The One With the Rogue and the Reader

She's a spinster. He's just found out that he's her guardian. Will their childhood friendship turn to love?

Juliet likes books, ficuses, and spinsterhood. In that order. She's planning a future of philosophical discussions and fencing with like-minded women. What she's not planning is to find out that her childhood friend-turned-adonis has somehow been appointed her guardian for the next year until she receives her inheritance.

Ryker, a lost rogue, would like nothing better than to ignore any present truths in his life. He's not ready to face anything with substance. Especially if that substance is an alluring women who turns out to be his ward.

Can a secret letter bring the rogue and the reader together at last?

Read The One With the Rogue and the Reader if you love guardian-ward, forbidden love vibes, and sweet and spicy reads.

The One With the Rogue and the Reader is the first standalone novella in the steamy regency romance series:

The One With the Rogue and the Reader
The One With the Duke's Curvy Bride (coming soon!)
The One With the Duke, a Scandal, and a Mistletoe (coming this Christmas!)


What readers are saying:

"This is a sweet and fun ride. Passion, love, and friendship abound." ~Amazon Reviewer


"This story grabbed my attention from the start." ~Amazon Reviewer


"I love a good guardian/ward trope" ~Amazon Reviewer

"Delicious steam and a very happy ending. I highly recommend reading" ~Amazon Reviewer


*This book was originally published in a shorter version in the Love for Maui Anthology as The Rogue and the Reader.

1816, England

IT WAS EASY TO hide beside the ficus. That was what Juliet always did at balls. Rarely did anyone notice. The plants were large and decorative, but inconspicuous. If she wore green, she fit right in. And plants demanded nothing from her. If she had sat with the wallflowers, even then she might have had to engage in some conversation. Perhaps some gossip. Or equally horrifying, idle chatter about needlework.

No, hiding was the easy part. The real challenge, if she wanted to take it on, was to try and smuggle a book in her pocket to read for each ball. That sounded delightful. Only the decision of which book to bring was a greater challenge. And perhaps which bookmark to use. That was equally challenging since losing her favorite one years ago.

Juliet scanned the ballroom crowded with beautiful women and men in their finest attire. Looking down at her simple white gown (she had forgotten to wear green this evening), she felt out of place. An outlier. Technically, this was her first season, even though she was four-and-twenty. But she couldn’t have come out any earlier, nor did she want to, because when her father, the Earl of Chesterson, passed away just after her eighteenth birthday, nothing could prompt Juliet away from the house and her books.

She could spend all day reading. Moving from one room to the next every few hours. Exchanging genres. She was often reading up to four books at a time. A lurid novel, something in philosophy, something old to be comforting, and something new to spark interest. An entire day could float away if she was immersed in her books and taking short walks in the gardens. Her favorite spot held the fragrance of roses. Red roses in particular were her favorite. They symbolized love. She also caved for pink carnations, despite their meaning. I’ll never forget you. The sight of them was bittersweet, of course. It was a reminder of what was. What had been. And it had been beautiful. And in the same moment, it was a reminder that what was beautiful was no longer. Surrounded by flowers and ensconced in the imagery of books, she could spend hours fantasizing. Especially if what she had just consumed in text was particularly riveting.

Days like that were her favorite. The sun would warm her face as she envisioned a different world. A new life.

Everything had grown stagnant. Melancholic. And though she was mostly content, there was something missing. If only something exciting would happen. If something beautiful could reappear. She could dream again.

She stood behind the ficus hiding, not home reading, because being near spinsterhood now, it was nearly impossible to convince those closest to her to allow her to stay home another season. She hadn’t made very many friends amongst the ton, but two sisters, Paulina and Philomena had always been kind to her. They were the only faces she scanned the crowds for, and unfortunately they weren’t in attendance tonight. She could imagine hearing them titter back and forth about the men on the dance floor. Who they wanted to dance with versus who they might feign a megrim with. And then of course, who they might turn an ankle with, in the off chance he might carry her away in his arms (in front of everyone, mind) out onto the terrace, into the dark, for a private kiss.

So here she stood, slightly hidden behind her leafy green best friend, in awe of the beauty around her. She had never been pretty. Or so everyone’s silence on the matter reminded her. Even her father, a good father mind, ever reassured her by saying it wasn’t yet her time. Only one person had ever truly tried to encourage her in the area of esthetics. He had called her cygnet. That was so long ago. Well, she supposed she was still waiting for that promised day. It seemed no amount of white dresses would fool the beau monde.

This was her fifteenth ball of the season, and her dance card remained empty again. A sigh escaped her lips. Fashion worked for some people. Just not her. Perhaps she would continue brainstorming her idea to start hosting a salon for women to discuss topics other than fashion. Philosophy. Fencing. Fishing. And other topics not starting with the same sound. Juliet grinned to herself. It would be exhilarating to discuss more in depth issues with similarly minded women. She need only wait until her twenty-fifth birthday. Then this long-awaited search for her absentia guardian would be over.

It still rankled that her solicitors would not tell her the name of her guardian. Didn’t she have a right to know? She could be of help in finding him. The irresponsible wastrel. Well, truth be told, she had no idea what he was like. Not knowing his name, she knew nothing about him. But what kind of man shirked his responsibilities?

Her father’s solicitors had been searching for him for a few years now, and there was no word of him. The number of bow street runners that had traipsed through her house was greater than the number of balls she had attended this season.

Oh well, she had one season to enjoy, and then she would do whatever she wanted with her life. Her father had left her an enormous inheritance, which had somehow been kept under wraps so far. Thankfully she had no head hunters to fend off. Especially thankfully, since her cowardly guardian was nowhere to be found to help with said fending.

After this season, surely something exciting would happen. She would spot something beautiful in all the mundane.

For now, all the balls, routs, and various events were to be about having a pleasant time. She was too young for anything serious like love and marriage.

Or so she kept telling herself.