Her sweet declaration stalled when she realized, “I still don’t know your name.”

“Max,” he said, his smile turning decidedly wicked. He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss, as if they’d just met in a ballroom somewhere—though it lingered much longer than would be proper. She was quite certain the tongue that darted out to taste her skin would be frowned upon as well. By some. Not her.

Emmaline’s heart sped at his touch. Soon, very soon, he’d be able to touch her anytime, anywhere. And she, him.

“Max,” she repeated, then she gave a wicked smile of her own. “I like that better than Haddie.”

He laughed then, a rich, booming sound that brought Duke into the library to investigate. The dog headed straightaway for Emmaline—to protect his mistress, no doubt—before making a double-hop of surprise when he realized that his park friend now stood in his house. The pup’s tail wagged happily as he looked between the two of them.

Emmaline scooped the little dog into her arms and hugged her to him. “Without you, my sweet Duke, I might never have found my happily ever after.”

Max reached over and ruffled Duke’s ears. “I’m only glad you’ve found room for more than one Duke in your life.”

Her eyes met his over the pup’s fluffy head and she smiled, so very content.

“And in my heart, as well.”




FROM HEATHER


I hope you enjoyed Emmaline, Max and Duke as much as I did. It was such a challenge keeping their story contained to this short novelette! I so wanted to delve deeper into their characters and go on and on and on.

I shall leave it up to you whether the Duchess of Albemarle delivered a son or a daughter, and whether Max and Emmaline became Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Albemarle or Mr. and Mrs. Granville.

However, don’t be surprised if you see them again, as I’m kicking around a story for Lady Amelia, tentatively titled Must Love Scoundrels. Then you can find out if your guess was correct!


In the meantime, should you like to read more of my books, you can find them here:

Novelettes:

Must Love Duke


Novellas:

Loving Lady Dervish

The Very Debonair Lady Claire


Full Length Novels:

Sweet Enemy

Sweet Deception

Sweet Madness


Or save by buying the full-length novels in this collection…over 950 pages, one low price!


The Veiled Seduction Collection


Sweet Enemy: Beakers and ball gowns don't mix, so when lady chemist, Miss Liliana Claremont, goes undercover as a husband-hunter to investigate Lord Geoffrey Wentworth, the earl whose family she suspects murdered her father, romance isn't part of the formula. But it only takes on kiss to start a reaction she can't control...


Sweet Deception: Lady criminologist, Miss Emma Wallingford, gets tangled up in the final mission of Lord Derick Aveline, the spy she once loved. Though she suspects he’s only back in her life until the killer is found, Emma is determined to convince Derick to stay this time. Will their re-found love prove true? Or is it all just a Sweet Deception?


Sweet Madness: In the final book of this acclaimed historical romance series, Lady Penelope Bridgeman must face her past and her own demons in a fight to save a traumatized soldier, Lord Gabriel Devereaux, from a descent into madness. She never expects that he might be the one to save her, too...

If you’d like to know when I have a new book out, you can:


Sign up for my e-mail newsletter list at www.HeatherSnowBooks.com

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Friend my Facebook page here.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Heather Snow is an award winning historical romance author with a degree in Chemistry who discovered she much preferred creating chemistry on the page, rather than in the lab.


Her books have been published in seven languages around the world, and have won numerous awards including: The Golden Quill, the National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award, The Write Touch Readers Award and the Book Buyers Best Top Pick. 


She lives in the Midwest with her husband, two rambunctious boys, three insanely huge dogs and a pair of very put upon cats.




THE MISTLETOE DUKE



DECEMBER


SABRINA YORK






PREFACE


Widowed Jonathan Pembroke, the esteemed Duke of Devon, has been dodging marital bliss for far too long. At least, according to his mother. It’s time for her son to marry again and settle down, preferably with a woman who can manage his hellion daughters. So she plans a Christmas party, replete with mistletoe, to vet the eligible partis. She enlists her companion—and Jonathan’s childhood friend—to help in this quest. Which is awkward. Because down-on-her-luck and decidedly un-duchess like Meg Chalmers might want to capture the duke under the mistletoe herself.


