Meet the Earl at Midnight (Midnight Meetings, 1) - Softcover

The series Midnight Meetings gives you fairy tales with a twist. 
You'll find the familiar turned on its head. In Book One, Meet the Earl at Midnight, the Beast tames Beauty. And Book Two, The Lady Meets Her Match? What if Cinderella doesn't want her shoe back? Of course there's lots more to come. Stay tuned.Midnight Meetings, Georgian romance you don't want to miss because...What happens at midnight changes everything

Lord Greenwich studied her with a different potency in his dark eyes. Lydia lowered her lashes, aware of how men's minds worked. She needed to regroup and gather her wits, but the Earl must have sensed her wariness, or so she guessed when he extended a gloved hand.

"Please. This need not be unpleasant." His voice lulled her. "I promise I won't bite."

"Meaning sometimes you do," she snipped.

A muffle of low, masculine laughter floated from his collar. "Only on a full moon."

His quip surprised her much like a clue revealed.  Still, this midnight meeting defied reason, best she use caution. When she didn't move, his hand dropped to his side. His lordship's presence grew bigger in the tiny room, though he stood a safe, respectable distance. 
 
"Very well then. Why not take off your cloak?" he coaxed.

"How like a man," she said, eyeing him from the safety of her hood. "Get a woman naked, first. Solve a problem, second."

That earned her another low masculine chuckle.

"Now, now," he chided. "I'm not asking you to undress, only that you remove your cloak. As you informed all, you are wet and soggy." Lord Greenwich motioned to the blazing hearth. "You could stand here and warm yourself...dry your damp skirts."

How did he manage to be commanding and reasonable at the same time? With a sigh, she pushed back her faded red hood and stepped closer. The welcome fire warmed her ankles nicely.

"I am, if anything, ever accommodating," she said tart-tongued.

Her sharpness missed its mark. Instead, her target tipped his head with great interest, almost fascination, when her face came to view. Topaz brown eyes inspected every exposed inch of her visage, searching her with blunt curiosity. A spark as hot and fast as flint striking stone shot through her. Flummoxed, Lydia squared her shoulders and tried for business-like composure.

"I'm sure something can be done to rectify this debt."  

"Your cloak."  

"My cloak?" she repeated, running her palms over damp wool.

"Remove it."