It’s Spring again

It’s spring again! I love the start of warmer weather.

Spring usually means more sunlight for me—going in holidays, date nights. But I’m living under stay at home orders right now. Going out is not allowed unless for essentials like food shopping and doctors appointments—not that I needed that last one. In good news though, I finally got my first Pfizer vaccination in my arm and the second one is about a week away. Yay for me.

You would think these conditions would mean more words down—more writing done. But it actually hasn’t worked that way for me. I had no idea how much I needed to go out until I couldn’t do it. I always thought I was more introvert than social butterfly. Isn’t it great to learn new things about yourself every year?

But it wasn’t all bad on the work front in August. I did manage to do some long overdue tasks.

I updated a few book covers:

The Wedding Affair, Rebel Hearts book one, has been out for a while and I decided it needed a new cover designed. I’m really happy with the new couple and over all cover and the rest of the series have had a couple of minor tweaks as well as you can see below. 

It's Spring again and the Rebel Hearts series has had a cover design change

• I also changed all the art for the covers on the Wild Randall series. The e-books should have updated on retailers by now and you can refresh your kindle app manually if you need the new pretties. The other vendor’s should push through the new covers to your reading device so you’ll probably find them in your Ereader already. The print cover changes for Wild Randalls are coming later in the year.

It's Spring again and the Wild Randalls series has had a cover design change


And last but not least…

The next Distinguished Rogues novel for pre-order has been set up on all retailers. No cover yet and no blurb either. I’m still writing the story, but I’m closing in on the end. You can find the pre-order links on the Seduced in Secret book page if you want to order in advance.

Well, I think that’s it for me this month. Of course the Christmas Kisses Anthology is coming out next month and I’ll talk about that more next month. But the stories are wonderful. I can’t wait for you to read them.

Till next time.

Cheers and stay safe.

Heather B

Rebel Hearts Boxed Set

The Rebel Hearts Boxed Set is new out this week!  Rebel Hearts Boxed SetDashing sea captains, second chances, and forbidden pleasures abound in this collection of four steamy regency romances.

THE WEDDING AFFAIR: Sparks fly as Lady Sally Ford’s first love returns just in time to witness her wedding to another man. But with every argument and stolen moment, their former passion reignites as if it had never waned.

AN AFFAIR OF HONOR: Seeking escape from a marriage minded miss, Captain William Ford makes a desperate bargain with the maid who saved his life in return for acting the part of his lover—only to end up in a very real marriage of convenience.

THE CHRISTMAS AFFAIR: A lonely shopkeeper offers shelter to a not so innocent miss to overcome the bitter memories of Christmases past, but could such a wicked connection ever lead to a happily-ever-after?

AN AFFAIR SO RIGHT: Heartbroken and desperate, an unmarried lady enters the employ of a disastrously disorganized and distracting viscount in a bid to prove her father’s death more than an accident.

The Rebel Hearts Boxed Set is available from:

AMAZON:  US   |   UK   |   CA   |   AU

APPLE BOOKS:  US   |   UK   |   CA   |   AU


KOBO:  US   |   UK   |   CA   |   AU

The Wedding Affair 99c Sale and March Giveaway!!

The Wedding Affair is on Sale:

Book 1 of the Rebel Hearts series is on sale for 99c worldwide this week. Grab a copy and please spread the word about this sale where you can. I’m hoping there’ll be enough interest to chart high enough to make the USA Today Bestsellers list. My very first attempt. The later books are discounted a little bit too so it’s a good time to grab the ones you’re missing from the series.


Sparks fly as Lady Sally Ford’s first love returns just in time to witness her wedding to another man. But with every argument and stolen moment, their former passion reignites as if it had never waned. Is there a chance to begin again if his naval career will tear them apart any day?

Direct links to purchase The Wedding Affair:


or visit the book page on the website.


Print book giveaways are now run on my website every month. Visit the contest page any time to see what’s up for grabs and good luck!

The February winner was Janice C whose prize will be posted this week.

That’s all my news for now,

An Affair so Right First Look

It’s just four weeks until An Affair so Right releases. The final ebook editions have been uploaded in readiness for the big day. The print edition is finding its way too and will be available to purchase from around February 1st (give or take a day). It’s been a long time coming for this fourth story in the Rebel Hearts series. Quinn Ford first appeared in An Accidental Affair with his cousin Lord Rothwell, he dropped into An Improper Proposal to pay a call on Esme (now Lady Windermere) and at last makes his debut as my rather dashing ex-ship captain hero Viscount Maitland.

