Conundrums of the Misses Culpepper Book 2
Is his protecting his honor more important than winning her heart?
Intrepid and outspoken…
Dragged to London for a Season, Blythe Culpepper is dismayed to learn her guardian has enlisted 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. Still, 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 closest friend in presenting the Culpeppers to the ton? Might it be because one particular 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 a past 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.
Caution: This book contains a nobleman with a dark past, a strong-minded miss who is willing to cause a scandal if it means she can leave London, a spoiled, aging Welsh Corgi with digestive disruptions that can clear a room, and an entourage of goodhearted sisters and cousins whose antics land them in conundrum after conundrum.
Buy the second installment of the Conundrums of the Misses Culpepper historical Regency romance series for a romping, emotional, and romantic adventure you won’t want to put down.
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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?
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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