Saturday, December 1, 2018

#TwelveDaysToLove #HistoricalRomance

Title: Twelve Days to Love
Author: Christine Young
Genre: Historical Romance
Book Heat Level: 3

Buy at: Amazon


Archer Steele shows up at Calanthe Durand’s failing plantation with an alligator over his shoulder, intent on doing everything and anything to convince the beautiful Miss Durand he is worthy of her love.

BLURB: Twelve Days to Love

When Archer Steele shows up at Calanthe Durand’s failing plantation with an alligator over his shoulder, Cali thinks she’s never seen a more handsome man. During the war she had to defend herself and her servants from both union and confederate soldiers. Independent and self-sufficient, she vows to never marry. 
But Archer Steele has different ideas. The first time Archer sees Cali in town, he feels an instant attraction. He decides he will do everything and anything to convince the beautiful Miss Durand he is worthy of her love. During the weeks leading up to Christmas, he gives her twelve gifts in hopes she will fall in love with him. Yet they are faced with challenges they must overcome before Cali can commit to a marriage.

EXCERPT: Twelve Days to Love

“When that window shattered, I thought the world was comin’ to an end. The glass was everywhere, rain pelting into the room. I was terrified, and he was there, helping, knowing just what to do.”
“He took charge. Just like he probably commanded his men during the war.” Cali understood that truth. She’d seen her share of troops stay at her home and listened to the officers giving orders. Some had been upstanding gentleman while others were ruthless, taking what they wanted and leaving nothing behind.
“Well, without him, Miss Cali, we would have lost furniture, paintings...”
“Many valuables.”
A vase that had been given to her mother and father as a wedding gift crashed to the floor, but she’d been able to save other objects when Archer raced outside to board up the windows for a second time. Sam had followed, and together they finished the job.
“More tea?” Daisy rose from the table to retrieve the teapot.
“Yes, that would be nice. We should get started on that fabric we bought in the French Quarter before the storm. Sam needs shirts, and we both need a couple new serviceable day dresses.” To Cali, sewing was cathartic. She could sew all day if she had enough fabric. Alas, she could only afford material for everyday needs.
“I’ll get right to it. Do you have any fashion plates you want to look at, or do you just want to use old ones?”
“Old ones will do. Don’t have the time or the desire to sort through the latest fashions from Paris.” Cali hadn’t looked at fashion plates since before the war when a dressmaker had created all her clothes. That was such a long time ago. She knew Daisy would be laughing inside. Daisy asked the same question every time they made dresses, and her answer never varied. They didn’t have any updated fashion plates to look through.
“Let’s finish this cup of tea then get started. I’ll clean up the kitchen, and you can sort through the material.”
“I’ll meet you in the sewing room.” Cali added a lump of sugar to her tea and a bit of milk before sipping thoughtfully.
Daisy was silent, but Cali watched her deep brown and intelligent eyes as they peered over the teacup. What matchmaking scheme was Daisy conspiring now? Or was she paranoid? Fancying things she shouldn’t be imagining.
“Penny for your thoughts? Daisy asked.
“I was thinking the same, wondering what you were dreaming up. I don’t want you scheming a way to get Mr. Archer here. If he comes of his own accord, then fine. I’ll figure things out, but don’t entice him here. And I’m not going to seek him out.”
“Fine.” Cali sipped the last bit of tea and grabbing another biscuit, she started for the sewing room.
Cali knew Daisy would mull that over in her mind, and she also knew she was still trying to figure a way for Archer to come to her. Ignoring the disarray in the sewing room, she rummaged through the bolts of fabric, accepting the fact most of what they bought was appropriate for Sam’s work clothes and not dresses.
“My goodness this place is a mess.” One of the windows that shattered during the storm was located in this room. Under normal circumstances this place was bright, sunshine filtering inside. Today it was dark and so dreary it sent a shiver down her spine. She rubbed her arms, warding off the chill then spun on a heel, leaving the room.
A few minutes later she was back, putting mosquito netting over the now open window. A cool breeze flowed through the opening.
“Why, Miss Cali, that was brilliant.” Daisy stood in the doorway seeming to admire Cali’s handiwork.
“Thank you.” Cali set about straightening the room and cleaning up debris from the tempest. A few branches had found their way inside as well as leaves and mud.
“Good thing the new bolts of fabric were put in a safe place before the hurricane hit.” Daisy removed the netting and tossed a branch and some leaves out the window.
“Doubt if we’re going to get much sewing done today. This place is a jumble. I’ll go downstairs and bring up a couple of mops and a pail of soapy water.”
In the kitchen, Cali put a few pots and pans on the stove to heat the water to room temperature before locating two buckets, and other paraphernalia needed to clean the sewing room. It had been a couple of weeks since the hurricane, and they’d had so many chores around the house, this was the first time she’d thought of this particular area of the house. Of course, when you need to sew new clothes, that’s when you remember how the storm tore that chamber apart.
“Miss Cali...” Sam stood in the doorway.
“Oh my! Her hand flew to her chest. You scared me. Guess I was lost in thought.”
“Sorry, but there is someone here to see you.” Sam cleared his throat, stepping aside.
“Mr. Steele? Whatever...? I didn’t expect you.” Her hand on her throat, she tried to swallow while she was thinking he was even more handsome today than he’d been the last time she saw him. His dress was casual. He wore buckskins for pants, along with a white shirt and a leather jacket with a small amount of fringe. He’d pulled his dark hair back and tied it with a leather strap.


