Twenty-four-year-old Catherine Fellingham keeps a low profile-in society and in her family. A practical young woman, she leaves the spotlight to her beautiful younger sister and prefers quiet pursuits such as reading. But all that changes the moment she learns of her mother's very excellent scheme to keep the family out of debtors' prison. The scatter-brained Lady Fellingham has been selling commissions in the king's army, and Catherine must shake off her indifference in order to save her family from a potentially ruinous scandal. Lady Arabella, her mother's partner-in-crime, readily agrees to abandon the plan but only because she finds a more absorbing project: nabbing a husband for Catherine. Catherine pays no head to her ladyship's lavish claim that she'll have her engaged by the end of the season, but that's before she overhears Arabella instructing the handsome nonpareil, the Marquess of Deverill, to flirt outrageously with her and bring her into fashion. Mortified, Catherine resolves not to be taken in by the charming marquess's cruel game-and even implements a very excellent scheme of her own. This sensible young lady seems to have everything well in hand. Or is she about to learn that her heart is a great deal less practical than her head?

Miss Emma Harlow hasn't earned the reputation as a hoyden for nothing, so when the Duke of Trent discovers her in his conservatory stealing one of his orchids, he's isn't surprised-charmed, delighted and puzzled, yes, but not surprised. It is Emma who is amazed. She has naturally concluded that the man reading in the conservatory must be the country cousin (who else in London would actually read?) and is quite vexed to discover that he is the Duke of Trent himself-imagine, stealing the duke's prize Rhyncholaelia digbyana under his very nose! But her vexation doesn't last long. For Emma is a practical young lady with a mission: to end her dear sister Lavinia's engagement to the villainous (and dreadfully dull!) Sir Waldo Windbourne, and she thinks that the famous libertine is just the man for the job. If he would only seduce her sister away from Sir Waldo.... Well, not seduce exactly, but flirt mercilessly and engage her interest. Perhaps then Lavinia would jilt the baron. The Duke of Trent is resistant, of course. Despite his reputation, he does not toy with the affections of innocents. And besides, it's not her sister he longs to seduce.

My Dearest Darcy... What do you do after Happily Ever After? Lizzy and Darcy are married. They’re ecstatically happy newlyweds. But a journey to London separates them. Whatever will they do? Write letters, of course! In this sequel to Jane Austen’s masterpiece, read the witty, passionate correspondence between her most beloved pair as they survive separation, sisters, and surprise guests. The giddy newlyweds keep the flame alight the old-fashioned way... All while reminding each other — and us — just what a perfectly matched couple they are. "Clever and charming, snarky and steamy, meticulously researched with welcome appearances from real-world historical figures. Can't wait for Volume II!" — Heather Albano, Keeping Time trilogy (Novel-length, steamy Regency romance. Some four-letter words — used impeccably, of course.) My dearest Darcy I have ruined fully eighteen of these beautiful, creamy linen sheets to get even this far. You will laugh at me, I know, but I am in this my mother’s daughter, and such prodigal waste of paper offends my sense of thrift and of propriety. And for what? Because I wish to write you, but do not know how to call you. Dearest Husband? Too formal. Dear Fitzwilliam? Too familiar. Beloved lover? Far too familiar, though very true, and I am still close enough to what little maidenly modesty I ever possessed not to wish you to open this letter in public upon such a greeting. (And I do warn you that I cannot promise that pages to come will not venture into territory that might destroy both your modesty and what little remains of mine, and so I hope that you will save the rest of this letter for perusal in some private place; you may take that for a promise or for a threat, as you will!) My own Billy? Well, I think I can imagine the mask of mortification that that salutation would provoke; I will keep that one for special, private moments, I think, when you have become too much the forbidding, proud Mr. Darcy of old and I simply wish to laugh at you. And so My dearest Darcy it is—not only because it strikes me as particularly euphonious, but because it is true, in whole and in parts. I love your sister—my new sister—dearly, but I can say without any compunction that you are indeed the dearest Darcy to me, dearer even than myself. You are Darcy, first and foremost—I can scarcely think of you by any other name, even though it is now my own. It is the name by which I first knew you, by which I truly came to know you, and by which I have come to love you with all of my foolish, conceited heart. Too, you are mine. Pride is a sin, as we both know to our misfortune, but I think that this is one of the things of which I am proudest: that you, virtuous, accomplished, intelligent, upright—occasionally to a fault—belong to me. And that I, vain, silly, homely and venal, belong to you, soul, mind and body. Of your possession of my soul you must trust. Of my mind you have this evidence—that you have been gone from our bed and from our home for but four hours, and I have had scarcely a thought but of you. [...] (Here, good my lord, is the point at which I must ask you to remember that I warned you to read this in a private place. If you failed to heed my warning, on your head be it!) As for my body, sir, you have ample evidence of your possession of that: it has been yours to do with as it has pleased you for these past weeks and, oh, Darcy, I hope it has pleased you to take ownership so completely. It has pleased me, and pleased me again, to the point where now, having felt you within me and against me only this morning, my body weeps at your absence, desiring only to be taken—and to take—again.

