#LovingLeslie #HistoricalRomance

 

Title: Loving Leslie

         Bad Boys Book Five

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical romance

Book Heat Level:

 

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TAGLINE

 

Leslie Stewart is used to having his life well ordered until he meets Lacie McTavish who has known since the tender age of fifteen this is the man of her dreams.

 

BLURB

 

He's a bad bad boy...

 

Leslie Stewart, Duke of Southcliff is stoic, set in his ways, a spy who is used to having his life well ordered. He expects life to continue on in this perfectly conventional fashion. He assumes his bad boy status while keeping mamas and debutantes at arm's length. An heir is needed but Leslie has every intention of finding a woman who doesn't covet his wealth and tittle. He is irresistibly drawn to the headstrong young lady who becomes more beautiful as she develops into a woman.

 

...but she is loving him.

 

When Leslie kisses Lacie MacTavish, she knows even at the tender age of fifteen this is the man of her dreams. Forced to wait until she comes of age, Lacie withdraws into herself. Now she is eighteen and Leslie has returned from a mission for the British Government ready to claim her as his bride. She refuses him and he must find a way to seduce her and in the process create a burning passion within her, which she cannot deny.

 

EXCERPT

 

A storm was coming. Maybe more than one if he had to guess. Sunshine would disappear and be replaced with snow or rain. Looked like snow to him.

Pushing his hat back, he spotted a rider due east of the house. It was Lacie, racing the wind as well as the darkness. He watched her as she neared the house and veered toward the stables. She would take care of her horse first then leave for the house. In the stables where he kissed her for the first time, he would confront her. Perhaps this scrape of hers was really nothing and could easily be dealt with.

The gallop looked reckless, but he knew her expertise when it came to riding. Still he worried a hole in the ground, a small animal, anything could spook a horse and throw its rider. For the duration, he held his breath, his heart beat doubling in time as his breath held steady in the back of his throat.

Once she was safely inside the stables, he walked Garth toward the barn, handing the reins to the stable boy then proceeding to the stall where Lacie was brushing down her horse. Her dark hair had come lose from all its pins and was in glorious disarray framing her delicate features.

He crossed his arms, leaning against the stall door, much like he did the day he first kissed her. Watching her was like seeing heaven, and he’d been away for so long all he wanted was to pull her into his arms, feel her soft warmth against him, filling his soul with heat and fire. He realized he missed her. Her face was flushed from the ride. He was sure her skin would have a sheen of moisture covering it, much like he imagined when they finally made love.

Tonight he hoped if everything went as planned, she would be in his arms and sweetly beneath him. Perhaps a start on an heir, he needed to stop tongues from waging and his mother from nagging.

Her start of surprise made him grin and raise one eyebrow.

“It’s you.” She sounded panic struck, one hand just above her heart as she gasped for air. She closed her eyes for a second, her breasts heaving.

“Welcome home would be nice.” He stepped forward only to see her back away from him, terror on her face.

He stopped midstride but had no words, unsure of how to proceed. He couldn’t fathom why she was afraid of him, why her eyes were wide with terror.

She swallowed, wiping her hands on her riding habit. “I’m sorry. You did surprise me. Welcome home, Leslie.” Then she turned her attention back to her horse just as if her husband wasn’t standing two feet away from her. Picking up a blanket she started to cover the animal.

“A hug would have been nice, too, as well as I missed you my dear husband. Perhaps even I’m glad to see you or a kiss on the cheek. At the moment you look as if you detest me, or are terrified of me. I don’t know which scenario is worse.” He wanted more than a kiss on the cheek, but he knew by the sheer terror he saw in her dark blue eyes flecked with tiny particles of green even that intimate gesture wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

What to do?

“You’ve been gone so long. I nearly forgot what you look like,” she spoke softly, unable to look at him, continuing to administer all her affections on her mare. She stopped to stare at him, her eyes still wide but this time more uncertain than terrified.

This was not like Lacie. So foreign, he didn’t understand. Couldn’t comprehend what was happening here. For the longest time, he stood unmoving, watching the jerk of her muscles as she worked.

She turned back to her horse as if she was hiding from him. He knew he wasn’t going to pull her into his arms then kiss her as he did that day so long ago. Now, it seemed, he needed to tread lightly until he could figure out what was going on with her. That scrape must have been devilishly more than a minor incident. He needed for her to tell him what it entailed.

