The Muse: Excerpt 1


The Muse

by Charlotte E Hart & Rachel De Lune

#BroderickSeries #TheMuse #NewSeries #HartDeLune

Meet the Broderick siblings in this brand new, thrilling Romantic Suspense series. Four books – four drama laden love stories. Families are complicated, especially when they’re built on scandals, secrets and lies.

The Muse, book 1 in a new romantic suspense series, The Broderick Saga!

And where better to kick off the series, with the baby of the Broderick family, Persephone.


Book One in The Broderick Saga

The Muse –

The Lawyer, Book 2 –

The Writer, Book 3 –


The Fallen, Book 4 –

BLURB for The Muse

Cold, egotistical and a Foxton.

He tore my final performance to shreds with his pen, and embarrassed me for all the world to see.

But hate wasn’t what I felt for Scott Foxton when he touched me. Enemy wasn’t what I thought when he rescued me either.

I got lost in dreams and hope, and ignored the threats that would follow my own deceit.

For once in my life, family loyalty could be damned.

But then I saw the painting.

And now I can’t lie anymore.

The man I shouldn’t want is the one that holds my heart.

I just have to trust that he’ll still believe me when he knows the truth about Persephone Broderick.

Excerpt – Scott Foxton


A sudden knock on the door has my eyes snatching a glance that way. No one comes here. I grab my coffee again, hoping they’ll just go away and leave me alone. They don’t. The knocking gets louder and louder, to the point where it’s turning into hammering and I’m throwing my glasses on the table.

 Walking to it, I open it as furiously as this mood descending again is worth. I’m so shocked by the vision standing there that I falter back half a step. It’s her. Seffi Castlewood, all five foot whatever of her glaring up at me as if she’s got something to say. Her face softens for half a beat, her eyes fluttering away and down for some reason. It’s then that I remember I’m only half-dressed and still wearing a sheen of sweat from the damn run.

 I slam the door in her face immediately, part in surprise, part needing a fucking reprieve from the actual lines of her body, and needing to pull the screens together in case she comes in.

 My back presses to the door, eyes searching for my T-shirt, as the hammering starts again instantly. Christ. This was unexpected. I walk and get the screens pulled closed, eyes still manically searching for my top, as I listen to the constant hammering that’s getting louder and louder again.


 Eventually, I give up searching because of the attack on my door and swing it wide, somewhere near appropriately prepared for the onslaught of her up close


. “Yes?” I snap.


She barges past me into my space, her frame going under my arm until she’s standing by the table. Three seconds is all it takes for her to take note of The Herald spread open on the table, the picture of her on full display.  

“Pleased with yourself, are you?” she snips, at least walking away from the damn thing. Considering the drawing she could be looking at if it hadn’t landed face down, yes, I am.

 “What can I do for you, Ms Castlewood?” I ask, standing firm.

 “Putting some bloody clothes on would be a good start,” she replies, turning to look through the window.

 Shit, I forgot about that. I scan for my T-shirt again, only to finally realise it’s around my damn neck.

 By the time I’ve shoved the sweat ridden thing over my head, I find her looking back at me with her arms crossed and the glare back in place again. “It was an unfair critique, Mr Foxton. I want a reprint.” 

I snort, astonished at yet more diva behaviour. “Not a chance, Ms Castlewood. It was fair and balanced. Your performance was substandard at best. Tally that with your attitude at the interview and you’re lucky it was even slightly pleasant.” 

 Her mouth opens at the hostile response, eyes like slits as she walks closer. My whole frame backs away instantly. “And I need to ask you to leave. You’re probably the type to accuse me of sexual harassment because you can’t get your own way.”


““How dare you! I would never accuse anyone of anything of the sort.”

 “Of course not. I forgot. Sleeping with people is how your sort get to the top of your game in the first place.”

 What was simply indignation and outrage on her features turns damn near violent for someone her size.

 “I did not, and have not, slept with anyone to get where I am. Take that back.” 


She shrugs out of her long, thin cardigan, slinging it on one of my chairs. The very movement flings her billowing summer skirt around, giving me glimpses of everything I should not even notice let alone think about. Tight and taut. Light, creamy skin like silk under the sway of vibrant green. 

 The matching pistachio heels move towards me again, making me look back up at her face quickly. Sadly, it’s not quick enough for me to bypass the swell of her pert breasts under a partly sheer blouse

. “You seem to think you know everything about me, Mr Foxton. I can assure you, you do not. And that review was completely imbalanced. It was disparaging, mocking, and downright rude.”

 “All art is based on opinions. My opinion is mine. You can’t and won’t change it, Ms Castlewood.” I move to the door, opening it for her. “Please leave.” 

She drops down onto one of the chairs without acknowledging the door at all, her legs crossing and her chin aloft. “No.” “ Her neck cricks sideways, swinging her blonde, pencil-straight hair about. “Not until you agree to reprint a realistic review and apologise.” 

A disgruntled laugh chuckles out of me. “I’ve never apologised for a damned thing in my life, Ms Castlewood. And certainly not for my opinion. If you don’t leave, I will have no choice but to call the police. You have not been invited in.”

 Silence. She’s not moving, it seems.


Review by Tara

A love story, where love has no boundaries.
“I’m interested in one thing alone. It’s blonde, and it’s one thing I probably shouldn’t be interested in at all.”
Both Seffi and Scott are lost in their worlds. Seffi, a young professional ballet dancer, who’s identity is hidden from people, and Scott, a struggling artist who is at war with himself. When these two meet, sparks fly and the rest of the world floats away. Their time together is like fireworks, but when real life creeps in, secrets and heartache interfere with the fairytale.
“It’s more than just sleeping with him, more than being whimsical or wanting to break the rules, too, and I’m finding it a slow kind of torture to keep all my secrets from him. “
The Muse is an intriguing book. There is so much hope, despair, and longing between the pages of this book. Charlotte and Rachel are an amazing team. Their ideas and words flow seamlessly together, enrapturing us. The connections they create with the characters makes you feel like you are truly experiencing the relationships first hand. All the feels….the dark and the light, the lust and hate….The Muse has it all.
“She’s like a muse to me, a sin I can’t deny myself. Soft skin, that smile. Happiness. Light. Spirited. Youthful. Perhaps she just reminds me of possibilities I’ve long since left behind. “


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