Allison Munroe is about to have her much-anticipated come out in Regency Society, where she’ll meet dozens of eligible gentlemen, and she couldn’t care less. Ever since last Christmas, only one man has dominated her thoughts, but country squire Geoffrey Pentercast is the last man she should want. Better to set her sights on the catch of the Season, the Marquis DeGuis, who, wonder of wonders, seems already smitten by her. Geoffrey is entirely out of his element. How could he have fallen in love with his childhood friend? And how does a brash and bold country gentleman like him compete for her attentions in London high Society, especially against the likes of the wealthy and titled marquis? As Allison’s mother plots to part them, can Geoffrey prove he is not only the catch of the Season for Allison, but the love of her life? Book 2 in The Marvelous Munroes series, sequel to My True Love Gave to Me, this sweet, clean traditional Regency romance was originally published by Zebra Regency. Here’s a taste: Allison stopped at the top of the stair. “What is so important that it brings you all the way to London?” “Concern for you,” Geoffrey replied, and despite all his efforts, his deep voice came out entirely too much like a caress. “I’ve missed you, Allison.” She brightened as if his words had lit a candle inside her. She opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of what she was going to say. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Nothing,” she said, fidgeting. “I simply realized that I must comport myself like a lady. So I will tell you that I find myself thinking of you often as well.” “You do?” Though her words had been spoken with uncharacteristic maidenly restraint, they were exactly what he had been hoping to hear. He squeezed her tiny hand in his much larger grip. “You can’t know how happy I am to hear you say that. I just want you to know, Allison, that you needn’t go through all this.” Allison pulled her hand back, frowning. “What do you mean? Are you talking about my Season or do you speak of my debut ball? Of course I must go through with that. The invitations have already been sent.” “Not the ball, moonling,” he said with a smile, the old pet name for her too easy on his tongue. “Of course you’ll want to do that. I know your fondness for dancing. I’m speaking of your London Season. You don’t need it.” Allison shook her head, frown deepening. “But every young lady of proper family is expected to have a Season. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve been waiting my entire life for it.” “But Allison,” he protested, determined to make her see, “the purpose of a London Season is to find a suitable match. You have no reason to do that.” She blinked, freezing as she had when she’d first seen him. He hurried on, intent on making his case. “I know I’m not much of a candidate in your mother’s eyes. She’ll most likely prefer this marquis fellow.” “You, you’re proposing?” She sounded as if she was having trouble breathing. In fact, she seem to be breathing at all. She wasn’t even moving.