“What do you want, Leslie.”

She didn’t look at him. No, she sounded as if she wanted him to go away. Her voice was cold, icy.

“You know what I want.” He didn’t move toward her, just settled for watching her for the time being.

 

 

KEYWORDS: Historical, Romance, Scottish, Highlands, Bad Boys, Regency

 

 

Website: http://christineyoungromancewriter.com

 

Blogspot: http://christineyoung-romancewriter.blogspot.com

 

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LINKS

 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08HW9S34P

 

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/loving-leslie-chirstine-young/1137638492;jsessionid=928CE1573A0115BEAD2FD870E4A561D8.prodny_store01-atgap14?ean=2940162644682

 

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/loving-leslie/id1531794972?itsct=books_toolbox&itscg=30200

 

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Google Play:https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Christine_Young_Loving_Leslie?id=jnb8DwAAQBAJ

 

He's a bad bad boy...but she is loving him. When Leslie kisses Lacie MacTavish, she knows even at the tender age of fifteen this is the man of her dreams. Forced to wait until she comes of age, Lacie withdraws into herself. Now she is eighteen and Leslie has returned from a mission for the British Government ready to claim her as his bride.

 

 

#Larena'sFascination #HistoricalRoamnce

 

Title: Larena’s Fascination

            Twelve Dancing Princesses Book Ten

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Romance/Regency

Book Heat Level: 4

 

Buy at: Amazon

 

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TAGLINE

 

Free spirited Larena Graham must learn to trust Gavin Broom, the handsome Scotsman, to protect her and keep her from harm.

 

 

BLURB: Larena's Fascination

 

Whispers of Fascination

 

Fiery, free spirited Larena Graham never wanted to marry a duke. She is thrilled to be in love with the fourth son of an aristocrat, Gavin Broon. But when it seems Gavin ignores her, she sets her sights on politics and bettering human life. Unsuspecting intrigue and a plot against her, she continues her dangerous plans despite Gavin's wishes.

 

 

Whispers of Trust

 

Gavin has every intention of properly courting the beautiful Larena until he must leave the city in order to put his affairs in order. Returning to London, he finds the woman he means to make his own is embroiled in political protests that could lead to a prison ship. Larena must learn to trust the handsome Scotsman whose most pressing mission is to protect her and keep her from harm.

 

 

EXCERPT: Larena's Fascination

 

Strange noises emanated from the adjoining room, grunts mostly and muffled yells. She straightened on her bed, pensive and so very curious. She tried to concentrate and hear the words. Tempted to check on Gavin, she stood but thought better of intruding on his privacy. Still intrigued as the noise continued and trying to ignore it, she found herself at the window looking out on the blackness of the night.

A loud crash caused her to jump. Unable to stay away, she strode to the door between their rooms and cautiously opened it. She inhaled a startled gasp. Gavin faced her, his chest bare and covered in a sheen of moisture that seemed to glow when the candlelight flickered across him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He let his hands fall to his sides, his bared feet braced apart. Suddenly as if realizing he was practically naked, she searched the room in an attempt to keep from staring at his imposing frame.

“You didn’t.” Mesmerized by him, by his body in a trance she stepped to him, touched her hand upon his chest and heard the quick inhalation of air, felt the beating of his heart.

He set his hand upon hers. “Larena,” he spoke her name slowly, his eyes gazing into hers.

She yearned to see into his mind, read his thoughts, “You’re so different from me.” With the slightest twist of her fingers she touched his nipple and delighted in the feel of him. She regarded him closely, smiling into his eyes.

He didn’t laugh as she thought he would. His voice so sincere and strangely deep, he said, “I’m glad of that.”

Unable to help herself, she brought her other hand and set it on his other nipple. “I like the way you feel. What were you doing that caused all that noise? What crashed to the floor?”

“Trying to get rid of pent up emotions, but I don’t think it’s going to help after this.” He spoke slowly then, “The basin, as you can see it’s shattered. I’ll pick up the pieces in the morning.”

“Pent up emotions?” She didn’t understand what he tried to do, why he was grunting and yelling albeit quietly.

“My body wanted to do something my mind didn’t.” He ran his fingers through the length of her hair, bringing a strand to his face, touching his lips to it. “Silken fire, so soft I want to wrap it around me.”

