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The Strange Encounter of a Duke and a Scholarly Temptress

By

On October 8, 2025

In Teatime Tattler

Dear Readers,

This report was received just yesterday from one of my faithful correspondents. I know you will find it quite interesting.

Dear Mr. Clemens,

I’m sharing a strange encounter and I’m still unsure whether it was real or a figment of my overactive imagination. I was in a carriage traversing London when I looked out the window and spotted one of the illicit markets that no respectable man or woman would ever attend. Yes, we all love the goods acquired from these illegal events, as they are often tax-free or discounted. I confess I may have an antiquity or a bottle of wine that has passed through such a market.

Still, every respected member of the ton knows to send their servants and not attend themselves, which is why I was shocked to discover the Duke of Sinclair and a brunette woman standing outside one of the events, arguing. At least, I thought it was the Duke of Sinclair. Unfortunately, I only witnessed the interaction briefly.

A carriage passing blocked my line of sight, and by the time it was gone, the man and woman arguing had disappeared. I’ve tried to convince myself it wasn’t him. He is, after all, the most respected duke in London. Yet, the more I ponder it, the more I’m convinced it was him. So, reader, that left me wondering why the Duke of Sinclair would be at such a place and who the woman was with him?

Interestingly, I just read that the Historical Society for Female Curators has partnered with scholar Rose Calvert, an expert in ancient texts. I don’t want to presume too much, but she does have reddish brown hair, and all of London knows how much the duke loves his antiquities. Could it have been them outside arguing, and were they buying stolen relics?

Again, I only caught one glimpse of them, so no one should dare repeat this rumor with any certainty. Yet, if it was them, what could a highly respected duke and eccentric scholar be doing together?

Sincerely,

A Bewildered Lady

 A Translation of Desire

The scholarly temptress is everything he shouldn’t want.

Rose Calvert, famed scholar, returns to London to attend a Season. She has no interest, but her father has forced her hand by shipping ancient tablets back to the city that she is desperate to decipher. She begrudgingly agrees to stay and immerse herself in the balls and teas until she has finished working on the artifacts. Her father hopes she will find her perfect match among London society. She has no interest until an encounter with the imposing Duke of Sinclair makes her begin to question all she has ever desired.

Augustus, the Duke of Sinclair, is the most sought-after gentleman in London. He is considered the unobtainable duke. He has a vast estate and a successful import business that provides goods and antiquities to all of London. Yet, at thirty-five, he still hasn’t found a lady to be his bride. He knows it is his duty to find the perfect duchess, and when he encounters Rose Calvert, it is clear she is not that, but there is something about the woman that he can’t seem to resist.
When Rose’s ancient tablets go missing, she and Augustus team up to find them.

As they spend more time together, these two mismatched partners find it hard to resist the hum of attraction that swirls between them.

Tropes you’ll love:

  • Opposites Attract
  • Class Difference
  • Bluestocking Heroine
  • Stuffy Duke
  • Slow burn
  • Romance with suspense
  • Forbidden Love

About the Author

Since stealing her first historical romance novel from her mother more than twenty years ago, Ramona Elmes has been all in on the genre. Her infatuation with the historical and steamy stirred her to write her own romances.

Ramona loves to write happily ever afters set in the Victorian era. She believes this period makes an exciting backdrop for fast-paced storylines, steamy moments, dramatic endings, and memorable characters.

When not creating ways to entice and torture her characters, she spends her days in Georgia coordinating her family’s crazy life, refereeing pets, hiking, and reading on her front porch.

Reading is hands-down her favorite way to relax, and she is an avid reader of all romance subgenres. Give her a dramatic storyline, a grand declaration, and heart-filled steamy moments, and she is in.

To get updates on Ramona’s books, follow her on Amazon, Facebook, Instagram, or her website.

