Thursday, February 28, 2019

#Star Crossed #FantasyRomance

Christine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 2

BLURB: Star crossed

Ireland in 1817, when tensions are high between Protestants and Catholics, faey people guide the fate of villagers. A lovely Catholic lass stumbles upon the weakly ritual fisticuffing between Irish lads. She falls into the lap of a handsome young Protestant. Family ties, grudges, and two conniving faeries threaten their budding love. But the faeries outsmart themselves when they hijack a time machine that has mysteriously appeared in their forest.

EXCERPT: Star Crossed

The heat from the afternoon sun felt wonderful--enchanting--dreamy. When she tried to sit up, the earth whirled around her again. She wanted to feel indignant but she'd brought this on herself. She didn't quite understand why she wanted to convince this arrogant oaf she wasn't a little girl.
"You mind telling me why you tackled me?" he asked.
Casey turned her head to look at the young man. He leaned on one elbow, nonchalantly plucking a blade of grass and sticking it in his mouth. His dark black hair appeared rakishly windblown and his grin was bordered by dimples on both sides. She had the craziest urge to reach up and trace the line of his lips with her finger.
"I don't believe in fighting," she said. "It's absolutely stupid for the bunch of you to come out here on the Sabbath and fight when the rest of the week you are all bosom buddies."
"Stupid, you say?" he queried. "You dare to call me stupid?" he laughed and extended his hand. "Let me help you up. I don't think I'm ready to meet your dah with pistols on the dueling field. So I think I'd best be seeing you home."
An inferno swept through Casey. She didn't know if she still reeled from the impact or if the dizziness was something else--something magical--something supernatural. When he looked at her, she trembled and her face heated. She touched her hands to her cheeks. They felt cold and clammy. Afraid if he touched her again she might melt, she stared at a puffy cloud floating whimsically overhead.
He bent closer to her. The scent of mint filled the tiny space between them.
"You all right? Did you hear what I said?" he asked, touching a finger to the pulse throbbing at her neck. She tried to bat his hand away even while her heartbeat pounded faster, and she couldn't inhale a decent breath of air.
"Stop it," he said, and paused for a moment in his assessment of her health. "I think you will live."
"Of course I will and I can find my own way home. I'm eighteen. I turned two months ago."
"That old?" He laughed and she wanted to escape. Yet some little demon inside told her he was the last person she wanted to hide from. She felt as if her body had been taken over by something unearthly, something mysterious or filled with enchantment.
"You're going to have a black eye," she said and touched the bruise forming around his eye. "Does it hurt?"
"Come on, lass," he said still holding out his hand and sidestepping her question.
"You're ignoring me," she told him, getting up without accepting his hand and dusting off hers on her skirt.
"My apologies," he laughed, bowing slightly laugh lines crinkling his brow. "It only hurts when you remind me of it."
"Then I won't be reminding you," she said quickly.
"Casey," her brother said as he rounded the top of the hill. "You coming or do you mean to dawdle here all day?"
She jumped and pressed her fingers along her skirts to smooth them all the while feeling not a wee bit guilty, but a whole lot guilty. And I have nothing to feel ashamed of. "What are you doing here? I thought you left me to fend for myself," Casey said feeling a moment of loss at the thought her brother would be walking her home and not Kelly.


Casey pushed on the green grass, trying to unwind herself from the man beneath her, but fell again. All right, Casey lass, you're in a heap of trouble right now with no way out. You are seeing the earth whirl and tumble around and you're on top of a brute of a man--a Protestant.

"All right, lads, we'll meet here next Sunday, same place, same time," her brother's voice filtered through the air as if it floated in the fog that surrounded Casey.

Once again she pushed on the damp grass and didn't seem to make headway, her arms feeling as if they'd changed to soggy twine. Don't you abandon me, Patrick O'Connell. You know I have the Devil's own luck. If you leave me here, I'll never forgive you.

"What about Casey?" one of her brother's friend asked. "She looks a little worse for the encounter."

"Do you think we should leave her here--with Kelly?"

"He's a right stand-up guy. Of course you can leave her here. We'll see her home," a Shaunasey said.

