
Hurry, hurry, she told herself. If you're fast enough, you'll have a good half hour of freedom. A half hour to forget your misery and exhaustion, to forget this prison, a half hour to let your soul fly free, a half hour to dream . . .
She turned back to the sink and began scrubbing in earnest.
* * *
"It's a damned good thing you broke your neck, Thomas Montagu, or I would have broken it for you."
Raphael Montagu, eighth Duke of Southwell, hissed the words out from between his teeth as he stood on a bluff looking down over the sorry sight of Kincaid Court, the property he'd become responsible for on the day his cousin had died. Rafe hadn't received the news for a full six months, the solicitor's letter informing him of Thomas's death following him around the Mediterranean until it finally reached him in Nice just as he was about to embark for England after a year's absence.
Fortunately, his various competent stewards and solicitors had looked after his assorted properti... --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
From the Inside Flap
Once upon a passion
Raphael Montagu, eight Duke of Southwell, searches futility for the mysterious Irish beauty he'd loved at first sight, certain that only she can heal his wounded heart. But when fate finally returns her to him at a London ball, she denies ever having seen him before. And when he claims her with a kiss and a vow of eternal love, she vanishes once again, leaving him with no clue as to her identity. His only hope is to travel back to Ireland to uncover the mystery that drove her from his side-- and --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
Product details
- ASIN : B07H19CB7G
- Publisher : Diversion Books (October 13, 2013)
- Publication date : October 13, 2013
- Language : English
- File size : 5955 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Not Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 449 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #541,021 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #639 in Adaptations & Pastiche Fiction
- #3,943 in Fairy Tale Fantasy (Kindle Store)
- #5,959 in Folklore (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Katherine Kingsley is the bestselling author of seventeen novels for Warner Books, Penguin USA, Dell, and now Diversion Books. The recipient of two Romantic Times Career Achievement Awards and four Reviewer’s Choice Awards, she is also a two-time Romance Writers of America RITA finalist. Her novels have been published around the world.
Katherine grew up between New York City, London, England, and Charleston, SC and spent twenty-five years in the Vail Valley of Colorado where she was a firefighte/EMT and teacher before becoming a full-time writer. She currently lives in Southwest Florida with her husband and two Jack Russell terriers and spends her autumns in Mykonos, Greece.
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He has come to Ireland after his cousin has died leaving him an estate. He finds in horrible condition. His cousin was not a good lord and had spent all the money from the estate on his pleasures rather than on the land or its people. The have lived for quite a while under very poor conditions and they are very suspicious of the British. Rafe, frustrated with everything goes on a long ride and encounters the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, alone on an edge of a cliff, quoting poetry. This beauty is Lucy Kincaid, the daughter of the former Irish lord before Rafe's cousin took over. She has been treated like a servant/slave by her stepmother and her two step sisters since her fathers death 9 years previously. She is very wary of strangers and when he approaches she seems to jump right off the cliff. He is heartbroken to think that she has killed herself and tries to find out who she was. In his quest he pays a visit on the stepmother and somehow agrees to send them to London for the season. They all end up going, to Lucy's bewilderment, and there he unexpectantly comes across her walking in the park. She insists that he is mistaken and disappears again. He then spends the rest of the season searching for her again and again but to no avail. At the end of the season at the last ball he finds her again, she has been given one chance at happiness and gets to go to the ball, and he knows that he loves her and must be with her. She disappears again and this time he finds her again in Ireland. This is a wonderfully touching story and I liked the fact that Lucy was a very strong woman who even though she was in the worst of surroundings took things in stride and kept her pride. I also enjoyed the secondary character of Hugo, Rafe's younger brother. He gets his own book which I plan to read very soon. I really like Katherine Kinglsey's books because they are true romances.