Life at Fashionista magazine can be a real bitch. Especially when you work for one. Vig Morgan finally worked her way out of the assistant-for-the-bitch-from-hell trenches only to get stuck in a sea of editors. But Vig isn't like the other associate editors at the aggressively hip and overwhelmingly current Fashionista magazine. For one thing, she couldn't care less which star wore which designer to which party. Sure, she's clever and witty—and just as ambitious as the next overqualified underpaid underling, but she would never get drawn into a plot to depose the evil editor-in-chief. Or would she? Jump with Vig into the choppy waters of scheming, backstabbing, free speech, flirtation and fashion, as the lackeys at the bottom of the masthead band together to take down the queen at the top, with some unexpected—but not necessarily unpleasant—results.

A woman in the British Horticultural Society! The very idea horrifies everyone, including ardent horticulturalist Lavinia Harlow, whose own name has been put forth for membership by the provoking Marquess of Huntly. He does it as a joke, of course, to get back at her for an imagined slight-well, to be fair, she had insulted his writing-and Vinnie, older sister to the infamous Harlow Hoyden, is far too sensible to rise to his ridiculous challenge. Determined to head off further scandal (her name has already been recorded in the betting book at Brooks's!), Vinnie dashes off a polite note refusing the honor-which she has every intention of sending. Really. Only she can't help but chafe at the way everyone keeps demanding that she decline at once, even the marquess. Oh, especially the marquess, whose perfection she finds intolerable. Who ever heard of a gentleman being so handsome and so intelligent and so well informed about foreign flora? Clearly, the man needs to be taken down a peg, and somehow, despite all twenty-four years of faultless propriety, Vinnie is just the hoyden to do it.

Hattie Cross knows what you're thinking: Zombie sex? Ewwwww. But she also knows that since a virus turned 99.9999 percent of human males into zombies, it's statistically impossible to meet--let alone date--the remaining 0.00001 percent. So she writes "The Girls' Guide to Dating Zombies" to help her fellow single women navigate the zombie-relationship waters. Her practical how-to impresses the CEO of the largest drug company in the world, and before she knows it, Hattie, a reporter for a downmarket tabloid that specializes in conspiracy theories, is sitting down with the woman who single-handedly invented the zombie-behavioral-modification market. Granted access to the inner sanctum of zombaceuticals, she meets an actual, living, breathing M-A-N. Now Hattie, the consummate professional, is acting like a single girl at the end of the twentieth century: self-conscious, klutzy and unable to form a coherent sentence without babbling. Worst of all, the human male appears to have impaired her ability to think clearly. Because all of a sudden she's convinced a conspiracy is afoot at the drug company and it seems to go all the way to the top!

The classic novel of love and family in the nineteenth century has grown some fangs! An uproarious retelling of Little Women that will leave readers craving the bloodthirsty drama on every page.

A PATENT FOR PASSION No, no, no! It doesn't matter how many times the Duchess of Trent (The Harlow Hoyden) requests her help with a delicate matter regarding a patent for her sister's invention, Tuppence Templeton will not lend a hand. She has a habit, yes, of coming up with ingenious plans to solve other people's problems, and it is true that she's clever and daring enough to pull off the proposed scheme. But there's no way she's going to confront the arrogant and dismissive Earl of Gage again. She is still shaken--or is it stirred?--from their last encounter when, rather than thank her for saving his sister from ruin, he railed against her for having the temerity to interfere in his family's business. And yet somehow when the opportunity arises, she finds herself unable to resist issuing the challenge. Nicholas Perceval, Earl of Gage, cannot believe it when the impertinent upstart who exposed his sister to disaster maneuvers him into escorting her to the Bill Patent Office. What a perfectly ridiculous request! And then to discover that she manipulated him while they were there so that she could "find" a missing application--he has never been so angry in his entire life. And it's not because he'd unexpectedly enjoyed her charming and irreverent company. No, that has nothing to do with it at all. Although perhaps maybe a little...

Shunned by a society that puts attractiveness above all else, Lady Eliza Darby’s wallflower status keeps her from getting the one thing she wants most, namely, to be a mother. But when her scorned older sister returns home to see all of her sisters wed in happy matches, it may be Eliza’s only chance to secure a husband and have the children she so desires. Jilted in a publicly humiliating display, Dax Kane, the Duke of Ashbourne, has sworn off love forever and has no wish to wed. But when the title demands it, he selects the most perfect candidate for the position: Lady Eliza Darby, a wallflower so unattractive he won’t be in danger of falling in love with her. But the Jilted Duke will soon discover looks have nothing to do with love.