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Lady Clarissa has decided to live life on her terms. After the end of a ten-
year betrothal, she wants nothing to do with marriage or the men of the ton. Least of all her friend’s brother, the very charming Lord Markham, or Hearts, as many ladies call the oh-so-handsome earl.
Markham pursues relationships with no ties that bind. Acting the rake leaves everyone satisfied…until he overhears a wager that could lead to Clarissa’s ruin. He can’t help but step in and claim she’s his intended bride.
Clarissa is appalled. She did not need to be saved. Reluctantly, she agrees to the fake courtship, if only to experience what the rakish Markham can offer. But when lust becomes love, Clarissa must make up her own terms and bet it all on Hearts.
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Review Quotes
“I absolutely loved Clarissa and Markham’s story!! I think it is probably my favorite of the year!!” -Amy A., NetGalley
“A deeply captivating tale with a refreshingly dominant heroine.” -Pages Book Blog
“filled with sizzle, touches of humor, heartwarming family dynamics, and a deep well of emotion” -PJ, The Romance Dish
“I absolutely loved Markham allowing Clarissa the control she needed to learn to trust him. He was a fabulous hero!” -Rose, Rose is Reading Blog
“deftly blends humor, passion and drama in an irresistible historical romance that will touch your heart and tickle your funny bone” -Julie, Bookish Jottings
Excerpt
Markham lifted his brows. “At present, you are my only concern.”
Oh, heavens. Why did being his only concern seem like all she could ever want?
She flashed him a quelling look. “You must stop that.”
“Stop what?” He asked, frowning.
“Stop using that voice.”
“You mean my voice?”
“You sound as if you are sincere.”
“I have given you my word. I am sincere.”
She went hot. Then cold. Then hot again—a fluctuation that matched her conflicting desires. “Forgive me. I—I have never been in quite this position before.”
“You must believe,” he looked deep into her eyes. “I am not out to harm you in any way. And I will always respect your wishes.”
Always.
She rather liked that word.
She nodded slowly. “I wish—” What did she wish?
I wish…I wish…I wish…
Her unfinished wishes wafted between them like seeds flying on little feathered umbrellas.
I wish…I wish…I wish…
But would her wishes land on fertile ground, or would they be crushed beneath a boot?
“I wish us luck,” she finished.
He smiled warmly. And suddenly she was thinking of trees in unlikely places—hanging off cliffs, pushing up between flagstones.
“Would you permit me to hold your hand?” he asked.
Hearts—rake of the seasoned ton—asked to hold her hand.
And, his voice had shaken.
“Now?” Silly question. When else would he mean?
The color in his cheeks deepened. He nodded.
She held out her hand. “Since we’ve made an agreement, I suppose we should shake hands.”
At first, he did not move. She began to wonder if time itself had frozen—caught inelegantly between desire and impossibility. Then, his warm, gloveless fingers closed over hers and the sensation was divine.
“Clarissa…”
Pillowed by the rich tones of her voice her name was not so much a name as a blessing. He threaded his thumb under hers and stroked between her thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes, leaving their hands entwined. Behind her lids the world turned gray as he traced indecipherable lines into her hand.
Only they weren’t lines, were they?
He was tracing a heart.