Growing up as Lord Templeton’s heir hasn’t been easy for Quinn and he’s quite a few challenges to face in this book too. Of course, I had to find a strong woman for him to fall in love with. After all, becoming part of the Ford clan – facing Aunt Pen and Lady Templeton on a near daily basis – requires a special sort of resilience. Those two ladies like to think they rule the family. Quinn’s wife will need to stand up to them occassionally.

For now, I’m posting the first chapter to whet your appetite. An Affair so Right releases everywhere February 6 and I hope you enjoy this teaser chapter!

An Affair so Right – Chapter One

If there was anything in life surer to turn a man’s stomach, it was a blatant attempt at matchmaking over a mahogany dining table. Quinn Ford, formerly a captain in His Majesty’s navy but now more happily Viscount Maitland, would rather be run through in battle than be the focus of his father’s machinations to see him miserably wed to the mouse of a woman perched at his side.

“Have you visited Tattersalls yet?” he asked her to be polite.

Miss Genevieve Cushing uttered a negative squeak to his question and then buried her face in her water glass again.

He sighed in resignation. Miss Cushing was without the courage to answer anyone with confidence, or even to look his mother in the eye it seemed. He fell silent and turned his attention back to his plate.

Quinn had not resumed a public life in society to put up with missish nonsense. He admired forthright women. Prim and proper Miss Cushing, daughter of a wealthy London merchant, a connection most likely indebted to his father in some way, was most certainly not his type of female. She had none of the presence required to be a future Duchess of Rutherford when the title fell to him eventually. Not that he had ever wished ill on his beloved grandsire.

Which was not the case when it came to his own father—Lord Templeton—seated farther down the table from him.

Quinn glanced along to where his father sat holding court. Father was probably destined to live forever.

“You should have your brother take you one day,” he said to Miss Cushing.

“He’s very busy,” she whispered.

George Cushing was probably visiting brothels with his intemperate friends right now. He was young and reckless. But who was Quinn to judge another man’s priorities?

He was only concerned about people who affected his own life, and Miss Cushing would never be one of them.

Quinn’s future wife would need to be possessed of firm convictions to survive his future, because when Templeton became the Duke of Rutherford, there was no telling what evil would befall him and the gentler members of the family. The family had already suffered due to Templeton’s grasping nature.

He considered what other arrangements his father had made with Mr. Cushing besides attending this dinner. Nothing good for the Cushings, most likely. Quinn knew firsthand it was never wise to make any deal with Lord Templeton. People who did tended to be vastly unhappy with the result.

“Gentlemen, if you will excuse us, we will leave you to your simple pleasures,” Mama, the Countess Templeton, announced as she set her napkin aside and rose from her chair at the end of the meal.

Quinn was quick to reach his feet, as were the other gentlemen, who protested she was leaving them too soon. His mother was an exceptionally popular woman in London society, hardly meek and most certainly not missish, and still attractive at fifty years of age. Quinn adored her, and so did everyone else. Quinn’s mother was respected, whereas his father was feared.

Mother urged the women to go with her, giving way for the gentlemen to partake of port and cigars after dinner. She gave Quinn a brief but pointed look that spoke volumes from her husband’s shadow. Tread carefully it said.

Quinn inclined his head to her as she moved toward him at a stately pace. He’d grown accustomed to such unspoken warnings from his mother, and where he could, he heeded them all. Thwarting the Earl of Templeton’s manipulations had become their life’s work.

Her attention strayed to the young woman lingering by his chair, and her eyes narrowed with a hint of displeasure.

Mama had shared her guest list with him yesterday, and at that time, the Cushings had not been included for this remembrance dinner in honor of his late sister. They had not known his sister Mary. The Cushings were new additions; included, most likely, at Lord Templeton’s express demand.

Mama grasped Miss Cushing’s elbow and led her by subtle force toward the drawing room and away from Quinn. He hid a smile, grateful that when it came to matrimony, he and his mother were of the same mind regarding his future. She wished him to marry for love, so she thwarted her husband at every opportunity.

The other women trailed after Mama, chattering happily and laughing among themselves as they fled into the drawing room for tea and a good gossip.

With them gone, Quinn took a turn about the room to stretch his legs and then headed for the decanters of port set aside for the gentlemen to partake from. He poured himself a drink and downed the lot. Dinners with his father required liquid reinforcement be deployed at all times.

