Wagers Gone Awry
(Conundrums of the Misses Culpepper Book 1)
Captivating, emotionally charged ride filled with humor and wit.
Coming April 7, 2015
Preorder yours today!
Brooke Culpepper resigned herself to spinsterhood when she turned down the only marriage proposal she’d likely ever receive to care for her family. After her father dies, a distant cousin inherits the estate and becomes their guardian but permits Brooke to act in his stead.
Heath, Earl of Ravensdale is none-too-pleased to discover five young women call the dairy farm he won and intends to sell, their home. Desperate, pauper poor, and with nowhere to go, Brooke proposes a wager. His stakes? The farm. Hers? Her virtue. The land holds no interest for Heath, but Brooke does and he accepts her challenge.
Brooke loses, and her devastation is compounded when the cousin arrives, intending to haul the Culpepper misses off to London. Heath astounds himself and proposes in order to apply for guardianship of the other girls.
Does Brooke dare marry the handsome stranger who’d been bent on compromising her? Will Heath regret his impulsive gesture, or will unexpected love flourish?
“My lord, this way if you please.” Miss Culpepper motioned to the doorway the girl dressed in green disappeared into earlier. “We’ll give you a moment of privacy to dry yourself and exchange your coat for Papa’s. It’s rather worn, I’m afraid, but you should be a mite more comfortable than wearing yours.”
The trio filed through the entrance, slender as reeds, each of them. A natural physical tendency or brought on by insufficient food? Mayhap both.
Heath followed, guilt’s sharp little teeth nipping at his heels. He glimpsed the tray as Miss Brette arranged it on a table before the fireplace. How they could be charitable he didn’t know, and had their situations been reversed, honesty compelled him to admit, he mightn’t have been as hospitable. Not much better than their snake of a cousin, was he? The notion left a sickening knot in his middle and a rancorous taste on his tongue.
Actually, the foul taste might be a spot of mud he’d licked from his lip. Pray God the dried crumb was mud and not some other manner of filth.
“Let’s give his lordship a moment, shall we?” With a wan smile, Miss Culpepper ushered her wards from the study.
Frenetic whispers sounded the moment they left his sight.
Heath made quick work of exchanging the jackets. The one he donned smelled slightly musty, and a hint of tobacco lingered within the coarsely woven threads. Too big around, the garment skimmed his waist. The Culpeppers didn’t get their height or svelteness from Mr. Culpepper’s branch of the family. Heath tugged at a too-short sleeve, and his third finger sank into a moth hole.
What brought this family to such destitution?
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