Archive | July 2016

One Heart to Give Release Day!

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$.99 through release week, goes up to $2.99 on July 19.

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Blurb

When tragedy strikes Dani’s business partner it brings Ren back into her life. She’d thought she moved past her feelings for him, but one glance and they come flooding back.

Growing up as an orphan, Daniella Brosen has trouble connecting with other people. She has no room for anyone in her life, except her best friend, Rendall Sousa. He is the only male she’s ever loved or will love. Circumstances beyond her control tear them apart, and she has no choice but to leave him behind.

When Daniella left without a word it broke Ren’s heart. If she’d given him a chance he’d have told her how much he loved her. Dani was everything to him, but she made her choice. There was only one course of action left to him—move on without her.

As their lives become intertwined again, can Ren convince her he’s always loved her or will she push him away forever?

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Excerpt

“So the nurse tells me you’re Mr. Price’s emergency contact.”

A voice filled the room. It was as familiar as breathing. She would have known it anywhere. It haunted her dreams and sneaked into her thoughts when she least expected it. For a brief moment she thought she might be hearing things. Had she conjured up his voice because she’d been thinking of him earlier? No, that was silly. There was no way he could actually be behind her. Dani turned slowly and blinked several times. She could feel the color draining from her cheeks. This couldn’t be happening to her. “Ren?”

“Dr. Sousa, I forgot to give you Mr. Price’s chart.” A nurse with dark auburn hair and soft brown eyes bustled in and handed him a file.

Ren stared at Dani and didn’t say a word for several seconds. He studied her in awkward silence. He was almost exactly as she remembered him. His hair was a bit shorter, and his blue eyes stole her breath. It was Ren. Having him near always had that effect on her. He turned toward the nurse, took the file out of her hand, and dismissed her with a nod. “Thank you, Lana.”

Lana…that was the woman who’d called her office. Dani filed her name away for future reference. She was pretty, petite, and had a no-nonsense attitude. Something Dani appreciated. The nurse nodded and left the room. Leaving Ren alone with her. He set the file down and walked over to her side. The silence in the room was palpable. She had no idea what to say to him and still wasn’t completely convinced he was real. Hallucinations had never plagued her before, but there was always a first time for everything…

“Dani, I didn’t realize…I should have asked Lana for a name.”

Real. Definitely real. She gulped down a lump in her throat. Hell how was she supposed to deal with Ren, and Matt’s situation at the same time? This was an overwhelming emotional circumstance, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was up to dealing with it. She sent up a silent prayer for strength.

She shook her head. “There was no way for you to know.” This was all too much. Matt was hurt and Ren was his doctor. How could life have set her on this path? Her two best friends—one’s life depended on the other.

Was this the fate’s way of making her face her past?

She cleared her throat and turned away from him. It hurt to look at him. He looked as amazing as she remembered. A golden-brown haired god with ocean blue eyes, pain stabbed in tiny pinpricks against her already aching heart.

“What do you need from me?”

Ren didn’t answer her. Had he remained in the room with her? She didn’t want to turn around and look, but he was forcing her to face him. Why did she have to deal with this? Normally she could handle anything… This was too much in one breath of time for her. The tears she’d been holding back were about to come crashing forward.

Her breath hitched as she turned to look at him. All the love she had been carrying around for him—it was still there. He was a walking reminder of what she didn’t have. His gaze held such concern for her.

“Dani, perhaps we should go to my office to discuss this.”

Hearing her name spoken in his voice was almost her undoing. They’d stepped into an easy pattern of familiarity, but they knew next to nothing about each other anymore. They had a past. That was it.

“Does it matter where we talk about Matt?” She looked down at her friend. “The nurse said he was sedated. I doubt he will hear any of it.”

What she didn’t say was she needed the buffer. She didn’t know what she would say or do if she was completely alone with him. Sure Matt wasn’t about to jump into the conversation, but he was better than talking about the elephant in the room. Her feelings for Ren, his lack of them for her, and the fact she’d disappeared from his life so many years ago. She hadn’t even said goodbye. It would have been too difficult to face him and explain why she couldn’t be in his life anymore. Jessica needed him to devote all his attention to her. Dani would have been in the way. Leaving was the only decision she could have made.

“I think you will be more comfortable there discussing his condition,” he replied softly. “I have a lot to go over with you.”

Ren had always been kind. This wasn’t about her. Matt’s condition had to be more important. It was time for her to suck it up and deal with her emotional overload. Ren wasn’t going to bite her head off. It wasn’t who he was.

“Fine, lead the way, Dr. Sousa.”

Dani had to put up barriers and ignore her rampant emotions. He couldn’t be Ren anymore. He was Matt’s doctor and nothing more. Her feelings on the matter were irrelevant.

