She was the beautiful daughter of a dirt-poor Alabama farmer. But Angela Sherrington had a dream: to love dashing Bradford Maitland, the handsome heir to. Glorious Angel. Home · Glorious Angel Author: Lindsey Johanna. 16 downloads Views KB Glorious Angel · Read more · Glorious Angel. Read more. Glorious Angel By Johanna Lindsey - FictionDB. Cover art, synopsis, sequels, reviews, awards, publishing history, genres, and time period.
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Editorial Reviews. From the Back Cover. Angela was a dirt-farmer's daughter. Though she was Glorious Angel - Kindle edition by Johanna Lindsey. Download. Glorious Angel book. Read 83 reviews from the world's largest community for readers. She was the beautiful daughter of a dirt-poor Alabama farmer. But An. Johanna Lindsey. All I Need Is You Straton Family Saga - 2. Angel Wyoming Series 1 A Heart So Wild Straton Family Saga.3 Glorious Angel Southern Series.
Otherwise she might have starved waiting for him to come out of his stupors. She could kill a moving rabbit in only one shot. It was about time! And now that her anxiety was over, her anger surfaced. Her father would get an earful this time. But it was not old Sarah who came loping around the tall cedars.
Two gray mares were pulling a dusty, mud-splattered carriage. And the last person she wanted to see was driving that carriage. He had ridden as if an army of Yankees were hot on his tail. The chance he had been waiting for had come unexpectedly this morning, with the knowledge that William Sherrington was passed out drunk in the street, leaving his daughter alone. Billy grinned, recalling the day.
The morning had begun as any other, with the hot summer sun quickly melting any traces of the cool night. Billy stretched lazily and wiped the sleep from his eyes. At leastAlabamawas not like other southern states, where battles were being fought.
The Union army had been kept out ofAlabama. To many people here, the war was not quite real. Billy snorted.
Yankees were cowards—anyone with sense knew that. It was only a matter of time before the Confederacy won the war. Things would be normal again. A long sigh escaped him and Billy stretched, trying to shake the sleep from his lanky body. He moved over to the large table covered with bolts of material and fingered the dull cottons resting protectively on top of the more expensive cloths. It had been a long time since anyone had bought even the cheap cottons. These were hard times for everyone.
Billy grinned, his brown eyes crinkling. He sauntered over to the long counter where the money box was kept and sat down heavily on a three-legged stool behind it.
Running his hands roughly through his reddish-brown hair, he tilted the stool until his back rested against the shelves behind him, and propped his feet up on the counter. He continued to lose and borrow, lose and borrow more. Billy snapped to attention when the tiny bells above the door jingled. His eyes widened with surprise when two young women entered, their frilly parasols swinging from their wrists, and he recognized nineteen-year-old Crystal Lonsdale, high and mighty princess of The Shadows plantation, and her friend, Candise Taylor.
Billy assessed them thoroughly. Crystalwas stunning, with wide blue eyes and shimmering blond hair. CandiseTaylorwas a few years older thanCrystal, with raven-black hair tucked neatly under her blue bonnet, and startling blue eyes the color of early dawn. She was as lovely asCrystal, with a softer face and gentle manner. Billy came around the counter and approached the two fashionably dressed young women, the one in pink and the other in blue.
He wished that he were not so poorly dressed. Crystalglanced at him briefly, then turned away. Why, when Mr. The snobby little bitch! But he knew his father would horsewhip him if he so much as looked at her funny. She was too close to the Maitland family.
Jacob Maitland was a very wealthy man. He was also a man to whom Sam Anderson was deeply indebted. Billy stalked back to the counter and plopped down on the stool again. He watched the two young women furtively, his freckles noticeable now because his face was pale with anger.
Billy would have given anything to be as rich as Jacob Maitland. Billy had always envied the Maitlands. He could still remember the day they arrived inMobile, fifteen years before.