“You speak in riddles.” She moved her hands lower, tracing the hair on his chest to just above the fastening of his pants then back, marveling in the play of his muscles where her fingers travelled. Intrigued by the obvious change in his breathing and fascinated she could do this to him.

“And, Larena, you really need to stop.”

“Not unless you make me.” She continued running her hands along his chest and upward to sweep them across his shoulders.

“It’s best for you if I tell you no.” He held her hands in his in front of him, placing light kisses on her knuckles. “You should go to your bed now before we both regret this night.”

“I’m not sleepy. Indeed, my heart races and it seems I’ve grown hotter by the second. Don’t want to spend the night alone. Want to be in your arms.” She remembered when he barely touched her breast and the way her body quickly responded, and she marveled that perhaps she had the same effect on him.

“Come,” he drew her to the door. “What you’re innocently creating here is best left for the marriage bed. I’ll walk you to your chamber.”

“I want to stay with you.” She realized she didn’t care what others thought but rather she wanted to live in the moment. Only two of her sisters and cousins combined had waited for marriage to find out what happened to a woman in bed with a man. She didn’t even know if she loved Gavin or wanted to marry him. She liked him though and who better to teach her?

“No. Not tonight,” he told her, drawing her toward her room. Inside, he pulled her close and lightly pressed his lips to hers then let her go as if the touch burned him. “Your bed.” He pointed in that direction then watched as she sat forlornly on the bed.

She watched the door close behind him then found herself at the window again. Shadows played across the street, and moonlight brightened the darkness. Below her a shadowed form strode quickly from the townhouse and a few minutes later she saw Gavin gallop down the street.

 

 

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#TellTaleTuesday #Cold

 

Title: Cold

Author: Courtney Rene

Genre: YA/Fantasy/Action and Adventure

Book Heat Level: 3

Price: 3.99

 

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TAGLINE

 

Four extraordinary teens meet, each with a corrupted gift from one of the four elements: Water, Earth, Wind, and Fire. Why were they created? Who is chasing them? And, what do they want?

 

BLURB: Cold

 

Four extraordinary teens, each with a corrupted gift from one of the four elements: Water, Earth, Wind, and Fire, come together to face a common threat. Their creators, scientists of a genetic engineering company, have been hunting for them since they were children. Each alone and on the run for years, they inexplicably find one another and decide not to hide any longer. Before they can face their creators, they have to learn to trust one another as well as who they are and what they can do.

Cold, is Nora’s story. Water is destructive all by itself but turn water to ice and it can become even more deadly, especially in the hands of an angry young woman out to right a wrong.

 

 

EXCERPT: Cold

 

“Start at what your gift does,” Eve said. “Show us something wonderful. We could use wonderful.”

I looked from Eve over to the little pond. Something wonderful, that I could do.

I stepped over to the pond, in a small open space between all the cattails. I squatted down by the edge of the water and lightly touched the surface. At the same time, I both breathed in and pushed out through my fingers the ice from within my body. The water under my fingertips froze. Then the cold ice spread and circled around, forming the shape of a snowflake. I pushed a bit harder, then another formed, and another, all interlocking and creating a blanket of giant frost snowflakes along the surface of the pond until the entire pond was covered in them.

I smiled lightly, proud of my creation, as I stood and turned to face the others.

Eve had her hands clasped together in front of her mouth. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the pond.

Ash smiled, and Reed gave me a sort of half-nod then winked at me.

Eve finally couldn’t contain her excitement one second more and she gushed, “Oh, it’s beautiful. I can’t believe it.” She half-ran and half-skipped closer to the pond. “How long will it last?”

I shrugged. “The water is pretty warm. I doubt it will last very long at all.” Even as I said the words I could see the center of the snowflake blanket darkening as it melted.

Eve spun around and said, “What else can you do?”

“If it’s ice or cold I can do it,” I said a bit sheepishly. I wasn’t bragging, but it felt a bit like it. Too much attention was on me and I didn’t really like it.

“Like what?”

I indicated Reed and said, “I made him an ice marble when we met.”

“That was pretty cool,” he said.

“Do one for me!” Eve demanded, but the demand was sweet as she was almost childlike in her eagerness.

I didn’t hesitate a moment. I closed my hand into a fist, pulled forward the ice into my palm, and, a moment later, handed Eve a one-inch in diameter perfectly smooth and round ball of ice.

