How to Win a Wallflower

The crowded ballroom is the last place Tabitha expects to find a kindred spirit. Especially in the guise of a man with a reputation like his. He isn’t the kind of respectable man she should seek out as someone who will solidify her intellectual reputation and secure her membership in an illustrious society. But Finn Ramsome has worn a mask for years and made a path for himself with his unique skills. He’s insecure beneath his polish and he doesn’t want his bluestocking genius wife to discover just how unsuitable he actually is for her. He’s a gambler scared he’ll lose his heart if he lays all his cards on the table. He likes risks he can calculate, and the brilliant woman who captures his attention is the most reckless choice of all because she’ll be able to see what he strives to hide from most of the world.

She’s determined to make a place for herself in a world determined to keep women in silent corners. He’s the last man she’d expect to help her accomplish that.

They should be opposites, but they recognize they are the missing piece of each other’s soul.She’s the first woman to hold his hidden insecurities in the palm of her hand and do everything in her power to dispel them and ensure he knows he’s her perfect complement.He’s the first man to show her that all of the parts of her are beautiful in their own right and that she completely enthralls him with her sparkling wit, and her incisive, inquisitive mind.I absolutely adored the second book in the Last Chance Scoundrels series by Eva Leigh. It’s tender, steamy, provocative and thought provoking.

Thank you to the publisher and Netgalley for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review.Some of my favorite quotes:“Beauty is treacherous,” he said after a moment. “There are many things in life that would harm us—if we aren’t careful. Then we bear their scars.” She stared at him. Of all the people to say such things to her, she’d never believed Finn Ransome would be the one to do it. What wounds did he carry? “And those scars make us ugly,” she whispered, “whether they are visible or not.” “Or make us stronger, and even more wondrous,” he countered gently. They gazed at each other, and she

Well, he was very good at maintaining a smooth, unreadable surface, and he could hide anything that might or might not be developing.

This was to be an arrangement of convenience, not passion. But still . . . his awareness of her grew with each moment, his body asking him questions he shouldn’t answer. Yet he craved those answers. Craved her.

But she wouldn’t tell him that she’d tucked the acorn he’d given to her into her glove, so it rested over where her pulse fluttered in her wrist.

“You want more? After . . . after . . .” She glanced at the table, and its ruined landscape of scattered dishes and cutlery. “Apparently, when it comes to you,” he said, his regard hot over the rim of his glass, “my appetite has no limits.” “I thought you weren’t a voluptuary,” she murmured. “I wasn’t.” He shook his head at himself, as if hardly believing it. “Evidently, you become one upon meeting the right person.” “Isn’t the adage, ‘Reformed rakes make the best husbands’?” “In our case, the best husbands become rakes.”

“There are many sides to me, love,” he said huskily, “just as there are layers to you. We’ll explore them all, but first, there is the bather and the one being bathed.” He unwrapped a bar of soap, and the scent of honey uncurled seductively. “In you go.”

Sex was one thing—she could tell herself it was merely a physical act, a biological imperative that overrode sense. Yet once they lay down together in the profound intimacy of sleep, there was no hiding behind passion. He had been within her body, but as they shared a bed, the way mates did, he was also in her heart.