He had gone to the docks with his father to pick up a shipment of goods for the store. A large ship had just docked and there were Jacob and his wife and their two sons, the only passengers on that fine ship. Billy was awed by their rich clothes, the magnificent carriage awaiting them, the crate after crate after crate of Maitland belongings.
He had properties and businesses, mines, railroads, and countless other investments all over the world. Yet he was a southern gentleman now, and had elected to stay and support the South.
And support it he did, with money, and with his younger son Zachary, who had joined the army, leaving the older son,Bradford, to handle the family interests. Now, there was a fellow Billy envied—Bradford Maitland. He had all that money, lived as he pleased, and traveled all over the world. What luck to be a Maitland! How often he had dreamed of being part of that family.
The one lying in the alley? Yes, William Sherrington. Did you know they live only a mile away from Golden Oaks? Yes, run little princess, before any of your fancy friends finds you slumming. That wild, fiery-tempered hellion had been his obsession for a long time.
Although she had only just turned fourteen, she had filled out nicely recently. Billy had hardly recognized her when she came into the store a few months back. No longer a skinny little brat with stringy brown curls, she had started showing curves. And her face had changed. Angela Sherrington was downright pretty. Her eyes were deep violet pools hidden by thick, sooty lashes.
Billy had never before seen eyes that color. They could catch and hold attention as if casting a spell. After that day, Billy had started going out to the Sherrington farm and hiding in the crop of cedars that formed a thick wall in front of the Sherrington shack.
He watched her working in the fields with her father. She wore tight breeches and a cotton shirt with rolled-up sleeves. Billy waited impatiently for his father to come down so he could leave. And when he left the store, he made sure that William Sherrington was just whereCrystalhad said he was. Just thinking about Angela being all alone in that shack caused an ache in his loins.
Now he would have her!
He could just feel her wiggling beneath him. He would be the first, too, and that counted for a lot. She was going to put up a fight, and that just might be even more fun. He stared at the rifle she held pointed at him but then his eyes moved to her slim hips, outlined by breeches, then up to the tight shirt.
Her breasts pressed hard against the rough material. What he saw surprised him. Was it humor? Was she laughing at him? Now there was no trace of humor. She smiled, showing gleaming white teeth. Too early to tell. I'm a really really slow learner.
From the neggy and even the positive reviews here, the big gripe about this book is the jerky, jealous, hair trigger tempered hero. He is all of that and more but, you know what, I couldn't even get annoyed with him.
His character was so shallow and cartoonish that I couldn't get interested enough to care. He blew so hot and cold in the blink of an eye that he was like some lame stalker villain on a bad TV show: "You will not dance with that young man again! But you're mine, Angela. I will share you with no one! I only danced with Joel so I could get away from Crystal. She spun around to see Bradford running toward them.
Before she could say a word, Bradford's fist flew into Grant's face, sending the larger man crashing to the ground. Angela found her voice. Stop it!
He didn't know I'm yours , Bradford! For just a moment, she felt he might kill her. We haven't told anyone. Do you understand? He had no way of knowing! He turned to Grant and extended a hand to help him from the ground. Will you forgive me?
No charisma, no nothing. And his foil is a dimwitted twit who can't grasp the concept of cause and effect and who has a pool of other lusting suitors, any one of whom would be at least a half-step up. Well, maybe not the rapey redneck one, but at least he isn't Mr. Moody McWhiplash. Seriously, why do Lindsey's books read like they're written for a 6th grade reading level? Everything is so basic - the writing, the characters, the plot.
Not just in these early 80s titles, but the 90s ones too. And in this book, the plot reads like it was scribbled on the living room floor with Cray-Pas while the author scissored her legs back and forth and paused only long enough to jam another Twinkie in her mouth. It felt like a spastic tot on a sugar high wrote this thing.
Or a teenager who read a couple of her mom's naughty books and only remembered some highlights and tried to recreate it. Hero catching heroine in bed with another man! Jealous rages! Deflowering in a whorehouse!