"Well, Kelly is a fine bloke. He won't hurt her. In fact with my feisty lil' sister involved, I fear for him--not her," Patrick said laughing. "She'll do as she pleases. She always does. How can I control her when father cannot? She does not need a second father." He shrugged his shoulder and looked behind him at his little sister as he strolled down the hill.

"She's hurt," another friend called after Patrick. "What kind of brother are you?"

"One who is tired of looking after an accident prone little lass. She has to take responsibility for herself sometime, does she not?"

"She is that," one commented. "You rescue her night and day."

~ * ~

"You should have blessed her with a wee bit o'Irish coordination," Oran said dryly as he flew to a hovering position near the girl.

"And you should remember what our blessed mother told us, 'if you cannot say anythin' nice, don't say anything at all'." Moya rose above the flower petal, her wings buzzing with her anger toward her brother.

"I didn't say anything that wasn't the truth." Oran whistled out of tune for a moment. "We could kidnap them."

"And that is your solution to everything?" Moya pointed one finger at him and shook it. "Why, Oran, I believe you may fancy the lass for yourself. I will not have it. Go play your tricks on someone else's charge. She is mine to see to safety and long life. And don't be forgettin' the lad is yours to watch over."

"You best stem your anger, Moya. You're wings have turned golden," Oran said with a hearty chuckle.

~ * ~

"Let Kelly handle her," Casey's brother said with a light chuckle. "He lost and so he must deal with the object of that loss and assume the consequences. It's only fair."

"Hey!" Kelly said, "Don't leave me here with your sister. It will be hell to pay. She's a little girl. What will your father say?"

The others laughed. "Just don't take too long to decide what to do with her. Little girl or not, father will come after you with his pistol."

I just turned eighteen years old--little girl--how dare he…

"Bloody hell, Patrick. What are you thinking?" Kelly cried out.

"I'm thinking the Catholics won this fight. What are you thinking?" Patrick turned his back on the pair and whistled a jaunty tune as he strolled down the hill.

"Revenge will be sweet. Next Sunday…" Kelly shook his fist at the departing back of Casey's brother.

From what seemed like a great distance Casey heard the moan emanating from inside her battered and bruised body. She squished her eyes together, wishing her head didn't pound so fiercely, and the ground spin so wildly. "Who are you?" she whispered next to the man's chest while a soft spring breeze whispered against her heated face.

"Who am I?" the man chuckled. "Lass, you are the one who landed atop me. I should be inquiring into who you are? Only I know." His hands rested around her waist and squeezed as if he were testing--perhaps exploring--entirely inappropriate. Yet for some strange reason, Casey didn't mind the supposed to be unwanted attention."And I don't think your brother should have left you here with the likes of me. I'm afraid I've landed myself in a dangerous predicament. And I'm thinkin' one that will be very hard to explain."

"Shame on you," Casey said. "You take liberties." The words stole her breath and she had to lean on Kelly once more in order to minimize the pounding of her head and the strange feelings emanating from where his hands were.

"I only want to remove you from--my--ah--person. And if I were taking liberties with you, lass, you'd be near swooning with passion."

"Ah, it seems you are a wee bit arrogant," she opened her eyes and gazed into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. "The color of a summer sky," she whispered to him, still feeling woozy and not quite sure what he'd just told her--but thinking at the moment something besides the fall caused the earth to spin and the sky to tilt with a crazy, wild abandon.

"What is, lass?"

"Your eyes," she said, struggling against him and finally rolling to the side so she lay sprawled on the grass, staring into the sky she'd referred to a moment earlier and watching a white billowy cloud float past. "I'm not a little girl," she told him. "Don't ever call me that again."

"Then you want me to tell lies?" he asked with a lazy half-smile that stole Casey's heart and left her floundering. "I dinna think I can do that."

"It isn't a lie," she said, trying to sound indignant, yet frustrated beyond anything she'd ever felt before.

Wednesday, February 27, 2019

#SafariMoon #ContemporaryRomance

Christine young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 2

Safari Moon by AnnChristinePublisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Length: Full Length (154 pgs)
Rated: 5 Stars
Reviewed by It's  Raining Books

Funny and Sweet

Imagine, if you can, our hero, sound asleep and dreaming a delightful, erotic dream. Suddenly he is awakened by an almost naked, sexy woman, walking into his bedroom accompanied by her pet skunk.