 

 

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Eliza Knight Stolen By The Laird

Stolen by the Laird

(Conquered Bride Series Book 4)

By

Eliza Knight

Blog Tour – June 29 to July 9

stolen by the laird cover

About the Book:

She was supposed to be his prize… But not all rewards are sweet…

Laird Brody Keith, Marischal of Scotland, has been asked by his future king to travel with William Wallace to Dunnottar Castle, where they will seize the castle back from the English. If he completes his mission, the castle, the land and all it holds, will be his. Brody is more than eager to sink his blade into the hearts of his enemies after the brutal murder of his sister and father. But what he doesn’t count on is finding an English lass in need of his protection…

Lady Guinevere has led a less than pleasant life in Scotland over the past year, and now she can either run for her life or accept the proposal of a man who should be her enemy. Survival bids her to acquiesce, but that doesn’t mean she has to play nice. Except, she’s coming to adore the people whom she’s always been told she should hate, and respect the man who risked his life for her.

Joined for a mutual purpose, Brody and Guinevere seem doomed from the start, but as time passes and their true enemies draw closer, they’ll form an alliance that not even the devil himself can break.

Excerpt:

Brody pushed the door open the remainder of the way and came face to face with four Englishwomen. They huddled by the window, dressed in Sassenach gowns, hair once styled as though they were attending a great feast, jewels at their necks, and tears adorning each face except for one.

“Och, but I’ve died and gone to Hell,” he muttered.

Everyone knew Englishwomen were as shrewish as… well as, an Englishwoman, and as cold as dead fish.

All four stared at him, wide-eyed, mouths hung agape.

Much like fish, he thought.

They were pretty enough, especially the one with the long flowing blonde locks. Though it looked as though her locks had seen better days, perhaps not to have been torn from whatever fancy knot they’d been in.

“Who are ye?” he asked in not too kind a tone. He didn’t want any shrewish behavior, simply facts.

The blonde stepped forward, squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye with her piercing blue—nay more green than blue—eyes. She was the only one who didn’t cry. As though she’d been expecting him. The lass was beautiful, even if she was a harpy. Her bone structure was delicate, but her eyes sharp, and the way she frowned, well, he guessed her tongue to be just as barbed. The gown accentuated the curve of her hips and the swell of marginal breasts—he refused to call them the perfect size, for she was English, and he denied finding anything about her to be flawless.

“Who are you?” she retorted.

Och, a fiery little fish. “I asked ye first.”

“Well”—her gaze roved from the top of his head down to his boot tips and he felt more than a little assessed—“I think it is plain to see I outrank you, savage, so you must answer me first.”

At her bold words the ladies in her presence all paled, one covered her mouth, another pinched her own arms and the third nodded approval.

Brody chuckled, taking a menacing step forward. “Then I suppose we have found ourselves at an impasse, fishy, for I do believe I outrank ye.”

“Fishy? Ye insult me.” She shook her head and regarded him with something akin to disgust. “Impossible.”

Her revulsion almost had him checking himself. How odd, and why should he even wonder at her manners? She was English after all. Every woman he’d ever met up to this point had fallen at his feet. Brody was known for his charismatic tongue, his lovemaking abilities. Well, this fish wouldn’t know those things. And from the looks of her, she’d be too uptight to enjoy the pleasures he could have given her, if he wanted to, which he wouldn’t.

Brody puffed his chest and took several steps forward. “I assure ye, madam, given your current situation, anything is possible.”

Two of her ladies fainted dead away and the third stepped in front of the blonde, only to be shoved behind, a sharp word from the Grande Fishy’s mouth.

Then she turned back to him, pursing her lips as though she were contemplating a truce.

Before she could speak, he cut her off. “I dinna make deals, lass. If ye dinna believe me, then take a look out your window at the kirk yonder.”

“So you intend to kill us then?” Despite the stubborn set to her jaw and shoulders, her lower lip quivered.

Och, but why did that slight tremble have to tug at his heart? “We shall see what comes to pass.”

Buy Links:

Amazon:http://amzn.to/29fF3K4 / B&N / Kobo / ITunes

Eliza Knight

About the Author:

Eliza Knight is an award-winning and USA Today bestselling indie author of sizzling historical romance and erotic romance. Under the name E. Knight, she pens rip-your-heart-out historical fiction. While not reading, writing or researching for her latest book, she chases after her three children. In her spare time (if there is such a thing…) she likes daydreaming, wine-tasting, traveling, hiking, staring at the stars, watching movies, shopping and visiting with family and friends. She lives atop a small mountain with her own knight in shining armor, three princesses and two very naughty puppies.

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Barbara Devlin The Black Morass

the black morass cover

The Black Morass

 (Pirates of the Coast Book 1)

 By

 Barbara Devlin

 

About the Book:

Forever glancing over his shoulder, Jean Marc Cavalier is a ruthless pirate with the blood of countless souls on his hands and a price on his head, but he is a lonely man. In exchange for a chance at redemption, pardons for his crew, and a peaceful life, he accepts a pact that could result in liberty or death, if only he can survive the terms, but at least he will be free. When he rescues a young woman in distress, and vows to return her to her family, he is torn between his natural instincts born of violence and the honorable bargain he struck. What will Jean Marc choose?

En route to Jamaica to join her father, after her guardian dies, Lady Madalene Davies departs Boston in anticipation of a new life in a foreign land. When her ship is attacked and set afire, she is left for dead, until an unlikely savior comes to her aid. Brash and bawdy, her flawed hero defies the conventional ideal, as he is no knight in shining armor and seems forever intent on shocking her, yet she cannot resist the lure he presents. What happens when danger lurks in unexpected places, faith is broken, and Madalene must rely on Jean Marc to stay alive?

 

Excerpt:

Atlantic Ocean

March, 1816

Virtue was a highly overrated characteristic in his estimation. In truth, he ranked it in the miserable depths of humanity comprised of respectability and righteousness. For the strong and fearless, the glorified traits of honor and integrity functioned as an impenetrable barrier to the excitement of the worldly existence filled with violence and debauchery in which he once reveled on a daily basis. In exchange for societal approval, grown men surrendered their dignity, and their whore’s pipe, he would argue, to abide by a set of rules in which most had no say, and for what? High principles? Prestige? Indeed, such noble qualities sucked dry the marrow of life, leaving naught but the simple pleasures to enjoy, as the Black Morass rode the waves.

Sunshine glittered on the ocean, as a sea of precious diamonds, and a cool breeze sifted through his long black hair, as Jean Marc Cavalier directed the helmsman. Restless and yearning for stimulation, something to feed the hunger that gnawed at his harrowed soul, he approached with caution what appeared to be a burning schooner that he might offer aid, in accord with the pact he signed in a moment of weakness or perhaps insanity.

“No movement on deck, Cap’n.” Tyne, the bosun, lowered his spyglass. “Should we continue our advance?”

“We will maintain course and heading, just to be sure there are no survivors in need of rescue.” For some strange suspicion he could not quite shake, Jean Marc surmised all was not as it seemed, given the nearest vessel disappeared below the horizon before he could inquire after the circumstances of the misadventure. For a seaman, naught struck fear in the heart more than fire aboard ship, which could send an entire crew to Davy Jones’s locker. And he had given his word to perform meritorious deeds for a full year, in trade for an unconditional pardon. At the end of twelve months, Jean Marc and his men would be free of past crimes, beholden to none.

But at what price had he bartered his autonomy?

It was for that reason Jean Marc refused to sail past the doomed lady. And then he spied activity at the stern rail, on the quarterdeck. “Come about.”

“What is it?” Peering over his shoulder, Tyne narrowed his stare. “Is that a white flag?”

As they drew closer, Jean Marc smiled, and a familiar itch in his palms had him flexing his fingers. The lure of conquest burned bright in his loins, and he struggled with a craving for fresh meat, if only to reassert authority over his life. “It is a woman.” He laughed. “And she waves her undergarments.”

Perhaps fate smiled upon him, as the chit might be just the balm to ease his unrest and allow him to regain a measure of control. Obligated to the Crown, and no longer the master of his destiny, he thirsted for the power of ultimate domination, and nothing compared to the supremacy inherent in seduction.

“Bloody hell, she is a tasty bit o’ fluff.” Tyne licked his lips. “And a bottle of Jamaican rum says she is unspoiled, too.”

“I believe you are correct in your assertion, mon ami.” That tempered Jean Marc’s ever-growing arousal, as he never claimed virgin’s blood, because he preferred experienced whores who knew what he wanted and gave it to him, without complaint or inconvenient emotional attachments. Then he got a good look at the boon, in question, as the Morass glided to a halt, and full-blown lust threatened to consume him. Maybe it was time to sample the tender flesh of an innocent. “Ahoy, dear lady. Jean Marc Cavalier, most definitely at your service.”

“Kind sir, I would be grateful for passage to Port Royal.” Behind her, the masts collapsed, and she shrieked. How he ached to make her squeal with enthusiasm, as he would wager she could scream much louder with the right inducement. “As you can see, my current accommodation is about to sink, and I am in dire need of new transportation.”