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/elmes_ramona/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RamonaElmes

Website: https://ramonaelmes.com/

 

 

The Black Sheep’s Grandson and the Cut Direct

By

On September 5, 2025

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

Lady Fernvale’s ball took a remarkable turn last night with the sudden reappearance, after many years, of a young scion of the Satterthwaite and Thurgood families, and his brutal rejection by the earls who head each family.

Some of us are old enough to remember when the charming but feckless and penniless Reginald Satterthwaite ran away with Lady Cristobel Thurgood, the beautiful young daughter of the then Earl of Crosby. The families, of course, wiped their hands of the young pair, leaving Reggie to his own devices – or, as it turned out, to the questionable influence of his own father, Mr. Percival Satterthwaite, at least until the young couple sadly met their ends, first Christobel and then Reggie.

If Reggie was half flash and half foolish, Percival was a devil. No one was surprised when he left England one step ahead of the debt collectors. The question at the time was, what had happened to Christopher Satterthwaite, the young child of Christobel and Reggie? Was he dead, too? Had he fled with his grandfather?

Presumably his godmother Lady Fernvale has the answers, for it was she who introduced him to the ton, and to the head of the Satterthwaite family, the Earl of Halton, and the head of the Thurgood family, the Earl of Crosby. These two gentlemen immediately, and in unequivocal terms, refused the acquaintance, leaving Mr. Christopher Satterthwaite standing repudiated and folorn.

He was not alone, however. Lady Fernvale stood by his side, and so did Miss Clementine Wright, the merchant’s heiress, who went so far as to slip her hand into the young man’s.

We have so many questions, dear reader, and will be asking them of those who might have the answers. Where has Mr. Satterthwaite been and what has he been doing? What do his relatives the earls know to his discredit? What is Miss Wright’s relationship with Mr. Satterthwaite, and can we expect wedding bells? Rest assured, we shall report to you as soon as we are better informed.

The Secret Word

(Book 10 in A Twist Upon a Regency Tale)

When Christopher Satterthwaite rescues Clementine Wright from would-be kidnappers, he is offered an opportunity he can’t refuse. Clemmie’s father, a wealthy coal magnate, has been looking for a husband for his only child. Someone with aristocratic bloodlines and no family—someone who can give him the blue-blooded heir he craves, without the interference of noble relatives.

Chris figures he and Clemmie can work together to keep Wright from controlling their every move. As their partnership develops, they fall in love. Wright doesn’t stand a chance against them. Or does he?

And what about the other men who are showing an interest in the child who is soon on the way? Chris’s reprobate grandfather is hanging around like a bad smell, and clearly has a scheme in mind. Chris’s more respectable relatives have not disowned him after all, and are eager to show the as yet unborn child with every advantage—because they regret not helping Chris as a child? Or for purposes of their own?

And then there is Ramping Billy O’Hara, the most sinister of them all, and Chris’s patron.

Some are villains. Some are on the side of the couple and their child. Only time will tell which is which.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FM8R25VP

Excerpt from The Secret Word

Chris waited anxiously in the private room at Miss Clemens’ Book Emporium and Tea Rooms. He was about to meet cousins from both sides of the family, and he was far from certain about the reception he was about to get.

Clem squeezed his hands and he smiled at her. He wasn’t at all certain he would be facing this if not for her. She gave him strength.

She had done so at Aunt Fern’s ball. Both his mother’s brother, the Earl of Crosby, and his father’s cousin, the Earl of Halton, were there. Later, he found that the public repudiation had been organized by Aunt Fern. But whether they meant it or not was the question.

Both reacted with the same disdain when Chris was presented to them.

Lord Halton said, “Reginald Satterthwaite’s son? I have no wish to meet anyone associated with that scoundrel.”

And Lord Crosby looked Chris up and down and declared, “No, thank you, Lady Fernvale. With all due respect, I see no reason to acknowledge this person.”

Chris wanted the floor to open up and swallow him, and then Clem had slipped her hand into his, and all was right with his world. He had not had their approbation before, and had not felt the need for it. He did not need it now.

