tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61438554337508255282024-03-13T10:51:58.338-07:00Samantha HoltLovelustandlipstickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280685121682757567noreply@blogger.comBlogger412125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-59193744325610608052018-11-09T10:15:00.004-08:002018-11-09T10:15:56.364-08:00Bargain boxset and giveaway!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://books2read.com/u/bP5wBA"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="1200" height="208" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3kOnDrD2rJ0/W-XN8ZwkI9I/AAAAAAAADcc/eoR-2NHSwDchdNLmDpMZhQpcGSwEEFdxACLcBGAs/s400/ROGUE_THUNDER_LIVE.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Unwrap your next historical hero in this Regency romance boxset created
especially for Christmas!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Including brand new and exclusive content
from USA Today and Bestselling authors as well as much-loved Christmas titles,
find yourself lost in a world of snow, scandalous kisses, and sexy heroes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><b>How to Marry
a Rake in Ten Days by Samantha Holt</b></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The years had added the slightest touch of grey to his hair at the
temples. Though he must have shaved in the morning, stubble was beginning to
show on his jaw and upper lip. Something about that roughness made her want to
reach out and stroke it. Lines crinkled the corners of his eyes. Not a lot but
enough that his intense eyes were softened. And his lashes...dear Lord a man
should never have such thick, long lashes. It was thoroughly unfair to the
fairer sex.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I always watched you,” he told her in a low voice, the timbre of it
spearing deep inside her and making her feel warm and all twisted up inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She knew that. But she wouldn’t admit as much. A lady shouldn’t be
aware of these things. However, he likely didn’t realise that she understood
the reasons behind his stares. He probably had little clue that she even knew
he was responsible for Robert’s change of heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I never noticed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The lift of one brow told her he didn’t believe her. “I watched you
dance. Watched you flirt. Watched you laugh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“A lady does not flirt.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You did.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well, I have changed.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">His gaze met hers. “I noticed. A pity.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Angelina eyed him. A pity? Here was the man who had so thoroughly
disapproved of her behaviour that he had warned his all too impressionable
friend away from her and now he was claiming that he liked that behaviour.
Though she supposed such behaviour was favourable in a conquest but not in a
wife. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There was no chance she would be a conquest. She was here for a
marriage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I have grown up, Benedict, that is all.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">His lips curved. “You have grown up in many ways.” He glanced over her
figure. “The years have done you many favours, Angie. However, I’m not sure you
are all that different.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I am,” she insisted. “I’m nothing like I was when we knew each other.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Benedict released the curl and tilted his head to view her. “Well, we
have ten days together. I’m certain it will become clear whether you have or
not.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“That sounds almost like a challenge, my lord.” She cursed the words
once they were out. Those were the words of impulsive, silly Angie. Even the
addition of his title had been used with every intention of being daring
instead of polite.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps.” He leaned forward and took her hand in
his. She eyed their gloved fingers meeting and tried to force her arm to
retreat but she had gone boneless at his touch. He eased his palm into hers and
held her hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“A challenge would certainly make this rather dry party a little more
interesting, do you not think?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She was too busy gaping at their linked hands to even agree with him.
Or tell him no. She already had one challenge to worry about, she didn’t need
another.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“We have ten days together. Let me prove to you that you are not
changed. That the Angie I knew still resides behind those stiff manners.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Why on earth would I agree to such a thing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“To prove me wrong.” He lifted her hand up toward his mouth and brushed
it over her knuckles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I have no need to prove it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are you scared?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She raised her chin. “Never!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He released a flash of a grin. “Ah, there she is.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Damn you, Benedict.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">His grin widened. “And again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She puffed out her cheeks, feeling how hot and red they were. This was
all going so wrong. How was she meant to act like a lady when he was so
infuriating? She should probably start thinking about a new job already. She’d
never persuade Oliver they’d do well together if this continued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Angelina tugged away her hand and shook her head. “You won’t win,
Benedict. I can assure you of that. Now it is not appropriate for us to be
alone together so I shall bid you good afternoon. Will you tell the marquess
that I am suffering with a headache and I shall join them for dinner?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Of course, my lady.” He offered a mockingly formal bow and Angelina
just knew he had no intention of giving up his idea of scandalising her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She shook her head again. As if he could scandalise her further. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Lovelustandlipstickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280685121682757567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-16893706324203301452018-05-09T11:57:00.003-07:002018-05-09T11:58:04.943-07:00Catch up with me!Hi! If you're visiting here, you're visiting my old blog! I don't post here often so if you want to connect with me, here's the best places to find me:<br />
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See you soon!Lovelustandlipstickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280685121682757567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-4859745094172987542017-02-06T08:08:00.000-08:002017-02-06T08:08:03.793-08:00Release day giveaway! Win a $100 Amazon gift card<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
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Available from Amazon and all other vendors for 99c for release week.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Notorious
rogue, Lord Nathaniel Kingsley always tended to leap without thinking. Becoming
a smuggler, adopting a sheep, getting engaged to Miss Patience Grey….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Patience has
no need for a fiancé, or a husband. For once in her life, she wants to prove
she’s just as good as a man and she does not need Nathaniel Kingsley getting in
her way. With her brother injured, it is up to her to continue her family’s
work…and that means tracking down a French spy and ensuring said spy will turn.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Unfortunately,
no one believes she can do it alone. Which is where Nathaniel comes in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Nate is happy
to be of service. Why pass up the opportunity to repay an old friend,
especially with a little intrigue along the way? Find the spy, play escort to
Patience, return home to continue smuggling. Easy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Or at least
it would be if the stubborn Patience would let him do his job. The
breeches-wearing woman is determined to do it all alone and, he has to admit,
there’s something quite distracting about a woman in men’s clothes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Can he keep
his attention from her long enough to complete their mission and persuade
Patience to let him do his job and protect her? A job he’s beginning to find
he’s enjoying a lot more than he thought he would…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Available
from Amazon and all other vendors for 99c for release week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Amazon:
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<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Other
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Excerpt<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“There would have been many a heartbroken lass had you really been
engaged,” Drake said. His grin grew wicked. “I was looking forward to offering
my comfort and condolences.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Nate shook his head and ignored his friend’s jest. Instead he turned his
attention to the ale in his hand. It would be his last for a while. He’d need a
clear head for what was to come, especially if he was to keep that minx under
control. If her own mother could not make her wear a dress, what chance did he
have? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Either way, he was looking forward to the challenge. Smuggling was all
well and good but they had only gone out once in the past month and all had
been quiet. No excitement to be had. He was rather looking forward to the
chance to indulge in some espionage and adventure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Of course, Jacob Grey was aware of their illicit activities. Being a government
agent had meant they had helped him before. He was one of the few residents of
Penshallow who quite understood who was behind all the smuggling that took
place in their small fishing village. Most thought Knight the face of it—the
big, brooding, scarred hulk of a man opposite who spoke only when absolutely
necessary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">At present, Knight’s attention was on something near the bar. Nate
flicked a glance over but could see nothing of interest. Only the usual overly
drunk patrons gathered while Louisa, the innkeeper, worked her hardest to keep
up with demand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Other patrons littered the room, gathered around small tables. Some had
cards in their hands while all had drinks. The Ship Inn was not the most savory
of places but it was out of the way and the food was good. Not to mention
Louisa was uncannily good at ensuring the customs men never came near the
place. She had saved their skin many times and they repaid her help generously,
ensuring she had a good supply of excellent French wine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You were a damned fool, signing up for this,” Nate’s brother said,
thrusting a finger at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What was I to do? You were off enjoying yourself with Hannah. Far too
much it seems.” His brother’s gaze darkened and Nate immediately ceased any
idea of talking of Red’s fiancée. Hannah was currently installed in lodgings in
the village while they awaited the license for their marriage and to finalize
all the details. His brother was, unbelievably, utterly in the love with the
woman. It was not such much the woman he had fallen for that surprised Nate but
that his brother had the ability to fall so heavily for her. Red had always
been too busy to think of love or even marriage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Drake leaned in. The captain fixed Red with a slight smile on his lips.
“Face it, Red. While you were distracted by petticoats, Nate held down the
fort. I don’t blame him for offering to help, after all, are we not in this to
help the crown?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Since when are you so noble?” Red demanded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Since I have a pocket full of coin,” Drake said smugly. “Things have
been going uncommonly well of late. I don’t see why Nate cannot help Jacob Grey
and be back in time for our next outing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Uncommonly well?” Nate’s brother lifted a brow. “After Knight’s illness
and the storm that near tore your ship in half, you were complaining of curses.
Now you think things are going uncommonly well?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Knight glowered. The giant of a man sat with his arms folded, a great
scowl etched upon his face that in some lights looked as though it could be
made of granite. Were it not for being friends with him, Nate would give him a
wide berth. The man looked like trouble and, potentially, he was. No one really
knew anything about him apart from the fact he was useful muscle and a damned
hard worker. Though Nate suspected there was something more under that silent
exterior. What that was, however, he was not sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“It was not an illness,” Knight protested.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Drake laughed. “You vomited on my boots, Knight. What would you call
it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Knight fell back into silent mode and glowered some more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-75447781014747567992016-10-26T08:00:00.000-07:002016-10-26T08:00:13.699-07:00Release Day Giveaway!<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://books2read.com/u/b6Qvjp"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--oyh5bMv2As/WAoZCdBfigI/AAAAAAAADWM/c1-Z5-LDBugXJAVD6ysQcygU38BQ4rlWwCLcB/s400/ROGUEWANT_FB_AD.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Meet the Earl of Redmere in the 1st book in
the Rogues of Redmere series, a brand new Regency romance series by #1
bestselling author Samantha Holt.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Red never shies
away from a challenge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Never.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">But when Miss Hannah
St. John strides into his life demanding—<i>yes,
demanding</i>—he help her, he’s certain she’s more challenge than even he can
handle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Hannah is
determined to transport an artifact from France—one that will change
everything—even if it means working with a lawless man like Red. Nothing is
more important than preserving history. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Not even the touch
of a smuggler who inconceivably makes her stomach twist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">When it becomes
clear the irritating bluestocking will do anything for this blasted artifact
and needs saving from herself, the earl-turned-smuggler steps in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Carting a cursed
stone across the country with a know-it-all woman is not Red’s idea of fun,
particularly when their journey runs far from smoothly…so why does he find
himself enjoying her company just a little too much?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/b6Qvjp">Purchase here</a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Excerpt<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Excuse
me,” she started but her voice came out like nothing more than a mouse’s
squeak. She coughed and tried again. “Excuse me, are you Red?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">His
head jerked up. “Who wants to know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
took another step closer and gasped. The firelight cleared the shadows around
his features. She was not sure what she expected from an infamous smuggler but
it was not this. Where were the pock marks? The scars? The missing teeth?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">There
were no missing teeth to be sure. Though he kept his mouth in a firm line of
disdain—or perhaps annoyance—the quick flash she had seen had revealed a mouth
of perfectly healthy teeth. As for scars or pockmarks, his skin was perfect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">His
light brown hair was, admittedly, a little too long and his face was unshaven,
revealing several days of neglect. There were shadows around his eyes too, and
he looked weary. However, that could not take away from that fact he was a
handsome man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He
stared at her expectantly. She gulped. “I need your help.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“And
if I do not wish to give it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
shook her head. Impossible. He had to help her. He was her only chance. She
dragged out the chair opposite and sat. One dark brow rose at the action. Chin
lifted, she propped her arms on the table and leaned forward. He smelled of the
sea.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
need your help bringing across something from France. I’m told you are the man
for the job.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Then
you were told wrong.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
can pay handsomely.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
don’t need coin.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Do
you not? I thought all smugglers did.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He
leaned forward abruptly. “You need to watch your tongue, miss.” He glanced
around. “Not everyone here is a friend.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
jerked back a little. Handsome he might be, but he was also intimidating. His
strong jaw, finished with a slight dip that was just visible under the stubble,
was set firmly. His eyes glinted in the firelight though she could not tell
their color properly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
took a breath and cast her gaze over him. It was something she was in the habit
of doing. Study everything closely enough and any fear she might have of it
left. It had worked with spiders. When one looked closely, one could see they
were no more than a few legs and a body pieced together. Those long legs no
longer appeared so terrifying once she had seen them under a microscope and
appreciated the unique design of the creatures.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It
did not seem to quite work with this creature. His slightly creased forehead
and the still lifted brow did not lose any of it sternness. His lips, she
concluded, were generous for a man’s, but it did not soften his appearance. She
pictured him in evening wear and that helped a little, though she could tell he
would be ridiculously handsome and likely still no more polite. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
was told you were the man to help me,” she said, aware of being a little
breathless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“As
I said, you were told wrong.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Lovelustandlipstickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280685121682757567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-29341255679667670562016-10-11T06:23:00.000-07:002016-10-11T13:16:38.746-07:00Chapter 1: You're the Rogue That I Want<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><b>Coming 26th October--a sexy, fun, intriguing Regency romance. Taking you from Cornwall to London, immerse yourself in the world of the Rogues of Redmere--four determined men who are about to meet the biggest challenge of their lives.</b></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Red
never shies away from a challenge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Never.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But
when Miss Hannah St. John strides into his life demanding—yes, <i>demanding</i>—he help her, he’s certain
she’s more challenge than even he can handle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hannah
is determined to transport an artifact from France—one that will change
everything—even if it means working with a lawless man like Red. Nothing is
more important than preserving history. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Not
even the touch of a smuggler who inconceivably makes her stomach twist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When
it becomes clear the irritating bluestocking will do anything for this blasted
artefact and needs saving from herself, the earl turned smuggler steps in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Carting
a cursed stone across the country with a know-it-all woman is not Red’s idea of
fun, particularly when their journey runs far from smoothly…so why does he find
himself enjoying her company just a little too much?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">_______________</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Add to your <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32536678-you-re-the-rogue-that-i-want">Goodreads</a></b></span></div>
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<h1>
<span lang="EN-US">Chapter One<o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Red
spat out another mouthful of salty water. The sea spray struck him across the
face, bitter and unpleasant. Waves rolled in, sloshing over the edge of his
boots and filling them. He grimaced. The seas were particularly rough tonight.