And that is how Safari Moon begins. I chuckled to myself as I continued reading. It seemed that he, a wild life photographer, put an ad in the paper for an assistant, but somehow his Grandfather changed the ad and it now stated that he was desperately in need of a wife. Immediately our handsome, confirmed bachelor is surrounded by a bevy of giggling, panting, eager women wanting to marry him.

How he plans his escape from all the desperate women involves an old friend he gets to help him. Since the friend is presently engaged to someone else and doesn't really want to get involved, it's more than a little complicated. They arrive in Alaska, planning on pretending they are an item. Then Grandfather and Grandmother arrive. The story continues with much laughing on my part, and many misunderstandings, especially when the fiancé shows up.

The story is funny and complicated due to the fact that each of the two main characters are trying to pretend that they really don't care about each other. And since neither is able to keep his or her hands off the other, the story becomes hilarious.

Safari Moon is not your typical romance, and I really loved it.

BLURB: Safari Moon

Solo St. John, a wildlife photographer, is preparing for a trip to Alaska. Suddenly, Solo finds women of all sorts invading his privacy, his home and his office, all cooing nonsense words and blatantly throwing themselves at him.  Solo doesn't know why, and he has no idea how to rid himself of the persistent women.  He finally decides to beg a favor of his best buddy Nyssa Harrington.  

Excerpt: Safari Moon

Solo St. John was in the middle of an erotic dream about his buddy, Nyssa Harrington, when the click of his front door shutting brought him to instant alert mode. 

Solo looked up, caught a flashing glimpse of a good deal of naked flesh; long legs, perfectly rounded derriere, and a waist he could span with his hands. The intruder's long blond hair curled around her shoulders an inch above the ties of her bikini top.

Then he saw the skunk. He blinked twice. 

This woman and the skunk were not the subject of his brief and very strange dream, a fantasy that made his mind speed along at sixty in a residential zone. This was someone he had never seen before and he resented the intrusion.

"Hello," she cooed seductively from his living room. "Will you come out and play?"

The skunk stuck a black and white head around the open door to his bedroom. A second later the animal turned and lifted his tail before disappearing into the living room. 

Solo was out of bed and pulling on his jeans before the count of five. Yet in that short time, the lady in question, along with the skunk that was now exploring his fireplace hearth, had taken over his living room. 

The lithe, supple blond sported an expensive camera, and all the while the lady in question babbled nonsense words.

"I'm willing, able, and eager." She posed for him, a pose meant to entice. 

"You're insane?" He hesitated then said to the lady, "Get that animal out of here!"

"I read the ad in the newspaper for a wildlife photographer, and I wanted to be the first one here." She smiled and tugged on a leash which was connected to the skunk. "Juniper is my pet. She's deperfumed or whatever." 


He had never, to his recollection, set eyes on this woman. Frozen stock-still in his bare feet between the bedroom and the living room of his rustic forest retreat in the hills outside Sisters, Oregon, Solo St. John was completely, utterly baffled.

After all, he had placed the ad in a few of the most widely distributed papers in Oregon. That was two days ago. Yesterday, having second thoughts and knowing he didn't want to train an assistant, he pulled it. Although none of this made sense, instinctively, he knew she told the truth. The ad was the cause of this phenomenon in his cabin.

"Come here and play." Posing seductively once again, she beckoned him with one slim index finger. 

Why didn't he want to play? Wouldn't any normal, warm-blooded American male dream of waking up to an almost naked blond bombshell in his living room? Wouldn't that male want to play?

Why didn't he feel turned on and excited. Why didn't he fantasize about what would happen if he obeyed? All those lush curvaceous parts on display didn't interest him in the least.

Tuesday, February 26, 2019

#TellTaleTuesday #MoreThanJustADog

Title: More Than Just a Dog
Author: Genie Gabriel

Genre: Paranormal
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 3

TAGLINE: More Than Just a Dog

BLURB: More Than Just a Dog

Three generations of independent women, driven in different directions by one man’s anger. Until his death reconnects them with their mystical Irish ancestors and wonders beyond this limited human existence.

Trained in the shamanic arts by her Irish grandmother, Chessie Durand travels to alternate worlds to rescue animals in danger. Aided by her Chosen One, an angel dog and a mysterious merkaba necklace, she discovers powers unknown to most humans. 