Nonetheless, as the minutes ticked by, he acknowledged to himself his deep yearning for a family. He would have Clem, of course. Somehow. With or without Wright’s blessing. But, for as long as he could remember, he had longed for brothers and sisters or—failing them—cousins. Perhaps, if this meeting went well, his children with Clem might grow up knowing their cousins.

The first to arrive was Lord Crosby’s son, a tall man with that gaunt, stretched look of a youth who was still growing—one who ate like a horse and put on no weight. “Are you the son of Reggie Satterthwaite, who ruined my father’s sister Christabel and ran off with her to Gretna Green?” he asked. “I am Michael Thurgood, Lord Crosby’s son and your mother’s nephew.”

He held out a hand to be shaken, so Chris figured his somewhat hostile first question could safely be ignored. “Clem,” he said, figuring a female—and a non-family member at that—might help to keep the conversation civil, “May I present my cousin Michael Thurgood? Thurgood, Miss Wright has done me the honor of accepting my suit. I have yet to convince her father.”

“Miss Wright.” Michael Thurgood’s nod was perfectly polite, but his attention remained on Chris. “Is it true, what Lady Fernvale said? That your grandfather abandoned you in the streets after your father died?” he demanded. “Father says he would have taken you in if you had come to him.”

Chris was about to protest that his nine-year old self had had no idea where the Earl of Halton lived, and no expectation of being welcomed, in any case. But they were interrupted by another arrival. A second man, this one around Chris’s age, so perhaps five or six years older than Thurgood.

Chris would have known him for a Satterthwaite, even if he had not been expecting him. He look more like Reggie, Chris’s father, than Chris did, though his hair and complexion were fairer and his chin was firm and determined where Reginald Satterthwaite’s had been weak. He wore the flashy uniform of a horse guard. “If you’re Satterthwaite, so am I,” he growled. “Hello, Thurgood.”

Thurgood nodded. “Satterthwaite.” He gained a bit of respect from Chris when he then turned to Clem. “Miss Wright, may I make known to you Captain Satterthwaite of His Majesty’s 27th Regiment of Horse, and Satterthwaite, this is our cousin Christopher Satterthwaite and his betrothed, Miss Clementine Wright.”

As with Thurgood, Satterthwaite greeted Clem politely, but then turned his attention back to Chris.

“Is it true you did not go overseas with your grandfather? My father wants to know why you didn’t come to us. We would not have turned you away.”

“You did,” Chris said, dryly. “Or at least, your grandfather had me and my grandfather thrown out of the house, and when my grandfather sent me back on my own, the butler would not let me in.”

“You were nine or ten,” the guard’s officer said.

“I was nine.”

“You went back out into the road, and then what?”

“I ran back to where my grandfather had been, but he was gone. I called out for him. I asked other people if they had seen him. Then I ran down the street he’d left by. But I never found him.”

“I saw you,” Satterthwaite said. “I was watching from the schoolroom. You turned at the corner. Do you remember? You shook your fist at the house.”

“I did,” Chris said.  He had forgotten that detail until this moment. “I was angry with my grandfather and with yours.”

Outrageous Behavior Reported in Wales

By

On July 23, 2025

In Teatime Tattler

Dear Readers,

One might presume that only our fair London could be witness to the most delicious scandals, but it has come to the attention of Your Faithful Correspondent that the quiet society of Newport, Wales, was shocked recently by the outrageous behavior of one Miss Anne Sutton, daughter of Richard Sutton, Esq., of Vine Court, Llanfyllin.

Miss Sutton was reportedly present at the nuptial celebrations of the Viscount Penrydd and the new Viscountess Penrydd, the former Miss Gwenllian Carew, whom Your Faithful Correspondent has learned was the one-time ward of Mr. Richard Sutton and Miss Sutton’s dearest childhood friend. It seems romantic entanglements proliferate in this sleepy village on the Severn, however, for the viscount had competitors for Miss Carew’s hand in the form of one Mr. Daron Sutton, our Miss Sutton’s elder and quite dashing brother, and no less than Mr. Calvin Vaughn, of the Greenfield Vaughns, son of Sir Lambert, K.B.

