Regency Ever After

Join us on a Regency adventure of love and romance with seven brand new stories by some of today’s most sought after historical romance authors in Regency Ever After: Timeless Tales and Fables 2


Stolen by My Knave by Dawn Brower
Enticed by Lady Elianna by USA Today Bestseller Amanda Mariel
The Ugly Duckling Debutante by USA Today Bestseller Meara Platt
A Diamond for a Duke by Collette Cameron
His Elusive Nightingale by USA Today Bestseller Ari Thatcher
The Fairy Palace by Sue London
Hunting for A Lady’s Heart by USA Today Bestseller Tammy Andresen

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A bestselling, award-winning author, Collette Cameron pens Scottish and Regency historicals featuring rogues, rapscallions, rakes, and the intelligent, intrepid damsels who reform them.

Blessed with three spectacular children, fantastic fans, and a compulsive, over-active, and witty Muse who won't stop whispering new romantic romps in her ear, she still lives in Oregon with dachshunds, though she dreams of living in Scotland part-time.

Admitting to a quirky sense of humor, Collette enjoys inspiring quotes, adores castles and anything cobalt blue, and is a self-confessed Cadbury chocoholic. You'll always find dogs, birds, occasionally naughty humor, and a dash of inspiration in her sweet-to-spicy timeless romances.

Visit Collette's website to peek into her author world http://collettecameron.com



Once upon a time seven historical romance authors created a fairy tale inspired Regency world with all the romance of Regency and timelessness of fairy tales.

A Diamond for a Duke by Collette Cameron

A dour duke and a wistful wallflower--an impossible match until fate intervenes one enchanted night, resulting in a passionate interlude neither can forget.


Wending between the numerous pieces of furniture in the moon’s half-light, Jules smacked his shin into the settee. Pain spiraling from calf to knee, he softly cursed and bent to rub the offended limb.

“Dammit. Must Theo constantly rearrange this room? Two hell-fired times since December.”

A startled gasp, swiftly stifled, had him jerking upright, whacking his shoulder this time.

Bloody hell.

“Who’s there?”

Silence met his inquiry. Had he stumbled upon a lover’s tryst? A thief? A wayward servant or inquisitive guest? He fingered his throbbing shoulder, pressing the pads against the pain.

“Reveal yourself at once.”

Silence.

Running his fingers along the settee’s back, he located the pedestal sofa table.

Other than shallow breathing, the culprit kept quiet.

Squinting, he made out a light-colored form reclining on the dark blue and silver striped cushions. A woman, and by all the stampeding elephants in Africa, he bet his silver buttons, and the two new bruises he surely sported, he knew who laid there.

Like a slowly uncoiling rope, the tension eased from his taut muscles.

He fumbled a bit until he found the engraved silver tinderbox beside the candelabra and moments later, a wax taper flared to life.

“Hello, Your Grace.”

Miss Jemmah Dament, her rosy lips curved upward in a small closed-mouth smile and her face still sleep-softened, blinked groggily.

Hello, indeed. Adorable, sleepy kitten.

He lifted the candle higher, taking in her svelte figure, her delectable backside pressed to the sofa, one hand still cradling her cheek. Surprise and carnal awareness, pleasant and unexpected, tingled a rippling path from one shoulder to the other.

The plain, awkward little mudlark had transformed into a graceful dove. One who rivaled—no, by far exceeded—her sister’s allure.

“Well, hello to you as well, Miss Jemmah Dament.”

As if it were the most natural thing in the world to be found napping during a ball at her aunt’s house, and then awoken by a man crashing into her makeshift bed, she sat up and brushed a wayward curl off her forehead.

Jules set about lighting the other three tapers. Their glow revealed striking pale blue, wide-set almond-shaped eyes, fringed by dark lashes, and tousled hair somewhere between rich caramel and light toffee.

He hadn’t seen her up close in—

How long had it been?

Cocking his head, he searched his mind’s archives.

At least since last summer.

Yes, that afternoon in August; in Hyde Park, when she’d walked past wearing a travesty of a walking ensemble. A sort of greenish-gray color somewhere between rotten fish and bread mold.

Yawning delicately behind one slender hand, she smoothed her plain ivory gown with the other.

Except for a yellowish-tan sash below her breasts, the garment lacked any adornment. The ribbon didn’t suit her coloring, and although he couldn’t claim to be an expert on feminine apparel, the frock seemed rather lackluster for such a grand affair.

Another of Adelinda’s cast-offs?

As he closed the tinder box, Jules canted his head.

He couldn’t recall ever seeing Jemmah wearing anything new. And yet her sister always appeared perfumed and bejeweled, attired in the first stare of fashion. Such blatant favoritism wasn’t uncommon amongst the elite, nor did it shock him nearly as much as appall.

He, too, was his mother’s least favorite child, but by all the candle nubs in England, if he ever had children—in the very distant future—they’d not know the kind of rejection and pain he and Jemmah had experienced because of their parents’ partiality.

He’d love and treat his offspring equally as any good and decent parent should.

“Ah, Your Grace, you’re surprised to see me, I think.”