The Ultimate Ashbourne Legacy Audiobook Bundle

Listen to ALL 7 audiobooks in The Ashbourne Legacy series.

Each book is short enough for you to make it to bed on time.

Unless you start into the next one...

Book 1: The Blighter and the Bluestocking

She’s a bluestocking living on the edge of scandal.

He’s looking for anything but that to be the mother of his future children.

Book 2: The Scoundrel and the Scientist

She’s the scientist who needs to make a new home for herself.

He’s the bumbling scoundrel who kisses her.

Book 3: The Virgin and the Vixen

She’s the vixen, even though she’s never done an improper thing in her entire life.

He’s the virgin because, well, he’s never done a woman in his entire life.

Book 4: The Rogue and the Rose

She’s undaunted by her prospects of being a spinster because she has an infallible strategy to stay safe and secure…

Until she takes a ride with a rogue who’s the irresistible embodiment of danger.


Book 5: The Rake and the Writer

Her mission in life is to warn women of all the notorious rakes in the haut ton.

His mission in life is not to be a rake. Which should be easy, since he’s not one.

Book 6: The Wastrel and the Wallflower

She’s a plain, ever-predicting, and ever-predictable wallflower.

He’s the cheeriest man on the planet, with no real plans for his life.

Book 7: The Spy and the Spinster

She’s resolved to be a spinster and doesn’t need anyone to watch out for her.

He’s made a vow to be her protector. Only she doesn’t know it. So really, he’s spying on her.





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These audiobooks are auto-narrated.
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What Readers are Saying:
"A witty and steamy quick read" ~Amazon Reviewer

"Short and hilarious! Curiosity leads to love." ~Amazon Reviewer

"I loved this short story SO much!" ~Amazon Reviewer

"It was so adorable, funny, and sweet right from the collision meeting." ~Amazon Reviewer

WHAM!

That was the sound of the contraption’s wheels plowing into his thighs.

EEK!

That was the sound of the woman flying from her seat.

THUMP!

That was the sound of the two of them crashing to the dirt ground. His heavy body rolled to protect her, exerting all its strength to keep her on top of him.

Combined, those were the sounds of Arthur tumbling and falling. In more ways than one. And as he tumbled, thoughts of spectacles, a pale face, and freedom fell into place. And when the tumbling stopped, and the rolling ceased, he could finally feel it. He had his hands on freedom. Had a grasp on it. However fleeting it would be.

“What the dickens are you doing?” Those were the first words out of her shell-pink lips. Reminding him of the ocean and the times he and his family would go collecting shells. Hope, his littlest sister, was always the one to commit to searching the longest. Arthur would stay by her side, as the dutiful oldest brother, But secretly, he loved foraging for shells. It was calming. There was something about the ocean that conveyed depths unknown, mysteries undiscovered, and curiosities unexplained. But to simply look at, one would simply think of its vastness. Its free flowing waves and openness.

Those soft and plump lips were moving again. Pouting. Those shell-colored, ocean-reminding lips were utterly and completely kissable.

“Are you trying to kill us both?” Those kissable lips were looking slightly less kissable.

“Me?” His hands were on her hips. Her soft, supple hips that fit cozily against his groin. He had one knee raised and one thigh between her legs. Had it been so long since he had been with a woman that the only place his mind knew to reside was in the bedroom? Or on a grassy knoll at sunset? Or in the library after dark?

“Yes, you. What are you doing? You nearly killed me.”

“Me?” He was beginning to realize how incompetent he was sounding. “Me? What rot! I’m not the one on a…a…”

“A Glider,” she spat out.

“A Glider. Right. Well, I’m not the one gliding around in a most unladylike fashion on a…a Glider in the wee hours of the morning damaging her reputation.” Only, she didn’t feel unladylike. In complete contradiction to his words, she felt only ladylike, all over his manlike parts.

“Me? Damaging my own reputation? I think that’s certainly within my rights to do. Should I venture to do so.”

“What rubbish.”

“I need not listen to your pedantic strictures on the propriety of my behavior. Your supercilious disposition does nothing to endear yourself to me.”

“You and your multisyllabic vocabulary. You must be a bluestocking.” He said it with disdain, but the larger parts of him felt admiration. “I’m not trying to endear myself to you.” Though his body disagreed. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me? You blighter.” She laughed. A beautiful laugh. A laugh that rang out into the trees and encouraged the birds to sing. “You think by following me in the woods, crashing into me, and holding my person against your body you are protecting me? I should like to know what genius contrived that plan.”

“I wasn’t following you.” Not intentionally, anyway. “But said genius would be yours truly, Arthur.” He had not meant to say that. His Christian name. Of all things. But something in his gut, or perhaps lower, convinced him that he needed to steal closer to her. Closer than bodies pressed together, that is.

Her eyes flew wide in surprise. His would have too, save all the years of training himself to remain composed in the face of any and all circumstances.

“Well, Arthur, do you think you can do your protecting from an upright position?”

Upright. Bent over. Sideways. Upside down. From behind. He was pretty sure he could do it from any position.