He poured another and slid the bottle back into the spot.

Quinn joined Lord Deacon, who was nursing a brandy glass already at the end of the room. “My apologies for missing your cousin’s ball last week,” Quinn murmured to him.

Deacon, an earl near his age, was widely regarded as an idiot. Deacon did not excel at manly pursuits except for drinking; he did not seek to distinguish himself in parliament, claiming there were wiser voices to be heard. What Deacon did exceedingly well was friendship. He knew—not assumed, while wringing his hands—that sometimes his friends needed to use him as a shield. That was why, when he was invited to dine by the Earl and Countess Templeton, he could always be counted on to attend if Quinn would be there too.

Deacon smiled, glancing around the room as he did to see who was near. “The usual business?”

“Is there anything else that prevents me seeing my friends but my father’s orders?”

“None so far, but I am sure that your future wife might have the ability to sway you one day.” Deacon’s eyes sparkled with mirth, glancing toward the distant drawing room, where Miss Cushing had vanished. “Did Templeton’s latest matrimonial prospect catch your fancy?”

“Hardly,” Quinn grumbled. Deacon knew the challenges Quinn faced thanks to his overly ambitious father. “I swear she squeaked.”

“Could be amusing in the right setting. At least you could find Miss Cushing in the dark, should you ever misplace her.” Deacon laughed suddenly. “Mary would have set down a plate of cheese for her, had you expressed the slightest interest in marrying the girl.”

“She would have, too.” Quinn raised his glass with a deep sigh. He missed his little sister, but never more so than today—on the anniversary of when she’d ended her life.

“To Puddleduck,” Deacon said, raising his glass, too. Deacon was one of the few friends who knew today’s significance to them. Suicides were rarely spoken of in polite circles.

Quinn’s sister had been seventeen when she’d drowned herself. Three and Twenty in a few weeks’ time. It still shocked him that she was gone. Quinn’s nose itched, and he forced a laugh out to fight his sadness. “She adored the name you gave her.”

“She was a good sport. But at least Puddleduck is better than the nickname you gave her,” Deacon scowled. “The Pestilence was hardly a respectful name to give any lady.”

Mary had been something of a pest as a child, and calling her the Pestilence had stuck until her last year. “She never minded the names.”

In hindsight, perhaps the nickname hadn’t been the best choice to give to his younger sister. No one had sensed her unhappiness or known her emotions were so fragile. Mary had died so young, for reasons that to this day baffled him. His second younger sister had appeared happy one day, full of plans for the future, her season, marriage, and babies, and yet had waded out into the sea at the family estate fully clothed and drowned—as she must have known she would.

Quinn surveyed the room, his thoughts stuck on that tragic day. The sun had been shining, and he’d had good news to share about his new command and had run out to the cliffs to tell her about it. Discovering Mary face down in the churning sea was a shock Quinn would never forget. He hadn’t been able to save her. She’d already been gone too long by the time he’d pulled her from the water.

“She gave as good as she got. What was her nickname for you again?”

“Bumblefoot, on account of my lack of prowess on the dance floor,” Deacon said glumly. “At least that was accurate. I still can’t dance well enough to please the ladies I like.”

Mary had been Deacon’s friend. Quinn had assumed they’d marry once Mary came of age, and she finally noticed Deacon had adored the ground she walked on. They had always been whispering to each other and laughing over the silliest things no one else had found remotely funny. Deacon had taken her death as hard as any member of the family.

All except for Father. Templeton hadn’t shed a tear.

Quinn regarded his parent as he spoke loudly and with great enthusiasm without any respect for the anniversary they had planned to mark today. Templeton had covered up the suicide swiftly and had told everyone to forget her.

Quinn couldn’t do that and had suffered for his disobedience.

Mother openly marked each anniversary just to spite her husband.

“Maitland?” Deacon regarded him solely, and the softly spoken word drew him back from the dark abyss of his grief and anger. It was always there, catching him off guard. He couldn’t accept that he’d never know why she’d died.

He forced his fists to uncurl. “Father and Mr. Cushing are as thick as thieves tonight, but I’d rather die without an heir than marry his daughter.”

“I’d like a smart wife who was happy to put up with a fool like me.” Deacon’s grin faded to apprehension. “Watch out. He’s got that look about him. Oh, damn and blast it. He’s coming our way,” Deacon complained

Quinn quickly turned his back on the room to peer out the window. Outside, Londoners were going about their business without a care in the world. And the world was finally at peace. Napoleon was locked up; the French army and navy thwarted by the might of the British forces. Life should be pleasant.

