Brook Street: Rogues

by Ava March

Overview

The breathtaking conclusion to the male/male Regency romance trilogy. “There was a definite poignancy in this friends-to-lovers story.” —The Novel Approach Reviews

London, 1822. Two of London’s most notorious rakehells, Linus Radcliffe and Robert Anderson, are the best of friends. They share almost everything—clothes, servants, their homes, and even each other’s bed on occasion. The one thing they don’t share: lovers. For while Linus prefers men, Robert prefers women . . . except when it comes to Linus.

As another Season nears its end, Robert can’t ignore his growing jealousy. He hates watching Linus disappear from balls to dally with other men. Women are lovely, but Linus rouses feelings he’s never felt with another. Unwilling to share his gorgeous friend another night, Robert has a proposition for Linus.

A proposition Linus flatly refuses—but not for the reasons Robert thinks. Still, Robert won’t take no for an answer. He sets out to prove a thing or two to his best friend—yet will learn something about the heart himself.

“I think Ava March does a nice job getting us invested in these characters in a short amount of time. As always, she writes emotional sex—scenes that make an impact.” —Smexy Books

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781426893728
Publisher:	Harlequin
Publication date:	11/29/2022
Series:	Brook Street , #3
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	75
File size:	1 MB

About the Author

Ava March is an author of sexy, emotionally intense M/M historical romances. She loves writing in the Regency time period, where proper decorum is of the utmost importance, but where anything can happen behind closed doors. With over fifteen works to her credit, her books have been finalists in the Rainbow Awards and More Than Magic contest, and deemed 'must-haves' for Historical M/M romance by RT Book Reviews readers. Visit her website at AvaMarch.com to find out more about her books or to sign-up for her newsletter.

Read an Excerpt

May 1822
London, England

Robert Anderson's eyes narrowed, his attention pinned across the ballroom on Linus Radcliffe. The deliberately casual set of the man's shoulders, the lazy hint of a smile on his lips, the intent blue gaze fixed on the young blond gentleman he was speaking to…

A grunt rumbled Rob's throat.

Enough. He could not take another night.

He brought the cut crystal glass to his lips, downing the remaining whisky in one swallow. Dropping the empty glass on a passing servant's tray, he pushed from the wall.

Using his height to his full advantage, he kept Linus in his sights as he weaved through the crowd.

With a friendly hand on the blond's shoulder, Linus leaned in a bit closer. Not so close as to rouse suspicion—Linus knew where that line resided better than anyone—but definitely closer. His lips moved.

Rob lengthened his stride.

A woman stepped directly in front of him. Rob stopped just in time to keep from barreling into Mrs. Lydia Jefferies, his current paramour. Her turquoise silk gown draped her elegant form, the bodice highlighting a rather impressive bosom. The young widow should have been able to keep his attention longer than a week. He had pursued her, after all. Yet…

He glanced over her dark brown head, to another dark brown head that was still tipped much too closely—at least in Rob's opinion—toward that pretty blond.

"Anderson," she said, reaching out to touch a familiar hand to his forearm. "A new set is soon to start."

The absolute last thing he wanted to do was dance at the moment. "Not tonight, my dear. The musicians aren't to my liking."

A slight bow, and he stepped around her. Likely rude to dismiss her in such a manner. All right. It had been rude. Tomorrow he'd buy her a pretty bauble, pay her a call, employ a bit more charm than tonight, and by the time he left her drawing room their dalliance would be firmly behind him.

Striving for casual, he slowed his pace as he neared Linus. His friend was impeccably dressed, as always. A deep navy coat that appeared black when not under the full force of the many chandeliers overhead. A splash of white from his cravat above a copper silk waistcoat Linus had borrowed from Rob's own closet. Given they were of a similar height and build, both a nudge over six feet tall and with muscles enough to prove they regularly visited the fencing academy and Gentleman Jackson's, he and Linus occasionally made use of each other's wardrobes. But though they frequented the same tailor, Rob's clothes somehow always looked better on Linus than on himself.

He stopped next to Linus and clapped him on the shoulder. "Evening, Radcliffe." A stern glare was all it took to send the young blond scurrying away with a hastily murmured excuse. What excuse the blond used Rob did not much care. All that mattered was that the young man had left.

A frown touched Linus's mouth as he watched those slim shoulders disappear into the crowd. "Not kind of you to have scared Tarington away."

"Was that his name?"

"That is his name."

As if Rob could keep track of the various men who rotated in and out of Linus's bed. Or rather, the various men's beds that Linus rotated in and out of.

That noxious knot, the one that had been growing progressively larger since the start of the Season, swelled in his gut, tightening his stomach.

"It's getting late," Rob said. "Don't you agree?"

"It's barely midnight." Dismissing the question as ridiculous, Linus scanned the ballroom.