Sunday, January 31, 2021

#RomanceSunday #HighlandMiracle


 

Title: Highland Miracle

Author: Christine Young

Email: achristay@aol.com

 

Genre: Romance/Fantasy/Paranormal/Historical

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 2

 

Buy at Amazon:  

 

BLURB: Highland Miracle

 

HURTLED THROUGH TIME, Sean Michael Sterling, landed in the midst of a May Day celebration he didn’t understand, assuming the role of Laird Sterling. 

ILLIGITAMATE CHILD OF NOBILITY, Reagan Douglas searches for a way out of her half brother’s house.

 

EXCERPT: Highland Miracle

 

"Look, Tia," Reagan said as she pointed toward a nearby hill.  

"What is it?" 

"A handsome stranger," Reagan giggled, instantly transfixed by the man. "Coming to dance around the May Pole?" Reagan looked a little more closely. "Oh, it's the Laird of Sterling Castle. Why is he on foot?"

"You are not thinking what I think," Tia said. "You dinnae know who he is. He looks like the laird but then he doesn't."

"How do I look?" Regan asked, ignoring Tia and smoothing her skirts then hoping she looked beautiful enough to snare this man. She wanted to sweep the laird off his feet. This might be her one and only chance.

She heard the celebration in the background and watched as all eyes rose to meet the Laird's. Her brother William's eyes were startled then guarded and thoughtful. Tia's were intrigued. Some of the others gazes were wary and distrustful. They were a superstitious lot here in the Highlands. But even as she watched the people around her, she could not fully keep her attention from the Laird who had never attended this celebration before. 

She felt a curious draw as she met his piercing gaze. She had only once before seen the man. He was an illusive creature, usually keeping inside the walls of his castle. Rumor had it the castle was haunted and the ghost was a woman who kept him from finding true love or happiness.

"Who do you think he is and where did he come from?" Tia asked peering intently at the man. "I really don't think it's the Laird. No one has spoken to the man in years. He is so withdrawn. A few months ago people were saying he had died."

The man possessed a calm air as if he knew and recognized all the people in front of him. His dark gaze was mysterious, and when he stopped walking, he stood as still as a rock, striking and in clothes she had never seen anyone wear before. She had thought then, though, it would not have mattered what he wore.

Reagan could not draw her eyes from his and felt her flesh grow warm. The way he stared at her was unnerving. Her heart thundered beneath her chest. It seemed as if she knew this man from some long ago time.

But that wasn't possible.

It was May Day. The very air was filled with such excitement, and now this man was here as if sent for her and her alone. In the meadow maids and youths already danced around the Maypole. A man with a bear had the animal dancing circles upon his hind feet, and a marionette show was in progress. A flutist played in honor of King James, a group of Highlanders played the bagpipes. Noise and confusion flourished. The day was bright, clear blue, and so very beautiful. 

She saw a strange gold dusting swirling and dancing in the air around her. Instantly, she felt compelled toward the stranger. For a moment she thought someone spoke to her, encouraging her onward.

Reagan was grateful she'd taken so much time with her clothes. Her hose were white silk, and her little leather slippers were blue decorated with glass stones. Next to her flesh she wore a soft silk shift and over it a binding corset and three different petticoats. The dress was blue brocade, with stomachers in velvet, low-cut bodices, and half sleeves with scores of blue lace. Her facemask was covered with feathers and plumes. Her golden hair was done in ringlets, tied through with blue satin ribbons.  When she'd looked at herself in the mirror, she had been quite pleased with the results. 

So lost in thought, she had lost track of the man. 

Until he stood next to her.

"A...hi," he said. "I'm Sean Michael Sterling." He stared at her with dark dangerous brown eyes as he crossed his arms on his chest.

Saturday, January 30, 2021

#SciFiFantasySaturday #DefyingTheOdds

 


Title: Defying the Odds

Author: C. L. Kraemer

Email: clkraemer1@gmail.com

 

Genre: Romance/Fantasy/Paranormal

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 2

 

Buy at: Amazon

 

BLURB: Defying the Odds

 

The night elves on the hill aren't happy without their magic. They concoct a plan to punish those who were involved in the act that rendered them almost human. Meanwhile, Uther, the rogue night elf, has returned to woo the Librarian to be his eternal mate.

 

EXCERPT: Defying the Odds

 

 

In a meadow east of Eugene, Oregon

 

Bram ambled up the roughly hewn stairs to the willow lounge chair located at the front of his home. He pulled the scrimshawed pipe from his pocket and filled the bowl with his favorite blend of black cherry tobacco. The paced routine of loading the ivory bowl with fragrant leaves and tamping them firmly into place was one of his favorite after dinner rituals. Withdrawing a matchstick from the inner pocket of his vest, he struck the sulfured end against a river rock he'd placed on the root of the towering oak that served as his home.

The fading evening sky showered the mountains in hues of gold and red. Pushing away the light, a blanket of dark blue velvet sprinkled with luminous star points soon prevailed. Bram puffed smoke rings at the darkening heavens.

"Evenin'." A scruffy black and tan terrier mix meandered up and, after circling three times, lay next to the chubby gnome.

"Evening, Silas. How's the family?"

"Well, thank you. Daisy announced we're expecting--again."

Bram chuckled into his beard. "Congratulations."

"Humph. I'll be glad when we're both too old to care. I came over to ask if there are any jobs in sight. I'll need to be working as much as I can now."

It seemed he got one batch of kids out of the house and another was on the way.

Silence stretched between the business partners. Bram pulled deep draughts on his pipe, blowing the smoke away from his friend. His eyes were drawn to the large block of light spilling from the picture window of the behemoth on the hill. The Saun clan, night elves whose callous actions nearly destroyed the fae population of the meadow and surrounding forests, owned the out of place monstrosity.

Bram squinted his eyes to focus his vision on the methodical movement that broke the beam of light. He could just make out a figure pacing rhythmically in front of the casement. Unable to ascertain which of the night elves was engaged in the determined striding, Bram was sure of only one thing…if the night elves were restless and unhappy, the rest of the valley was in trouble.

 

~ * ~

 

Gitty paced in front of the picture window, ignoring the expansive view of the green valley below. The thick carpet covering the hand selected hardwood floors muffled the angry stompings of her boots. At the end of each turn, she jabbed the air with her finger.

"Think you can take away my magic, do you?" She spun on the ball of her foot and stamped to the other side of the room. "We'll see about that!" Jab, jab.

Morgan, the younger of the two siblings, stretched his limbs languidly across the fine leather couch, watching the angry display being played out in the living room, a smirk residing on his lips.

"What has your knickers in a twist?" His leg, hanging over the arm of the couch, swung slowly back and forth.

Gitty broke her tirade for a moment. "I'm surprised yours aren't. How can you tolerate not having magic to use?"

"Because, dear sister, I don't needmagic to get my way. I have my," he waved a hand up and down his body, "obviousattributes."

Gitty grimaced. "Please. Don't make me sick."

Pulling to an upright position, Morgan stretched his long legs in front of him, tucking his hands behind his head.

"You're just jealous."

"Hardly."

"Then what's your problem?"

"I don't fancy living my life in pubs among the scum of the valley sponging off the pity of strangers. My plans include owning all I see."

Morgan rose from the couch and faced his sister.

"Good luck with that. Even the Others are wise to your quest for power. I'm going out. See you later." He moseyed out of the living room and down the hall.

Gitty gritted her teeth. