STRICTLY SEDUCTION

🪭 Years after she lost her innocence, a familiar stranger returns, demanding she become his wife.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️"Scandal, humor, and lots of sex. A bloody good read."

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The boy who stole her innocence returns as a
 self-made stranger, demanding she become his wife.

As an innocent girl, Madeline Sedgewick learned that nothing comes without a price—even desire. Five years later, now widowed and deeply in debt, she’s certain that the stranger who bought her last husband’s notes of credit will demand swift, steep repayment. But she never imagines her creditor will be Brock Taylor, her baseborn former stable-hand turned newly wealthy entrepreneur—the man who stole her virginity and her heart. She’s even more stunned when he says that he’ll forgive her debts only if she becomes his wife.

Brock’s memories of their parting are no less bitter than Maddie’s, and his plans for their future are hardly a rekindling of their blissful first love. But seeing Maddie again—just as spirited, strong, and beautiful as ever—reawakens a desire he thought long dead. When she refuses his proposal, they strike a dangerous wager, with Brock’s self-made fortune and Maddie’s treasured independence at stake. It’s a wager only one of them can win—as long as they resist the other’s passionate seduction…and falling in love again.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "I absolutely loved this book! It was such a great read... I couldn’t put it down!” – Amazon Reviewer

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Series: Historical Romances (Strictly Duet, book 1))
Main Characters: Brock & Maddie
Formats: eBook, trade paperback
Word Count: 95k
Page Count: 324 pages
Prior Reading Necessary? No
Tropes: Angst, Forbidden Love, Forced Seduction, Obsessed Hero, Second Chance Romance, Secret Baby, Single Parent, Sudden/Forced Marriage, Temporary Fling

❣️ Inside STRICTLY SEDUCTION 

As spring approached, Maddie could think of nothing except the mysterious stranger who now owned her future.

After leaving Mr. Hockelspeck and visiting the rest of her late husband’s creditors, each had indicated that a gentleman had purchased her debt and insisted on remaining anonymous. She still had no notion who, what, or when to pay—much less why. Each day that slipped by frayed her nerves a bit more.

In the interim, Maddie had purchased her daughter a new pair of much-needed shoes, and Aunt Edith had persuaded her to splurge on a chicken for stew to celebrate her freedom from the creditors’ incessant demands. Maddie hadn’t had the heart to worry her elderly aunt about the money she still owed and the enigmatic stranger to whom she owed it.

At a sudden knock on her door, she gazed at the mantle clock. Nine o’clock in the evening. A very late hour for visitors, especially in quiet Hampstead. Frowning, Maddie set aside the tattered frock she’d been mending and strode to the parlor door.

As her butler Matheson’s heels clicked across the floor, her stomach twisted as she waited.

After a low-voiced exchange, Matheson approached.

“Who is it?” she whispered, then bit her lip fretfully.

“He says he’s a gentleman who wishes to remain anonymous.”

Maddie’s heart stuttered. She drew in a deep, trembling breath, knowing the moment she had dreaded had unflinchingly arrived.

“Is he anyone I know?” she whispered to her butler.

“I’m afraid he is,” drawled a deep voice beyond the parlor door.

It was a voice Maddie never, ever thought to hear again.

A sudden, dizzying spike of shock swept over her. Mouth gaping, she reached for the wall to steady herself and peeked past Matheson, hoping her ears had deceived her.

They had not. Brock Taylor had returned to Ashdown Manor.

As bold as could be, here stood the cad who had broken her heart five years ago when he’d left her to seek his fortune. From gossip and reputation, she knew he had more than found it. Now refined and wealthy—and more handsome than ever—he stood in her foyer wearing a faintly wry smile and a stylish green coat that perfectly matched his mocking eyes. The thick waves of his mahogany hair still wouldn’t quite behave. Maddie remembered running her fingers through them with a bittersweet pang.

“Brock.” His name tumbled from her lips on a whisper.

“How kind of you to remember me, Lady Wolcott.”

He spoke her married title with contempt, matched by the disdain in his eyes. She swallowed. Why was he here? What did he want? Had he, of all people, truly bought her debt? She fought for her next breath, trying to beat back the panic encroaching.