Historical, Romance, Regency, England


Thursday, November 22, 2018

#OnceUponAnAustinNight #Action #Adventure

Title: Once Upon an Austin Night
Author: Danile Lance Wright
Genre: Action/Adventure, Thriller, Romance
Book Heat Level: 3

Buy at: Amazon, Barnes and Noble


Carlee Cayne has another chance at love, but a dangerous situation must be dealt with first.

BLURB: Once Upon an Austin Night

Carlee Cayne’s career in the U-S Marshal Service suddenly becomes fraught with more danger than she bargained for. Forced to shoot and kill a drug cartel leader’s brother puts a target on her by the vengeance seeking kingpin. The promise of another chance at love comes along with the appearance of Lincoln Bridger in her life. He shows her the way to a better, and safer, existence. But first, she and best friend Dixie Vega have dangerous business to tend to before that can be possible. She must stop the relentless stalking by the revenge-seeking drug lord, Rogelio Ortiz.

EXCERPT: Once Upon an Austin Nigght

Lincoln was already at his car with his keys out unlocking it. He saw Carlee abruptly stop beside her car, her eyes followed a dark colored SUV with blacked out windows driving into the hotel parking lot off the street very fast, screeching tires, driving directly for where Lincoln stood.
“Gun!” Carlee shouted as loud as she could. “Get down, Linc!”
Lincoln looked to the vehicle across the top of his car to see what she was yelling about. He saw a rear darkened window going down. The short barrel of a gun emerged into the illumination of the pinkish sodium vapor parking lot lights.
The rattling pops of automatic gunfire sounded off. Bullets ripped holes through the other side of his car.
His first panicked instinct was to run. He turned to do just that when he heard Carlee yell, “Damn it, Linc, get down!” He jerked his head around to see her sprinting high on her toes toward him.
Another staccato rant of gunfire came his direction.
He dropped to his stomach and looked across underneath his car. He saw Carlee carrying her gym bag, unzipping it on the run. She retrieved a pistol in a holster from it and dropped the bag on the fly. She then threw the holster off the pistol, racked the slide, chambering a shell, and fired three fast shots at the driver′s side of the windshield on the SUV. “Stay down, Linc! Don′t get up!”
The rattling trill of automatic gunfire again ripped through the night. This time, not at him, but from the opposite side of the offending vehicle toward Carlee. He saw her dive and roll out of the line of fire behind a parked car. Her head and gun arm emerged seconds later from behind the front end of another parked vehicle. She squeezed off three more quick shots. He heard a heavily accented voice from inside the SUV yell, “The bitch shot me! Let′s get out of here! Drive! Drive!”
The vehicle smoked its rear tires on the way out of the parking lot. Carlee sprang up from the safety of the vehicle she had crouched behind. She squeezed off three more parting shots, hitting the rear window with all three, as the vehicle screamed off down the street at high speed. She immediately spun around and ran for where Lincoln lay beside his car.
“Linc, are you okay!” she was shouting as she rounded the rear of his car.
Lincoln pushed himself to a sitting position and scooted back to lean against the car. “I think so,” he replied and then held both hands out. They were shaking. “But, I may need to change my underwear.”
Carlee drew a breath and blew it out as her body slumped forward, adrenaline charge leaving her in a sudden rush. She stepped next to him, backed up to his car, and oozed down to sit beside him. She pulled a cell phone from the side pocket of her jeans and dialed 911.
As she offered as many details as she could to the dispatcher, Lincoln thought about what had just happened. It occurred to him, for better or worse, the two of them had quite suddenly become more than friends. The thought came heavily tinged with fear. They were now bound by circumstances, lives inexorably linked for the foreseeable future. It did not take Sherlock Holmes to see this was likely a retaliatory thing for the shooting of Manuel Ortiz. Lincoln wondered if they would soon make another attempt. It seemed likely. It also seemed obvious to him, whoever was in that black SUV was going after someone she cared for, and that happened to be him on this night. It spoke to the cartel’s ruthlessness. They wanted her to see a friend or relative killed. Whoever they were had no way of knowing he and Carlee were mere acquaintances.
Another thought quickly moved in. It would now be impossible to keep Carlee a secret from Jeannine or her parents. It would be on every local news channel all day tomorrow and, possibly, a couple of network news sequences. There could be live bulletins going out tonight, due to the use of fully automatic weapons within the city limits. Television stations may determine it to be a public safety issue. It made him uneasy to think his wife and her parents would easily learn of the attack and that he and Carlee had been together. After a few seconds, his mind eased, when he considered Jeannine′s likely tryst Fitz told him about. He became conflicted. Should he even care what they thought? He and Carlee escaped harm. That′s what was important. He assumed Jeannine would be relieved that he was safe. What the hell am I thinking? I can′t assume that at all.

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Thursday, November 15, 2018

#Eveleen'sSeduction #HistoricalRomance

Title: Eveleen’s Seduction
Author: Christine Young
Genre: Historical Romance/Regency
Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: Amazon


Young Eveleen Hepburn discovers truths about herself she never expected as she enchants Logan Maxwell's cynical heart.

BLURB: Eveleen's Seduction


A brutal attack on Eveleen Hepburn's cherished island off the Scottish coastline leaves her shattered and bewildered. Learning a man she once trusted can kill as easily as he can breathe even though the deed saves her life, creates questions that need answers. An innocent beauty, she enchants Logan Maxwell's cynical heart—giving in to the raging passion she feels for her mysterious suitor.


In Logan's Maxwell's world of espionage and privilege, young Eveleen discovers truths about herself she never expected, and a need for passion and love can overcome all her fears if she learns to accept certain truths. She finds herself entangled in a lethal battle for land that was once owned by French nobility, taken from them during the revolution and sold to Maxwell. But grave peril would unleash the flames of love that simmers, creating a magical union that cannot be refuted.

EXCERPT: Eveleen's Seduction

“We’re here,” he said, and not waiting for the driver to open the door, he did it himself and leapt from the carriage. Holding out his hands for her, he placed them on her waist and helped her from the carriage.
When they walked through the park, the fallen snow crunched beneath her feet. The sun poked its head from behind the clouds sending sparkles alight on the snow.
“There they are.” She pointed to Ella and Drake and rushed to meet them. Ella and Evie hugged. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve had so much I’ve wanted to talk to you about,” Ella said then turning to Drake, she laughed, watching him with a twinkle in her eyes, “Time to make your snow angel.”
Drake looked at the snow then back to Ella then, “I don’t suppose I can put this off to the next snowfall.”
“Of course not,” Eveleen answered for Ella. “And you, Logan, I’m waiting.” With hands on her hips, she tapped one foot, grinning.
“After you,” he waved a hand at the ground.
Eveleen laughed delightedly and lying on the ground, she ran her arms and legs across the snow. She stopped and sat up. “That was fun. I can’t remember the last time. Logan?”
He contorted his face in what looked like a grimace. Even though he hesitated, he followed suit and soon a second angel was formed. “Are you happy now?” He stood and drew Eveleen into his arms, kissing her soundly.
“Yes,” her breathless reply seemed to make him beam. They both turned their attention to Drake. Ella sat on her snow angel.
“Well,” Ella patted the ground near her, smiling at her ever so reluctant husband.
He scratched his head. “I suppose if it gets me a kiss and maybe more, I can do just about anything.”
A moment later with the deed accomplished, Drake drug Ella into his arms. Rolling over her, he kissed her soundly to the applause of a few onlookers in the gardens.
“Drake,” laughing she beat his shoulders with her fists. “This isn’t proper. You have to stop before there is more talk about us.”
He roared with laughter, “You should know I’m never appropriate and neither are you. That would be so boring.” He rolled with her, snow cloaking her pelisse and hat.