Ever practical, her mother provides a sanctuary for these alien and exotic species stall-beside-stall with barnyard creatures. And when their paradise is threatened by ignorance and poachers and unknown dangers beyond the stargates, Marlise loads her shotgun and joins the fight.

Reviewed by Greg Didaleusky 
5 Stars out of 5

More than a dog whisperer

Genie Gabriel's novel More Than Just a Dog gently brings you into the world of Francesca (Chessie) Durand and her recently deceased dog, Chap at his gravesite. Chessie has the gift of talking with her dog when he was alive and now dead. She also has the innate gift of talking with deceased people who had been close to her. More Than Just a Dog's intriguing plot urged and propelled me to turn the pages as Chessie faced adventurous perils throughout the novel. The characters were real and memorable, some of them assisting Chessie on her quest to rescue nearly extinct animals in this world and .... You'll have to read the book to follow her escapades and surprises. Also, you'll have to read the book to find out if Peter, a person she met at college, a person that captured her heart with amorous intentions, plays a role in her life. I wasn't disappointed in the ending of the book. In fact, I was completely satisfied with how everything came together. A well-written novel that deserves a five-star rating.

EXCERPT: More Than Just a Dog

With only a fleeting second thought, Peter entered the coordinates in the computer implanted in his wrist to transport to the cave on Chessie’s farm. His mentor had warned him of disturbances in the stargate that caused several “incidents” and had resulted in the decision to seal it off. However, Peter hoped opening the surface entrance had corrected those disturbances.
This was the most direct route to see Chessie and, after weeks of waiting, he wanted more than to just court her in dreams. He wanted to touch her. Smell the scent of flowers in her hair. Convince her they could build a relationship in the real world.
But which real world? His dimension or hers? Or perhaps somewhere totally different.
One step at a time,Peter reminded himself. After his abrupt departure the last time he had seen her, Chessie might not exactly fall eagerly into his arms. Best he establish a cover story before he contacted her. Thanks to a disagreement between the ruling governments of his dimension, he had some time off between assignments of retrieving endangered species during which he could pursue his Chosen One.
He stepped through the stargate in his dimension, anticipating the look of pleasure on Chessie’s face when she saw him.
”Danger. Danger. Coordinates cannot be guaranteed.” His computer implant transmitted the message to Peter’s brain as his body was sucked into a spinning vortex, faster and faster, buffeted on all sides by angry voices and recriminations until he blacked out.

~ * ~

The rock formations fascinated Chessie as she descended into the cave. However, the hot springs drew her most strongly. She loved to slip into the heated water and feel all her tensions wash away, as she was doing today. She thought about posting a notice at the entrance of the cave informing her family of her private hours in the hot springs so she could soak in the nude. But so far, she limited herself to wearing a modest one-piece bathing suit while in the springs.
Her body floated slightly as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back on a rubber pillow she brought with her. “Ahhh…”
She wondered if Peter would enjoy the hot springs as much as she did. Where was he?Were her dreams of Peter and the cave simply her overactive imagination?
Intuitively, she knew more than fantasies were involved. She hoped by returning to the cave, she could solve this mystery.
With her eyes closed, her mind and body relaxed even more. The water rippled against her skin, soothing and calming. A small wave splashed against her chin and Chessie shifted her body. Opening her eyes, she noticed tiny, choppy waves across the pool’s surface that hadn’t been active when she first stepped into the pool.
Sitting up straight now, she touched the merkaba around her neck and wondered if some of its magic was at work.
The ground began rumbling.
Get out of the pool.Chap’s image appeared in her mind.
She didn’t need to be told twice. She shoved her feet back in her tennis shoes and pulled the terry cloth robe around her body.
Frozen with fascination, she stared toward the rock wall where the cave ended—that her grandmother insisted wasn’t the same as when the cave had been closed up.
The rock wall was now splitting apart like giant elevator doors, revealing the dark night sky filled with billions of stars and a spinning vortex that grew larger and larger as it moved toward her.
Use the merkaba,Chap stated. Do not give in to fear. Simply know the merkaba will protect you.
Chessie braced her feet at shoulder width apart and placed a hand over the merkaba. Protect all that is pure. Surround us with love and keep us safe.
She didn’t know where the words came from, but Chessie repeated them over and over as the vortex engulfed her, echoing with her grandfather’s angry voice. “You will never practice your witch’s spells again! You will be obedient! You will do as I tell you!”
Images of her grandfather as he had been when alive swirled within the vortex. Chessie held fast to the merkaba and called upon the spirit of her grandfather. Help us! By all that is loving and pure, keep us safe!
As Chessie repeated these words, a body fell at her feet as the vortex faded and drifted away like mist dispersing under the morning sun.

Author Bio:

I went through the expected motions of marriage, kids, divorce, and career, but usually out of step with most of the human population. This proved to be an advantage in developing an independence and a curiosity about things most people don’t even consider. 

A minor health issue led to energy healing and becoming a master level Reiki practitioner. Working at the local animal shelter flipped on the switch to communicating with animals. Each dog I adopted showed miraculous changes most people couldn’t believe. 

As a writer, I explored the mysteries of why people behave as they do, and also became fascinated by science, especially quantum physics. But perhaps my favorite way of writing stories is to ask the question, What if?” and dive into those imagined worlds—surrounded by my beloved furbabies, of course!

Keywords: Angel dogs, stargates, alternate worlds, independent women, fated lovers

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Monday, February 25, 2019

#MysteryMonday #SilentSonora

Title: Silent Sonora
Author: Jeffrey Ross

Genre: Life History
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 1


BLURB: Silent Sonora

Silent Sonora details the life of a heroic young girl, Lillian Carroll, whose family resides in two tents during the 1920’s and 1930’s. Set in depression-era Scottsdale Arizona, the book reveals Lillian’s daily life experiences, the family’s struggles, and her quest for a better life through education. Lillian tells readers directly about tent life, the local “emerging” Arizona communities, and the ongoing hardships she and her family confront.  Both of Lillian’s parents are deaf—her father works in the local agricultural industry, while her strong-willed mother endeavors to make the best home she can for her children.  Lillian admits that “life was tough,” but assures us she and her family had good times, too. Ultimately, Lillian’s desire for a better education helps her situation—her love of family and strong faith give her the support she needs to finally gain independence.

REVIEW: Silent Sonora

Silent Sonora by
Jeffrey Ross
4 Stars

Review by C. L. Kraemer

Mr. Ross has honored the narrator of these recollections from the Depression by leaving the text just as it was presented to him. I felt as if I were sitting with an aunt who answered my questions without hesitation and didn’t sugar coat any aspect of those times.
This was a fascinating read and should be required of all history students. Real life memories give a better perspective of the situation than novels, however brilliant.
Bravo, Mr. Ross. 


The Tent Household

About 1930, we were living in two tents, a twenty foot by twenty foot tent, and a sixteen foot by sixteen foot tent. Dad always put our dwellings up in a road's right-of-way or else worked out an appropriate arrangement with a property owner, like Charles Miller. Mom and dad never paid any rent to set up our tents.

The tents had poles inside to provide support, and both tents had flaps and screened places to let in fresh air. A smokestack stuck through the roof of the larger tent to allow cook stove smoke out. Our tents had been coated with a chemical to make them waterproof. Living in tents was rather primitive, as you might expect.

Our tents were connected by a kind of patio covering my dad created. This covering was quite large, about twelve feet in length. We would sit under the cover to be comfortable. When company came, we would always sit out there. One tent, the smaller one, had the kitchen, the kitchen table, and a small cot for my oldest brother. The table was about nine feet long. Dad made this table much like a big picnic table, with nice benches on each side. The rest of our beds were located in the larger tent.

Early on, when were very little, we'd have to sleep four or five in a bed. We slept in a big double bed. One time, I didn't know it, but I had rolled down the far side to the floor. Nellie was hollering for covers because she was cold. I had tangled all the covers with me on the floor. Jim woke me up and said, "Hey, get up, you've taken all the covers." John, Clifford, Bill, and Nellie and I were sleeping together that night. Quite a crowd.

We had a back house, a big building, with an outhouse attached. We were the only people living in tents at the time, and our family was often ridiculed for our way of life.

Dad built a "portable" wooden floor for the kitchen area. Whenever we moved and set up the tent, he would water down the dirt area under the floor so the surface stayed hard and dry.

