SCHEMES GONE AMISS
Conundrums
of the Misses Culpepper, Book 2
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Intrepid
and outspoken, Blythe Culpepper is dragged against her will to London
for a Season. To her dismay, her guardian enlists the devilishly
attractive Lord Leventhorpe, the one man she detests, to assist with
her Come Out. Since their first encounter, hostile looks and cutting
retorts have abounded whenever they meet, yet she cannot deny the way
her body reacts when he’s near. So perhaps it’s no surprise that
upon overhearing another woman scheming to entrap Tristan into
marriage, Blythe risks all to warn him.
Haunted by childhood trauma, Tristan, the austere and controlled Marquis of Leventhorpe, usually avoids social gatherings. So why, against his better judgement, does he agree to aid his closet friend in presenting the Culpeppers to the ton? Might it be because one Culpepper stirs more than his interest? Blythe taxes him to his limits with her sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Yet, he cannot deny the beauty fascinates him. However, when an old enemy comes calling, using Blythe to settle old scores, Tristan must decide if protecting his honor is more important than winning the heart of the woman he has come to love.
Haunted by childhood trauma, Tristan, the austere and controlled Marquis of Leventhorpe, usually avoids social gatherings. So why, against his better judgement, does he agree to aid his closet friend in presenting the Culpeppers to the ton? Might it be because one Culpepper stirs more than his interest? Blythe taxes him to his limits with her sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Yet, he cannot deny the beauty fascinates him. However, when an old enemy comes calling, using Blythe to settle old scores, Tristan must decide if protecting his honor is more important than winning the heart of the woman he has come to love.
Publisher:
Blue Rose Romance in partnership with Windtree Press
Excerpt:
His
gaze riveted upon her mouth, tension tightened his lips.
He
had
the most beautifully sculpted mouth she’d ever noticed, and that
included the Greek gods from last night’s ball. Were Lord
Leventhorpe’s as warm and firm and tasty as they appeared?
What
the blazes did Mr. Burlington’s lips look like? Did he have lips?
He must, of course.
A
wheel sank into a hole with bone-jarring force, abruptly interrupting
Blythe’s mental rambling and pitching her and Lord Leventhorpe
headfirst. His hat flew from his head as he tumbled from his seat
onto his knees and reflexively wrapped his arms around her to keep
her from plunging to the floor.
With
a yelp of outraged surprise, Freddy bumped into Blythe’s back,
somehow managing to scramble onto the seat.
Their
faces mere inches apart, Blythe couldn’t haul her gaze from the
glinting specks in Lord Leventhorpe’s eyes. His focus sank to her
lips, and his pupils shrank to pin pricks.
Would
he kiss her?
Did
she want him to?
Illogically,
yes.
Breath
suspended, she remained perfectly motionless. Waiting.
Lowering
his head, he tightened his embrace an instant before his lips
whispered across hers.
They
taste even better than they look.
A
brilliant light burst behind her eyes, and every bone in her body
turned molten. She clutched his lapels certain if she let go, she’d
slither to the floor.
He
ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, and sighing, she readily
capitulated and parted her mouth, eager to taste more of him.
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