X

The Lure of the Moonflower (Pink Carnation)

Product ID : 11711342


Galleon Product ID 11711342
Model
Manufacturer
Shipping Dimension Unknown Dimensions
I think this is wrong?
-
1,385

*Price and Stocks may change without prior notice
*Packaging of actual item may differ from photo shown

Pay with

About The Lure Of The Moonflower

Product Description In the final Pink Carnation novel from the New York Times bestselling author of The Mark of the Midnight Manzanilla, Napoleon has occupied Lisbon, and Jane Wooliston, aka the Pink Carnation, teams up with a rogue agent to protect the escaped Queen of Portugal.   Portugal, December 1807. Jack Reid, the British agent known as the Moonflower (formerly the French agent known as the Moonflower), has been stationed in Portugal and is awaiting his new contact. He does not expect to be paired with a woman—especially not the legendary Pink Carnation.   All of Portugal believes that the royal family departed for Brazil just before the French troops marched into Lisbon. Only the English government knows that mad seventy-three-year-old Queen Maria was spirited away by a group of loyalists determined to rally a resistance. But as the French garrison scours the countryside, it’s only a matter of time before she’s found and taken.   It’s up to Jane to find her first and ensure her safety. But she has no knowledge of Portugal or the language. Though she is loath to admit it, she needs the Moonflower. Operating alone has taught her to respect her own limitations. But she knows better than to show weakness around the Moonflower—an agent with a reputation for brilliance, a tendency toward insubordination, and a history of going rogue. READERS GUIDE INCLUDED Review Praise for the Novels of Lauren Willig   “Willig’s series gets better with each addition.”— Booklist   “Jane Austen for the modern girl.”— New York Times Bestselling Author Christina Dodd   “This genre-bending read…has it all: romance, mystery, and adventure. Pure fun!”— New York Times Bestselling Author Meg Cabot "Fans can rejoice in finding the outstanding features they’ve come to count on: intriguing historical details, double-crossing deceptions, complex characters, and plenty of romance.”— Library Journal (starred review) About the Author Lauren Willig is the award winning,  New York Times bestselling author of the Pink Carnation novels, set in the Napoleonic Era, as well as other historical novels, including The Ashford Affair and  That Summer. She received a graduate degree in English history from Harvard University and a J.D. from Harvard Law School, though she now writes full-time. Willig Lives in New York City. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Prologue Sussex, 2005 Reader, I married him. Or, rather, I was in the process of marrying him, which is a much more complicated affair. Jane Eyre didn’t have to plan a wedding involving three transcontinental bridesmaids, two dysfunctional families, and one slightly battered stately home. Of course, she did have to deal with that wife in the attic, so there you go. There might occasionally be bats in Colin’s belfry, but there were no wives in his attic. I’d checked. “Hey! Ellie!” My little sister drifted into the drawing room, where I was busily and profanely engaged in tying bows on the chairs that had been set up for the reception. Silk ribbon, I was learning, might be attractive, but it was also more slippery than a French spy in a Crisco factory. “Delivery for you! Is that supposed to look that way?” “It’s a postmodern take on the classic bow,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster. “Think . . . Foucault’s bow.” Jillian cocked a hip. “Or you could just call it lopsided.” “O, ye of little faith.” I abandoned my attempts at Martha Stewartry. The guests wouldn’t care if there were bows or not. They just wanted us to be happy. And an open bar. “You said there was a delivery? Please tell me it’s the port-a-loos.” “There’s a perfectly good bathroom down the hall. If you want to, you know, wash off that thing.” Jillian gestured at the tectonic layers of mud that were beginning to crack on my face. No, I hadn’t fallen in the garden. I had fallen prey to my oldest friend, Pammy, and her Big Box of Beauty Aids. Which appeared to involve highly priced purple-tinted garden m