She took it into her hand and inspected it like it was the finest gift she’d ever received.

“You have the coolest gift!” she said.

“I don’t know about that,” I replied. “It has its drawbacks, like all the rest.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“Like what?” Reed asked.

“I need to sit,” I said, and dropped to the ground right where I’d stood and sat tailor fashion.

The others joined me right away and sat back to listen to my story.

“That’s one of them. My gift seems to take a lot of energy away from me.”

“Why?” Eve asked.

“Actually, let’s start further back,” I said. “I’m getting a little ahead of myself.” I thought over my short life and where I should begin. “I guess the best place to start is my gift didn’t come all of a sudden. It was more of a slowly blossoming flower. I could make it snow early. My mom was always afraid of it. What would people think? That sort of thing. I scared her. My gift wasn’t harsh or scary, but I was different and that scared her. When the company came for me, it wasn’t an easy time. I closed in on myself and refused to cooperate. I refused to use my gift. They found ways to get it out of me all the same. All they had to do was get my emotions out of control and out it would come every time.”

 

 

SOCIAL LIINKS

 

Website: http://www.courtneyrene.com/

 

Blog: http://ctnyrene.blogspot.com/

 

Facebook page:  https://www.facebook.com/Shadow-Dancer-and-more-by-Courtney-Rene-164433473646449/

 

Twitter: ctnyrene

 

#MysteryMonday #DancingWithDonal

 

Title: Dancing With Donal

         Bad Boys Book Four

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical romance

Book Heat Level:

 

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Daryl MacTavish yearns for a life where she makes decisions for herself until she meets bad boy Donal Chamberlin with his carefree ways.

 

BLURB: Dancing With Donal

 

He's a bad bad boy...

 

Once a bad boy always a bad boy, Donal Chamberlin's carefree ways come crashing down around him when he meets the ravishingly beautiful Daryl MacTavish, the innocent little sister of one of his best friends. He is determined to win her heart as he sets his sights on marriage and an heir. His past gets in the way of his quest when a woman he once loved threatens Daryl's life.

 

...but she's dancing with him.

 

Daryl has seen the control her sister's husbands hold over them. She yearns for a life where she makes decisions for herself. No man will have power over her. But no man kisses her the way Donal does. No man can make her forget all her goals leaving her helpless to give up her dreams. Yet Donal is determined to dance through all the barriers she thrust in front of him, pursuing her until she says yes.

 

EXCERPT: Dancing With Donal

 

He would remember that kiss forever.

She was too young then, but the kiss haunted him over the last two years. Well past eighteen years of age, Daryl MacTavish was no longer too young to pursue and conquer, to chase, catch and kiss. He was the man to do just that. He would court her in his own manner, taking his time with her. There would be no way he would give her a chance to say no to any of his proposals, including marriage.

She turned to look at him then, her eyes wide with surprise he hoped and not fear. He had been quiet. “Hello, Daryl. Mind if I join you? Nice day, don’t you think?” he asked, stepping forward, not waiting for an answer. 

He stood beside her. She rose, pressing her hands down her skirts.

The smile on her face brightened, and he thought she might be pleased to see him although she appeared a tiny bit anxious. He wondered if she also remembered the kiss as well as the beach house confrontation. 

“I didn’t invite you here.” Her voice held a nervous ripple as she spoke.

“It’s my land,” he told her, cocking an eyebrow while he took her measure. 

She was wearing a light green riding habit, a bit of lace showing at the neckline. The hat she wore was tossed on the ground beside the boulder she’d been sitting on and the green plume appeared to have wilted in the sun. Her soft pink lips were slightly parted as her huge blue eyes shimmered with some unknown emotion, hopefully passion.

“No, well, of course you’re right. So, I was just thinking it might be time to leave.” 

As if undecided, she stood then sat down smoothing her riding habit then she stood again. For a few seconds she gazed at the waterfall before turning her attention back to him.

“Don’t ken what you want to do?” He laughed, keeping the sound behind his teeth.

“No.” She smoothed the fall of her skirts again. 

“I wouldn’t want to be the cause of your departure. You are always welcome to come and go on Chamberlin land.” 

Once more he moved closer and as he did, she stepped back, bumping her legs against the large rock she’d been sitting on. She moved one step forward.

