Publisher : Entangled: Amara (February 9, 2021)

Mass Market Paperback : 400 pages

As owner of the most scandalous club in London, the last thing the notorious Marquess of Roth wants is a wife. Keeping up his false reputation as a rake brings in the clients with the deepest pockets?money he needs to fund a noble cause. Even though everything inside tells him not to leave his beautiful, innocent wife behind at his country estate…he must.

But three years later, tired of her scoundrel of a husband headlining the gossip rags, Lady Isobel Vance decides enough is enough. She is no longer a fragile kitten, but as the anonymous author of a women’s sexual advice column, she’s now a roaring tigress…and she can use her claws.

Isobel decides to go to him in London, channeling her powers of seduction to make him beg to take her back. But she didn’t expect her marauding marquess to be equally hard to resist. Now the game is on to see who will give in to the other first, with both sides determined like hell to win.

Each book in the Regency Rogues series is STANDALONE:

* The Beast of Beswick

* The Rakehell of Roth

Excerpt

Despite a few vague rumors of his aversion to matrimony, their wedding had been a boon, and what had caused him to propose hadn’t been of interest to her, only that he had.

Now, however, Isobel frowned.

Why had he decided to settle down?

Roth didn’t need her dowry. As far as she knew, he was in line for a very solvent dukedom. She’d heard the gossip that the marquess had the reputation of a notorious rake, but which young gentleman wasn’t a bit of a rogue? Her aunt had always said that reformed rakes made the best husbands.

Isobel didn’t know if that was the case with Roth, but she hoped his roué days were over. Her own father had been faithful to her mother, and though Isobel knew that many gentlemen of the ton kept mistresses, the idea did not sit well with her. Not that she would have any say in such things. A society lady was meant to do her duty and provide an heir, and even if her husband sought carnal diversions elsewhere, it was of no consequence.

With a face like his, it wasn’t hard to picture the dashing marquess being surrounded by fawning, simpering women. She spared him a furtive glance through her lashes and promptly lost her breath. The man made the estimable Beau Brummell look like a shriveled toad. Tall, broad-shouldered, and superbly fit, he was every lady’s dream. Hers as well, if her galloping heart had anything to say about it. Even in profile, his sharply edged masculine beauty made her cheeks heat. Sculpted lips, high cheekbones, thick, golden-brown hair curling into a wide brow, and glittering eyes the color of a glacier in a winter storm. His given name was fitting.

Winter.

Because at the moment, he embodied the frigid season.

Suppressing a tiny sigh, Isobel sipped at her warm drink and winced. She’d give anything for a glass of her sister’s whisky. Or some French brandy. Something with a little more bite to bolster her flagging confidence. Or ward off the chill of her iceberg of a husband. Perhaps he had other things on his mind, like matters of business?

She drew a bracing breath, determined to make the best of it.

“Are you well, my lord?” she ventured softly. Slate-gray eyes fell to hers, confused for an instant as if he didn’t know who she was or what she was doing there, as though she were some species of creature he did not recognize. But then they cleared, and recognition filled them. “Yes, of course. And you?”

“I’m well, thank you.”

“Good.”

Awkward silence spooled between them.

So much for brilliant conversation. Ducking her head, Isobel cringed and gulped the rest of her tasteless drink, her eyes darting to the revelry within the balcony doors. Lady Hammerton’s ball was in full swing, and Isobel knew that Astrid would be there. A small comfort, at least.

“I…I suppose we should go in,” she suggested.

The marquess gave her an unreadable look, though his mouth pinched with the barest hint of resignation. “Yes, the show must go on, mustn’t it?”

She blinked in confusion. “The show, my lord?”

He leaned down to graze his lips over her cheek, the soft caress at odds with his mocking tone and taking her by surprise. Inhaling deeply as though scenting her skin, his nose drifted down the curve of her jaw until his mouth hovered over the corner of hers. Isobel’s lips parted of their own trembling accord, in unspoken invitation, which he did not accept.

Kiss me, she wanted to beg.

Buy on Amazon | Audible

About the Author

AMALIE HOWARD is the author of the Publishers Weekly bestseller, The Beast of Beswick, “a smart, sexy, deliciously feminist romance.” She is the co-author of the #1 bestsellers in regency romance and Scottish historical romance, My Rogue, My Ruin and What A Scot Wants, and has also penned several young adult novels, critically acclaimed by Kirkus, Publishers Weekly, VOYA, School Library Journal, and Booklist, including Waterfell, The Almost Girl, and Alpha Goddess, a Kid’s INDIE NEXT selection. Of Indo-Caribbean descent and a woman of color, she has written articles on multicultural fiction for The Portland Book Review and Ravishly magazine. She currently resides in Colorado with her husband and three children. Visit her at amaliehoward.com.

Connect with Amalie: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram