George, Viscount Hexham, is quite literally thunderstruck when he meets Lady Anne in the park, and he can’t get her off his mind. Her brother, Gabe, is happy to act as a matchmaker, never once mentioning he might already be acting on behalf of the other side. Can two who are so perfectly matched end up married before Anne must endure her first Season in London?
Meanwhile, when a neighbor appears to be spying on George’s twin sister through the telescope in his garden observatory, an incensed Lady Angelica is determined to give him a piece of her mind. Sir Benjamin may end up with her heart as well, as mistletoe and moonlight work their magic in The Angel of an Astronomer.
This first-in-series is available in English at six major retailers as an ebook (Amazon, Apple Books, Google Play, B&N, Kobo and Smashwords) and in paperback and audiobook.There are 563 ratings with an average of 4.1 stars. As with all my books, there are two couples featured, and the heat level is 4 out of 5.
“There you are,” Adele, Countess of Torrington, remarked once she’d found her husband in his study. She leaned against the door jamb, her arms crossed beneath her generous bosom. “I thought you might want a spot of tea. Or coffee.”
Milton looked up from his desk and gave her a grin. “I haven’t exactly been hiding,” he replied. He held a quill in one hand and was regarding a letter he’d just written.
“Correspondence about the earldom?” she guessed, an eyebrow arching up with her query. At eight-and-fifty, her blonde hair was streaked with gray strands, but her elegant features remained youthful. Her husband, nearing seven-and-sixty, was still handsome despite the white hair that had replaced his dark locks just the year before. A pair of wire-rimmed spectacles rested on the end of his nose.
“About the Wadsworth earldom, actually,” he replied.
Adele angled her head to one side. “Anything amiss?”
“At the moment, yes. Four daughters, all about to have their come-outs in the next few years,” he replied with a smirk.
“Oh, poor Sylvia,” Adele replied.
“You mean, poor Wadsworth,” her husband countered. “Entire wardrobes and dowries for four daughters? His earldom is barely solvent as it is.” He didn’t add that there wasn’t yet a single son to inherit the earldom, which meant it would probably go to Wadsworth’s younger brother.
“Oh, dear. What will he do?”
Tempted to tell her the plan, Milton instead inhaled slowly. “I think Wadsworth and I have worked out a solution that will benefit us both,” he said, signing his name to the letter. “In the meantime, I’m thinking I’d like you all to myself for Christmas this year.”
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Tânia Nezio
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