Miss Carew bestowing her hand on the viscount—as all of us, Dear Reader, are obliged to make the best possible match—Mr. Vaughn buried his disappointment in claiming that his previous betrothal to Miss Sutton still stood.

Miss Sutton, it seems, did not agree, for Your Faithful Correspondent has it on the best authority that not a day after the return of Captain Hewitt Vaughn from abroad—creating such a stir at the viscount’s nuptials that his own mother fainted and had to be revived—he and Miss Sutton are engaged to be married.

Yes, the wily Miss Sutton has apparently traded the second son for the first, who is by all accounts a handsome figure of a man, and who is, perhaps not coincidently, now in possession of the gracious estate of Greenfield in Rogerstone, Monmouthshire.

If one reads the regular papers, as Your Faithful Correspondent does, one recalls that at Acre, Captain Vaughn was praised for the narrow defeat of the obnoxious little general Napoleon, thwarting his ambitions to become Emperor of the Orient. The captain has returned to Newport, however, with such a cloud of accusation over his head that Your Faithful Correspondent dare not repeat the whispers, for TREASON—one shudders to even think the word.

Why would a man with a shadow over his head steal his brother’s bride?

For that matter, why would the bride allow it?

You can be sure there is some complication here, Dear Reader, but you may likewise trust Your Faithful Correspondent will ferret out the truth. Is the valiant Captain Vaughn lacking in all honor? Is there some sinister plot afoot? What could Mr. Calvin Vaughn have done to drive a fair gentlewoman, of whom no harsh word has heretofore been breathed, to be found in a bed not her own, and not belonging to her affianced, either?

Answers will follow in these very pages, Dear Reader. Your Faithful Correspondent will not disappoint.

Until then, may your tea always be hot and your news always spicy.

The Knight Falls First

Anne Sutton has the beauty and breeding to make a gentleman’s wife, but not the dowry. When her parents offer her to the vile Calvin Vaughn, Anne does something a gentleman’s daughter would never do: she decides to ruin herself. And the best means at hand is Calvin’s prodigal older brother, Hew, lately returned from war.

Hewitt Vaughn is either the hero of Acre or under a cloud of disgrace—he’s yet to find out which. He’s home to recover from his wounds and take charge of the family estates; stealing his brother’s fiancée is decidedly not a way to redeem himself. But when the lovely, desperate Anne entreats Hew’s help, how can he, as a man of honor, deny her?

When Anne’s plan spectacularly backfires, the only solution is a forced marriage—to each other. But as she makes a home in Newport, Anne wonders if Hewitt Vaughn is the smartest mistake she ever made. And Anne might be the future he never dreamed he could have, but to win her, Hew has to persuade her he would have chosen her anyway—and he’ll have to defeat the dangerous enemy who wants to take everything from them, including one another.

Excerpt:

“Kiss me,” she whispered, lifting her chin. Her lips grazed his jaw, and his entire body jolted with the rush of blood.

Yes. God, yes. He wanted to roar his triumph over the hills, releasing it like a clap of thunder. She chose him.

He almost did it. He almost closed his arms and hauled her against him and let his mouth fall upon her, devouring. He would kiss her until they both forgot their names.

But say he did kiss her. Then what? What came after?

Hewitt Vaughn never did anything in the moment. He always, always had a plan.

Carefully he cupped her shoulders, holding her in place. She seemed delicate, but she wasn’t. Firm muscle met his fingers. She might be slender, but she was strong.

“What?” he asked, searching her eyes with his gaze. “What are you asking me, Anne?”

“Kiss me,” she said stubbornly, reaching her mouth toward his.

This wasn’t right. She didn’t want him. She wanted … something else.

“And then what?”