Brock turned to her butler. “Fetch your mistress a spot of tea. She looks unwell.”

Her butler sent her a measuring stare. “Indeed, sir.”

Matheson quit the room before she could object, leaving her alone with the man she’d sworn to hate for the rest of her life.

“You are not welcome here.” Maddie lifted her chin sternly.

“Have you no kind words for an old...friend?”

Mouth dropping open, she glared at him. Five years after betraying her, Brock Taylor stood in her parlor as if he belonged here. Of all the things she’d envisioned saying to him over the years if she ever saw the cad again, not a single one came to mind.

“Friend?” She raised a disdainful brow at him.

“May I sit?” He did so without waiting for her reply, dwarfing the ancient rosewood armchair. “Perhaps you should sit as well. You really do look pale.”

Though Brock’s voice had acquired a definite upper crust clip, one of the few qualities that had not changed about the scoundrel was his smile. The wicked tilt of that wide mouth still bespoke sin, as potent and beguiling as ever. Once upon a time, she had been innocent enough to fall prey to the charm of his grin.

She was no longer that green girl.

Maddie feigned calm as she faced Brock. “Matheson said you are the anonymous gentleman. Is that so?”

“Yes.”

His clipped reply hit her like a blow to the chest. Legs weak beneath her, she tread slowly to the sofa and sank to its threadbare cushions. “Why? Eight thousand pounds is a great deal of money.”

He shrugged. “Or not, depending.”

Maddie fixed narrowed eyes upon him. “Depending upon what?”

“The repayment one receives.”

“I knew I could count on you to make demands.” You opportunistic blackguard.

The words were out before Maddie could stop them.

She clenched her hands into angry fists. Damn him for buying her debt. Damn him twice for taking her heart and her innocence five years ago, then leaving her in his quest for wealth. Damn him to eternity for coming here with the notion of collecting more.

A faint apology tinged his smile. “I’m not running a charitable organization.”

“I did not ask you to buy my late husband’s debt.”

“But now that I have, you owe me.”

Fury seethed inside her, like a beast fighting its chain. “And you want your precious money from me?”

He paused. “I want repayment.”

How dare he make demands of her in light of the terrible wrong he’d dealt her. He was no gentleman. But then, he never had been.

“If I had eight thousand pounds,” she bit out, “I would have paid my creditors already. So you see, immediate repayment is impossible.”

Brock crossed his arms over his wide chest, but the arrogant, presumptuous cad said nothing at all about the biggest shame of her life. Or one of them, anyway.

“In fact,” she continued, “I believe you owe me a thousand pounds to repay the money you accepted from my father.”

“He told you about our...agreement?”

“Of course. He told me the very night you left that he had offered you money to abandon me. And that you quickly accepted it with a smile.”

“Abandon?” He gave her a mocking laugh. “You didn’t suffer long, Lady Wolcott.” Again, he spoke her married title with disdain. “It’s of no consequence, anyway. I returned that money to your father three months later.”

“Papa said he never saw a farthing of it.”

“And naturally you believed everything he told you.” Brock’s voice held a faint note of derision, then he shrugged. “If you want your thousand pounds, I shall credit it toward your balance. I’ll even grant you eight-percent interest. You still owe me...” He cast his gaze to the ceiling, calculating. “Six thousand, seven hundred eighty-three pounds and twenty pence.”

“I scarcely have two farthings to rub together, but I’m certain you knew that before buying up my debt.” Five years of choking resentment exploded with the force of a volcano. “What the devil do you want from me?”

“A choice, Maddie. A simple choice.”

She scoffed. Nothing about Brock Taylor had ever been simple.

“What?”

He shrugged casually, but Maddie caught the tension latent in his neck, his broad shoulders. “If you cannot repay me in full...”

“I’ve said that I cannot,” she said through clenched teeth.

Brock rose from the armchair, the muscles of his hard thighs flexing beneath chocolate-hued breeches. Maddie chastised herself for noticing as he paced closer, brushing the muslin of her gray skirt as he walked past. He turned back to her. Their gazes locked. Brock’s stare penetrated her bravado, seeking to see into her soul.

"Then you must marry me."

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