Except that it couldn’t be while his father pursued his own agenda to direct Quinn’s life.

“Ah, Lord Templeton,” Deacon bellowed with great enthusiasm. “Excellent dinner as usual. Your dear wife has outdone herself yet again. My sincere compliments to your cook and staff, too. I can’t remember the last time I’ve ever felt so full, except for Lord Sanderson’s dinner last week. But do you know I had to turn down a second helping of that fine pork chop that night because it left the faint aftertaste of lemon in my mouth? None of that at your table here, of course. Lady Templeton would never allow such culinary faux pas beneath your roof, would she?”

Quinn struggled not to grin. Deacon could natter on about dinners, and the food served to him, for hours on end. He bored everyone with his little speeches—always on purpose. It was a useful skill Quinn couldn’t hope to emulate but appreciated. Deacon could play the fool at will without breaking a sweat.

“A man can indeed have too much of a good thing,” Quinn agreed, bravely joining into the conversation because it would irritate the hell out of his father that he would side with Deacon.

“I require a word with my son, Lord Deacon,” Father said abruptly.

“Oh. Oh, yes of course. Certainly. Go right ahead,” Deacon offered.

Quinn turned slightly to acknowledge his father, but nearly laughed out loud as it became clear that Deacon wasn’t leaving them, and remained planted at Quinn’s side with his arms crossed over his wide chest.


Seeming unaware he wasn’t wanted.

“In private,” Lord Templeton growled, before jerking his head toward the hallway door. “Perhaps you could deliver your compliments to Lady Templeton in person.”

“Oh, of course.” Deacon smacked his forehead, eyes wide. “I’d best rejoin the ladies then.”

With one last happy smile to Father, Deacon rushed away like a hapless schoolboy.

Lord Templeton scowled. “You should end your friendship with that dullard.”

“He’s a good man,” Quinn replied, having suffered the demand many times before.

“Forever nattering on about pork chops and lemon as if I care about such things.”

Father couldn’t abide idle conversation. He was too impatient to care about anyone but himself.

“Mary liked him,” Quinn said with a sincere smile. Mention of Mary was one spectacular way to stop any topic of conversation in its tracks. It worked every time. “She was the one who asked me to include him in my circle of friends, and I promised I would watch out for him.”

Father tossed off his head, jaw clenching briefly. “What did you think of her?”

Ah, there it was—the real reason for Templeton’s rude interruption. “Of whom?”

“The Cushing chit. Her father owns a thousand acres at Colchester and has no heir apparent. She’ll inherit everything I hear.” Templeton gestured to the gentleman in question, eyes narrowed and assessing. “She would be a good match for you.”

For anyone but Quinn. “Doubtful.”

Father looked at him with the dead-eyed stare of a furious man. “It is time you gave up these foolish notions and made an advantageous match.”

“I’m not marrying a woman I don’t care deeply for.”

“That’s your mother’s new nonsense clouding your head.”

Quinn snorted out loud. “You and Mother married as strangers and never became the closest of couples. No wonder she highly recommends love matches over cold alliances like yours.”

Father’s hand finally twitched at his side as Quinn scored a hit. The topic of his parents’ union was a tricky one. His parents barely spent any time together these days and everyone knew it. Father had married Mother for her enormous dowry. He had kept a mistress since Quinn was at least ten years of age.

Templeton’s glory days were over though. His hair was more gray than black, and he’d developed a definite paunch these past few years. When angry, his face mottled an unhealthy red, as it did now.

“Do not speak ill of your mother,” Templeton warned.

“I would never disparage Mother.” His mother put up with so much and never complained except for lack of grandchildren to hold in her arms. However, his sister Sally was well on the way to fulfilling that request, thanks to her recent marriage.

Father grabbed his arm. “Impertinent whelp. How dare you.”

“I won’t allow you to choose my bride for me,” Quinn said in a mild tone. “I will make up my own mind about when I marry, too. You may scheme until your face is blue, but when I marry, believe me, it will not be for the good of my purse alone.”

The grip on his arm tightened to painful levels. “You will call on Miss Cushing tomorrow,” Templeton insisted.

Quinn had borne worse punishments and kept his face impassive. “I will not. I came to dinner tonight to remember Mary, with people who knew and loved her. I’ve no idea why you would disrespect Mother or Mary by forcing strangers upon us at such a time. We loved her more than you ever did.”

Father dug his fingers deeper, just as the other gentlemen stood and began to move noisily about the room. Quinn remained still, enduring the pain without flinching or pulling away. He’d been doing so for years. “Do not embarrass Mother, tonight of all nights,” Quinn warned.

Templeton released Quinn immediately.

Deacon returned, his face beaming an idiot smile. “Ah, Maitland. Are you free now to complete our conversation?”

“Indeed.” Deacon’s timing was impeccable. Despite his father’s plans, Quinn was determined to make his own way, to live his own life in peace now that the war was over. That was why he’d resigned his command so quickly after the war, before his father could hatch a new scheme designed to keep Quinn in his clutches.

He moved toward his friend without a backward glance for his father’s permission. He slapped Deacon on the shoulder and turned him toward the drawing room. “Now, tell me more about this problem you have?”

Deacon winced. “I’m afraid I’m going to need rather a lot of your help.”

“For what?”

“Finding a woman for me to marry, of course.”

“Oh.” Quinn stared at Deacon in astonishment. “I didn’t think you were serious about that.”

“Well, I am.” Deacon protested. “I’m tired of women who just want to sit on my lap a few times and then pretend they didn’t fancy me after all.”

Quinn choked on an oath. Now there was a picture he’d rather not have in his mind. “Ah, Deacon, now is really not the time for specifics of your intimate relations. When we’re done here, we could talk at my home if that suits?”

Deacon nodded quickly. “I knew I could depend on you.”

My Regency Romance Books

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Limited Time Sale – The Wedding Affair 99c now!

Limited Time Sale – The Wedding Affair 99c now!

The Wedding Affair on sale bannerGreat news! The Wedding Affair is on sale RIGHT NOW for 99c!

The deal won’t last long so grab your copy quick before the price returns to normal.

Amazon   iBooks

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All Romance eBooks   GooglePlay


Also… a word about reviews

Reviews are important to me. I am always grateful when a reader takes the time to comment on what they like about my stories. Quotable reviews ones make my day. Thank you! But in the last week I’ve learned that has changed the requirements for leaving reviews on products in a big way. See for yourself:


You can read the full conditions for leaving a review here.

If this change affects you, and the reviews you’ve written have disappeared, I’m sure you’re frustrated. You may have won books as prizes during the year, or been given gift cards at Christmas or birthdays or even from Facebook parties. You should be able to have your say about them if you want to. And I’m positive it has been possible to be a avid reader in the past without once using a credit card at Amazon.

Despite the annoyance though, always remember there are other places happy to take your review without making you use your credit card first: Apple iBooks, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, Google Play, All Romance Ebooks, and Goodreads. Amazon is not the only place that sells books…its just the place most people talk about first.

As always, whenever or wherever you leave a review, I hope you enjoy my stories.


One Week till An Affair of Honor

One Week till An Affair of Honor

An Affair of Honor Small Digital Book CoverLondon, 1814

Matilda Winslow blew a fallen lock of her hair from her eyes and then crawled under Captain Ford’s bed to retrieve an item that had rattled to the floor while she’d been changing his sheets. She stretched to reach a strap that appeared to be wedged behind the headboard.

When tugging from beneath failed to free it, Matilda scrambled out again, frustrated. The captain was leaving very early the next day, returning to his ship and command, and she needed to finish this job. Mrs. Young insisted the bedding be changed before he returned to the house.

She wasn’t supposed to be in his rooms at this hour. No one was. The captain, when he was ashore, ran his home under a firm set of rules that no one dared cross.

Matilda considered her options. She couldn’t leave it there in case it was important to the captain. The bed was too heavy for her to move on her own, and although she could call for help, she hated to do so. The other servants didn’t like her very much, having decided from the beginning to make fun of her at every turn. Calling out to them was decidedly unappealing, so she had no choice but to climb onto the huge bed, hoping she could reach the mysterious item without having to remake her morning’s work entirely.

It was dark behind the headboard, and she thrust her hand into the narrow space.

She touched cold metal and jerked her hand back in surprise. Matilda peered into the gap and discovered the straps attached to a buckle. Puzzled by their presence, Matilda grabbed the item and tugged it into the light. It was not what she’d expected to find.