Another growl of thunder shook the window casement. Hew swore it rattled the boards beneath their feet. Cold gusted into the room, and she shivered. Pink spots burned on her cheeks, pale as the linen of her shift.

“When they find me here,” she said. “In your room. Then I am ruined, and he can’t marry me. They can’t make me.”

The cold wrapped around Hew, digging through skin to bone. “Then what happens?”

His voice did not sound his own. His voice sounded to his ears as it had after the torture, when he’d stepped away from his body to watch, from a distance, what was happening to that heap of man-shaped flesh.

“I ruin you.” He shaped the words through lips that didn’t want to cooperate. “Then what?”

“Then I have to leave here,” she said softly, her words a thread of sound against the swirling storm. “And I am free.”

His hands felt numb and heavy, curled over her shoulders. She didn’t know him. She didn’t want him. She meant to use him to get something she wanted.

Wasn’t that what people did? Wasn’t that how the world worked? It was only dolts like him, Hewitt Vaughn, who thought there should be more.

Who assumed he didn’t deserve to have what he wanted anyway, so it didn’t matter if he were denied.

“You suppose I will simply … tumble you,” he said. It wasn’t the word he thought of first, but she was a lady, a gentleman’s daughter. And she was not a seductress, whatever else she was about; her hands hadn’t moved from their desperate clasp about his back. He felt the weight of her arms, a slender rope hauling him like a fish into her net.

His voice really was not his own; it was some beast coming from deep inside him. “And then you will go about your merry way.”

She blinked. Her long lashes tangled, clinging together with their globes of tears. “Well, yes. Isn’t that how it works?”

For his brother, maybe. And for hers. Not for him.

He told himself to straighten his arms. Told himself again. After a moment, his limbs obeyed him. He pushed her away.

She didn’t let go, kept her hands stubbornly locked about his body.

“Anne,” he said gruffly. “Go back to your room.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“If you don’t want to marry my brother, then we will find a way to end it. I will help you.”

Idiot! the beast inside him roared. Take her! She’s yours.

She pushed herself close to him, breasts to his chest. Hew’s mind blanked of thought. Pure sensation took over. Craven need, choking his mind like the dust storms that whirled up out of the desert.

Yours! The wind roared, ramming the glass panes of the window.

“This is how to end it,” she said. “Kiss me.”

He wanted to do more than kiss her. He wanted to consume her. He wanted to raze her to the ground, and he wanted to lose his mind with her. Inside her.

To outrun, finally, the agony, and the humiliation, and the ghosts.

“What if you can’t walk away?” He kept his eyes on her face, because her breasts were too close, and he felt the outline of her through the thin linen of his shirt. “What if this doesn’t make you free?”

She hadn’t thought this through. She didn’t know what she was doing. She was an innocent; that much was obvious. She didn’t know the first thing about what two bodies could do to one another. The pleasure. The entire cessation of pain, and of fears for the future.

She shook her head, and a gold ringlet swayed against her shoulder. Hew was trapped in the gleam of her hair in the candlelight, against the soft glow of her skin. He could smell how soft she was.

“I cannot simply walk away. They can find me and make me come back. I need you to do this for me. Hewitt.” Her whispering his name untied something in him. The straight, clean lines of logic he usually thought in. “Help me. Please.”

“Ruin you.” The words were a dry crackle from his suddenly parched throat. He hadn’t been this thirsty in the hottest days at Acre. “When you don’t even know what it means.”

“I know I want it to be you,” she said, and pressed her mouth to his.

He was lost.

He saw it all. Even in a storm, even in the midst of mind-crushing agony, Hewitt Vaughn was strategic. He could see the end of things. He saw—or thought he saw—the end of this.

It would end with his being torn apart. Again.

So be it. Anne Sutton pressed her mouth to his, and Hew surrendered.

Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/4jjqMD

About the Author:

Misty Urban is a medieval scholar, freelance editor, and college professor who writes stories about misbehaving women who find adventure and romance. Her Ladies Least Likely series of historical romances, set in Georgian Britain and beyond, feature headstrong heroines who set out to carve themselves a place in the world and find soul-searing love along the way. Misty lived for several years inside assorted books and academic institutions, and now lives in the Midwest in a little town on a big river. She loves to hear from readers and give away free stories through her newsletter and on her website, http://www.mistyurban.com

Find her here:

On BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/misty-urban

On Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Misty-Urban/author/B002TQ3K3C

Everywhere else: https://linktr.ee/mistyurban

 

A Naughty Visit to the British Museum

By

On July 9, 2025

In Teatime Tattler

Dear Readers,

This rather titillating story was recently received by your faithful publisher:

On a day filled with cloudy drizzle, Lady G and Lady A strolled through the imposing gates of Montagu House, the grand but fading Baroque mansion that housed the British Museum. Once inside, the scents of old stone, polish, and vellum clung to the high-ceilinged corridors. A liveried attendant took Lady G’s letter of admission, glancing over it before nodding them through.

They made straight for the Egyptian hall—in truth, if it could be called a hall, for it was little more than a wide room lined with relics. They perused the dark and impressive Rosetta Stone, fascinated by the nearly four-foot-tall slab of black granodiorite etched with three distinct scripts.

“Onward!” Lady A said after a few minutes. “I must see what all this fuss is about the Parthenon marbles.”

Lady G nodded. “Lord Elgin has certainly taken some harsh criticism.”

They traipsed through narrow halls to a room smelling of fresh paint where the Parthenon sculptures loomed larger than Lady G had imagined.

There were shattered gods and half-draped goddesses aplenty.

“The marbles are magnificent, are they not?” Said Lady G.

Lady A walked to a frieze, “The Lapiths and the Centaurs,” and then to a nude male warrior. She shook her head. “The ones that remain intact…I shall never understand.”

Lady G tilted her head. “Understand what?”

Lady A walked to a small sculpture and wafted a hand over Hercules seated on a rock. “His intact phallus, one of the few not broken off. The size! It’s smaller than my pinky! They are all like that.” She waved her hand around the room. “My Horace… Well, I confess I am rather shocked by their diminutive size.”

Lady G tittered. “I saw the ‘Farnese Heracles’ in Naples and ‘Laocoön and His Sons’ at the Vatican. I found it passing odd as well.” She offered Lady A a mischievous look. “So I investigated.”

“How shocking!” Lady A whispered, her eyes glittering as she moved closer to Lady G.

“Indeed.” Lady G giggled. “You see, large phalluses in Ancient Greece were undesirable.”

“Really?” Lady A said. “Why ever not?”

“The Greeks believed small genitalia implied that person had an expansive and potent intelligence up top.”

“No!” Lady A said. “How very odd.”

“Statues with small genitalia make clear the sculptors believed these men were rational and intelligent, their urges under control.”

“My Horace certainly does not…” Lady A cleared her throat.

“Aristophanes,” Lady G said.

“Who?”

“The famous comedic playwright,” Lady G said. “He said in his The Clouds that the ideal male had ‘a gleaming chest, bright skin, broad shoulders, tiny tongue, strong buttocks, and a little prick.’”

“How do you possibly remember that?”

Lady G gave her a knowing look. “How could I not?”

Lady A tittered.

“Naturally, Priapus was the exception. Yet any man with a large member was considered lustful, depraved, and villainous by the ancient Greeks.”

“How very unfair!” Lady A.

Lady G smiled. “I always thought my Samuel was somewhat villainous!”

The Seer

A quest for truth. A legacy in stone. A love forged in danger.

When Lady Claire Pheland is publicly humiliated by London’s Society of Antiquarians, she vows to prove her radical theory: that the iconic ancient Greek statues were once vividly painted. Claire’s search for evidence leads her to Greece in the company of Lord Theseus Ashworth—a brilliant scholar on a dangerous mission of his own: returning his father’s Greek sculptures to their rightful home.

Their journey is fraught with peril. Bandits lurk in the shadows, a Greek prophetess whispers cryptic warnings, and a traitor mirrors their every move. In Delphi, tensions erupt when Lord Byron arrives, a priceless bust vanishes, and a villager is murdered. As Claire nears proving her theory, Theseus’ mission spirals into a deadly game when seven ancient sculptures are stolen and a second life is taken.

What begins as a battle of wits between Claire and Theseus soon ignites into a passion as fiery as the dangers surrounding them. But when Theseus is brutally attacked upon their return to England, they realize the thieves will continue their murderous ways until they are stopped. With time running out, they must unmask the killers before they become their next victims. Will they uncover the truth—or be buried by it?

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Seer-Book-Secret-Tales-ebook/dp/B0FCDMJPB2

About the Author

Award-winning author Vicki Stiefel now also writes as Sanna Brand, including Regency Romances, THE BOND (Book 1, The Secret Tales), THE DECEPTION, and now, THE SEER. Vicki’s s fantasy romance series, The Made Ones Saga, launched with ALTERED, continued with CHANGED, and climaxed with ASCENDANT.
Vicki continues work on her Afterworld Chronicles and her award-winning mystery/thrillers feature homicide counselor Tally Whyte.
Vicki tapped into her love of knitting to produce Chest of Bone The Knit Collection and co-write 10 Secrets of the LaidBack Knitters.
After running The Writers Studio with her late husband, William G. Tapply, Vicki taught fiction and modern media writing for six years at Clark University.
She grew up in professional theater and planned to become an actress. Instead, she slung hamburgers, managed a scuba shop, and became a college professor. She is a mom to two wonderful humans and a furry pack. Her passions for scuba diving, fly fishing, knitting, and horses pop up in her novels, as do chocolate, bourbon, and lobster. Currently, she’s playing with her menagerie while working on THE UNSEEN (as SANNA BRAND) , the fourth book in The Secret Tales.

SCANDAL ON THE SHORE

By

On July 2, 2025

In Teatime Tattler

A PRINCE, A PLAIN DRESS, AND A MOST INCONVENIENT KISS

Dearest Readers,

While all of London buzzed with anticipation for the arrival of His Highness Prince Alex von Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, it appears the Prince had other plans—plans that involved sun-drenched cliffs, sea-kissed breezes, and a certain merchant’s daughter.

Yes, you heard it here first.

Rather than sweeping into London with pomp and procession to greet his intended bride (whose dowry, I am told, rivals the Crown Jewels), the elusive Prince Alex was seen disembarking not at Dover—but in a sleepy cove in Cornwall. And he was not alone.

Who should be at his side but Miss Seraphina Lyndon, daughter of the fabulously wealthy (and frightfully ambitious) shipping magnate Mr. Lyndon? But before one clutches one’s pearls too tightly, allow me to add the most curious detail of all: Miss Lyndon wore a gown so simple, so unadorned, it would hardly suit a lady accustomed to ballrooms and betrothals. Unless, of course, she didn’t want to be noticed.

Too late, my dear.

Sources—sunburned but steadfast—report the pair engaged in what can only be described as clandestine solitude: long walks, quiet laughter, and—oh, scandal!—a kiss behind the dunes that had more heat than the midsummer sun.

Now, let us connect the dots, shall we?

Miss Lyndon is promised to a foreign prince—a prince she’s never met.

Prince Alex is promised to a lady in London—a lady he has yet to acknowledge.

So why are they together in Cornwall? And why do their footsteps trace the very same stretch of sand?

Could it be…they are the betrothed pair, unknowingly entangled in a twist of fate? Or perhaps the Prince seeks to lose himself in love before duty calls? Or most delicious of all…has Miss Lyndon fallen for a stranger, not knowing she kisses the very prince she is meant to wed?

