The Betting Season

I’ve teamed up once again with some of my favorite Regency Romance authors to write The Betting Season. In this fun and lighthearted anthology, Four young women embark on their first London Season, only to find themselves the subjects of scandalous bets…

Here’s the blurb for my own story, The Marriage Trap…

When Miss Patience Findley discovers, at her first ball of her first Season, just how much her father’s scandal has affected her chances of marriage, she resigns herself to being alone and dying a spinster. That is, until she hears that her friends’ names have landed in the Betting Book at White’s. In a moment of desperation, she asks her reprobate cousin to place a bet on her behalf, in hopes of trapping an unsuspecting gentleman into marriage.
Tristan Wallford, Lord Swaffham, loves a good challenge. So when his friend, Rowan Findley, claims that his cousin Patience cannot be cured of her melancholy state, Tristan lays a bet that he will be the one to cure her. He could certainly use the money, after all. But as the game begins, Tristan begins to realize that not only does Miss Findley not need curing, but she might be worth trapping for himself.

And just for fun, here’s a little insight into our hero and heroine…

Tristan Wafford, Lord Swaffham, loved women. He loved them in all their shapes and sizes and colors. He loved to engage them in conversation and he especially loved to engage them in the bedroom. He had no scruples to speak of really. As a matter of fact, he’d left many a weeping woman in their beds without so much as a backward glance.

Many found him a despicable man, a disgrace to his sex, yet women still flocked to his side. Desperate mamas thrust their eligible daughters into his path at social events, and he had been guilty of making those eligible daughters slightly less eligible on more than one occasion. But Tristan had a knack for getting himself out of sticky situations, and therefore, he remained a bachelor at the ripe age of nine-and-twenty. Which was exactly how he preferred it to be.


Miss Patience Findley was starting to realize that she was anything but patient, as her name would indicate. As a matter of fact, she probably should have been named Impatience, though she realized it wasn’t nearly as nice of a name as simply Patience. Either way, her current mood did not reflect her given name….

The only thing she had to recommend her was a sizeable dowry, but it came from trade, so not everyone was interested in pursuing the connection. It didn’t help that she wasn’t terribly attractive. She had hair every bit as black as her Indian stepmother, only she didn’t have the coffee-colored skin to complement it. No, she was as white as the dress she wore this evening. She imagined it looked as if an inky black cat was floating about the room atop a ghostly apparition.

Look for The Betting Season at all major ebook outlets soon!

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