“Of course not, it’s just that...” She swallowed then he watched as her breasts rose with the deep breath she inhaled.

“There is no need to be nervous. I thought I was your friend.” 

At this moment he was a man well pleased, her expressive blue green eyes lending good reason for the quick impression. He stepped closer and it seemed with each step he took she stepped back then she turned away from the rock.

“I’m not.” She moistened her lips before sucking the full bottom one into her mouth. “Nervous.”

Liar.Her lips were moist now, ready to be tasted. He grinned at the notion. “I watched you fly by on your horse. You were a bit reckless. I assume you don’t ride that way every day.” 

When he became her husband, he needed to put an immediate halt on all her careless behavior.

Now and with little effort on his part, her back was against a tree. There was nowhere for her to go. “I ride that way when the mood hits.” She closed her eyes for a few seconds, long sooty black lashes resting in the pale hollow around her eyes, her breaths tiny and ragged. “Flynt doesn’t care so I do whatever I please.”

Now he stood in front of her, so close he could feel her tiny and very rapid breaths as they whispered across his face. He wanted to see if her heartbeat matched his.

That, the racing of her horse, would end with their marriage.

“You remember the day I kissed you?” 

Lord, but he hoped she remembered as clearly as he did. He recalled the heat and the sweet velvet of the inside of her mouth.

She nodded her head, more mahogany strands of hair coming lose from the pins, spilling around her shoulders. He picked up a strand, holding it between his fingers. “Silken fire,” he murmured, hoping someday the length would touch him with fire and she would respond to him with the passion he knew she possessed.

“I don’t ken what you are talking about.” 

Slowly, and unbeknownst to her provocatively, she swept her tongue across her bottom lip, her eyes shining with raw hunger that someday he meant to unleash.

“Chase, catch then kiss, that is what I did that evening and if I recall, you wanted my lips to caress yours just as much as I did. Would you like that today?”

Once more she moistened her lips, gazing at his mouth, and he had the most disconcerting feeling she knew what she was about then suddenly she looked away, breathing thinly again, her breast rising and falling.

“You did chase me when I ran from the room,” she agreed with him.

“You wanted me to catch you.” His grin, he was sure, reached from ear to ear. “I ken the fact as do you.”

“I would never admit to such a thing. I ran because I wanted to get away.” Her body quivered slightly and he hoped the trembling was the thirst for his kiss rising within her slight frame.

“Whether you admit to it or not, the fact remains I caught you. Just as I’ve caught you now. You do recall what comes next.”

 

Website: http://christineyoungromancewriter.com

 

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LINKS

 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08DLB92N4

 

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dancing-with-donal-chirstine-young/1137391487?ean=2940162986348

 

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#RomanceSunday #DoorToHeaven

 

Title: Door to Heaven

Author: Christine Young

Email: achristay@aol.com

 

Genre: Historical Romance

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 4

 

Buy at:  AMAZON

 

TAGLINE

 

Courageous and impetuous, Jessica Lawerence finds danger in her quest to save women from white slavery.

 

BLURB: Door to Heaven

 

Jessica Lawrence is the stepdaughter of a woman born in the twentieth century transported back in time to the year 1868. An acclaimed suffragette, she raises Jessica to believe in the equality of women. Jess Law believes everything she was taught, and when the time is right she becomes a private investigator. Courageous and impetuous, Jess finds danger in her quest to save all women from white slavery. Her passionate mission results in a wedding to Roc Newman, a man she knows can steal her heart...

 

Roc can't trust the sapphire-eyed spitfire who invades his home in search of secret papers and knocks him flat with her karate moves. Jessica's refusal to obey his wishes serves to inflame the war between them. Still, he cannot control the intense desire his reluctant bride inspires, or make her surrender her independence, until he has conquered the headstrong beauty on the battlefield of love...

 

EXCERPT: Door To Heaven

 

Salem, Oregon 1886

 

            No one would have ever guessed the little spitfire could create so much havoc in Roc Newman's life. He would never forget that first bizarre meeting with the pernicious but lovely Jessica Lawrence. That night set the tone for their tumultuous and stormy ride through life.

            She had shown her true colors; the wildfire that possessed her soul, the passionate spirit, and the will to triumph even when the battle seemed lost.

            When the moon appeared as a silver slipper in the sky...

            He waited for her, primed yet not prepared, forewarned through the political grapevine that Jessica Lawrence stalked him.