Whispers say a storm is coming. And this time, it’s not from the sea.

Yours in ink and intrigue,

Yours in eager anticipation,

The Teatime Tattler

How To Lose a Prince This Summer

by Sara Adrien and Tanya Wilde

They’re destined for duty. But will an impossible love on the Cornish Coast rewrite their fate?

Lady Seraphina Lyndon treasures the wild beauty of her summers on the Cornish Coast. But this year is bittersweet—it’s her last taste of freedom before an arranged marriage to a foreign prince. Her father’s business depends on this union, but Sera’s heart is drawn to someone else. A handsome and mysterious stranger on the beach has stolen her breath with his tender kisses and unforgettable charm. Now, she’s desperate to find a way to lose the prince she’s promised to and stay with the man who makes her feel truly alive. And how can she do this before the end of the summer?

Prince Alexander von Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen is a man of honor. Bound by duty, he knows he must head to London to complete his engagement to a woman he’s never met. But lingering on the Cornish sands is a captivating beauty who stirs his soul. Drawn to Sera like the tide to the shore, Alex gives his heart away, despite its forbidden risk. She believes him to be a simple man, and he’d rather keep his identity hidden than lose that treasure. He doesn’t want her to discover that he’s already promised to another. Not until he can break off his engagement. But even then, if she finds out all he’s been keeping from her… It might shatter the fragile bond they’ve built. So, how can he be with the woman he loves as just Alex and not Prince Alex?

Bound by an arranged marriage and separated by hidden identities, Sera and Alex face a web of secrets and a scheming villain. Can love prevail over duty, or will fate keep them apart forever?

Don’t miss this summer’s most romantic adventure! The perfect beach read now in Kindle Unlimited!

Note: This series is part of Dragonblade’s Flame line, so this is a scorching-hot read with open-door steam.

Tropes/Themes:

✅ Arranged Marriage

✅ Hidden Identity

✅ Forbidden Love

✅ Summer Romance

✅ Love at First Sight

✅ Secret Royal / Royal in Disguise

✅ One Last Taste of Freedom

✅ Hero Falls First

✅ Scheming Villain

✅ Beachside Kisses

✅ Duty vs. Desire

✅ Swoony Prince

✅ Star-Crossed Lovers

Get the book here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FCNGHDMZ

Get the FREE companion book: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/4mrzm42ill

Wedding Fever Series

Book 1: Dare to Tempt an Earl This Spring

Book 2: How to Lose A Prince This Summer

Book 3: How To Seduce A Duke This Autumn

Book 4: Ways To Kiss A Marquess This Winter

About the Authors

Bestselling author Sara Adrien writes hot, heart-melting regency romance with a Jewish twist. As a law professor-turned-author, she writes about clandestine identities, whims of fate, and sizzling seduction. If you like unique and intelligent characters, deliciously sexy scenes, and the nostalgia of afternoon tea, then you’ll adore Sara Adrien’s tender tear-jerkers. She is the author of the series Infiltrating the Ton, Diamond Dynasty, Check Mates, and Miracles on Harley Street. Get 50% off her #1 bestselling 9-book bundle https://www.saraadrien.com/products/diamond-of-the-ton-collection-1

Find her at:

Instagram: @author_sara_adrien

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61565938324623

Substack: authorsara.substack.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22249825.Sara_Adrien

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/sara-adrien

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/s?i=digital-text&rh=p_27%3ASara+Adrien

 

Tanya Wilde developed a passion for reading when she had nothing better to do than lurk in the library during her lunch breaks. Her love affair with pen and paper soon followed after she devoured all of their historical romance books! In 2020, she won the Romance Writers Organization of South Africa (ROSA) Imbali Award for Excellence in Romance Writing for Not Quite a Rogue.

When she’s not meddling in the lives of her characters or drinking copious amounts of coffee, she’s off on adventures with her partner in crime.

Wilde lives in a town at the foot of the Outeniqua Mountains, South Africa.

 

 

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