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The Worst Darcy
Author: Robyn Gynne
Publication date: August 15th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
It is a truth universally acknowledged that Brodie Bishop is the worst.
Vivian Trent is desperate. Her family doesn’t approve of her life as a single mom and the small town of Austen still won’t accept her as one of their own four years later. Playing Elizabeth Bennet at the annual Jane Austen Festival is the perfect way to win over the locals and prove that she’s thriving. But when Austen’s favourite festival hero is replaced by his tattooed, metalhead brother, how is she supposed to achieve perfection with such a bad boy playing Mr. Darcy? He’s never read the book. He’s brash and unpolished. He’s… blond?!
You must allow me to tell you how ardently I dislike you.
Brodie’s used to being the town disappointment, so when Vivian turns her nose up at him, he’s not surprised. Hot librarian or not, she’s way too uptight. But once the festival gets underway, they see new sides of each other. When he finds out her dark secret, suddenly she’s much more endearing. She’s vulnerable, but strong. And the way she looks in that gown only blurs the lines between playing the part and falling for her for real.
But when her goal is within reach, can Vivian go off-book and choose Brodie, if it means risking everything she thought she wanted?
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an excerpt
I swallowed thickly, letting him guide me across the dance floor. Was it just me or had it cleared of swaying bodies to form a loose circle of spectators? It was hard enough to ignore the dizzy feeling his gaze sent over me without worrying about having such a rapt audience. I moved through the steps stiffly, my back rigid where he touched me.
“Relax,” he whispered, barely moving his lips.
“You relax,” I shot back between gritted teeth.
He snorted softly, biting back a grin. “We’re doing great. They love it.”
“That’s the problem,” I whispered, my hand instinctively flexing on his shoulder. He had good shoulders. Lean, but strong. And the cut of his jacket emphasized their dramatic lines.
His hand squeezed at my back a little and my nipples tightened. Heat flooded my face. Come on libido, don’t screw me over like this. His thumb rubbed discreetly over the thin fabric separating our skin. “You’re doing so great,” he assured me under his breath. “You got ‘em eating outta your hand.”
“They’re looking at you,” I countered, flushing when I stumbled and he caught me with ease.
“Then, they’re crazy,” he said, the fingers of his leading hand curling tighter over mine. “You’re a feast for the eyes.”
“Stop,” I said, the word spilling out of me before I could snatch it back. I hated how breathless my voice was. Hated being so transparent. It left me vulnerable and I couldn’t afford to be that again.
“Stop what?” Brodie asked, without a hint of confusion. His chin dipped as his eyes flicked between mine. Something about the way he looked at me felt like a challenge. A dare.
“Nobody can hear you. Stop messing around,” I admonished him.
He responded by tightening his arm at my back. I could feel the muscles in his forearm shift with the movement. He was so warm, I could feel his heat through our clothing as if I wore nothing at all. An excited titter moved around the crowd.
But I barely heard it. Brodie was like an eclipse, forcing everything else to fade into the shadows. His eyes roamed over me, lingering on details that made my neck flush. The corner of my lips. The spot on my neck where my pulse must be visible.
“Who says I’m messing around?” he whispered. The rasp of his quiet voice shivered up my spine.
How did I let this happen? How did I start falling all over myself for this man? One day, he was just Brodie, my ridiculously-dressed, sarcastic festival partner. Then, suddenly, all I could see was how confidently he swept me around the dance floor, how safe he felt to confess my secrets to… and how elegantly handsome he looked under the warm light of a million candles.
But the whole purpose of us being here was to convince other people we were falling in love. I wasn’t supposed to fall for it too.
I couldn’t afford to be the fool again. Not after everything fell apart with Sam. The prickly pity in my family’s eyes as I’d embarked on single motherhood had knocked me out at the knees. I’d believed in my happily ever after back then. Believed in forever.
Robyn writes spicy contemporary romances about resilient women and memorable men. Having self-published numerous short romances over the years under different pen names, she is pleased to present her first full-length novel, THE WORST DARCY. When she’s not writing, you can find her catching up on her TBR pile, watching spooky movies, and woodburning crafts. She lives in the Greater Toronto Area with her husband and son.
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