The Redemption of Madeline Munrove

Love and Betrayal . . . Regency Style

Madeline Munrove’s mother instilled three truths in her daughter. These truths were as follows: First, men were basically useless creatures driven by decisions calculated below the waist. Second, women were far superior in intelligence and fortitude. And third, women must pretend the first and second were untrue if they hoped to navigate in a society ruled by such worthless creatures.

Enter Douglas Fontaine, a man whose life is ruled by logic and analysis. Such behavior is the reason he has created a ‘test’ which prospective brides must pass in order to gain consideration for the position of ‘wife’. When a chance game of cards with a scoundrel wins him a country estate, Douglas has no idea Madeline resides at the estate or that his very ordered existence is about to be upended.

As Madeline and Douglas attempt to determine the true nature and secrets of the other, they will soon learn that no amount of calculation will account for the moment when logic collides with passion…

Here's a small sample:
The man narrowed his gaze on her and frowned. "I said stop the infernal yelling before you render me deaf."

"No, the part about the others." He appeared so much bigger when viewed close up, as though she were peering at him from beneath the lens of Gregory's magnifying glass. There was too much of him, large chunks of minute details she did not care to see...the jagged scar on his chin hidden beneath dark stubble, the long fringe of eyelashes, the errant silver streaks in his chestnut hair.

"I am not going to hurt the others whoever the others may be," he repeated in an obvious attempt to control his temper.

It did not bode well the man had a temper. Men with tempers could not be reasoned with. Or manipulated. The men in the Munrove family did not possess tempers, which made them malleable, even jovial. She would wager this man did not possess a jovial bone in his overlarge body.

How to proceed? Madeline blew out a tiny breath. Very tiny. As long as they were safe. And then the other thought stormed her brain. "And me?" She stared straight into those silver eyes, fighting the twirling in her stomach. "Do you plan to murder me?"

He rubbed his jaw.

She held her breath.

"No."

She let out a swoosh of relief. Unfortunately, another possibility tickled her brain. "Have your way with me then?"

He cocked a brow. "Is that an invitation?"

Brute. "Of course not, but if forcing yourself on me is your intent, then I must warn you, I will not lie here meekly."

He cleared his throat. "I should hope not."

"I will kick and scream, and thrash about."

His lips twitched. "Do tell."

"And claw my nails down your back until I make you scream."

Those silver eyes widened. "You would make me scream?"

She would teach him. "I would. And when I was through, on my word you would not be able to move even your little finger."

The man nodded slowly, his gaze traveling the length of her and settling on the third button of her blouse, the one she only now realized she had neglected to button this morning in her haste to reach the barn.

"You seem a worthy opponent."

"The worthiest," she spat out. She jerked a hand over her chest. Take that, Mr. Intruder.