They’d be lucky to haul in all the goods before sunrise. His muscles burned as
he dragged what had to be the tenth keg of the night to shore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Cold
wind slapped his face and ruffled his shirt. He cursed the unpredictable
English weather through his teeth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Though truth be told, they’d dealt with
worse. However, considering the mood he was in tonight, he did not much fancy
dealing with anything other than a shot of whiskey. Some days he wondered what
possessed him to drag his arse out in the middle of the night and fight the
weather, and sometimes the local excise men, all in the name of a profit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Beside
him, two other men worked hard to fight the waves and ensure their cargo was
not lost. Frosty ribbons of moonlight glinted off the white tips of the waves
farther out. The rowboats that had been used to bring in the goods were long
since stowed away and the ship would be headed to the docks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> As another strong wave nearly toppled him, he
muttered what could perhaps have been conceived as sarcastic thanks. At least
they had avoided the worst of it when rowing in, but could that damned wind
have not waited until after they’d brought in their haul?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Red
glanced over at Knight, who worked a darned sight faster than he or Nate. Of
course, the muscle-bound man had quite the advantage over them and seemed to
cut through the waves like a frigate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Nearly
done,” Knight declared over the wind, hefting a trunk onto the cart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Red
pushed his sodden hair from his face with one hand and dragged the cask out of
the sea by the fishing net. He paused to squint into the sea. Once upon a time
they had been able to unload their cargo in broad daylight while the weather
was calm, but the customs men had increased their patrols of late. Red and his
crew had been forced to become sneakier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nate
brought in what looked to be the last keg and paused to take a breath. “At
least it isn’t raining,” he said with a grin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s
all of them?” Red asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They
all paused to study the surf as it churned and bubbled. Their haul had been
left in fishermen’s nets just past where the waves broke. The nets could be
spotted easily enough in the light but the knotted floats were not so easy to
spy in the inky ocean at night. However, their new method of bringing smuggled
goods in from France was worth it. It gave them time to bring in the cargo—and
time, they had discovered, could be vitally important when it came to the
excise men.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Let’s
get this stowed away before we get any wetter. I have a hankering for a
whiskey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nate
chuckled. “When do you not?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Red
grunted at this. “Don’t be jealous of my finer tastes. You’ll enjoy the finer
things in life one day—once your balls have dropped.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nate,
only two years his junior and his brother, laughed again. Knight clapped him
hard on the shoulder, and Red saw Nate wince. Sometimes the giant of a man
seemed to forget he was twice the size of them all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We
had better get moving. Louisa said the excise men had already been in tonight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Red
nodded. “Hopefully that means they have been and gone but—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“They’re
sneaky bastards,” finished Nate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes,”
he agreed. He let a grin break across his face. “But we are sneakier.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They
all chuckled. After he and Nate clambered onto the cart, he took the reins and
urged the horses forward. With the help of a push from the behemoth that was
Knight, they eased the vehicle off the stony shore and onto the grass. Knight
walked behind them until they hit the dirt tracks and then he climbed onto the
cart. He understood well enough that they could do without his extra weight
until they were on the roads.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Red
directed the wagon along the narrow track until the hedgerows grew close. The
road itself could hardly be considered a road and was impassable when it
rained. On days like those they were forced to bring in the haul on foot,
stowing it in a cave not far from their landing spot until the path dried out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He
shuddered, aware of water still sloshing about in his boots. As much as the
cursed wind made life difficult, Nate had been right. The rain would have made
their job twenty times harder and their last lot of cargo had been a bother to
bring in. Christ, he longed for the days when they could bring in their goods
with as much ease as a merchant man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Once
they reached barn, he paused to drag on his greatcoat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Cold?”
Nate asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Damned
right I am.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s
that noble blood of yours,” he said with a smirk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yours
is the same,” Red muttered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m
plenty warm,” Knight remarked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They
both glanced at him. Red shook his head. Knight could not fail to be warm with
the bulk of him. He suspected the man could stand out in the snow for two weeks
and be perfectly content. He’d never met a man so hardy, and in their business,
it was quite the asset.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They
opened the back of the cart, and Red unlocked the barn door. “Put the wine near
the door,” he ordered. “It will not be there long.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Knight
nodded and began unloading with a swift ease that made Red feel like a crippled
old man, in spite of Knight being potentially older than him. At least they
thought so. No one really knew, not even Knight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Red
stilled. He motioned to the men to do the same. Breath held, he listened. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Horses,”
Nate whispered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He
nodded. “Open both the doors, we’ll put the cart inside.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Knight
and Nate pulled them open and he urged the horses into the dark confines of the
barn. Thankfully they had little left of their last loot or else it would never
fit in along with the horses. He clambered off quickly and locked the barn door
behind him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All
three of them were well-rehearsed in dodging the customs men or any potentially
nosy strangers. The rugged Cornish countryside provided plenty of hiding spots,
and they tucked themselves behind a crumbling stone wall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
sound of horse hooves neared. Collectively they held their breaths. Should the
revenue men come upon them, they would be nothing more than three drunken men,
lost on their way home from the inn. But it would be enough to arouse suspicion
and potentially search the barn. None of them wanted that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Red
twisted his head enough to view the horses and their riders as they belted
past. Three of them, well-dressed. Excise men to be sure. He cursed inwardly.
They were becoming more determined.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They
waited until the patrol was long gone before moving from their spot. A curse
from Nate drew Red's attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What
is—” Red laughed as a he spotted the sheep currently determinedly butting into Nate’s leg. “Looks like you’ve made a
friend.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Or
an enemy,” Nate grumbled when the animal retreated and came at him again. Nate
held up his hands to try to stop the animal from coming near but the white,
grubby-looking sheep was determined to butt into his leg. In spite of Nate clapping
his hands and stomping his feet, the animal continued forward before coming to
a stop and giving him a gentler nudge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“She
likes you,” Knight said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Come,
let us finish our work here and leave Nate’s friend in peace. Then I can have a
damned whiskey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It
is <i>not</i> my friend,” Nate protested as they opened the barn to continue
unloading. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
damned sheep followed them into the barn. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Red
shook his head. Nothing about tonight had gone smoothly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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Lovelustandlipstickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280685121682757567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-44162478871519623062016-09-06T09:00:00.000-07:002016-09-06T09:00:04.814-07:00New release and giveaway!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Available on <a href="http://amzn.to/2bJs2h2">Amazon</a> now!</div>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Once upon a time, in a land far, far
away…well, Scotland…Rose lived tucked away from the world with her aunt.
Orphaned as a baby and adopted by her aunt, she’s used to her eccentric
ways—including her overprotectiveness. But Rose wants more from life. However,
she never quite expected for Laird Hamish McTavish—complete with kilt—to change
things. The brash, and admittedly braw, man is hardly like the charming men
Rose has been dreaming of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Freshly returned from the battlefield
with an unexpected inheritance, highlander Hamish is struggling enough to fit
in at the sleepy lowland village. When he comes across a feisty young woman
with wild hair and a brash tongue on his land, he doesn’t expect it to lead to
more than a five-minute argument.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">But he cannot help himself. His
curiosity is piqued. Who is this young woman surrounded by three
slightly-crazed elderly women seemingly intent on keeping her from the world?
He must find out more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Unfortunately, there are several
people more than willing to get in the way of that aim. Rose’s aunt for one—not
to mention his late-cousin’s mistress who is determined to replace one cousin
with the other. Not only must Hamish deal with his duties and find a way to get
close to Rose, he must also find a way to get rid of this abhorrent
woman…before she does anything truly evil.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">Excerpt<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Something amongst the grass caught his attention. He paused and peered
at it. Not a dog to be certain. He moved closer. A woman. Closer still. No, a
girl. He tilted his head. A sort of girl. A girl-woman perhaps. She had the
figure of a woman, to be certain. Even lying down, he could see there were
ample breasts and some curvaceous hips. However, her face was far too girl-like
with a petite mouth, small nose, and pale lashes and eyebrows. Her hair was
technically fair but not as light as the few fair women he knew who likely had
a little help from cosmetics to get that bright, light look.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Of course, he was able to observe all this at his leisure because she
was sleeping. Fully and completely asleep. He looked at the basket at her side
to see a small joint of ham. Why the devil was this young woman picnicking on
her own with a mere slab of ham? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He coughed. Hamish supposed he could have let her sleep on but it did
not seem safe to leave her out here all alone where anyone could do anything to
her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Not to mention, he was wildly curious about this woman. He had only been
in Scotland mere weeks, but he had met a few of the local families and his
tenants, and she certainly was not one of them. He would have remembered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He coughed again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Lashes fluttered and mossy green eyes stared up at him. A crease
appeared between her brows, and she jerked up to sitting. “Who are you?” Her
gaze raked him from head to toe, making him far too aware of his traditional
Highland garb that had no place in the lowlands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Who are ye?” he demanded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her scowl deepened and she stood, snatching up her basket as though he
might be very interested in her lone piece of ham. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I asked first.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“But yer the trespasser.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I certainly am not!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Those mossy green eyes were not so mossy when they stared up at him. In
fact, they were becoming more interesting by the moment, and he’d certainly
never been interested in moss. Dark green at the center, radiating out to an
almost sea green, then finished with a ring of dark color that he supposed had
given him that plant-like impression. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She peered at him as though he was crazed, and he realized he was staring
into them for too long.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yer on my land,” he stated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Yet again, her gaze ran the length of him. He’d never been so aware of
his height and stature before. In battle, his oversized body had been useful—apart
from when it came to ducking bullets. But now he felt like an ogre or a giant,
come to feast on this wee little lass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">However, though there was certainly distrust in her gaze, she did not
seem frightened of him. In fact, she raised her chin and directed her challenging
stare at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“This is the land of the Laird of Baleith.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Aye.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She tilted her head. “The laird is six and fifty years.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“He was.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Was?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Aye. He died several weeks ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“He did?” Her eyes widened and she took a stumbling step back. He instinctively
reached for her and helped her straighten, but she shook off his touch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He flexed the hand that had met her skin. A mild burning sensation had
struck him the instant they had touched. He tried to shake it from his mind but
he could still feel it, still recall the softness of her skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Hamish opted for looking over her head. Golden strands of hair curled
from it in wild disarray. What had once been a braid now looked to be a misshaped
wodge of hair. Slightly brighter strands curled around her face, drawing
attention to the pointed chin and tightly-pressed together lips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Damnation, now he was looking at her mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He forced his attention back to her eyes. Aye, they were far too
intriguing but if he continued on the path he was on, he’d end up staring at
her figure and he could not allow that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“The laird had a fall. He died from his injuries unfortunately.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I did not know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well now you do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“But why would I not know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m not sure. Do ye know all that goes on around here? Forgive me for
not telling ye as soon as he hit his death bed,” he said, his tone dry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“There’s no need to be rude. I am just sure my aunt would have known.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I can be as rude as I like, lass. Yer standing on my land.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You cannot really be a laird. No laird would speak in such a manner.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Whoever this stranger was, it was apparent she felt she should know all
that occurred on his private land. He chuckled. “Well this one does.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="0639587d226" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/0639587d226/" id="rcwidget_ualf0848" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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Lovelustandlipstickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280685121682757567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-34452614344455269992016-08-04T06:30:00.002-07:002016-08-04T06:36:39.663-07:00Cover Reveal: Wake Me With a Kiss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ulbfmsE5e3w/V5t1IADxXvI/AAAAAAAADJo/SbH2x5maYs45ov4Gt4Fa5gem4kd7gpRQACLcB/s1600/wakemewithakiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ulbfmsE5e3w/V5t1IADxXvI/AAAAAAAADJo/SbH2x5maYs45ov4Gt4Fa5gem4kd7gpRQACLcB/s320/wakemewithakiss.jpg" width="204" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Coming September
6<sup>th</sup>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Once upon a
time, in a land far, far away…well, Scotland…Rose lived tucked away from the
world with her aunt. Orphaned as a baby and adopted by her aunt, she’s used to
her eccentric ways—including her overprotectiveness. But Rose wants more from
life. However, she never quite expected for Laird Hamish McTavish—complete with
kilt—to change things. The brash, and admittedly braw, man is hardly like the
charming men Rose has been dreaming of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Freshly returned
from the battlefield with an unexpected inheritance, highlander Hamish is
struggling enough to fit in at the sleepy lowland village. When he comes across
a feisty young woman with wild hair and a brash tongue on his land, he doesn’t
expect it to lead to more than a five minute argument.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But he cannot help
himself. His curiosity is piqued. Who is this young woman surrounded by three
slightly-crazed elderly woman seemingly intent on keeping her from the world?
He must find out more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Unfortunately,
there are several people more than willing to get in the way of that aim.
Rose’s aunt for one—not to mention his late-cousin’s mistress who is determined
to replace one cousin with the other. Not only must Hamish deal with his duties
and find a way to get close to Rose, he must also find a way to get rid of this
abhorrent woman…before she does anything truly evil. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Find Samantha on
Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/samanthaholtromance/">https://www.facebook.com/samanthaholtromance/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Lovelustandlipstickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280685121682757567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-16586037657912354242016-08-04T06:30:00.001-07:002016-08-04T06:30:13.155-07:00Free Read<div style="text-align: center;">
Don't forget Sinful Confessions is always <b>free </b>on pretty much every ebook platform. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://books2read.com/u/bQZBnw">DOWNLOAD HERE</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sinful-Confessions-Cynfell-Brothers-Book-ebook/dp/B00W2TD572/ref=as_li_ss_il?ie=UTF8&qid=1470316625&sr=8-1&keywords=sinful+confessions&linkCode=li3&tag=lovelust02-20&linkId=a554c5c7345b514b16fc7138eb7475c5" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&ASIN=B00W2TD572&Format=_SL250_&ID=AsinImage&MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&WS=1&tag=lovelust02-20" /></a></div>
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<i>Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. The Cynfell brothers are the very embodiment of a sinful existence. But could the right woman change that?</i></div>
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<b>Wrath</b></div>
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Locked behind the walls of Lockwood Manor, Julian Cynfell, the Marquess of Lockwood whiles away his days writing angry letters, drinking and sleeping. He never expects his solitude to be interrupted by a brazen American heiress.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
An American heiress who is expecting a wedding.</div>
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Viola Thompson can't believe her luck when the English lord she has been corresponding with for the better part of a year asks her to visit him. This has to mean an offer of marriage surely? Finally, Viola will prove to her family and friends that she is more than a ruined woman with no prospects. Not to mention she knows they will be a love match. No one could write such beautiful letters without being the perfect man.</div>
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But when she arrives in cold, dreary England to be faced by a foul-tempered, grizzled--albeit in a handsome way--marquess, her dreams of marriage are quickly dashed. Can she draw the lord out of his melancholy ways? And does she even want to remain in England while rumours of three dead wives circulate around Lockwood?</div>
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One thing is for certain, this American heiress has never been one to back down from a challenge--especially when not even the Atlantic Ocean could dampen the patent desire running between them.</div>
<img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="https://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=lovelust02-20&l=li3&o=1&a=B00W2TD572" style="border: none; margin: 0px; text-align: center;" width="1" />Lovelustandlipstickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280685121682757567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-78558679159902511812016-06-06T08:19:00.000-07:002016-06-06T08:19:05.918-07:00Pirates suck, readers don'tSo this will be one of many blog posts speaking out about book piracy. It's not a new thing. Every time someone is exposed as a pirate, everyone gets outraged but nothing is done about it. In fact, the people reading it will be my supportive readers who buy my books or download them for free legitimately. Two people were exposed in my newsfeed this weekend. One, a pirate (I won't call them a reader, they don't deserve it) and one a supposed book blogger. Neither seemed to comprehend how downloading a book that was not intended to be free = stealing.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing. I write full time. I was able to turn this into a full time job after about 2 years of writing solidly. Finally, my earnings were enough to just about pay my bills and have enough left over to ensure we didn't starve. During this time, I became a single mum and I support my family alone. Our current situation, having moved out of the house I shared with my ex, means I'm currently an hour's commute from the kids' school. (I'm working on getting them transferred). This means to get a 'real' job would be very hard because of the few hours I am actually not driving or looking after children. Sometimes I wish I had a standard 9 - 5 job but my job allows me to earn without, I don't know, hiring a chaffeur and a nanny or something! The world unfortunately sucks when supporting working parents.<br />
<br />
But while I've always been able to support us without panicking, certain changes to the publishing world has made it harder and harder. The fact is I'm having to put in more hours than ever before. The only time I'm not working is when I'm feeding kids, driving to and from school, and walking the dog. I'm no different to any other working parent but I deserve to get paid for each and every download of my book. The downturn in the industry is due to many reasons, because the publishing industry is in a very real flux. This does mean every sale is very important.<br />
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So pirate sites cost. If you're not sure if a site is a pirate site, ask yourself, does it link to one of the big sellers i.e. Amazon, B&N etc? Sites like Bookbub, Freebooksy etc, will always send you to a legitimate site.<br />
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The other form of piracy that is very rife right now is Amazon returns. There's been numerous pushes to get these people who buy a book, read and return for a refund shut down and to get Amazon to own up to changing the policy, but hey, they're the big fish and we're tiny little annoying voices to them so that won't be changing any time soon. A word of warning to those serial returners though--authors do--and have--tracked many down. I can also tell you that I have personally tracked down several piraters downloading books. One woman lived down the road from me--something I discovered from her blog that I found via her email. You are trackable and can be held accountable so be warned. There are people who have been sued for music piracy. I think its only a matter of time before someone gets their ass whooped for book piracy.<br />
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So I know those who are reading this aren't pirates but I implore you to keep doing what you're doing. Keep outing them. Keep letting them know there are safe ways to get free books. Authors rely on your support. In my poorer years, I lived off free Kindle books--many of which became all time faves. And of course the Kindle app is free so if they can afford a computer or a phone, they can download with ease. I'm assuming if they download books, they love them. Why not return the favour and consider become a reviewer? You can get a ton of great new releases, if you just leave a short review.<br />
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So I guess more than anything, this is a thanks to the real readers out there who wouldn't dream of damaging authors' livelihoods and continue to try to educate the ignorant. Here's to you!<br />
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<br />Lovelustandlipstickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280685121682757567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-50646032283917754642016-02-05T03:26:00.001-08:002016-02-05T03:26:55.541-08:00The End of the Vikings?<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><i>To Dream of a Highlander </i><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>takes place on the Isle of Bute, one of the western islands
of Scotland in 1230—mid-siege. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">The
siege is not often written about. The tension between the powerful Norway—who
held most of the western islands at the time—had only just started and culminated
much later on in the infamous Battle of Largs. In history, this invasion could
be considered a mere blip. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">But for
Walter Steward, the man who built the castle walls and took the island from the
Norse originally as a steward of the king, this battle ended dreadfully for
him. In defending the castle, he was struck by an arrow and killed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">What is
now known as Rothesay castle replaced a wooden castle on the island. In around
1200, William the Lion seized the island from the Norse and Walter began
erecting the castle. Alas his defences would prove inadequate when the time
came.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">King
Hakon IV of Norway wanted to assert his rule in the isles and, accompanied by
Uspak from the house of Somerled and Olaf of Man, set about hunting down those
who were unfaithful for Hakon and the men of the king of Scots who sought power
in the isles—such as Walter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">While
this fleet spent time seeking out and killing these men, the climax of the
expedition did not occur until a year later, in 1230, when they stormed the
castle at Bute. It is said that the defenders poured boiling pitch (a substance
obtained from tar) and molten led on the attackers but they used shields to
protect themselves and cut down the walls. Walter was killed by an arrow and
the castle was taken.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">However,
they could not hold the keep. Alan of Galloway responded by assembling a fleet
and upon seeing them, the Norse extracted a ransom of three hundred silver
marks and left. This was not the end for Bute. In 1263, Hakon travelled from
island to island, demanding allegiance following the king of Scots, Alexander
III’s raids of the Norse territory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">This
culminated in the Battle of Largs. The Norse were pushed off the mainland but
the battle was indecisive, with losses on either side and no clear victor. With
the approach of Winter, Hakon vowed to seek revenge in the Spring. Fortunately
for Alexander, Hakon never lived to see Spring. His son, Magnus, had little
interest in continuing the fight and gave up the Herbrides and the Isle of Man
to Scotland for four thousand marks in the Treaty of Perth. This was the
beginning of the end of the Norse age.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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If you'd like to read more about Vikings, check out my Viking novella <a href="http://amzn.to/1Pno32Y">ALREK</a> and keep an eye out for Heart of a Viking which is coming late this month. Subscribe to my <a href="http://amzn.to/1Pno7Qk">Amazon </a>page for updates.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-14372562783723233292016-01-20T04:20:00.002-08:002016-01-20T04:20:47.644-08:00Sneak Peek! Sinful PossessionThe 5th book of the Cynfell Brothers series releases on the 25th so I'm sharing the first chapter of Ash Cynfell's story. Ash is one of the twins and his dashing brother, Harris, also features in his story quite a bit. Ash is a bit unlike the other brothers--very brooding and a bit of a recluse. Can the vibrant Lila Radley change that? Pre-order your copy for only 99c to find out!<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/1Ow9T1e">PRE-ORDER HERE</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28514717-sinful-possession?from_search=true&search_version=service">Add to your Goodreads</a></div>
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<h1 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Chapter One<o:p></o:p></span></h1>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">London,
1899</span></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ash Cynfell cracked open an eye. He closed it again at
the sight that greeted him. The sense of being watched failed to dissipate so
he forced that eye open once more and peered at his reflection.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">No, not his reflection. His
twin brother. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What the devil are you doing
here?” he grumbled, hearing the gritty tone to his voice. He closed both eyes
and concentrated working through the fog that had crowded his mind several
hours ago and left him lethargic and almost unable to move from his bed.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Drinking again, brother?”
Harris asked. “On today of all days.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ash did not deny it. He
worked hard to open both eyes and stare down his brother as he leant over him.
While they were identical, Harris didn’t suffer the affliction of red-rimmed
eyes or creases on his forehead, as Ash knew he’d currently have if he braved a
look in a mirror. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What do you want?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well, that’s charming.”
Harris strode over to the chair in the corner of the bedroom, sat, and lifted
yesterday’s newspaper that had been abandoned when his vision had grown too
blurry to read it. His brother crossed one leg over the other and flicked the
paper open. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ash clenched his jaw and
lifted his gaze to the ornate ceiling of his townhouse bedroom. He took a few
breaths and counted to ten. As close as they were, he loathed how Harris had to
make such a display about everything. Nothing was ever easy with his brother.
Everything had to be dramatic and over-the-top.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Goddamn it, Harris, piss
off and leave me to sleep.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“It’s seven o’clock.” Harris
lowered the paper. “In the evening.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“And I like my bed.” He
resisted the urge to pull the covers and sulk under them much like when they
were children.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You would like it a lot
more if you actually got out of it and went in search of company. Honestly, Ash,
I’m beginning to have concerns about you. Are you sure you’re my brother? When
was the last time you kissed a woman, let alone bedded her?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He didn’t want to consider
it, but he found himself doing so. A year? No, two. It wasn’t that he didn’t
have healthy male desires. It was simply that finding a woman took effort. With
these constant headaches attacking him, he hardly had the energy.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Not to mention, he did not
want to let someone close enough to find out about them.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I get enough women,” he
ground out. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">His brother put the paper
onto the small table next to the chair and stood. He pushed a hand through dark
hair and straightened his waistcoat. Being identical twins had brought them
plenty of entertainment as boys and even as young men, but it also brought its
annoyances. They had the uncanny ability to purchase the same clothing or pick
out the same fabrics at the tailors. Looking exactly like one another grew old
and the constant comments, frustrating. The attention from women had been
interesting once but no longer—not since the headaches started getting worse.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Harris gave him a
disbelieving look but said no more. “Today of all days to drink yourself to
sleep...”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ash forced himself upright,
swung his legs over the bed and crossed his arms over his rumpled clothing.
This morning he’d been dressed and ready to have a productive day until his
vision had begun to blur, a great swathe of dots dancing in front of it. He’d
taken immediately to his bed with the knowledge of what was to come.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">An agonising pain and a
lethargy that barely let him put one foot in front of the other.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He wouldn’t correct his
brother. The assumption was always he’d been drinking or that he was too lazy
to get out of bed. His family had been assuming that ever since the headaches
started when he was a lad. Not the drinking part of course, but he was grateful
when he could start legitimately indulging in a tipple to have an excuse for
wasting hours and hours in bed. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Far better that than the
alternative.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Since when do my drinking
habits concern you?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Since you challenged Fred
Westerling to a duel and you need a steady hand.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ash swung a surprised glance
at the clock as if that could somehow tell him the day. But it told him his
brother had been right and it was now past seven o’clock. Past the time he was
meant to be meeting that damn fool for pistols at...well...dusk. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Damn it all.” He pushed up
from the bed and tried to hide his wince.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">His brother shot him a
concerned look, and Ash shied away from it. He didn’t want sympathy. The very thought
made his gut curdle. He was a man—a strong, fit and healthy one by all
accounts. It was just his head that was wrong, somehow. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">But it mattered not. Men did
not take to their bed like delicate ladies because of a mere headache. He
still recalled his mother saying as much when he’d first begun suffering this
affliction. Her sharp voice practically grated his memory, and he resisted the
desire to wince once again.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Do you think he will still
be there?” They’d planned to meet on the small green behind Westerling’s house.
Harris was to be his second. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You’d better hope not. In
the state you’re in, you’ll never be able to shoot straight.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I could be dead and still
shoot Westerling.” The man was a terrible shot, no matter how much he bragged.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Shoot him, yes, but in your
condition you’ll miss your mark.” Harris handed over the necktie Ash had been
scanning the room for. “I know you have no intention of killing the man.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“A little nick to the arm
will give him a fright enough.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">His brother peered at him. “I
am afraid, brother, no man would look at you and think you could shoot straight
at present. I do not really want to have to start telling people my twin
brother is a murderer.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You won’t have to,” he
snapped. As long as his vision did not cloud again—which it should not as the
headaches never struck him twice in one day—he’d be able to give Westerling a
scare and come away unscathed.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Is a lady really worth
prison time over?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Of course.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ash could not quite remember
which lady it was he’d caught Westerling forcing himself upon. The man had a
habit of being ungentlemanly and that had been the last straw for him. No woman
should have to tolerate such behaviour, and the poor lady had blamed herself
for allowing herself to be near him, such was the man’s reputation. No more,
Ash had vowed, and thus he had challenged the blackguard.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I imagine you have no plans
on bedding her either.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“None at all.” He finished
tying his necktie in a messy knot. He kept no valet and minimal staff. It was easier
to keep his affliction quiet that way. Did it matter if it meant he never
looked quite as turned out as his brother? He didn’t think so.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Now I’m convinced. You
cannot be a Cynfell.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“If I’m not a Cynfell, then
neither are you,” Ash snapped back. He saw the teasing glint in his brother’s
eyes and rolled his own. “Come, let us get this debacle over with. If the man
is still even there. He must know he hadn’t a hope in hell of shooting me in
the near dark.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ash finished tidying up his
appearance and retrieved his pistol. They took Harris’ carriage to Green Park,
and he ordered the driver to wait. He wasn’t sure his brother had any
confidence in his ability to shoot at all and half-expected him to need a quick
trip to the doctor.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He narrowed his gaze at the
dark shadows of the trees. Lamps lit the streets and the night was a silvery
colour but he saw no sign of Westerling.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“He’s given up!” Harris
declared.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The park was empty—one of
the reasons they’d chosen to duel in the evening rather than the traditional
morning. It was unlikely anyone would create a fuss about them duelling, but he
wasn’t a fan of having his illegal behaviour in the gossip rags. Let him leave
the column inches to his other brothers.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He smirked. Who were
steadily becoming less newsworthy than even himself, which was saying
something. Four of his brothers were busy playing doting husbands, and three
were now fathers. Only Pierce and his countess hadn’t opted for extending the
Cynfell pack. With his wife already having a fully grown child, he could not
quiet blame them. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> A pang of guilt struck
him when he thought of his nieces and nephews. He hadn’t even met Viola and
Julian’s most recent baby. Not that they expected him to visit, given his
reputation, but he had to be about the worst uncle in the world. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Wait.” Harris drew his
attention to the park. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">A movement. “Is that him?”
They moved toward the shadowy figure. It was Westerling. The fellow seemed to
stagger, stop...then he collapsed. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What in the devil?” Ash
hastened forward and came to the man’s side. Something damp met his fingertips
and a rasping breath told him all was not well.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Damn you, Cynfell,”
Westerling rasped. “He killed me.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Who killed you?” Harris
glanced around but saw no one.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Only a bubbling sound and
the thump of Westerling’s hands falling to the side answered him. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Ash, we need to get a
doctor.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Too damned late for that by
the looks of it,” his brother muttered but sprinted off toward the houses. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">His eyes adjusted to the dim
light of the park, and he saw the dark stain of blood on Westerling’s clothes.
Whoever had hurt him had done so with the intention of killing him. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He stiffened at the sound of
crunching leaves. Taking a glance around, he saw no movement but then...his
heart bounded into his chest. A woman’s scream. Without thought, he was on his
feet and racing toward the source of the noise. Another scream. It pierced his
insides. This was a scream of terror.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He spilled out of the park
and paused. Not far from Spencer House, he spied the woman. A man had her pinned
against the brick wall of the building next to the mansion, and Ash caught the
glint of a knife as the golden glow of lamps bounced off it. He barely recalled
covering the distance between them or barrelling into the attacker. The sting
of his knuckles told him he’d struck the man and the cry in his ear announced
the safety of the victim. The man kicked out, knocking him in the gut and
forcing the air from his lungs. Whoever he was, he easily matched him. Ash
didn’t even manage to catch a glimpse of his features before he wriggled away
and ran. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The crying woman prevented
him from giving chase. He turned his attention back to her and stilled. She
wore an emerald green evening gown, cut low across her shoulders and breasts.
Several scratches marred the pale skin there. Diamonds glinted on her neck and
wrists, and they shimmered with her trembling movements.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Really, he should have
chased the criminal, but how could he abandon her?</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You’re safe now,” he
announced.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">She lifted an unsteady hand
to her mouth, and he admired the slender fingers beneath white gloves. Her
red-rimmed gaze met his. In spite of the tears and the clear horror in her
gaze, Ash couldn’t fail to notice how beautiful they were. Vibrant green,
slightly slanted, with dark lashes that few fair-haired women were blessed
with. They screamed innocent and wholesome yet were utterly alluring.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">And her hair. It had fallen
from whatever intricate style it had been in and skimmed over her shoulders.
One golden curl nearly reached her waist. He longed to finger it. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I-I saw him.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He offered an awkward hand,
pressing it to her bare arm. Cold skin met his fingertips, and he quickly undid
his jacket and slung it over her shoulders. She leaned into him slightly as he
did so, making his heart expand.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ash bit back a groan. There
had always been something that appealed to him about a woman in need. He’d
dreamed of being a hero in his younger years until the headaches had taken
hold. Maybe he would have captained a ship or gone exploring. Something bold and
courageous, and he’d return home and the ladies would adore him. Perhaps he
would save a woman or two in his travels. He’d never been able to resist the
little girls on his father’s estate wanting his help to catch a frog or climb a
tree, and that hadn’t changed in his adulthood. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ash kept his arm around the
woman. “What is your name?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Miss L-Lila Radley.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Ash Cynfell.” He never
bothered to use the courtesy title that came with being one of the many sons of
a marquess. “No harm will come to you.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">She looked up at him, those
wide eyes seeming to burrow deep down inside him. “I saw that man kill the
other man.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">A sinking sensation struck
his gut. Poor woman. Not only had she been nearly killed, she’d seen what
looked to be a murder happen in front of her. He was tempted to ask her why she
was out alone, but he didn’t wish to make her feel any worse.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Several people began to
spill out of Spencer House. Whoever was renting it at present must have been
hosting a party. He noted his brother with a man in tow, heading toward
Westerling’s body. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Were you attending the
party here?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Miss Radley nodded.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Let us find someone to take
care of you.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">She drew in a long sniffle
and nodded again, holding his jacket tight around her. It would smell of her perfume
later. His gut clenched.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Thank you for your help—”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He didn’t get to speak to
her again. A hustle of people washed down the steps from Spencer House, all
decked in their finery. He gathered they were her family and friends as they
surrounded her, forcing him back. His brother tapped his arm, but he kept his
attention on the beautiful woman. Her gaze clung to his.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I found a bobby,” Harris
murmured. “Ash.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">His brother’s serious tone
brought his attention back to him, and he tore his gaze from Lila. “Yes?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“This was not some random
attack. Well, perhaps it was. Not premeditated as they say. But the fiend who
did it...a serial killer.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The news punched him like a
fist to the gut. “There’s been nothing in the papers.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“The police did not want to
cause a panic, but from what I overheard, this type of attack—at this time of
day on a lone man, by knife—is becoming a weekly occurrence.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Lord Almighty,” he
breathed. “It could just be a similar attack though, surely?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Harris lifted a shoulder.
“The doctor said it was the same.” He offered a tilted but grim smile. “Not a
lot of fun watching him poke around Westerling’s body but who knows how much
they will tell us?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You always were a sneaky
bastard.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Harris flashed a
half-hearted smile. “Hey, if you are determined to get yourself involved in a
murder, I have to look out for you. After all, if something happened to you, I
would no longer be known as the handsome twin.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Handsome, my arse. We’re
identical.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Very well, the charming one
then.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He had to give him that one.
Harris was by far the more charming of them both. Ash let out a long, low
curse. He should have been here. Damned headache. Westerling was an ass and a
blackguard but to be murdered? Ash supposed the women he’d attacked would not
feel any remorse. He glanced toward Lila. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">She had not deserved to
witness as much, however. This was his fault.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You realise you could be in
danger.” </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ash snorted. “How so?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You saw the killer.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I saw very little before
receiving a punch to the gut.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Too busy admiring the
beautiful debutante eh?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He turned his full attention
on his brother. “Pardon?”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Harris chuckled, but his
expression grew serious. A strange look for his brother indeed. “She could be
in danger too.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">This caught his attention
fully. “Because she saw the murderer.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“She’s a witness.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes.” Ash pushed a hand
through his hair. Bloody Goddamn headaches. Why could he not have ignored it
and simply arrived on time? None of this would have happened.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He should warn her. If the
police were trying to keep the murder quiet, who knew if they’d even tell her?
Ignoring his brother, he marched after the crowd of people as they ushered Lila
back into the house. Because she was surrounded by what looked to be hundreds
of worried relatives, he hung back to wait for his chance. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Lila mustered a brave smile. It didn’t matter
that now was not the time nor the place. His gaze skimmed her décolletage as
she leant in and spoke with someone. Those golden curls spilling over creamy
skin only intrigued him further. No doubt she was receiving so much attention
because of her looks, but it was the bold tilt of her chin and the brave set of
her shoulder that drew him completely in. He’d have expected most women to have
fallen into a swoon by now.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" /></span>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-71191815836610549252015-08-12T07:34:00.001-07:002015-08-12T07:34:11.205-07:00New Release: Sinful Liaisons #99c<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. The Cynfell brothers are the very embodiment of a sinful existence. But could the right woman change that? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Greed </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It’s not every day a duchess comes across a naked man on the roadside. It’s not every day a duchess takes said naked man home with her. But Evelyn Chesworth can hardly leave the poor man in nought but his skin on the dangerous road to London. Particularly when he’s so attractive... </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Lord Pierce Cynfell is in a world of trouble. With his brother threatening to cut him off and his gambling debts increasing, his beautiful rescuer couldn’t have come at a better time. He can’t help but be attracted to the worldly, mature woman. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So he certainly isn’t going to say no when she offers to write off his debts in return for one thing—his body. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
However, it soon becomes clear more than his body is becoming involved. While everyone else might think he’s only there for the money, the beautiful widow slowly draws him deeper until he wants to unlock every secret buried beneath those tight corsets. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Evelyn might let Pierce beneath her corsets but she’s determined it will be no more than that. She has loved and lost twice in her life and won’t let that happen again. Meanwhile, she has too many other things to worry about—like the preservation of her son’s land. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When Pierce begins to show himself as more than a skilled lover, Evelyn has a choice—let herself be vulnerable again or send away the man who lights a fire in her body, heart and soul. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-73844448878381727122015-07-10T00:00:00.000-07:002015-07-10T00:00:06.673-07:00Cover Reveal and Giveaway: Sinful Liaisons<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal">
Sinful Liaisons Cover Reveal</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal">
<i>Book 3 of the Cynfell Brothers Series</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p2Q5d5agdXk/VZKJRGels_I/AAAAAAAABfI/U_i7-kXWeo8/s1600/sinfulliaisons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p2Q5d5agdXk/VZKJRGels_I/AAAAAAAABfI/U_i7-kXWeo8/s400/sinfulliaisons.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Lust, gluttony,
greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. The Cynfell brothers are the very
embodiment of a sinful existence. But could the right woman change that?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Greed<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s not every day a duchess comes across a naked man on the
roadside. It’s not every day a duchess takes said naked man home with her. But
Evelyn Chesworth can hardly leave the poor man in nought but his skin on the
dangerous road to London. Particularly when he’s so attractive...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lord Pierce Cynfell is in a world of trouble. With his
brother threatening to cut him off and his gambling debts increasing, his
beautiful rescuer couldn’t have come at a better time. He can’t help but be
attracted to the worldly, mature woman. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So he certainly isn’t going to say no when she offers to
write off his debts in return for one thing—his body.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, it soon becomes clear more than his body is
becoming involved. While everyone else might think he’s only there for the
money, the beautiful widow slowly draws him deeper until he wants to unlock
every secret buried beneath those tight corsets. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Evelyn might let Pierce beneath her corsets but she’s
determined it will be no more than that. She has loved and lost twice in her
life and won’t let that happen again. Meanwhile, she has too many other things
to worry about—like the preservation of her son’s land. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Pierce begins to show himself as more than a skilled
lover, Evelyn has a choice—let herself be vulnerable again or send away the man
who lights a fire in her body, heart and soul.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-91190132203618018152015-07-06T10:18:00.000-07:002015-07-06T10:18:03.456-07:00Excerpt: Knight's Captive<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Toc423969047"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Toc423876390"><span class="Heading1Char"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Chapter One</span></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Torbay, England 1588</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The acrid scent of gunpowder mingled with that
of sweat and vomit. It was no worse than on his own ship, the <i>Swallow</i>,
but the bitter tang of defeat hung about the air. After a long and tiresome
battle, men on both sides were weary, hungry and demoralised. However, Henry’s
men were revived by the capture of the<i> Rosario</i>. The Spanish, not so
much.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Their loss etched their faces into deep
grooves. The English had taken the ship without firing a shot. Drake had
levelled a canon at the floundering galleon and they’d surrendered. Henry
couldn’t imagine conceding so easily. A fight to the death seemed preferable to
him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He motioned to Will. “Lieutenant, escort these
men to the deck. We’ll begin unloading them. The Old Barn will be used to hold
them whilst we make negotiations.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Aye, Captain.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Henry eyed the remaining Spanish men as they
huddled in the gloom of the hull. The officers and the captain remained tall
and proud but the rest were a sorry lot. Likely pushed to fight for a cause
they didn’t understand, he concluded. Most would be illiterate, God-fearing
people. He’d heard tell that the Spanish had believed their invasion of England
and disposal of the heretic queen would be easy enough. He imagined many of
these men lacked the ability to imagine anything other than victory.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And now he was in charge of their defeat. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">While the other ships chased off the rest of the
Spanish, Henry would see to it that these prisoners of war were kept secure
until their return had been agreed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He clasped his hands behind his back. He didn’t
expect trouble from many of them and, if he kept them fed and warm, he doubted
they’d even consider rising up against him, but he would not give them the
chance to. He’d already proved himself in battle and this was his opportunity
to regain his family’s honour for good. If he could bring in a decent sum for
these men and conduct himself well, all thoughts of his uncle’s treachery would
be forgotten. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Shuffling footsteps and the creak of wood
accompanied the barked orders as the men were escorted up onto the deck. The
commander, de Valdés, drew Henry’s attention as he tugged one of his
lieutenants aside. He narrowed his gaze at the man and the young boy while they
made a harried exchange in Spanish. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“<i>No!</i>” the boy exclaimed, wrenching
himself away from the commander.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Henry strode over. “Is there a problem?” He
tried to catch a glimpse of the boy but the shadows hid his features under a
hat. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“<i>No</i>, Captain. But, <i>por favour</i>, you
must show <i>la clemencia </i>to my—”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“<i>Papa, no.”</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Turning his full attention to the boy, Henry
shook his head. He reached out and snatched the hat from his head in one swift
movement. A startled, feminine cry rang in his ears. A woman. She shied away,
refusing to meet his gaze. When he thrust her hat back at her, she jerked and
her father put a protective arm around her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I will not harm you,” Henry assured. “I will
not harm her,” he repeated to de Valdés. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Henry skimmed his gaze over the woman and tried
to ignore the pang of something uncomfortable jabbing him in the back of his
mind. Something that said she was remarkably beautiful for a woman who had been
living on a ship for so long and was wearing men’s clothing. Her shirt and
breeches flattered a slender figure, but now that he was close, he didn’t know
how he’d missed those breasts pressing against the linen under an open doublet.
There was no way any other man would have mistaken her either so he had to
assume the commander had brought his daughter on board willingly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What sort of a man brought his daughter to war
with him?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her dark gaze finally connected with his. Framed
by long lashes, the same inky black as her hair that was currently tied back by
a strip of fabric, they seemed to reach down inside him and make his knees
ready to buckle. He, who had faced down the invasion of England by the Spanish.
He, who could not claim to have felt anything other than the thrill of
impending victory as he stood on the deck of the <i>Swallow</i>. A mere woman
threatened to bring him to his knees.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He cleared his throat. What to do with her? He
couldn’t very well put her in with the other prisoners. Even with the
protection of her father, he could not be sure she would be safe. Not to
mention the thought of this wary-eyed woman in the dank confines of the barn
surviving on whatever limited supplies they could give them made his stomach
churn. Damnation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“What is your name?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her eyes widened further. In the gloom, the
whiteness around her dark pupils seemed pronounced. They created a vision of
innocence against her dusky skin and raven hair. She gathered her hands
together and he saw her body stiffen, as if she was readying herself to run. He
felt a little as if he was trying to sneak up on a boar, and the instinct to
pounce struck. However, he kept his hands clasped behind his back and tried to
make himself appear small. Not really a possibility with his stature, but he
could at least try.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“<i>¿Qué es su
nombre?</i></span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">” he tried again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her long throat worked. “Antonia,” she replied
so quietly he had to lean in to hear her. “My name is Antonia.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In spite of the volume, her husky voice washed
over him. He made his decision there. He couldn’t let this woman rot in the old
barn. He might regret this but... “Sir, I shall be taking your daughter into
custody and putting her under house arrest,” he informed her father. “She shall
be under my protection.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The man nodded with satisfaction. Clearly he
didn’t want her locked up with three hundred men either. However, Antonia
gripped his arm. “<i>Papa, no</i>.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I trust you are a man of honour? You shall protect
my daughter, <i>no</i>?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Henry nodded solemnly. Honour? Honour was what
made him rise every morning. He lived, breathed and ate it. Without honour, a
man was nothing and he knew too well what it was like to lose it. His uncle’s
heresy had ensured that he had spent too long without it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I swear it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">De Valdés murmured some words to his
daughter—words he couldn’t catch—and urged her forward with a push. Tears
shimmered in her dark gaze before she lowered her lashes. Henry motioned for
her to go ahead of him but she remained frozen. He went to place a hand to her
back, and she flinched. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Damn, the woman was terrified. He shook his
head. No wonder. She had no place in the middle of war. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Antonia, you shall be safe,” he said softly. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She barely lifted her gaze to meet his before
nodding and shuffling forward. He followed her up and tried not to watch her
movements. How he hadn’t realised she was a woman sooner, he knew not. She
moved with delicate grace, her hips swaying slightly as though used to wearing
wide gowns. Though slender, there would be no mistaking her for a boy. He could
only blame his preoccupation with ensuring the movement of their prisoners ran
smoothly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A breeze blew over him as they came up onto the
deck. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he paused to peer down
the stairs. As he did so, a bang ricocheted through the air. His ears rang with
the echo. He gripped the railing and a jolt seemed to ripple through the ship.
Beneath him, the vessel rose up and then sagged. His prisoner stumbled and fell
back into him. If he hadn’t been holding onto the ship, they both would have
tumbled down the steps.</span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Damnation.” He’d recognised the sound all too
well. A gunpowder blast. And it sounded as though it had come from deep in the
hull. Somehow, someone had lit some gunpowder. Perhaps they were trying to
prevent the galleon from being captured.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-20056432733536684992015-06-23T07:13:00.004-07:002015-06-23T07:16:09.247-07:00Dear Amazon...<div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">Dear Amazon,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">I love you. I always have done. You provided me with a chance to have my dream career. You provide great customer service and an easy to use platform. But with the introduction of new rules around Kindle Unlimited, you are failing authors and readers alike. I believe you're an innovative company. I think you want to break new ground and have done a great job of it. But now you are trampling on those who have made you a great deal of money.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">I've made you a lot of money over my career. I'm not a huge name but I've done very well for myself and even better for you. I've rolled with the occasional punch you've thrown (your inability to remove troll reviewers and come up with a decent refund system that means immoral readers don't steal from me with ridiculous ease) and I've learned to play your game. I was one satisfied customer and author.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">Authors have often suffered. Pirated books and complaints of 0.99c is too much to pay (yes, seriously) are just some of the things we have to deal with. There are few other careers where you can spend years on something and then have complaints that a price higher than a cup of coffee is too much. But that's not your fault, Amazon, and we take these things on the chin. At the end of the day, publishers and authors have been able to charge what they want for a book--what they believe it's worth.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">Until now. Now you want to pay those in Kindle Unlimited per page read. The figures you gave are incomprehensible to even the smartest of minds and totally unpredictable seeing as your 'fund' changes each month. So now if we put a book into this system, we take a gamble. For years worth of work, we might only earn pennies. Before, we generally had a very solid idea of how much a borrow could earn. How is it ok for an author to earn for only 3 pages read when you borrow a film at a flat rate? When you don't pay per second listened to on a song?</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">You listened to, I suspect, a few big names who were terrified when Kindle Unlimited came in. They don't like change and a lot of big names were extremely happy with their high earnings and didn't want that to change. I didn't want that to change either. I believe they worked hard to get there. But then so did all the mid-listers like myself. KU gave me the opportunity to reach new readers. With its help I reached spots I never thought I would reach and earned you a ton more money. Like thousands of others mid-listers, we adapted to your new borrowing scheme and together made it a success. Avid readers enjoyed the scheme and the ability to meet new authors, while those who weren't interested simply continued as usual.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">Now you are expecting us to roll with the punches again and tolerate this treatment. I'm a single mum and this is my sole wage. I know I'm not alone in this and I'm aware I'm lucky to be able to support my family with writing but believe me it is not without blood, sweat and tears from all of my family that I am able to do so. These changes are unpredictable enough for me to lose my trust in Amazon. I no longer believe they want the best for their authors or that they understand we are at the centre of their success.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">So what happens next, Amazon? When authors pull out (yes, it's happening already) of KU and readers can no longer find such a great variety? What happens when readers can no longer find novellas on KU because they won't earn enough by borrows? Speak to my readers and you will find these claims that 'everyone wants longer books' are not true. A 'real book' isn't based on length, genre, price or anything like that. Readers want variety. What appeals to one, won't appeal to others. My novellas, interestingly, always sell better, but am I going to be forced to take them away from people who have paid for a 6 month or year long subscription to KU? This, Amazon, is where you will be failing your customers.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">I hope you will listen to this. I don't want readers to stop using Amazon. I actually feel more failed by other platforms who have failed to make a usable, author and reader-friendly service and who don't seem to have a full grasp of how to push forward. But, Amazon, for once, you are not pushing forward. This is a huge step backward. I have a vague hope you might pay attention to this smaller voice but perhaps not. I'll still have your back but you won't have my trust anymore.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">Yours not-so-faithfully anymore,</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">Samantha</span></span></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-74515833956863642022015-04-27T00:15:00.000-07:002015-04-27T00:15:01.055-07:00First Chapter Sneak Peek: Sinful Deeds<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: center;">
<span class="Heading1Char"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Coming May 5th</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bYLwk-wt0ag/VT3Xem64mlI/AAAAAAAACbM/A_kZ79lT8iE/s1600/11103865_884705921586236_52668375_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bYLwk-wt0ag/VT3Xem64mlI/AAAAAAAACbM/A_kZ79lT8iE/s1600/11103865_884705921586236_52668375_n.jpg" height="320" width="204" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><i>Lust,
gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. The Cynfell Brothers are the
very embodiment of a sinful existence. But could the right woman change that?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; tab-stops: 71.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><b> Envy</b><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Being
the mistress of one of the most notorious rakes in London was never going to be
easy, but Josephine believed she was strong enough. After all, she loved Dante
Cynfell to distraction. He provided her with a comfortable home and all the art
supplies she could ever need. After a short marriage that left her near
destitute, the widow couldn’t help but fall into his arms...and his bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">But
after four years of tolerating his drunken behaviour and late night calls,
Josephine has had enough. Her paintings have caught the eye of a great patron
of the arts. With promises of fame and fortune ringing in her ears, she
realises being a mistress simply will not satisfy her anymore. She wants true
love, marriage, and respectability.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">When
Josephine ends their arrangement, Dante is shocked. She had a comfortable home,
his adoration...hell, even his faithfulness. What more could a beautiful woman
want?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Marriage?
Well, that’s one thing Dante Cynfell doesn’t plan to offer any woman—not even
Josephine. He’s witnessed too many miserable marriages. Why put the person you
care about through such misery?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Positive
he can win her back, he sets out to remind her how good they are together. One
thing is for sure, Dante will not give her up easily—especially to another man.
Josephine is about to learn that an envious Cynfell man is not to be trifled
with.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: center;">
<span class="Heading1Char"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Chapter One</span></span><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Dante Cynfell had received many slaps
across the face. Too many to count really. But none had stung quite as this one
had. He put a hand to his cheek and felt the heat where her palm had connected
with his skin. How did this tiny woman create such a sting? He stared at her
and noted she looked just as shocked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Josephine
had never struck out at him. Ever. She turned her delicate hand over and looked
at the palm. He knew she was thinking the same. If there was ever a gentler
woman than Josephine, he’d never met her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">He drew
in a breath and tried to clear the haze of alcohol from his head. It was well
past midnight and he’d been drinking since early afternoon. What exactly had he
done wrong? He hadn’t said anything foolish...at least he didn’t think so. Josephine
had been asleep, dressed in some sensual slip of a gown when he had come in—practically
an invitation to wake her and strip it from her. So that couldn’t have been it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Her
breasts rose and fell beneath that cherry red gown, and splotches of similar
colour began to reveal themselves on her cheeks. He glanced at the candle
sputtering in protest of having been lit so long and took a moment to light a
few lamps. Maybe that would give her a chance to gather herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Don’t
turn your back on me, Dante Cynfell,” she commanded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“We
cannot very well argue in the dark, now can we?” he drawled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">He
circulated the room and turned up the lamps until a decent glow revealed the
true extent of the redness in her cheeks. His mistress was furious with him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">But
why?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Dante
came back to stand in front of her and folded his arms across his chest. “Now
what exactly did I do to deserve that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Josephine
curled the hand she had used to slap him. “I didn’t mean to do that,” she said
softly, “but you startled me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“It
wouldn’t be the first time I’ve snuck into your bed.” <i>By a long reach.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">For
four years, he’d been slipping into the beautiful Josephine’s bed. She had
caught his eye shortly after the death of her husband, and he’d wasted no time
in wooing her. Josephine had come easily too, as women always did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“I
warned you about coming in late.” She put her hands to her hips. “I <i>keep</i> warning you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“I
suppose you want me to come in at nine o’ clock and tuck you in? How exciting,”
he said dryly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Is
that all you think about? Excitement? Dante,” she released a long and heavy
sigh, “I have never asked for much from you, but I had asked you to be here
before it was too late. I’ve been waiting for you all evening. I had wanted
to...to...” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Tears
shimmered in her eyes, and tension coiled in his belly. He’d always counted
himself lucky to have Josephine as a mistress. She was beautiful, kind, caring
and clever. His friends and society liked her too. She never spoke of their
arrangement and no one cared much about it thanks to her status as a widow. She
behaved with perfect decorum making it very easy to keep her as a mistress. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">And, of
course, he had a warm, willing partner visit whenever he wanted. As far as he
knew, she’d been quite happy with their arrangement. He provided her with
warmth, food and shelter, and she gave him her body and her lovely company in
return.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Never
before had she cried in front of him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">He
reached out and snapped his hand back when she shied away from him. She slumped
onto the bed, her skirts spreading out across the decadent pale green bedding.
Did she want more presents? More jewellery perhaps? Had he not made her feel
treasured enough? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Dante glanced
around the bedroom of her townhouse that he rented for her and scowled. She had
everything. A room for her little hobby, more jewels than the queen, the latest
furnishings. The whole house had been decorated to her tastes. While he
wouldn’t have minded turning her bedroom into a room specifically for making
love with touches of red and gold, she had gone for a pale green theme with
cream painted furnishings and wallpaper with little birds on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Birds
did not equal sensuality to his mind. But never mind that. It was her choice,
was his point. Everything about their arrangement had been decided by her. He
simply turned up as and when he wanted her company. What more did she want from
him?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Jo-Jo,
will you tell me exactly why my cheek is stinging like the devil and you look
like a child who has just dropped her ice cream?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“A
child?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">She
lifted her gaze to his. God, how those hazel eyes never failed to sear him to
the core. Even now he wanted her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Are
you saying I’m petulant?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">That
was a trick. He wasn’t that daft. Anything he said would be wrong right now.
Perhaps actions would be better than words. Sinking down on the bed beside her,
he took her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips. He kissed one delicate
finger, then the next, and the next. Her breaths quickened audibly, and he
couldn’t help smile against her skin. It had always been like this between
them. Even after four years, his desire for her had not run dry. As soon as he
had spied her at one of the London balls, he’d needed her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Jo-Jo,
what is wrong?” He eased closer and swept her long golden hair behind one
shoulder so he could reach her neck. She smelled of roses—his favourite
fragrance. He inhaled and laid his lips gently to her neck. “Jo-Jo, sweet
Jo-Jo...” He kissed a trail up and down her neck before teasing her lobe. Dante
couldn’t resist. Hand to her waist, he curved it around her and pulled her
tight to him while hot desire burned through him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Josephine
gave into him though she refused to touch him or even turn her head toward him.
She let him kiss her neck, sank ever so slightly into him. Her body responded
to him as it always did. He glanced down to see nipples tight against the silk
fabric. He knew she wasn’t wearing a corset from the feel of her ribs
contracting against his palm, but the sight of those hard nubs begging for his
touch made him inhale a sharp breath. Tiny tremors ran through her form, and
she released a faint moan. He nibbled her lobe and blew into it, feeling a
strong shudder from her in response. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">He
moved his hand up and cupped a breast. “Jo-Jo, I need you,” he murmured. “So
badly.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Oh,
Dante...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“I always
need you. I’ll not be late again, I promise.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">She
stiffened. Then her fingers curled around his wrist. He waited for her to
direct his hand down but no...She thrust his hand away and tore herself from
him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Josephine
stood, her luxurious cherry gown shimmering around her in falls of silk. He
gritted his teeth and tried not to give into the impulse to tear the thing from
her. She had never been one for games and he appreciated that about her. Was
she trying to send him mad with want?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“No...”
Her chin trembled. “No more lies. You always make that promise and still you
are late. I spend hours in my finest clothes, waiting for you, only for you to
come in and wake me up in the early hours. I cannot function like this anymore,
Dante. I simply can’t do it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">He
shoved a hand through his hair. He knew she’d been cross with him the past few
times he was late, but she knew well enough he was terrible at keeping track of
time. And once one drink became another and another...Well, time became irrelevant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“You
never used to have a problem with it,” he said bitterly. Being scolded by his
mistress didn’t much appeal right now, particularly now the warm haze of alcohol
was being replaced by a pounding ache in his head and a dry tongue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“You’re
right.” She nodded and began to pace. Back and forth past him. Back and forth.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so agitated. She paused and
eyed him. “I love you, Dante. I really do. And...” A tiny sob spilled from her
lips before she straightened her shoulders. “I cannot do this anymore. I don’t
have the power to change you, nor the will. You are who you are, and I do love
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Love.
Did she have to keep saying that? He knew Josephine loved him. She said it
often enough. He even appreciated it but had never quite known how to respond.
Usually it was with <i>I adore you</i> or <i>You are the most divine creature on earth</i>.
None of those would work right now. In fact, he was thoroughly lost. Women
seldom baffled him, particularly not the honest and sweet Josephine. He
half-hoped he’d drunk something awful and this was all a nightmare. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“I
don’t wish to be your mistress anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">The
words were so quiet, he had to stare at her for several moments to let them
absorb. When they did, he swore she could have knocked him over with a feather.
His Josephine...ending things with <i>him</i>?
No, it wasn’t possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Yes,”
she said just as softly. “I have had some wonderful times with you, but I don’t
wish to be a mistress anymore. The late nights, the drunken behaviour...even
the occasional spiteful remark from others.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“What
spiteful remarks? By God, if I find out...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">She
waved a hand. “There will always be spiteful remarks. You are an eligible man,
and I am in the way of many women hoping for a dalliance or more with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">He
snorted. “They should be wise enough to realise that you’re not in the way.
I’ll never marry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Josephine
gave him a sad look. “I know you won’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Thrusting
both hands into his hair, he propped his elbows on his knees and stared at his
lap. He needed a moment to absorb this. Josephine had always been there for
him. He could drop by at a moment’s notice and be guaranteed a warm welcome.
They talked, laughed, and made love. To him, things could not get any more
perfect. In truth, he’d envisioned keeping her as his mistress forever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">And why
not? Society couldn’t care two figs about what a widow got up to as long as she
didn’t flash it about, and his allowance from his brother was enough to keep
her in luxury. Once he had his father’s townhouse, he’d have everything a man
could ever want. He certainly couldn’t imagine another woman taking her place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">So why
was that not enough for her?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Do you
want more money? A bigger house?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">She
pressed her lips together and shook her head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“More
presents?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“I’ll
visit you more frequently then. I thought you liked the time to yourself to
paint.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“No,
Dante.” Her tone held such a solemn note that his heart twisted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Then
what? What do you want?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Everything
you cannot give me.” She drew a handkerchief from the drawer of her dresser and
dabbed under her eyes. “I want love, marriage...a man who won’t leave me
waiting for hours on end in the vague hope he might want to see me. A man who
wants more than my body.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“More
than your body? You know full well I don’t just want you for your body.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">She
tilted her head. “Do I?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Of
course you damn well do. Bloody hell, I’ve been faithful to you for four years.
I’ve listened to your every word and helped you when you were sick. I thought
we were friends, not just lovers.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Do not
quote faithfulness as something to which I should owe you my thanks. I would
not have agreed to this had I thought you’d be bedding other women. And yes, we
are friends. I hope we can remain friends. But it’s not enough for me anymore.
I-I’m unhappy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">That
word stabbed him like a knife to the gut. He’d always thought she was content
with their arrangement. Josephine had always been like a light to him. Always
happy, always smiling. No matter what his day had brought him, he could count
on her to greet him with a smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“What
will you do without me? You have no money.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“I can
manage.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“I
won’t see you begging on the streets.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“I
won’t have to.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">She
took a step forwards and laid a hand across his arm. It was his turn to brush
it away. How dare she throw everything they had away? Yes, it might not be
marriage and declarations of undying love, but it was affection, devotion, and
passion. How many other married couples could claim to have as much? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">None,
in his opinion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">He
stood. This was merely some silly feminine outburst. Perhaps her courses were
due and she was suffering from melancholy. He would leave her a week and return
after. Then she’d be back to her usual sweet self.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“Clearly,
I am not welcome tonight.” He snatched his hat from where he’d flung it aside
and it had skidded across the little sewing table. After ramming it onto his
head, he tore open her bedroom door and gave her one last look. “I shall return
in a week and see you then.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">“No,
you will not,” came her quiet response as he stormed down the stairs. A deep,
angry hurt ripped at his guts like the claws of the devil. There was no way
Josephine could live without him. No way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NqS30eKVODw/VT3hIWheEYI/AAAAAAAACbY/hHKzTzgL4cc/s1600/1908199_887598407963654_384654652227064398_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NqS30eKVODw/VT3hIWheEYI/AAAAAAAACbY/hHKzTzgL4cc/s1600/1908199_887598407963654_384654652227064398_n.jpg" height="147" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" /></span>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-301939334520139192015-04-24T11:32:00.000-07:002015-04-24T11:32:30.428-07:00Book Spotlight and Interview: Kirsten S. Blacketer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/910ZrJXmEUL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/910ZrJXmEUL._SL1500_.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 5pt; margin-top: 5pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;">A simple country girl at the mercy of a cold-hearted thief with more secrets than scruples.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 5pt; margin-top: 5pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;">As a widow, Jessamine gained the freedom she’d always desired. Her late husband left her his sole possession, an inn on the north road to Scotland. When a trio of gentlemen appear at the doorstep of her isolated inn during a snowstorm, Jess can’t help the curiosity coursing through her veins. Eavesdropping on their conversation only entangles her in their web of deception.</span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-fa919888-ec81-83a5-e1ef-2b8a6baf7437"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;">To the petite innkeeper, Edmund is a wealthy thief. Allowing her to think what she will, he decides to use her to his advantage. That is until she hides the stolen jewels and refuses to reveal their location. Never cowed by a challenge, Edmund issues an ultimatum: return the jewels or repay the debt with her body.</span></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jewel-Winter-Thieves-Book-ebook/dp/B00W0KEURM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1429898137&sr=8-1&keywords=jewel+of+winter">AMAZON</a> | <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/535218">SMASHWORDS</a></span><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<u>Historical Quick Fire Questions</u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Favourite Historical Era:
Wow, this is actually a really hard one for me to choose. I have a
fascination with history in general, which is why I write in all different time
periods and can't focus on just one. I
do enjoy medieval, just prior to the renaissance. But I also love Victorian. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Mr Darcy or Mr Rochester:
I love Mr. Darcy, and I've loved him for a long time. But I've been
obsessed with Mr. Rochester for about the same amount of time. So Rochester
gets my vote on this one, sorry, Darcy. He's dark, brooding, dominant, and
mysterious. All the things I love in a hero. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Castle or stately home: Both have their charms, but castles
are notorious for being drafty. I don't like being cold. My husband can attest
to that, he's constantly turning down the thermostat because I keep it so high
in the winter. I'll have to go with stately home on this one. Although I would
love to visit some castles soon. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Cravat or kilt: Another tricky question. I guess both isn't
a good enough answer here, but I really do enjoy both on a man. Although, I
will say after being in a stage production of Sherlock Holmes recently…the
cravat holds a very high appeal for me. I say we bring it back into fashion.
It's a fancy tie and perfect for grabbing hold of when the gentleman is too
tall for me to reach his lips. *wink*</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Best invention: Internet. I love that I can keep in touch
with all my friends and family. Being a military family makes it difficult for
me to keep relationships for long periods of time because we're constantly
moving. The internet gives me the ability to keep in contact with everyone
important in my life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Scones or crumpets: Ummm…I'm American. I don't think I've
ever had an actual crumpet. So I'm going with scone because I've had one
before. But muffins are better if I can add my two cents. Maybe I've just never
tasted a proper scone. Must visit the UK and test this theory. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Brandy or ale: Neither. If I do indulge, I prefer rum. I
believe I must have pirate blood in my lineage. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Carriage or horseback: Carriage driving is delightful for a
spring day. I've actually driven carriages and find the ride quite lovely.
However, I'm also a horsewoman. There's nothing that compares to racing your
horse full gallop across an open field. So horseback is my mode of choice. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Person from history you’d most like to meet: I'd love to
meet Nikola Tesla or Shakespeare. Both of them were masters of their crafts and
men before their times. Meeting them would be an honor and a privilege. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;">Connect with Kirsten</span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-66771158485064441902015-04-16T11:00:00.000-07:002015-04-16T11:00:00.989-07:00FREE new release<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. The Cynfell brothers are the very embodiment of a sinful existence. But could the right woman change that? </i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Wrath </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Locked behind the walls of Lockwood Manor, Julian Cynfell, the Marquess of Lockwood whiles away his days writing angry letters, drinking and sleeping. He never expects his solitude to be interrupted by a brazen American heiress.<br />
<br />
An American heiress who is expecting a wedding.<br />
<br />
Viola Thompson can’t believe her luck when the English lord she has been corresponding with for the better part of a year asks her to visit him. This has to mean an offer of marriage surely? Finally, Viola will prove to her family and friends that she is more than a ruined woman with no prospects. Not to mention she knows they will be a love match. No one could write such beautiful letters without being the perfect man.<br />
<br />
But when she arrives in cold, dreary England to be faced by a foul-tempered, grizzled—albeit in a handsome way—marquess, her dreams of marriage are quickly dashed. Can she draw the lord out of his melancholy ways? And does she even want to remain in England while rumours of three dead wives circulate around Lockwood?<br />
<br />
One thing is for certain, this American heiress has never been one to back down from a challenge—especially when not even the Atlantic Ocean could dampen the patent desire running between them.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-88515966591861466202015-04-12T07:55:00.002-07:002015-04-12T07:55:40.628-07:00Why You Shouldn't Read<ol>
<li style="text-align: center;">Reading is boring. Why travel the world in your mind when you can watch it all on TV?<a href="http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20050830085916/lotr/images/6/63/Rivendell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20050830085916/lotr/images/6/63/Rivendell.jpg" height="210" width="400" /></a></li>
<li style="text-align: center;">Reading is bad for your health. You might get back ache or something from sitting down so long. Nothing relaxing about that, is there?<a href="http://rack.1.mshcdn.com/media/ZgkyMDEzLzExLzAxL2NlLzEwMWRhbG1hdGlvLjNjMWIxLmdpZgpwCXRodW1iCTg1MHg4NTA-CmUJanBn/9d8be260/6d1/101-dalmations-books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://rack.1.mshcdn.com/media/ZgkyMDEzLzExLzAxL2NlLzEwMWRhbG1hdGlvLjNjMWIxLmdpZgpwCXRodW1iCTg1MHg4NTA-CmUJanBn/9d8be260/6d1/101-dalmations-books.jpg" height="240" width="400" /></a></li>
<li>Reading makes you boring. How can you learn anything from reading words? Yawn.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://rack.2.mshcdn.com/media/ZgkyMDEzLzExLzAxLzY4L2FydGh1ci45OWY5MS5naWYKcAl0aHVtYgk4NTB4ODUwPgplCWpwZw/baec1f15/131/arthur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://rack.2.mshcdn.com/media/ZgkyMDEzLzExLzAxLzY4L2FydGh1ci45OWY5MS5naWYKcAl0aHVtYgk4NTB4ODUwPgplCWpwZw/baec1f15/131/arthur.jpg" height="169" width="320" /></a></div>
</li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Reading is expensive. Wouldn't you rather buy a coffee or something?<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z502HJrzjs0/T_HVbYrcNvI/AAAAAAAAAL0/yOg_SNiPa_E/s640/Coffee+vs+Kindle.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z502HJrzjs0/T_HVbYrcNvI/AAAAAAAAAL0/yOg_SNiPa_E/s640/Coffee+vs+Kindle.png" height="346" width="400" /></a></div>
</li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Books give you unrealistic expectations. It's much better to suck it up and face reality.</div>
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<a href="http://cdn.someecards.com/someecards/usercards/fictional-men-making-real-men-look-bad-since-always-d5f95.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.someecards.com/someecards/usercards/fictional-men-making-real-men-look-bad-since-always-d5f95.png" height="280" width="400" /></a></div>
</li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Reading is unsociable. I mean, what are you going to talk about once you've finished the book?</div>
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</li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Reading doesn't make you attractive AT ALL.</div>
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<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b1/7b/49/b17b49e47fc233657545a4d03fdd2519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b1/7b/49/b17b49e47fc233657545a4d03fdd2519.jpg" width="281" /></a></div>
</li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Nobody likes a smartass. Who needs long, fancy words anyway?</div>
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<a href="http://tz.dirtytease.me/Fear%20of%20long%20words.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://tz.dirtytease.me/Fear%20of%20long%20words.png" height="309" width="400" /></a></div>
</li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Who needs an improved imagination anyway?</div>
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<a href="http://cdn.meme.am/instances/60665405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.meme.am/instances/60665405.jpg" height="330" width="400" /></a></div>
</li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Reading makes you smarter? Pffft, I'll believe that when I see it. I can't think of any smart people who read... </div>
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<a href="http://weknowmemes.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/i-cannot-brain-today-i-has-the-dumb-cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://weknowmemes.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/i-cannot-brain-today-i-has-the-dumb-cat.jpg" height="251" width="400" /></a></div>
</li>
</ol>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-46515210299022973202015-03-31T12:38:00.000-07:002015-03-31T12:38:32.823-07:00First Chapter Teaser: Sinful Confessions<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Coming April</i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth,
wrath, envy and pride. The Lords of Lockwood are the very embodiment of a
sinful existence. But could the right woman change that?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 168.45pt; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>Wrath</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UHILRQUXmq8/VRrytNt_0yI/AAAAAAAACaE/Tvw8PkCE-4g/s1600/11041365_862477007142461_631973903_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UHILRQUXmq8/VRrytNt_0yI/AAAAAAAACaE/Tvw8PkCE-4g/s1600/11041365_862477007142461_631973903_n.jpg" height="320" width="204" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Locked behind the walls of
Lockwood Manor, Julian Cynfell, the Marquess of Lockwood whiles away his days
writing angry letters, drinking and sleeping. He never expects his solitude to
be interrupted by a brazen American heiress. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
An American heiress who is
expecting a wedding.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Viola Thompson can’t believe her
luck when the English lord she had been corresponding with for the better part
of a year asks her to visit him. This had to mean an offer of marriage surely?
Finally, Viola would prove to her family and friends that she is more than a
ruined woman with no prospects. Not to mention she knows they will be a love
match. No one could write such beautiful letters without being the perfect man.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But when she arrives in cold,
dreary England to be faced by a foul-tempered, grizzled—albeit in a handsome
way—marquess, her dreams of marriage are quickly dashed. Can she draw the lord
out of his melancholy ways? And does she even want to remain in England while
rumours of three dead wives circulate around Lockwood?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
One thing is for certain, this
American heiress has never been one to back down from a challenge—especially
when not even the Atlantic Ocean could dampen the patent desire running between
them. </div>
<h1 style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0cm;">
Chapter One</h1>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i>Bang, bang, bang</i>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Somebody was setting off
fireworks inside of Julian Cynfell’s skull. He winced, cracked open an eye and
peered around. The curtains were drawn and a blanket of gloom dominated the
large drawing room.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“What in the devil...?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
He eased up from the chaise
longue and groaned. There it was again. No fireworks though. The flashes of
bright light bursting through his skull had merely been a product of the
headache plaguing him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Julian scrubbed a hand across his
face and sat fully upright. He cradled his delicate head for a few moments and
closed his eyes. Apparently some mischievous elves had taken up residence in
his skull and were taking tiny hammers to it. Each movement felt as though they
were renewing their efforts in protest of being jostled about. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Bang, bang.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The front door. That was where
the noise was coming from. Well, that made more sense than fireworks in the
main drawing room of Lockwood Manor he supposed. Cursing the little creatures
inside his head, he stood and squinted into the darkness. A tiny slit of light
slipped through each of the three sets of curtains, spilling onto the highly
polished walnut furnishings, picking out the gilded highlights of the soft
furnishings and emphasising the strong patterns on the carpet. Julian curled
his lip in distaste. Far too much for one’s delicate eyes to see after a night
of heavy indulgence.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Whoever was at the door clearly
had no intention of leaving. Where was the damned butler? Or the maids? Yes, he
didn’t have many of those left but he could spare one member of his household
to open a damned door, surely?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Feeling as though he had aged a
hundred years overnight, he dragged himself to the hallway door and flung it
open. Bright light greeted him and he groaned. At the smell of fresh flowers
and a hallway that had certainly already been aired out, he hated himself anew.
Even he could smell the fog of alcohol surrounding him. He needed a bath, a
teeth clean and a swirl of mint tea. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Then he needed some strong coffee
to help him sober up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he
muttered to the persistent visitor as the door knocker vibrated through the
house again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Julian took a moment to steady
himself against the marbled banister of the staircase before heading to the
large double doors that signalled the entrance to his house. Tall pillars in
matching cream marble reached high up to support the ceiling and he had to
stare at them for some time to realise they were not wavering from side to
side. It was, in fact, he who could not stay still.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Damn. No more drinking.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Oh who was he kidding? Besides it
wasn’t as if he was a slave to the drink. He’d only indulged—what?—twice this
week. Admittedly, he did like to indulge until darkness swallowed him and he
could forget everything, but it didn’t normally matter. Normally he didn’t have
visitors and he could sleep off any ill effects. Everyone was wise enough to
stay away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But not this person, damn them to
hell. Didn’t they know who he was? Hadn’t they heard tell of his infamous
reputation?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
On wobbly legs, he edged over to
the door and drew it open, readying himself to say something cutting before
slamming it shut. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“What in the—?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Instead of ramming the door
closed as planned, he found himself opening it farther. The feathers caught his
eye first. The white plumes drooped under the weight of raindrops. Though his
front door stood under the shelter of several columns and a jutting pediment,
this woman had clearly been a victim of quite the soaking. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
He peered past her and saw that
it was indeed a miserable day. Grey clouds weighed down the sky like lead and
water filled the dips in the road leading to the house.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Julian turned his attention back
to the soaked woman on his doorstep. The white feathered hat matched a long,
white gown, shielded from the weather by only a pale blue jacket. She looked
dressed for fine summer weather and certainly not spring showers. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
When the woman lifted her head
and took a long perusal of him, he stiffened. A shard of sensation twisted
through him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Underneath
the huge brim of her hat sat bold blue eyes, a narrow but plump set of lips and
a face that made his heart stutter. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Still drunk</i>, he reminded himself. She could have been a hideous
beast but the fog of alcohol made even the plainest of women beautiful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
He peered at her again. The
strong nose wasn’t beautiful. However, when he stopped looking at it and took
her face in as a whole, she was back to being spectacular. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
He really ought to give up the
drink. His mind was playing tricks on him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The stranger lifted an auburn
eyebrow. Several strands of hair that would likely be the same colour when dry
clung to her cheeks. Those pouty lips parted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes?” he asked abruptly, aware
he’d been staring at her for too long. His alcohol-soaked brain seemed to be
working at a snail’s pace.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Her wet lashes darted over her
cheeks several times before she spoke. “Oh, hello. Um. Is the master home?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
An American. He tried not to
sound like his mother but the voice in his head had sounded distinctly marchioness-like.
A brash, coarse, unsophisticated American. That was his mother’s voice too.
Julian hadn’t met many American women so he couldn’t really be a judge of how
brash, coarse and unsophisticated they were. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She looked at him, awaiting a
response. Brash indeed. Most women withered and looked away under his darkest
stares. In fact, most ladies wouldn’t even approach him. Too scared of him.
After all, the Marquess of Lockwood had the touch of death.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“The master is home,” he drawled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A smile slipped across those lips
and he followed the movement of them. They were certainly narrow but, bloody
hell, the cupid bow shape of them did strange things to his insides. He couldn’t
remember any of his wives’ lips making him feel as though his gut was twisting
into knots.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“That is wonderful news.” She
thrust out a gloved hand. “I’m Miss Viola Thompson. My friends call me Vee.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Viola Thompson. Oh Christ, the
woman he’d been writing to in New York. The woman he’d been... well that didn’t
matter. What the blazes was she doing here? He contemplated her hand for
several moments until her fingers curled and she tucked it back against her
side. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Could I speak with your master?”
she tried again, her voice holding a little less strength this time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I have no master.” He leaned
against the door frame and folded his arms. A little amusement first thing in
the morning would do no harm. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“But I thought...” Colour seeped
into her pale cheeks and confusion marred her brow.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Julian Cynfell, Marquess of
Lockwood, at your service, Miss Thompson.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“But...” Her lips opened and
closed several times while her gaze ran over him. “You cannot possibly be.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
He hadn’t considered what he looked
like. If he looked down, he’d likely see his shirt was untucked, his feet were
bare and he knew at least a month’s worth of bristle covered his jaw. What sort
of servant she thought he was, he didn’t know. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Forgive me if I disappoint.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Viola clutched her travelling bag
to her chest. “No, no, forgive me. I didn’t realise... Well, anyway,” she said
brightly. “Here I am.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Letting both brows rise, he ran
his gaze from head to toe. What was he meant to do with her? “Yes, here you
are.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Can I come in?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Julian’s head pounded anew. All
he wanted to do was have a coffee, eat something wholesome and go to bed—a
proper bed. His back ached from having fallen asleep on the chaise. Instead, he
had an admittedly stunning American woman on his doorstep, expecting him to do <i>something</i> with her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
He could think of several things
he might like to do with her—it had been over a year after all—but he doubted
those were the sort of <i>somethings</i> she
expected. Viola Thompson was all of twenty-two and definitely innocent—that had
been clear from her letters. Besides which, Julian didn’t<i> do</i> women anymore. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
He scowled and leaned out of the
door to search for a carriage or sign of a chaperone. No one. Nothing. Was Miss
Thompson all alone? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“How did you get here?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“The mail coach dropped me off at
the end of the road.” She pointed in the direction of the end of the private
road. It couldn’t be seen from the house as rows of large oak trees hid it from
view. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“And you walked all the way up
here in the rain?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She nodded and a tiny shudder
wracked her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“You’re alone?” He did another
scan of the area, wondering if someone was hiding behind the fountain or had
decided to walk around the back of the house to explore the ornamental garden.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“You’re American.” He didn’t ask,
just stated. He needed to work his brain around several things and saying them
aloud helped.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She squeezed her bag tightly to
her chest. “Well, yes, but you knew that. We’ve been writing to each other for six
months now.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“No, it’s just... did you travel
from America alone?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes.” She nodded again as though
this was a perfectly normal thing to do.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Fingers to his temples, he
levered himself away from the door frame.
For some reason, he had this woman he’d been writing to on his doorstep,
alone, expecting <i>something</i>. And she’d
crossed the ocean on her own. He opened and closed his eyes several times to
make sure he wasn’t seeing things, but she remained, resolute and a little
fragile-looking. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“You can’t come in.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“What?” She almost dropped her
bag and had to fumble to keep hold of it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“You’re alone. You cannot
possibly come in.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“But... Julian...” Her eyes
widened. “I mean, my lord, I am cold and wet and hungry. I haven’t slept since
my ship docked in Southampton.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Miss Thompson,” he said slowly
as though speaking to an imbecile, “there is no room at the inn. No place for
you to say. No warm welcome here. May I suggest you find a hotel and find your
warmth and rest there?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A crease appeared between her brows
and she studied him for long moments as though trying to work out a puzzle. “The
nearest town is five miles away. I know that because that is where I caught the
train to. Firstly, how do you expect me to get there? And secondly, I thought
you were expecting me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Julian found himself taken aback
by her sharp tone. Coarse, definitely coarse. Also slightly appealing. None of
his wives had ever spoken to him so directly—not even the last one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“I wasn’t expecting you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“But your letter...” She tried to
reach for the purse hanging off her arm by a metal chain but her travelling bag
slipped and dropped to the floor with a thud. He half expected the
overly-stuffed fabric to split apart and for her belongings to explode all over
him. Viola thrust her hands to her sides and let out a small huff sound. And
there, in her eyes, was the undoing of him. The little shimmer of tears that
never failed to scour his insides and turn him into an utter weakling.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Come in for a moment.” He said
the words as low as he could, half-hoping she wouldn’t hear and she would
decide to run back to New York. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She brushed by him eagerly, not
even waiting for him to step aside properly. Her arm breezed past his chest and
a few feathers tickled his nose. Julian stepped back and shut the door. Viola
removed her hat and lifted her gaze to the vaulted ceiling. Her mouth fell
open. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Goodness, what a place.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Brash for certain. His mother
would have delighted in meeting this woman and putting her in her place. He,
however, couldn’t help but enjoy her open expression of pleasure. He supposed
the house was impressive when you first saw it but he’d grown up in it.
Lockwood Manor didn’t interest him. It was nice to see it appreciated though.
The few visitors he received usually did their upmost to appear entirely
unimpressed and at ease with his grand home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Come into the...” No, he couldn’t
put her in the main drawing room. The place would smell of alcohol and he’d
probably left a few empty decanters lying around. She already didn’t have the
best impression of him. Best not to add to that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Though why did he care?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Come into the day room,” he
said, motioning to the door on the other side of the hall.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Julian supposed it was a relief
to have someone who didn’t already have a bad opinion of him in his house. The
rumours and gossip were the very reason he never set foot outside his house
anymore, so if there were any ladies left who didn’t know all about him, he had
never met them. Miss Thompson knew him as nothing more than some words on
paper—nice words too. Honest ones. Their correspondence had been one of the
more enjoyable aspects of his life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
He also supposed he owed her a
more pleasant welcome, even if he couldn’t fathom why she was here.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
When he pressed open the door,
she slipped past him—again caring little for his personal space. Or hers. In
spite of travelling all night presumably, she smelled floral and fresh. She
began to unbutton that tiny jacket and work it off her shoulders as she did a
loop of the room. No predatory glint hung in her gaze. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Normally, when women visited his
home, they were weighing up his valuables. Gauging how much the paintings were
worth. Deciding how they’d decorate the pale green room. In some ways, the
death of his last wife had at least saved him from any more visits from mothers
and daughters. None would go near him now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“This is a beautiful room.” She
shrugged out of her jacket and glanced around for somewhere to put it. It ended
up draped over a Louis XV chair along with her hat. “Very feminine.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Feminine. Yes. There was a lot of
<i>feminine</i> in this room right now.
However, it wasn’t the curves of the gilded chairs that drew his attention. It
was the curves under Miss Thompson’s high-necked shirt that captured his eye.
She did another loop, as though parading especially for him. Her skirt clung
tightly to her hips and as near as he could tell, no bustle enhanced her
behind. Everything fit tight, perfectly. Julian had ample idea what her figure
was like. Long, lithe, with high, pert breasts. Of course a corset could be
responsible for those breasts but this was a fantasy after all and his fantasy
woman had breasts that were high and round and succulent.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Mother wouldn’t approve of
course, which made it all the more appealing. His mother had designed this room
and he imagined her lips curled in distaste at the idea of an American
scattering her clothes over the furniture. Thank the Lord she was in Brighton. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Julian, however, rather liked the
idea of more clothes being scattered. A shirt perhaps. Then a corset. A skirt
and some drawers. Maybe he’d leave any stockings on. He bet she would look radiant
in silk stockings. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Miss Thompson paused by the fire
and held out her hands. Apparently some of his staff was around as it had been
lit on this dreary morning. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.
Afternoon. Not morning. He’d slept that away it seemed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
While his visitor fussed with her
auburn hair, drawing back the wet strands that were stuck to her cheeks, he
rang the bell for tea. He had a limited amount of staff—yes the house took a
lot of work—but he hardly needed anyone to care for him. However, there had to
be <i>someone</i> around.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
He eyed the back of her for a
while. What to do with her? He coughed. “Will you not... will you not have a
seat?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She smiled at him. Any hint of
that rebellious woman demanding entrance to his house had vanished. A warm fire
and a dry room had done wonders for her temperament.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Easily pleased then. Very unlike
wife number three.</div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-78862550300104603722015-02-27T08:49:00.003-08:002015-02-27T08:49:27.386-08:00Kindle Fire HD Giveaway<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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Want to win a Kindle Fire HD? It's easy. Enter below. </div>
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<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="0639587d127" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/0639587d127/" id="rcwidget_sfsmqbsa" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-83297824723498073492015-02-25T12:23:00.000-08:002015-02-25T12:23:11.173-08:00Upcoming Releases: Cynfell Brothers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nom7IxRUHgo/VO4ugiA6QII/AAAAAAAACYQ/boZsM2HYBDU/s1600/11017824_347862138748298_1111673666791954453_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nom7IxRUHgo/VO4ugiA6QII/AAAAAAAACYQ/boZsM2HYBDU/s1600/11017824_347862138748298_1111673666791954453_n.jpg" height="280" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm pleased to announce the first book of my new series the Cynfell Brothers will be releasing in April. Make sure you've signed up to my newsletter as this book will be FREE just after it's release. Sign up to the right of my blog.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="text-indent: 22.7pt;">Lust, gluttony, greed,
sloth, wrath, envy and pride. The Cynfell brothers are the very embodiment of
a sinful existence. But could the right woman change that?</span></i></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cYy2slmUG6g/VO4t1X5laqI/AAAAAAAACYI/lk3CODMTiCo/s1600/11015436_855617361161759_1448751916_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cYy2slmUG6g/VO4t1X5laqI/AAAAAAAACYI/lk3CODMTiCo/s1600/11015436_855617361161759_1448751916_n.jpg" height="350" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-88045414958679754382015-02-25T12:03:00.000-08:002015-02-25T12:03:08.750-08:00Romance and FeminismThere are people who say that romance works against the feminist cause. Particularly with the uproar surrounding Fifty Shades, it could be said the these sort of books are pushing the idea that we need a man to save us (or control us). In truth, yes--particularly in the earlier 'bodice ripper' years--there were books that were essentially telling women to wait for a man to rescue them. There were also many that said it was ok for a man to force himself--or his way of life--onto you.<br />
<br />
I didn't grow up with this. I'm thirty and I grew up with Harlequin books. This was before erotica became more mainstream but sex was very much included. Unfortunately, because of the stigma still attached (which still very much exists), I never admitted to reading these books. However, I'm eternally grateful for what they taught me. I don't need to be ashamed of my sexuality and I understood to respect myself and my body and not to let others make choices for me--regardless of what those choices might be.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vxjM7bmVcrI/VO4qZAkj1sI/AAAAAAAACX0/OuizLJY448Q/s1600/f994f8f769b9045faab388eda2a18db9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vxjM7bmVcrI/VO4qZAkj1sI/AAAAAAAACX0/OuizLJY448Q/s1600/f994f8f769b9045faab388eda2a18db9.jpg" height="320" width="260" /></a>I'm also a feminist. And unless you didn't figure it out already, I write romance, particularly in eras where women were considered chattel and had very few rights. My recent Victorian novels have allowed me to explore the birth of women's rights, but naturally I have to abide by the rules of society or I might as well be writing something else entirely.<br />
<br />
The thing is, my books are never about needing a man. Yes, a happily ever after is required. Hero and heroine have to come together (there are few exceptions but this is the norm, particularly for mainstream publishers). However, romance isn't about the HEA. It's about the journey.<br />
<br />
It isn't about the heroine winning her man and her life becoming perfect. It isn't even about that for the hero. It's about growth--on both sides. It's about learning about themselves and each other. Working together or even working apart before they can come together as two confident, secure people. It is then about creating a true and equal partnership. You see, feminism isn't about putting men down or making women superior, it's about equality.<br />
<br />
As is romance. It's about finding that perfect balance with your soulmate.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-66500959071099753972015-02-19T07:48:00.001-08:002015-02-19T07:48:48.936-08:00New Release and Giveaway<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: inherit;">My latest Victorian romance just released and to celebrate I'm having a giveaway<span style="line-height: 12.2880001068115px;">!</span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 12.2880001068115px;">Win a signed photo of Colin Firth as Mr Darcy</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 12.2880001068115px;">2 x ecopies of Once Upon a Rake</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 12.2880001068115px;">Pack of signed swag</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 12.2880001068115px;"><br /></span></span>
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<a href="https://tonyaloveslife.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/kissed-at-midnight-giveaway.jpg?w=300&h=225" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://tonyaloveslife.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/kissed-at-midnight-giveaway.jpg?w=300&h=225" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 12.2880001068115px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; line-height: 12.2880001068115px;">Enter below</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00SJS8P52/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00SJS8P52&linkCode=as2&tag=samaholt-20&linkId=6AUET5DQR4JQ2P47"><span style="color: white; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/81Lb2Z4vDXL._SL1500_.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: inherit;">Purchase from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00SJS8P52/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00SJS8P52&linkCode=as2&tag=samaholt-20&linkId=6AUET5DQR4JQ2P47">Amazon</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: inherit;"><span style="text-align: start;">August Avery, a renowned civil engineer, has found himself the sole custodian of his cousin’s six month old daughter and he needs assistance—fast. He understands how to build railways, to construct bridges and to save the railway tycoons thousands of pounds. He doesn’t understand, however, how to care for a child </span><br style="text-align: start;" /><span style="text-align: start;">. </span><br style="text-align: start;" /><span style="text-align: start;">When Ivy Davis turns up at his door looking for work, he believes his prayers are answered. If only the exotic, exuberant young woman did not prove to be such a distraction from his busy workload. </span><br style="text-align: start;" /><br style="text-align: start;" /><span style="text-align: start;">Unsure if she is even up to the task of looking after a baby, Ivy finds herself swayed by the handsome and slightly desperate August into working for him. With her singing career failing before it even started and no other talents, she decides looking after a young child cannot be so hard... surely? </span><br style="text-align: start;" /><br style="text-align: start;" /><span style="text-align: start;">But the child may turn out to be the least of her worries. Her handsome, brooding master seems to keep her awake more than the baby. Add to that her desire to achieve her dreams of singing on stage and the machinations of the indomitable Mrs Pepperwhite who sees her as competition for August’s hand, Ivy finds this simple job growing harder by the day—as does her desire for her master... </span></span></div>
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Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6143855433750825528.post-49372123374675847662015-02-18T09:22:00.002-08:002015-02-18T09:23:18.887-08:00A Guide to Preparing for Release Day<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Creating the Ultimate Buzz<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">A guide to preparing for release day<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Creating a
buzz for release day can make a huge difference on how your book performs. For
avid readers of your genre or those subscribed to your updates, they’ll find
you naturally as they search for new releases, but you really want to capture
those who won’t and really bump those sales in the all important first few
days. So here are a few tips and tricks to help grab attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"> <i style="font-weight: bold;">Don’t start
too early.</i></span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> A month is about right. Too
early and you’ll either annoy people or they’ll forget about you, too late and
you won’t reach your maximum audience.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"> <i style="font-weight: bold;">Consider
where your audience is.</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; text-indent: -18pt;"> If you’re
not a first time author, hopefully you have an idea where your readers hang
out. If you are, do some searches, find blogs and forums that cater to your
genre and track them down. I’ve found historical readers spend a lot of time on
Facebook but don’t necessarily participate on pages whereas contemporary
romance readers will. Twitter is considered to be better for those in NA and YA
genres.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Don’t spam.</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> Just because your readers are in a forum,
don’t spam them. Consider other ways to reach them—interesting articles related
to your genre, snippets from your story, or even consider writing a short story
linked to your book and putting it on sites like <a href="http://www.booksie.com/">http://www.booksie.com/</a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="color: windowtext;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-stretch: normal;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]--><b><i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Create
awesome graphics.</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> Teasers are
a great way of hooking people in. Make them stand out with beautiful images.
Gimp.com is a great free program for creating teasers. Keep them short and
sweet for maximum impact.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-stretch: normal;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">If you
haven’t already, <b><i>add your book to Goodreads</i></b> or track down a<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/220"> librarian</a> who
will. Encourage your readers to add it to their To Be Read list by offering an
incentive. I like to run a giveaway in which one of the entry options is to do
this. You don’t have to offer Kindles and expensive prizes—handmade swag,
printed bookmarks and even things like vintage jewellery can be very popular with
readers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"> <i style="font-weight: bold;">Book a blog
tour.</i></span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> This is one of the easiest ways
of getting the word out and many tour providers offer great prices to suit all
budgets as well as arrange reviews for you. If you can, book one for your
release date. Ask your author friends for recommendations and do check out
previous tours carefully as the quality of service can vary drastically. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-stretch: normal;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]--><b><i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Find
reviewers.</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> When you get your ARC, track
down some reviewers. If you can have some reviews up on release day, your
chances of getting more sales are much better as readers won’t be taking a
chance on the unknown. A good source of reviewers is <a href="http://www.stepbystepselfpublishing.net/reviewer-list.html">The
Book Reviewer Yellow Pages</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-stretch: normal;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]--><b><i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Consider a
Facebook event.</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> Set it up a
month beforehand and plan lots of fun games and giveaways. Not only does this
introduce you to new readers and create a buzz about your release, it offers
ongoing opportunities as readers will often want to friend you or find out more
about your other books afterwards.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-stretch: normal;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]--><b><i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Research
paid advertising</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">. I highly
recommend email lists as a great way of reaching new readers. Some can be very
pricey—like <a href="file:///C:/Users/User/Documents/Documents/bookbub.com">Bookbub</a> but there are others, such
as <a href="http://www.ebooksoda.com/">ebooksoda</a>, that are very cheap but
have less of a reach. Book cover advertisements tend to be cheaper as they are
less effective but I can highly recommend sites like <a href="file:///C:/Users/User/Documents/Documents/digitalbooktoday.com">Digital Book Today</a> and <a href="http://www.theereadercafe.com/">the ereader café</a> for a variety of
options. Remember that these ads are not just about selling your book but
creating an awareness of your name. It may not directly impact sales but it
will help get your name out there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Network</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">.
If blog tours aren’t your thing or you’re after a specific audience, reach out
to fellow authors in your genre to ask if they will host you. It can be as
simple as a blurb spotlight or an interview or guest post. Many authors will be
happy to host you if you can write a relevant guest post that is sure to
interest their readers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">One last handy tip—be excited! Readers will
pick up on your enthusiasm. Tell them why you can’t wait for your book to be
out. Explain how much you adore a certain character or why the setting means so
much to you. It’s all about convincing the reader they will be missing out on
so much if they don’t read your book. Here’s wishing you many sales!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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