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ISBN: 0-8217-7829-3 April 2005

Awaiting a welcome death after a duel, Lord Henry Langdon hides in a stable--and is discovered by a young gentlewoman. Despite his protests Miss Elisabeth insists on nursing him back to health, though as far as Lord Langdon is concerned, he is not worth saving. Jilted as a young man, he swore off love long ago and turned to a life of gambling, drinking and dissolute pleasures. To his surprise, Elisabeth's tender touch brings healing and hope. Lord Langdon is enthralled by her beauty--and ready to give his heart to her forever. But how can he explain his past?

When Elisabeth discovers the dark scandal that shadows him, Henry must convince her that he has changed his ways--for a future filled with the love of one woman only...

"In this traditional Regency romance from Leanne Shawler, a former, Dangerous to Know, licentious rake is forced to prove he is a changed man. Not perfect, mind you; just more enlightened about his faults and flaws. To accomplish this task, he will have to contend with his past misbehavior's lurid legacy and ignore the dangerous temptation to revert to old habits. As you can imagine, Ms. Shawler's hero is powerfully, deliciously conflicted. Change isn't without cost or consequence, after all...

"There's also a spark -- a restrained passion, if you will -- to Leanne Shawler's Zebra Regency romance, Dangerous to Know, that will prevent readers from mistakenly regarding it as too tame or lacking in moments of sweet, searing intimacy (which it isn't). Traditional Regencies can be just as provocative as their historical counterparts; and certainly, just as romantic, dynamically plotted and lustily engaging... Ms. Shawler's mainstream debut is a striking success and will have readers eagerly jumping through hoops in an effort to keep up with Elisabeth's many misadventures and a reformed rogue's ever-changing charms." --Cheryl Jeffries, Heartstrings Reviews

Four Roses! "Leanne Shawler is fairly new to the romance scene, but she has definitely left he mark with readers. Passion reigns in Ms. Shawler's books. The men are strong, yet sensitive and the women are headstrong, yet very feminine when they need to be. Henry and Elisabeth are definitely two people you would never think of as a couple. But their romance grows on you and you can then see how truly perfect for each other they really are. A great read!" -- Debbie, A Romance Review

(I suppose its no surprise what an honor it is to be named in the same company as Laura Kinsale! -- LS.)

"I started reading your book on Sunday after all my guests checked out and I didn't put it down till I finished it! I really loved the book and the characters. " -- Pat A., Creek Haven Inn, Texas, USA.

" I didn't want to put it down. ... I loved it, the plot was so good." --Mary Ann M., Wisconsin, USA.

"I started to read Dangerous To Know on the beach during a brief getaway last month with my husband. After three hours and sunburnt toes, we moved onto the rest of our evening. Come bedtime, I thought I'd read a bit more until I fell asleep, usually about ten minutes for me. Well, around 2 a.m. I finished the book. Romantic, not a dull moment, and I can't wait for Ms. Shawler's next book. Let's seeäwhere can we go for the next read?" -- Dawn G., Butterfield B & B, California, USA.

"Most enjoyable! Oh, to the lengths we will go in the name of love!! Thanks for a great read!!" - Rose H., California, USA.

"The plot was fascinating and I absolutely loved the characters." - Amanda C., California, USA.

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Pleasantly aching from a hard ride, Miss Elisabeth Stockwell led her chestnut mare into the stables. She bid her girls, two Irish wolfhounds, to remain outside. Jade and Sapphire sank to the ground, whining softly, their large heads resting on their paws.

The few horses in their stalls pawed at their straw bedding. Who could blame them for wanting to be outside and free of the dark?

Not Elisabeth. She swung open a stall door, murmuring encouragement to her reluctant mare.

"Don't move," a deep, masculine voice growled from the depths of the stall. "Or I shall shoot."

His clipped gentlemanly tones conflicted with his harsh words. Dropping the reins, she turned very slowly to face him. Had her brother come back, unannounced as usual? Was it one of her brother's friends playing a trick?

Grunting, a fair-haired man levered himself up from a sitting position against the far wall, his face an ugly rictus of pain.

Not a friend. A stranger. And armed.

He pointed an unwavering pistol at her chest.

The barrel's mouth seemed like an endless well. She sucked in her breath, frozen by the deadly weapon. How could she be so gullible and think it to be no more than a prank? When would she ever learn?

Would this be the end? Her life had been destroyed once by a man. Had another come to hammer the final nail into her coffin?

