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A Rogue for All Seasons

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Promise Me Tonight     Tempting the Marquess     A Rogue for All Seasons

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A Rogue for All Seasons

Keep falling in love with the Westons
in this story of a charming rogue who meets his match
in the woman he always thought he’d never want…


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Buy It Now!

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June 1, 2013
ISBN: 978-0986012518
eISBN: 978-0986012501

Back Cover Copy

Handsome, debonair and heir to his father’s title and wealth, Henry Weston leads a charmed life. Women want him, and men want to be him. Even so, Henry wants something more, and for that he needs the help of society’s reigning wallflower.

Diana Merriwether is shocked when Henry proposes a mutually beneficial sham courtship. She can’t resist the opportunity to be wooed by him and, having sworn off love, she’s certain her heart is safe. But when their charade plays out behind closed doors and passions escalate, Diana fears she’s really fooling herself.

Henry is captivated by the fiery spirit concealed beneath Diana’s prim exterior. Before long, he wonders if the woman he never thought he’d want is the one he can no longer live without. Wooing this wallflower may be the hardest thing he’s ever done, but can he tempt Diana to take a risk and love a rogue?

Praise

“It grew on me.”
      — Henry Weston

“I cannot believe Henry’s review. Honestly, Henry. ‘It’ grew on you? I grew on you. At the moment, I am at a loss as to how he grew on me. The book was quite lovely. I do think I came across as a bit of a wanton, but then Henry is difficult to resist.”
      — Diana Merriwether

“I am shocked to have received a copy for review. My scene was cut, and the series was canceled before my book was written. I do not know whether to be disappointed or relieved, however, as I am fairly certain the Author planned to maim me…”
      — Cordelia Weston

These reviews are incredibly biased and not to be taken at all seriously. The Author will post new reviews as they become available.

Weston Family Tree

A Rogue for All Seasons Weston Family Tree
*This family tree represents the Weston family at the start of A Rogue for All Seasons.

 

For an enlarged view, please download the following PDF: A Rogue for All Seasons Family Tree
Weston Family Tree at the start of A Rogue for All Seasons

Read an Excerpt

Dunston House, London
February 1800

A

 

RE YOU TRULY STAYING IN town for the Season?” Isabella, Countess of Dunston asked, as she handed her brother a cup of tea. “I thought having the whole family here would send you running far and fast.”

“I am keeping a valise packed in the event I need to flee in the night.” Henry Weston regarded his sister with amusement. “Was that your subtle way of suggesting I leave, Izzie? Perhaps you should have considered how often I would visit your breakfast room before you married my oldest friend.”

Isabella laughed, but Henry didn’t miss the subtle tension that tightened her shoulders. James Sheffield, Earl of Dunston, the husband and friend in question, frowned as he set aside his morning paper. “I would wager you come for the food, rather than the company,” he said dryly as he took Isabella’s hand. They exchanged a fond, intimate look that had Henry averting his eyes.

Isabella leaned forward in her seat. “Hal, you must know I am always happy to have you with us,” she earnestly assured him. “I even suggested to James that you ought to stay here. Now that I have redecorated, this is surely more comfortable than your bachelor’s lodging. However—”

“However,” James broke in, “I persuaded your sister that her generosity was unnecessary.”

“But James—”

Henry chuckled. “No, Izzie, he’s quite right. ‘Two is company, three is none,’ isn’t that the saying? Believe me, I have no desire to intrude on your, er…”

“Desires?” supplied James.

“Do you know, I believe we’re long overdue for a round in the ring at Jackson’s. I know I promised my sister I wouldn’t call you out for seducing her, but I think I deserve the opportunity to blacken your daylights.”

“Don’t you dare think of fighting with James,” Isabella warned. “And, just so you know, I was the one doing the seducing.”

Henry and James groaned in unison.

“Hush, love,” James told his wife. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“The only reputation you need to be concerned with upholding,” Izzie maintained, “is that of the world’s most faithful husband and devoted father.”

“And if he slips up? Then can I pound him into the ground?” Henry asked hopefully.

“If he slips up, you are welcome to whatever is left once I’ve finished with him,” his sister agreed, her blond curls bobbing in approval.

James winced in mock agony. “You have nothing to worry about, my bloodthirsty little wench.”

A tender smile curved her lips. “Then neither do you.”

“What you should both be worried about is the spectacle Mother is going to make of you at her ball,” Henry interjected. He wasn’t looking forward to his mother’s ball, but at least he wasn’t the cause for the occasion. That honor fell to James and Isabella, along with Olivia, another of Henry’s sisters, and her husband. In the past two years, two of his sisters had married, giving him two new brothers-in-law and two baby nieces. At times everything felt a bit two much.

Isabella grinned and glanced knowingly in his direction. “I don’t think we are the ones who need to be concerned.”

“What do you mean?”

Isabella sighed. “Have you learned nothing in all these years? What is our mother’s main purpose in life?”

“Finishing her book?” Henry guessed. Their mother had been working on a collection of essays about Shakespeare’s heroines for, well, forever.

“Yes, well, aside from that.” Izzie waved a hand, brushing aside their mother’s opus.

At his blank look, she gestured between herself and James, then held up her left hand, wriggling the finger encircled by her wedding band. How could he forget? Even more than finishing her book, his mother wanted to see all her children wed.

“The twins are a bit young for her matchmaking efforts. Lia and Genni are only twelve. Besides, they’re more interested in books than boys.”

“The twins are fourteen, and the books they’re currently enthralled with are romantic tales. When they were over last week, Lia spent the better part of the visit rhapsodizing over one of the grooms at Weston Manor, and you know Genni will follow where Lia leads. Still, I think the twins are safe for now. Mama’s current project is well past marriageable age.”

Henry groaned. “Is she back to Miss Merriwether again?” His mother had a soft spot for that particular wallflower. “The chit has been out for at least five Seasons. She—”

Isabella stood and leaned over the table until her nose nearly touched his. “Not. Miss. Merriwether.” She punctuated each word with a sharp jab to his chest. “You!”

“No.” He tugged at his cravat, wondering if the temperature in the room had risen drastically in the past few minutes.

“Until the twins are out of the schoolroom,” Isabella continued, confirming his fears “you are the only child Mama has left to marry off. The real reason for this ball is so she can look over this Season’s crop of debutantes with an eye to picking her future daughter-in-law.”

“I’m too young to get married,” Henry protested. “I still have wild oats to sow.”

“If even half of what I hear is to be believed, you’ve already sown more than your fair share,” his sister remarked dryly.

“Besides, I am only four months older than you,” James reminded him, “and Izzie and I are about to celebrate our second anniversary. You’re going to need a better argument than age to avoid the parson’s mousetrap. There’s no reason to avoid it, though. So long as you choose wisely—and I can’t imagine your mother or sisters allowing you to do otherwise—I think you will find the wedded state most enjoyable.”

“He certainly enjoys the bedded one,” Isabella drawled. “Though I think all men—”

“Izzie, my darling, stop tormenting your brother. Will you see if the baby is awake? I’m sure Henry would like to see his niece.”

“Very well,” Isabella huffed, as she rose and headed for the door. “But there is to be no fighting while I am gone,” she reiterated. “Just think how devastated Mama would be if Hal showed up to the ball with a black eye marring his pretty face.”

Henry glowered at her back as she swept from the room. If Isabella was right—and he had learned that Weston women were nearly always right—his mother was intending to see him at the altar by the end of the Season.

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