It was a horse’s harness, but a very strange design indeed if it was intended for a normal-sized horse. The straps were made of red silk, the buckles bright silver and definitely too delicate for any beast of burden. On further exploration, she retrieved a leather mask, not unlike a satin one she’d seen the captain wear to a masquerade ball recently. It was engraved with swirls and markings to define the eyes and was sized to fit the full way around the head, almost like a cap that laced at the back with more red silk ribbons.

Intrigued, she searched again and brought out a riding crop and cat-o’-nine-tails that appeared new. The latter gave her gooseflesh just to look at it, but the strands were so soft that she wasn’t sure it could be used for punishment of any member of the captain’s crew.

She sat back on her heels, flexing the crop between her hands, puzzled. Why would the captain keep such items hidden behind his bed? Surely they belonged in his dressing room with his clothes, although some of them deserved to be in the stables. She picked up the mask again and studied the item, running her fingertips over the smooth sections where his cheeks would rest. Beautifully made, and the leather was supple as if it was worn often.

Matilda scurried off the bed and moved to the mirror to find out, but when she saw her appearance she nearly died of mortification. Her hair looked dreadful. She appeared a waif who had run backward through a briar patch.

Matilda quickly released her hair from the few pins she owned, smoothed the strands until they were tidy, and swept it up again into a neat and modest arrangement. Feeling better about herself at last, she lifted the captain’s mask into place.

The leather was soft against her skin, and wearing it made it seem as if a stranger was in the room with her. It hid her identity so well she was curious to know more about the purpose. She’d never seen Captain Ford carrying it out the door on his way to a society entertainment. She probably should not pay so much attention to the handsome captain; as a servant, his comings and goings were none of her business. Nevertheless, she had long ago admitted the man was more than a little intriguing. He was quiet, he never yelled, but somehow his brief stays in the town house managed to terrify each and every servant so much that they fell over themselves trying to please him.

He was dangerous in a way Matilda could never quite pin down. He made her wonder if falling into her employer’s arms might not be the scandal her upbringing told her it should be.

Through the eyes of the mask, she saw the door open behind her, and she gasped as she realized her employer had returned.

Matilda dropped the mask from her face and swept it behind her back, hoping to hide what she’d been doing from Captain William Ford.

His dark eyes bored into hers, flickered to the bed where her discoveries were still on display, and then back to her. His brow furrowed, which she’d learned was not a good sign. He was displeased, as he often was around her no matter how hard she tried to be unobtrusive. She couldn’t have picked a worse day to linger in his room.

The click of the door lock was very loud in the room. “Miss Winslow,” he said in his soft way, causing gooseflesh to rise all over her skin.


He came close. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

Matilda clenched the mask behind her back. “Making the bed,” she explained weakly and then prayed he would not notice she’d failed to straighten the comforter from when she’d been standing on it.

“The bed is made, although somewhat imperfectly.” He stopped a foot from her, and then his attention flickered to the mirror behind her back. His brow rose. “Show me what is behind your back.”

“I. Oh. This mask?” She offered it to him, seeing no point of hiding it any longer. He must have seen she’d been holding his possession through the mirror’s reflection, a major transgression for any servant. She’d been warned before not to touch his personal items. “It fell.”

His expression grew cold. “And the other articles. Did they fall too?”

“No.” She swallowed the lump in her throat when he would not take the mask from her shaking hand. “Only one item truly fell. I still have not retrieved it from behind the headboard. It is out of my reach, only I did not know you stored these other items there and recovered them by mistake. I will put everything back the way I found it, I promise.”

His hot fingers wrapped around her wrist and held her in place. The mask dropped from her hand. “Too late for that.”

His grip tightened, and her heart began to pound. “Captain?”

One brow lifted. “Have I not issued clear instructions that I do not want servants lingering in my bedchamber?”


Unneeded for command of a ship after surviving serious injury, disciplinarian Captain William Ford was ready to face society until he’s cornered by a marriage minded miss. He makes a desperate bargain with the maid who saved his life—act the part of a besotted lover in return for financial gain to drive the woman away—only to end up in a very real marriage to avoid the scandal of his own making.

When Matilda’s plans to marry another end abruptly, she reluctantly agrees to Captain Ford’s marriage proposal to protect his sister’s marriage prospects with his assurance of an eventual annulment and independence. She soon discovers her husband’s desire to guide her with a firm hand stirs a shocking passion in her. Does she dare gift William with her secrets and heart…or admit that his desires match her own when they never intended forever?


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