            Jessica Lawrence was a five foot four inch pest. In the midst of it all, no matter how precarious the situation, she seemed to remain, completely, almost unerringly, on his trail--until now. At the window, Roc scrutinized the black form below, fighting the overwhelming urge to give her a shock she would remember forever.

            She seemed hell bent on suicide. Consequently, he followed the young lady one day, dodging her path, keeping in the shadows. He had seen her enter an office mysteriously from a side door and discovered it housed a private investigator. The sign, etched in his mind, Jess Law, PI, alias Jessica Lawrence. It hadn't fooled him for a second, just gave him pause, and the fury seizing him rocked his usually placid facade.

            He gambled on her naiveté. Perhaps because he had thought her harmless, a mere girl in a man's world, inadequate. Perhaps it had even been the notion she would eventually become distracted and quit. Whatever the reason, he had made a Herculean mistake, and now he pondered her next move. Dressed to blend with the night, she was out there, an apparition of darkness, wrapped in ghostly shadows.

            He moved through the house, turning off lights, banking the fires, before settling in a shadowed corner of his study where he could watch Jess. Purposely, he waited until well after midnight to lower the lights. Roc was tense, ready for the intrusion of his privacy. He was peering through the lace curtains, wondering at the girl whose appearance would have shocked most men. A long rope looped over her shoulder, the lone woman strode surefooted across the gardens.

            The sky was clear, except for a ribbon of low clouds and a sliver of moon. The house, a bastion against the silent assault about to come. A soft wind blew through the open window from the south; it cleared his head as he watched the approach.

            Jess Law shrugged the rope from her shoulder. Silhouetted against the sky, he watched the cord snake upward, grappling hook deftly clenching the chimney. He stood in awe of the mastery. Jess Law pulled on the rope, tightened it, and with a proficiency contradicting her sex, ascended. The lady moved cautiously, and when she reached her goal, she smiled. Her even white teeth glowed against the blackness of her face.

            With lithe movements, she swiftly opened the attic window. One jean-clad leg moved through the opening. She balanced precariously, for a moment, as if she were a bird ready to fly. Then her foot rested on the hard wood. The rest of her followed quickly, dropping to the floor; silent, ready to spring.

            He felt the tension, knew she listened for the sound of footsteps. She was inside. He watched the window, imagining each moment, each breath, sensing the emotions that must surely riffle her body. Roc listened for the soft whisper of her steps as she descended and thought he could almost hear the wild racing of her heart. Only a moment passed before the sounds became audible. Once on the first floor, she made her way through the house. Her fingers rested on the tumbler of his safe and turned. He heard the click, saw the handle as she pushed down. The door swung open.

            Then, without warning, he gripped her mouth. She wrenched away, turning quickly, groping for the documents, even while she tried to avoid him. Her actions, quick and agile, proved adept, throwing him off balance, but he would not relent and managed to grip her arm. No matter how swiftly she countered his moves, he still held mastery. He turned her, prepared to hog tie her if necessary. She allowed him, relaxed then surprised him, maneuvering expertly.

            Jess swiftly shoved her elbow into his chest, and he gasped for air. With a skill he didn't suspect she possessed, Jess Law threw him to the floor, and Roc bellowed, landing at her feet. The force of her action amazed him. For a second time, the breath rushed from his lungs, and Roc found himself on the cold floor. Papers, pens, and books clogged the air and littered the Persian rug then a sudden crash reverberated in the once cozy room. His shirt dampened as cold seeped through to his skin. She hadn't just thrown him upon the floor in his private sanctuary. No. She had humiliated him, threatened life and limb, and sent a pitcher of ice water on top of him. If he still held a breath of air in his body, he would have retaliated, a throw for a throw.

            He inhaled swiftly, contemplating revenge, thoroughly irritated. He'd held his own in every fight, every barroom brawl he'd ever participated, and now, in the middle of his study, he had been deflated by a plague upon the female persuasion.

            Studying the ceiling from this new vantage point, heaving, feeling the stab of mortification against his gender, he looked into the leering countenance of what was rapidly becoming the bane of his existence. Then she spoke, surprising him, since he had expected her to run. Her voice, soft and feminine, one that pinned him to the floor with its arrogance. "To the victor belongs the spoils. Would you like a repeat performance?"