She swallowed the rising panic and forced herself to look beyond the small black eye of the pistol and at the intruder. The usual smells of warm horses and sweet, fresh straw did little to reassure her.

He slumped against the rear wall, a hand pressed to his side. His dirty and wet shirt stuck to him in a way that revealed the athletic muscles beneath. Judging by his fine linen shirt and cravat, albeit in ruins, her attacker was a gentleman.

"You're no stable boy," his voice grated, laced with pain. "Who the devil are you?"

She knew she couldn't tell him. If she revealed herself as lady of the house, he could take her hostage--or worse. But that fate may await her yet. She would not give him the satisfaction of a higher prize.

"My name is Elisabeth."

He grunted. "I suggest you turn around and leave, woman." She hadn't given him any title, and he refused to give her a term of respect. "Let me die in peace."

"Die?" With a start, she saw the smudge on his shirt was not dirt, but blood. His blood.

"You're hurt," she said, rather stupidly. Surely he knew.

"Very observant of you."

The pistol in his hand vibrated. She saw sweat upon his brow. It was sweat, not water, that soaked his shirt.

Fever. His wound must be infected.

"Put the gun down," she advised, her voice trembling only a little. "You need help."

"I'm beyond help," he snarled. His aim grew less steady. She couldn't begin to imagine the sheer amount of will and effort that kept him upright. "Who are you? Not the lady of the house."

"Her companion," she lied. She held out her hand. "Please. You need assistance."

He shook his head, looking dazed. "No. I am not worth it."

"You are a gentleman, sir," she observed.

He snorted.

"Fallen on hard times, perhaps, but a gentleman nevertheless. Besides, any human life is worth saving. Even yours."

"Go," he managed to gasp out. "Let me expire in peace. I need no more interfering women."

She ignored the bite of his insult and stepped forward, pausing when she saw his grip tighten on the pistol.

"I am damned already," he said. "Taking your life won't make a difference."

She covered her heart, his target, as if either leather gloves and fine bones could stop a bullet.

The pistol slipped from his grasp and into the straw. "Damn," he muttered. He toppled to the ground.

I was in university and had just started reading Regencies (Georgette Heyer mainly) and I asked myself the question: why doesn't the villain ever get the girl? This question coincided with an illness that had me in bed for about a week and as I dozed, I ran the story through my mind. Little did I know that villains sometimes turned up in sequels as the hero. Oblivious to this, I got out my typewriter and typed out that first draft, sitting mostly in the only air-conditioned room. And my hero-villain was bad, very very bad.

I sent that first draft out to Mills and Boon in 1991, who quickly and rightly rejected it, and I shoved it away and got back to studying. That first draft was entitled Love Without Lechery.

And yes, the book was as bad as the title.

Fast forward eight years to find me married and living in the United States. I got out that old manuscript, scanned it into the computer, corrected all the "mis-readings" that the computer made and did my first big revision on it, mainly to improve the language, not really changing anything in the plot.

I attended my first conference, a local one here in San Diego and booked my first editor appointment. Talk about nerve-wracking. The editor very sweetly let me know that the theme of most romance novels is "love without lechery" and that I should come up with a better title. She asked for a partial and overjoyed I went home, retitled it The Redeemed Rake and sent it in.

And got a nice rejection letter back. It had a scene set in a homosexual brothel. (Ye gods! What was I thinking? No longer there, obviously!) However, I was determined to learn from my mistakes and set about rewriting it. I sent it back in and got the sad note that they were fully inventoried and not accepting anything at the time.

It took me a couple more revisions (and submissions to other houses) before I realized that the first three chapters really had to go, being far too slow. Yep, it took me that long to figure that out. I rewrote the beginning, brought in the conflict a lot sooner. If you've read the extract, you've read the brand new beginning.

How did I make the sale? I entered a conference contest: "Rendezvous with an Editor" at the Victoria B.C. conference. I came equal third, and even though first prize was to meet with the editor, she wanted to meet with all of the finalists.

After that, it went through two more revisions: one to beef it up from a Regency to historical-length (I aimed at Brava, so not only was it longer, but it was spicier), the other to bring it back down as a Regency when I got the call from my editor to buy the shorter version. Phew!

It got retitled as Dangerous To Know, landed in the first slot with the new look covers, and now I don't have to revise it any more! (Seven revisions later, phew!) So that's the story behind the story.