“Lower the plank.” He signaled the crew. “As I am certain we can strike a mutually beneficial bargain.” With a lush figure made for sin, and of that he could envision committing many with her, and alabaster skin he fully intended to explore in more intense inspection, once he got her alone, she presented a delightful distraction. “How is it your ship fell into such misfortune, and where is the crew?”

“They are dead.” Tears pooled in her vivid blue eyes, and she emitted a soft sob, but he cared not for her sad tale. “We were attacked by pirates, and I hid in the captain’s cabin, in a small compartment beneath a concealed floor panel, which he revealed he previously used for smuggling, thus I was spared.”

“Come here, mon chou.” As the bow dipped below the surface of the water, he slipped an arm about her hips and whisked her aboard the Morass.

“Oh, do collect my bundles, as they hold irreplaceable personal items, including some of my mother’s keepsakes.” She pointed to two pillowcases, knotted at the opening. “Please, sir. I cannot lose them, and I shall ensure you are handsomely compensated, when I reach my destination, as I hail from a family of means.”

“Is that so? Then your every wish is my command.” And she would compensate him, all right, but not in the coin she proposed, as he had something else in mind for the delectable brown-haired wench. In seconds, Jean Marc jumped to the now high-pitched stern, grabbed the belongings, glanced into the waist of the doomed vessel, and discovered the remains of a massacre, which made no sense. At the very least, the sailors could have been sold into slavery, so why would anyone surrender such valuable cargo? A large crack in the boards indicated the ship yielded its last breath to the force of the ocean, and he took a running leap to safety. When he gained his footing, the woman flung herself at him and wept. “Now, now, none of that, mon chou.”

Guileless and genteel, his unwitting prize had no idea of the scheme he would enact to reclaim a portion of his pride, as the King stipulated naught in regard to conquest of the fair sex. Indeed, she possessed no means of defense against his provocative persuasion, and he would employ everything at his disposal to well and thoroughly invade every inch of her. Before he landed the little angel on Jamaica’s shore, he would instruct her in the art of pleasure, such that she would perform, at will, what even some professionals considered obscene, and render her quim raw. And then he would leave her, unharmed but a bit worn about the edges, without so much as a backward glance, as was his way.

“I thought I was going to die, and you saved me when all seemed lost.” Well, he was not so sure he saved her, inasmuch as he delivered her from one precarious position to another, though she knew it not. Whimpering, she hugged him tight, and he savored her soft and feminine curves. “How can I ever thank you?”

Oh, he had plenty of suggestions. With a slight bend at the hips, she assessed her things, and he admired her round bottom. Then and there, he decided to first defile her arse and sail her windward passage, as he relished the compelling contradiction between the vulgar act and the pristine virgin, given she was no short-heeled lass or three-penny upright.

“You may start by telling me your name.” Of course, buccaneer or not, Jean Marc required no such formalities to seize the treasure between her thighs, and he would feast on her honeypot soon enough, but he did not want to frighten her—at least, not yet, as fear could be quite provoking.

“Lady Madalene Davies, sir.” An exemplar of perfection, her mouth posed an unparalleled enticement, and how he would engage her aristocratic, plump red lips about his stiff cock. Then she stared at the crew, released Jean Marc, and retreated a step. “Is this a passenger-for-hire ship or a privateer in His Majesty’s Navy?”

“Not usually, and I am no longer a pirate.” He advanced, as her chin quivered, and desire surged in his veins. “Thus I am willing to negotiate terms, if you are amenable.” With a shrug, he trailed a finger along the gentle curve of her jaw. “Else I can return you to the sea.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lady Madalene blinked. “You are no longer a pirate?” She made another perfunctory study of his men and gulped. “Am I in danger? Did you kill the Trident crew, and am I to suffer the same fate?”

“Mon chou, you insult me, as I would have taken them captive were that my work. And never would I waste something so lovely.” Swift and sure, he caught her in his arms, and she screamed, just as he claimed a lengthy kiss, to ribald hoots and hollers. When she wrenched free, pounded his chest with her fists, and prepared to protest, he nodded and thrust her into Tyne and Randall’s waiting escort. “Take her to my cabin.”

 

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/29kiPwy

 

new brethren icon barbara devlin

About the Author:

Bestselling, Amazon All-Star author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller, but it was a weeklong vacation to Bethany Beach, DE that forever changed her life. The little house her parents rented had a collection of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss, which exposed Barbara to the world of romance, and Shanna remains a personal favorite.

Barbara writes heartfelt historical romances that feature flawed heroes who may know how to seduce a woman but know nothing of marriage. And she prefers feisty but smart heroines who sometimes save the hero, before they find their happily ever after.

 

Barbara earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.

 

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