Seeming to like what Drake was doing, Logan gently tackled Eveleen to the snowy landscape. She laughed, picking up snow in one hand and tossing it at him.
“Oh, you don’t play fair.” He loosely packed a snowball and tossed it at her, missing as she anticipated and ducked.
“I don’t need to be treated like a girl. This isn’t my first snowball fight.” She packed snow and threw it, hitting him in the chest.
“Doesn’t appear that it is.” He reciprocated and the game continued until they were both quite breathless.
With a quick look to Ella, Eveleen signaled to her cousin and snowballs flew at the men. They laughed, running from the onslaught of missiles directed their way, hiding behind a tree while they fashioned more weapons.
The two men appeared on either side, and they were bombarded even as they emptied their arsenal. Laughing again, they raced from their hiding place to see other people had joined in the snow fight.
“Look what you started.” Logan stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder as he put the cold wet snow on her neck.
“Oh! That’s not fair.” She shivered from the cold wetness, pushing away from him.
“It’s a fight. Everything is fair,” he whispered, and seeming to take pity on her, he brushed the snow from her body.
“I want to find privacy. Do you?” he asked her, retrieving her muff and handing it to her.
Moistening her lips, she nodded, wondering what he intended yet she had a pretty good idea. “You don’t mean to do it here?”
“Only if you want to,” he teased.
Her breath caught in her throat. “It’s too cold.”
“We will warm each other.” He grinned and winked.
One hand on her elbow he guided her down a path then another and finally they saw no one. Finding a rock to sit on, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her hard and deep.
Determined to meet his deviltry with her own, she slipped her fingers inside his coat and finding the fastenings on his shirt, she undid enough to slip her hands inside to meet hot flesh.
“Evie!” he gasped. “Your hands are freezing.”
“I know and I thought you could help warm them up. Isn’t that what you just said?” She smiled sweetly at him.
“Little devil,” he whispered. “You can warm your hands on me any time as long as I can heat mine as well.”
“Don’t think that will be possible with all the clothes I have on.” She wasn’t about to tell him her secret, which Ella had wickedly passed on to her.
“Hmm...there are other tender places, hot places, I can put my hands. If you’re willing.” He drew her pelisse around them, making a tent of sorts with the two of them inside.

Thursday, November 8, 2018

Life On Another Island #HistoricalRomance

Title: Life on Another Island
            Life on Another Island Series Book 2
Author: Ruth Danes
ISBN: 978-1-62420-383-1
Genre: Alternative History/Historical/Adventure/Romance
Keywords: Alternative history, adventure, thrillers, 18th century, historical, romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: Amazon, Barnes and Noble


Adeliza, the Demonic princess turned English maid, begins another chapter of her life, this time with a companion. However danger and adventure still follow her.

BLURB: Life on Another Island

Adeliza, now a little older and very much wiser, makes an alliance in the hope of keeping herself safe and promoting her future happiness.

However, events both in Britain and abroad threaten not only her unexpected joy but also her very life and her adopted homeland. Can she fight to save herself, those she loves and Britain itself?

EXCERPT: Life on Another Island

It was decided that as a bride I should open the ball and the guest of honour was to be Mr. Wild so I had to dance with him. There was no way around it, he had recently received his medal and everyone expected it. I dreaded being in such close contact with him for two dances, I could not believe he would not recognise me.
Mr. Wild gave me his arm and we led the way into the ballroom to form the head of a set for the first dance. I felt shy at so many eyes upon me, although I was becoming used to being considered important once more and annoyed at my partner’s self-satisfied smile. However, as our two dances progressed I learnt things from him which made me glad I had the opportunity to be with him.
We talked of the Demonic plot which seemed to have materialised as a few tiny pockets of rebellion in both Scotland and the north of England which had soon been suppressed. In Denmark there were riots and wide-spread looting. In Iceland the situation was even worse due to the country’s poverty which became desperate after the volcanic eruption in 1783.
“Those who went back to the Devil’s Isles are unfortunate if they were transported and fools if they went willingly. There is very little there, the blast of 1780 saw to that, and that was supporting a colony of about three hundred people. Many times, the number have drawn anchor at the Bay of Arx. They’ll be famine, war and disease in no time.”
I shuddered and could only be thankful for my own situation. Mr. Wild continued.
“I’d bet you’re glad your husband is no longer a commissioner, ma’am.”
“I am glad to have him with me, yes. Why, are they going to be sent out there again?”
“Officially no, but unofficially it is very likely. At the moment they are hunting out plots all over Europe, including here. The tide is starting to turn against them though. They were revered as men who risked their lives and sacrificed their dignity to win a war and wipe out human sacrifice but now there are complaints that they are taking bribes and sticking their noses into other people’s business unnecessarily. Lots of dirty little secrets have been uncovered, secrets that have nothing to do with Demons, the Devil’s Isles or plots.”
“I meant to ask, how can Demons be transported from Denmark and Danish colonies if the Devil’s Isles belong to Britain?”
“I don’t know ma’am, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some people very high up have some very dirty little secrets indeed.”

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Saturday, September 8, 2018

Both End in Speculation by Nancy Avery Dafoe

Title: Both End in Speculation
Author: Nancy Avery Dafoe
ISBN: 978-1-62420-395-4
Genre: Mystery/Thriller
Keywords: Mystery, Thriller, Crime, Detective, Italy, Rome
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 3
Price: 3.99

Buy at: Amazon, Barnes and Noble


Both End in Speculationis a Vena Goodwin mystery about three murders in Rome, Italy, centered around a previously unknown John Keats’ poem. 

BLURB: Both End in Speculation

Both End in Speculationbegins with two discoveries: a murdered woman found on the Arch of Constantine and the revelation of a John Keats’ poem written at the end of his life in Rome, Italy. Disclosure of the invaluable poem causes events leading to murders with bodies deposited at historical sites in Rome.
The Vena Goodwin mystery is also an exploration of Keats’ concept of “negative capability,” in which intuition and uncertainty are prized over absoluteness. The speculation refers to light and darkness in the plot, bringing in the European refugee crisis, the Keats’ poem, and why we seek out uncertainties, including mystery. 
Familiar characters from book one in the series are the protagonist Vena Goodwin and her Italian lover Elio Canestrini. 

EXCERPT: Both End in Speculation

Professore Giancarlo Pavoni had been to the Coliseum more times than he could count, but on the evening of March 14, Giancarlo was lying in pooled blood inside a body bag at the lowest levels of the Coliseum. From a historical perspective, the Coliseum had always impressed the young university professor of Greek and Latin studies.
A hulking figure dressed in black, pulled up the construction vehicle in pouring rain, and dragged Pavoni’s wrapped body out and, with considerable exertion, lifted the bag over his shoulder. Indifferent to the Coliseum's night lights and cameras, pictures blurred by the downpour, the mysterious man was thinking about body weight. The city’s carelessness about farming out construction on their monuments made everything possible. This man’s specialty was dismantling and dismembering anything and everything. Of course, he could pay a couple of mechanics to do his bidding on a stolen truck. He knew they could be trusted because they owed him money, and owing Guerra money could be a death sentence.
Guerra was surprised the middle-aged man was nearly as light as the young woman had been when he climbed steep stairs inside the Arch of Constantine. Comparing body weights was the straightforward but determined thought process of the man who was immune to risks; a man who knew Webcams would capture his photo, scenes of his crimes, his construction truck. None of the physical evidence mattered because they would not find him or link him to the scene. He had, however, left a conspicuous clue, one designed to confuse authorities. Stapled to Pavoni’s shirt was a note.

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Saturday, September 1, 2018

Wolves and Deer #HistoricalRomance

Title: Wolves and Deer
            A Tale Based on Fact
Author: Catherine Haustein
ISBN: 978-1-62420-374-9
Genre: Historical Romance/Regency
Keywords: historical, regency romance, science, Dora (Dorothy) Jordan, dark humor
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4
Price: 3.99

Buy at:Amazon, Barnes and Noble


An actress, a secret, and a prince who’s not too charming. Who will get the last laugh?


In 1832, Grace Clare works at the Royal Institution under the direction of the well-known chemist Michael Faraday. But science isn't all she has on her mind. She learns that her birth mother was famous comic actress Dora Jordan. Grace is dangerously drawn into the tale of Dora's mysterious, unjust death after her twenty-year relationship with the prince who now occupies the throne--a man who betrayed his life partner and mother of his children. As the only child free to do so, Grace travels to Paris for work and to view her mother’s lonely grave. Awash with the injustice of the cruel betrayal, will Grace be doomed to a tragic life of seeking revenge or like her mother will she be laughing in the end?


Sacred to the memory of DOROTHY JORDAN, who, for a series of years, in London, as well as other cities of Britain pre-eminently adorned the Stage. For Comic Wit, sweetness of voice, and imitating the manners and customs of laughing maidens, as well as the opposite sex, she ranked second to none in the display of that Art, wherein she was so pre-eminently skilled. Neither was any one more prompt in relieving the necessitous. She departed this life the 5th of July 1816, aged fifty. Remember and weep for her!
Harry handed Grace the tulips. It was true; he did find her beautiful, her dark eyes mysterious. His fingers ached to touch her hair. But the talk of poison put him off. He had to find something to say as she stood forlornly in front of her mother’s grave.
“Relieving the necessitous. There’s the mark of a fine person, someone who cares for the poor. A hard-working and talented commoner, I hear tell. I’m happy to pay my respects.”
“Yes. This is my mother. Here she rests. I, however, shan’t rest.” Grace climbed over the fence and placed the tulip bouquet next to the stone. There were no other flowers.
“She needs some roses planted to show she died in midlife,” Grace said. “I will come back with roses.”
“My condolences. My parents admired her. There is still a postcard of her as Viola in our kitchen. My mother speaks of her generous heart and her sad fate.”
“I’m overwhelmed by it all. Yes, my dear mother, so far from home.” Grace let the tears come. She crouched down and put her hand on the dirt that separated Dora from the air and the sunshine and from the child who longed so much to know her. The ground was wet as if even the earth wept for her. Grace ran her hand across it as sorrow rose up and shook her like a dog shakes a rabbit. Aunt Hester was right. This grave held a broken heart that caught anyone who came to pay respects.
“Oh, my. It’s so forlorn. So forlorn and forgotten,” Grace said in her ripe peach voice.
Harry wanted to take the broken girl in his arms, to tell her how sorry he was that he’d agreed to bring her here. Instead, he folded his arms across his broad chest, but this gesture didn’t hold in the injustice that grew in it. “The people still speak of how her royal ‘protector’, now our glorious King, worked her like a plow horse, as they’ll do to us all. The powerful expect our sacrifice. It’s nothing to them.”
Grace wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “No mention of mate or offspring on that stone. What does that tell you?”
“That her fans laid the stone. It’s known.” This, to Harry, was the most grievous part of the death; no family had come forward to pay for a grave marker. An English couple who had visited her in Paris made the arrangements for the simple memorial, and a mysterious male friend arranged for the gravesite.
“More than that, Harry. It means that her connections wanted her to be forgotten. She didn’t come here to escape swindling sons-in-law, as my aunt has suggested. She was purposely sent here to be disremembered,” Grace said. “How can it be that none of her other children have visited?” Disappointment filled her. There wasn’t anything more to this place. It was just a lonely grave in a damp spot.
“A shame.” Harry climbed over the fence and kneeled beside Grace. “The Royals are beasts. They aren’t better than we are as they wish we’d believe.”
Harry took out a handkerchief, and bent down and wiped her cheeks.
“Here now, Miss Clare, allow me. I don’t mean to be forward, but your face is dirty.”
Grace cried as the softness of the handkerchief stroked her face. “She doesn’t belong here. I’m so melancholy. My insides are like a crumpled letter. Death is meant to bring peace, but even her bones were kept from everything she’d loved.”
Harry went to the carriage and came back with a bag. He took out a trowel and dug a hole six inches deep through the spindly grass. He handed Grace a tulip bulb.
“Mr. Babbage says that the tulip signifies the brevity of life. Place it point up in the hole.”
“Are you giving me advice?”
“I am simply passing on gardening wisdom. Do you want them to grow?’
“Will anything grow in this dank spot? ‘Twill be a miracle if we’re not overcome by miasma. I believe I am sick already.”
Grace put the bulb in the hole while Harry dug another one.
“Do you know why no one was allowed to attend her death?” Grace asked.
“They did not know about it until it was too late.”
“No. It was a way of signaling to the population of England that she was doomed to hell for her sins, for there are but two directions, heaven or hell, and if you are alone, it shows God that you were not loved and to hell you go. My Aunt Hester has told me this much. Not that she believes it, but as evidence that Mother’s death was arranged by the palace to appear as a judgment.” Grace put another bulb in the hole, and Harry scooped dirt over it.

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Wednesday, August 22, 2018

Ella'sPleasure #Historical/RegencyRomance

Title: Ella’s Pleasure
Twelve Dancing Princesses Book Seven

Author: Christine Young
ISBN: 978-1-62420-393-0
Genre: Historical Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: Amazon,

TAGLINE: Ella's Pleasure

Ella Hepburn discovers passion and desire can overcome everything she's been taught to resist.

BLURB: Ella's Pleasure


Ella Hepburn was an auburn haired debutant from the harsh Scottish coastline—a wild innocent to be seduced and tamed. A spirited beauty, she captivated Drake Montgomerie's jaded heart—while succumbing to the smoldering desire she felt for her unyielding suitor.


In Drake Montgomerie's glittering world of money and privilege, young Ella discovered passion and desire could overcome everything she'd been taught to resist—entangling Drake, the heir apparent, in a lethal coil of aristocratic family intrigue. But grave peril would only nurse the sparks of a love that knew no limits and a magnificent ecstasy that would not be denied.

EXCERPT: Ella's Pleasure

“Come, let’s take this path.” He settled one hand on the small of her back, directing her to the left. “I want to show you something.”
She gazed at him with wide eyes. “What? It’s getting late, I’m sure The Duchess will be looking for us.”
“Trust me, she won’t have to search for you. Between my men and Scarlett, they know exactly where we are. I mean to elude them for a few minutes of privacy.” He bent close to her and whispered. “I want to kiss you and there are just too many folks here.”
“Kiss me? I like your kisses.”
“I’m glad.” Lord, but he didn’t know what he’d do if she’d told him the opposite. “This way.” They were strolling deeper into the gardens where fewer people walked. Privacy was what he wanted; this was exactly where he meant to steal a real kiss from Ella Hepburn.
“What are those noises?” she stopped and looked at him, searching for the source of the sounds.
He ran one finger between his collar and neck attempting to figure out what to tell her. “They are people enjoying pleasure.”
The expression on her face outlined by the gaslights amazed him. “Is it what I’m thinking?”
“I don’t know. What do you believe you hear?” He laughed inside at the joy he felt about this inquisitive lady.
“Well, I don’t think they are just kissing.” Even in the half-light he watched the blush rise on her cheeks as she covered her mouth as if she understood what was going on all around her.
“Remember our conversation about love making?”
She nodded her eyes huge with wonder. “In public?”
“My darling girl, can you see them?”
“No, but I now know what they are doing.”
“Hush,” he said, guiding her to a spot just beneath a light. “I’m going to kiss you until your Auntie finds us and stops me from having my wicked way with you in those bushes.”
He turned Ella and looking into her eyes, his mouth descended to meet hers. His hands at the small of her back pulled her close. With a surprised gasp she delighted him by opening her mouth. His tongue invaded with a primal urgency, creating a mercuric heat within. Tasting her sweetness and the honeyed depth of her mouth, his groan emanated from deep within.
Ella responded by wrapping her hands around his neck and running her fingers through his hair. Slipping her tongue inside his mouth, she met him with courage and passion. Her tiny feminine cry of surrender gave him confidence she enjoyed him. His hands slipped lower to cover her derriere and pull her tight against his pulsing cock, wondering if she understood the intense desire emanating from him.
He accepted all of her; teeth, tongue, lips, pressed together in an age-old rhythm. Taking her inside himself was heaven on earth. For a moment he pulled away, needing to see her eyes. Her face, flushed with pleasure, enticed him and his mouth found hers once more. Never wanting this to end, his kiss became urgent, and she responded with so much passion he wanted to bury himself deep inside her warmth. For today and this moment the kiss would have to be enough.
A sudden sharp pain shot across his back. “Stop this, Drake Montgomerie.” Another whack hit him in the buttocks and another. “Stop. Unhand Miss Ella before I let my sword slip from its hiding place.”


Historical, Romance, Regency, England