Editor: Fedora Chen

For Meg




CHAPTER 1




December 1813

En route from Devon to Sutton

NOTHING WAS MORE unpleasant than a long coach ride, unless it was in the midst of winter. Fortunately Meg was in the dowager’s coach and there was a brazier by her feet. She pulled her cloak closer and closed her eyes, trying to sleep.

Or, if truth be told, trying not to be flustered.

There was no need to be flustered. In point of fact, it was the height of foolishness to even imagine there was anything to be flustered about.

She was going to see Jonathan again.

That was all.

They were friends. They’d grown up together in the wilds of Devon. They’d known each other their whole lives, though she’d only seen him in bits and spots since he married Tessa.

Not that she’d been avoiding him.

Once he married her best friend and all.

It wasn’t that Meg had been jealous that Tessa had landed the son of a duke. She’d been happy for them. After all, she loved them both.

She’d just loved one of them more than she should have.

When Tessa had died giving birth to their third child—who also passed—Meg had been brokenhearted. Everyone had been.

Jonathan had taken it hard, blaming himself for some godforsaken reason. He’d sent his daughters to live with his mother in Devon and sequestered himself in his London house, making only intermittent visits home.

This was the first time Meg would see him in two years.

Of course, her life had changed immeasurably since Tessa’s death as well. And not in a good way.

“Are you listening to me?” the dowager’s sharp tone captured Meg’s attention. Anne Pembroke, the Dowager Duchess of Pembroke, was rarely sharp. Fortunately, her question was not directed at Meg, but at Mawbry, her long-suffering secretary, who sat at Meg’s side.

“Yes, Your Grace. Of course, Your Grace.”

He hadn’t been listening—clearly he’d been snoozing—but he made a good show of attentiveness.

“I said, take out your pen and inkpot. We need to make plans.”

“Plans, Your Grace?” Mawbry had the unfortunate habit of repeating everything the dowager said, which was annoying, even to Meg.

“Yes. We are going to throw a house party.

“A house party?” Meg had heard Mawbry screech before, but not in this particular timbre.

Anne glared him down and nodded. “Of course. It’s the perfect time for it, what with the holiday and all.”

“But mum…” His eyes bulged in that way they had, making him resemble a bulldog. The muttonchops didn’t help. “No one will come to Sutton in the dead of winter.”

Regal nostrils flared. Indeed, how dare he contradict the dowager? “Nonsense. Sutton is only a few miles from London. And everyone is in London. Now take out your pen.”

As Mawbry complied, with a resigned sigh, Anne turned to Meg. “What do you think? A Christmas theme?”

“I think that would be lovely.”

“Yes. Of course it will be.”

Meg cleared her throat and attempted a blasé tone. “Do you think the duke will come?”

Anne’s brow wrinkled, as though she might have suffered the same worry. “Probably not. If we were having the party in Devon. But we’re not.” She winked. “If the mountain won’t come to Muhammed, and all that.”

Jonathan was a large man, but far from a mountain.

The dowager frowned and shook her head. “Of course he will come,” she said, to herself, perhaps. “His entire family will be there. He cannot deny his girls a Christmas with their father.” That, of course, was true. If there was one soft spot in the Duke of Pembroke’s heart, it was his five-year-old twin daughters, whom he adored.

Of course, he hadn’t seen them lately…

“We must invite all the best families,” Anne said, waving her hand in the general direction of Mawbry’s poised pen. “Particularly the most eligible debutantes.”

For some reason, Meg’s heart lurched at that. Which was ridiculous. Of course Jonathan needed to marry again. He had not yet produced the all-important male heir. And of course, he would choose a young girl. It was what men did.

“The Pickerings, Mountbattens, and Pecks for certain.” Anne tapped her lip. “Perhaps the Evertons?” She rattled off a plethora of other names, all the best families with the best breeding, all of whom Meg knew, if vaguely, from her own season. With each name, her mood darkened, though it had no cause to. She knew what Jonathan thought of her. He respected her, certainly, and remembered her fondly as the barefoot shadow who had wanted to be a boy and who had followed Jonathan, his friend Arthur, and her brother George on countless romps.