When Amy and Effy Tribble, two charming but impoverished spinster sisters, lose out on a much needed inheritance, they place an advertisement in The Morning Post and hire themselves out as professional chaperones. Vowing to prepare even the most difficult misses for marriage, the Tribble sisters will spend a London season on each client in this delightful Regency series, The School for Manners. Felicity Baronsheath, their first assignment, turns out to be more of a challenge than they ever imagined.

The Earl of Tredair has had his fill of balls, routs, and silly misses, and he despairs of finding someone extraordinary - that is, until he meets Miss Fanny Waverley. Most unique and intriguing, Fanny and her two sisters are the adopted daughters of the reclusive bluestocking Madame Waverley. They have been raised as her disciples to spread the word of women's rights and to encourage poor oppressed females to stand up against the iniquities of the male sex. The beautiful and farouche Miss Fanny, however, finds it quite difficult to think of all men as cruel and lustful beasts....

Minerva marks the delightful debut of The Six Sisters, a family saga in six volumes that will recount the romantic adventures of the six marriageable daughters of a country vicar, the Reverend Charles Armitage, in Regency England. The eldest, Minerva, is enchantingly beautiful - but a prude. She lives in the country looking after her siblings while her mother reclines on a chaise longue happily inventing new malaises.

Tongues were set wagging when Elizabeth Markham's glamorous young parents were killed, sinking their only child to the unspeakable class of poor relation. Forced to live with her cruel, miserly uncle Julius, Elizabeth is forbidden to partake in the season's festivities. Marriage is her only escape, and she enacts a daring plan to trick her way into the Duke of Dunster's exclusive house party, to snare one of the eligible dandies sure to dance attendance on her.

Is Number 67 Clarges Steet the unluckiest house in Mayfair? Every season the beau mondes of the Regency would hire a house in the heart of London’s fashionable West End at disproportionately high rent for often inferior accommodation and yet Number 67 Clarges Street, a town house complete with staff, remains vacant from year to year. Could it be that it is associated with ill luck and even death? Something must be done so that the servants of this house don’t lose their livelihood.