"Gabrielle...presents an engaging marriage-of-convenience Regency romance. This grumpy/sunshine story is both poignant and passionate."
- Library Journal on His Cinderella Duchess

“I love the premise of this book, and the story did not disappoint. It's light and fun with endearing characters.”
– Andrea Hersey

“The incorporation of middle eastern food made me hungry for sure. I LOVED when he advocated for her scientific endeavors.”
– Bookbub review

“A well-written, very entertaining, and a sweet romance story.”
– Bookbub review

“Ruined by the Wrong Earl is an enjoyable Regency romance filled with heart, drama, and plenty of swoon-worthy moments. Recommended for readers who enjoy scandal-driven historical romances with a strong emotional core.”
– Kathleen Ryder

Cornwall, April 1819

It was well past midnight when Nora Magarian opened the door to her assigned bedchamber and glanced into the hallway to ensure no one was still awake.

Empty.

Perfect. She wore only a nightgown and didn’t bother with a robe or slippers. Holding a candle holder with a lit candle, she slipped from her room and softly closed the door. Her bare toes curled on the plush Wilton carpet runner. Her pulse pounded in her veins and her stomach churned at the thought of her daring act.

Tonight, as she hoped, Nora would be one of Sir Simon’s conquests. After they were discovered, Simon would never offer marriage and she’d be ruined. Word would travel and she’d be free from Lord Umbridge. Meanwhile, she’d take advantage of her liberty to study the unique seashells found on Cornwall’s coast.

A giddiness rose in her throat at the thought of her goal coming to fruition, and her feet crept across the carpet. She halted at the third door on the left down the hall, the one Sir Simon had told her was his bedchamber. She’d arranged for her maid, Rosey, to find her precisely fifteen minutes later.

Nerves tightened in Nora’s gut as she reached for the door. Anxiousness trickled down her spine at the bold action she was about to take.

Do not think too hard about it!

She swallowed, determined to take control of her life.

Her fingers rested on the doorknob. And turned.

Her flickering candle barely illuminated the chamber. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness to see a shape in the massive four-poster bed in the center of the room. Sir Simon.

His back was turned. He slept without a nightshirt, his broad back naked, the covers pushed down to his hips. She wondered if he wore anything lower down, beneath the sheets. Her heartbeat quickened with a different type of anxiety. He was in a deep sleep, and she could easily turn and tiptoe back to her room with no one the wiser. Everything would return to normal, and she could wake the next day pretending nothing untoward had occurred.

No! If she wanted her freedom, any freedom, she must take matters into her own hands. She was no longer a young miss fresh in her first season. At twenty-six, she had survived happily without an unwanted husband. She quietly closed the door and rested her back against the cool wood.

She blew out the candle and set it on a chest of drawers. The room was dark as pitch. Hands outstretched, her bare feet were silent on the hardwood floor as she approached the bed. Lifting the sheet, she slipped inside.

He turned and she inched forward and kissed him full on the mouth.