For a minute there, I almost considered reading a romance novel: Bluestocking Bride, by Elizabeth Thornton. (It's in the Zebra Regency Romance series, which sounds like a strange anthropomorphic cartoon). The taglines include that subject heading and "A Scholar's Passion...A Man's Desire."
Since I was more or less a Bluestocking Bride myself, my interest was actually piqued. In a nutshell, "Mis Catherine Harland, a sheltered country girl, possessed a passion for Greek letters...had the gall to consider herself the equal of any man." However, "she would soon learn, if Rutherston had his way (Lord Rutherston, naturally, a "notorious womanizer"), that a woman's place is in a man's bed."
Then I started flipping through it, and there's a lot of crushing her to his chest, and her senses being on fire, and I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I mean, I've got a huge stack of stuff to read already, and if I find myself with a free moment, I should get back to the Sanksrit.
Now, that's bluestockingy, if I do say so myself.