Chat, I cannot resist this book release any longer. I thought that I’d “wait for the right moment” but there are no right moments any more. There is only Now.
In that spirit, please enjoy the pivot, the piquant moment, the inciting incident upon which my next release hinges. A case of severely mistaken identity, when my MMC Stuart first comes face to face with the woman he will inevitably find he cannot live without. It’s messy. It’s ethically disastrous (if we’re being honest.) And it’s the reason why I’ve spent five years wrestling this plot into something like a story. Because their first meeting is too good to leave in the drafts:
She wasn’t much of a looker, badly dressed in a high-necked travelling suit of faded orange and brown printed chintz, her hair pulled back too tight and a stunned expression on her unpainted face. An unusual gambit, but perhaps he’d ordered a ‘governess’ and forgotten. Hopefully she performed other services, as he was unprepared to broach the subject of a breeching in this raucous company.
“Which one of you is the marquis?” the woman demanded in a tremulous tone. If she were acting the governess, she was playing it too timidly. Untrusting his tongue despite the great number of wrong things he wished to say, Stuart waved to her.
Tall chairs ringed the table, behind them the expectant faces of a dozen of his chums. After a moment’s hesitation, the woman pulled her skirts about her and began picking her way along the table, stepping around the plates and glasses until she stood looming over him. She was breathing hard, her nice breasts pushing against her bodice. She was going to be a treat to undress.
“You’re the marquis?” she said, looking him over in horror.
“At your service, m’ dear. And you are?”
“The late marquis’ widow.”
“Tha’s quite an odd—oh, Christ!”
She gasped like he’d struck her. With matched expressions of horror they stared at one another as muttering spread around the room. Colm was speaking, meaningless noise that buzzed past Stuart’s ears and did not change the fact that yes, his father’s brand new bride was imminently expected from Leeds. That according to Derbyshire she knew nothing of her husband’s passing. That she was standing in front of (or rather over top) of him at this very moment, and that he’d presumed her to be a badly-dressed whore.
How To Inherit A Husband comes out on e-book & paperback November 2026. Preorders open soon!


