We didn't have any inside plumbing, and we didn't have a shower hook-up. I guess my Grandfather Birchett, my mother's father, was very clean. He would always come home and put on fresh clothes before he sat at the table. But not this Carroll bunch. The boys and my father took a bath about once a week. They would use a big washtub with a little hot water and P & G soap. Grandpa took his baths downtown. I don't think I ever saw him bathing in the big tub by the tent.

But remember, times were tough in the 1920's and 1930's. WW II, a few years later, significantly changed the way we all lived.

We didn't mind the cold in the wintertime because the cook stove kept us warm.

But during the summer, we would often place damp sheets over us at night so we could sleep. And we tried to sleep outside. We always cooked outside in summer.

We lived in those tents for a couple of years, actually for several years, as we moved back and forth between Laveen and Scottsdale.

Later, dad built a trailer with two beds: one for my mother and youngest brother, and the other for Nellie and me.

Those homemade trailers made us look like gypsies. Ha. One time a group of "real" gypsies stopped by and dad ran them off. Do you find a bit of irony or humor in this gypsy story?

Years later, when we resided in a tin-roofed house north of Scottsdale, our dwelling still had sheds and trailers connected. My room was in a trailer. Even then, we lived so far north of Indian Bend, about a mile, that we didn't have electricity for a long time

Living in the Tent

What was it like living in that tent? Well, tent life was tough, but it wasn't so bad. Early in the mornings, my mother would get up and cook breakfast, typically fried potatoes, biscuits, and gravy. My father and Jim would drink coffee. I don't think anybody else liked coffee. Occasionally, mother would make oatmeal. I never became fond of oatmeal, and I don't like oatmeal today, either. She had those enameled dishes. Mom had pots made from same material. The coating wasn't tin, so you had to be careful to avoid chipping. We had forks, knives, and spoons, and those tin cups common to the time. Mother also had big cast iron pots and skillets she used for cooking. We'd use heated water and P & G soap to do dishes. Mom had a big washtub for soaking and cleaning all the dirty utensils, plates, and pans. We always seemed to have dishrags nearby.

My father fabricated a nice cabinet for her dishes, and his creation sure was a nice piece of furniture until wearing out.

Additionally, she had a spatula, a can opener, and lots of wooden kitchen matches. We depended on matches.

Once, later, a small fire started out at the Douross house we were living in because mice bit into the matches, which were stored in an uncovered bowl. The place would have burned down if mom hadn't noticed and quickly put out the fire. Mom kept the bowl covered after the fire. By the way, revenge was sweet. We made war on those mice and did quite a bit of damage to them.

We depended on kerosene for light. At times, we'd get ice, but we didn't have a regular icebox. Do you know how mom kept her eggs and butter cold? She had lard buckets covered with wool. Mom would put eggs in the buckets, cover them with wool, and wet the wool. Evaporation would keep the eggs, or whatever she put in the bucket, cool and reasonably fresh. I don't believe she had a refrigerator until my brothers came home from the war in 1945 or 1946. Of course, we didn't need to keep our milk cold. We didn't get milk very often, and when we did, the ten or so kids at home would drink it up rapidly.


Silent Sonora
Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
Genre: Historical Non-Fiction
Length: 93 Pages
Rating: Five Stars!
Reviewed by: Jonathan Dimmig

Silent Sonora is an informative yet highly enjoyable reading experience.  It chronicles the life of a young girl named Lillian Carroll.  She and her family live in Arizona during the earlier half of the 20thCentury.

The format of Ross’s book makes it a breeze to read as he breaks up Lillian’s life into easily-digested chunks of categories.  Lillian describes every facet of her childhood from schoolwork and daily chores to playing with her siblings in the citrus orchards.  No detail about her life is missed and readers walk away with a true sense of what it must have been like to grow up in her shoes.

Although Lillian’s family struggles to survive crushing poverty she shows us how life continues to flourish in the midst of extremely challenging circumstances.  I highly recommend Silent Sonora.  It is amazing how a young lady’s life can teach every reader some very important lessons about the strength of family.         

Sunday, February 24, 2019

#RomanceSunday #Eveleen'sSeduction

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 McLellan'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.