Regency Romps, Rogues, Spies and Lords of Honor, Box Set, Books 1, 2, 3! 500+ pages for 99 Cents! Cerise DeLand’s Delicious Box Set!
Lady Varney’s Risqué Business, Book 1
When a proper lady of the ton takes on a new client in her matchmaking business, she discovers he has one risqué demand. Spend the night with him!
Rendezvous with a Duke, Book 2
Anna Fournier secludes herself, scandal staining her family name and all her prospects for anonymity, employment and even love. But one afternoon she plays her newest composition in a piano shop—and one man who cannot forget her decides to right the wrong done her years ago
Masquerade with a Marquess
She wanted to find her family’s stolen treasures. He wanted to avoid caring for her again. But together, they found more than treasure. They discovered love that had endured decades of war and loss.
Excerpt from LADY VARNEY’s RISQUE BUSINESS: Copyright, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved.
Kitty glanced toward her friend Lucy and the smile wreathing the bride’s face made Kitty understand the full meaning of the word envy. “You’ve seen the scandal sheets? How someone found my fan in the pantry?”
Justin nodded, looked horrid. “The gossip du jour.”
She clutched her stomach. “Do not make light of this.”
“Sorry, darling. I should have seen it there before I left, but I was in such a rush, I didn’t.”
She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, too. I should have had my wits about me. But I—”
“I was the same.” His gaze was consoling and incredibly sympathetic. “Undone. Wanting you.”
She inhaled, sat back. He was so kind, so sweet, so unlike Henry. “Tell me what happened after I left the pantry.”
“I cleaned up the glass. Found a kitchen maid who hailed the butler. Then I apologized and offered to purchase new glassware.”
“But how did you explain why we—you were there?”
Justin shrugged. “I lost my way in the house.”
“He believed you?”
“I thought so.”
They stared at each other for a long moment in which she expressed more gratitude with her eyes than with her words. “As soon as someone connects the broken glassware to my fan, we will be done for.”
“Not if you marry me, we won’t.”
“Do not begin that again.” She warned beneath her breath.
“Why?” she asked him, stood and said, “I must find the ladies’ retiring room. Excuse me.”
She made her way out of the dining room, but Justin was hard on her heels.
In the hall, she spun on him and stamped her foot. “Following me is so obvious. Go away.”
“No. You must listen to me. About the roses.”
She put her hands to her ears and strode down the hall.
In two steps, he pulled her from her chosen path and swung her into the family library. Pressing her against a stack of books, he braced his hands on either side of her head.
Blocked, she fumed and fussed. “Say what you will and let me go.”
He arched his brows. “I want to tell you about your roses.”
“Not mine. Yours.”
“They have sprung their first blooms now,” he said, undeterred by her testiness. “Rich reds and creamy whites. They have grown, changed. They need more space to mature. Some must be transplanted soon.”
His declaration melted a cold, hard part of her resistance. She wanted to sob, run, be done here. “They must be lovely.”
“They won’t be for long.” He caught a teardrop from her cheekbone.
“They need someone to tend them properly.”
“You have a gardener.” She sniffed.
“I have no wife. And I need one, my darling. I need you.” He wrapped his hand around her nape and sank his fingers up against her scalp. His lips brushed hers.
“I’m not a good bet, you know I’m not.” And there is your uncle’s demand for a rich heiress.
“You married an old man and endured him. Marry a young man and enjoy him.” He kissed her then, his tongue darting inside to tantalize her with the promise of a different life.
“I want you. I do,” she told him. “But I cannot take the chance.”
“That I’d berate you. Badger you. Insult you? That’s what he did, isn’t it?”
Justin kissed her again, sweetly, desperately, lovingly. “Am I like him?”
“No. Never.” She put her palm to his flies and beneath the superfine wool, she felt one piece of hard evidence that he resembled Henry Varney in no way.
He crushed her hand to his firm body. “I mean to have you.”
She fought to undo his buttons. “Do it then.”
He glanced around the dim wood lined walls. “Here.”
Following his line of sight, she saw the map table. “You wouldn’t.”
“I will,” he told her and tugged her to the center of the room where a large table held maps. He lifted her and put her on it, her knees bent over the edge. “Let me raise your skirt, madam. I need to kiss you there.”
Kitty halted. Her gaze met Justin’s.
Something plunked to the floor. A book? A shoe?
He seized her hand. As he pulled open the door, he whispered, “Wait. Have you left anything?”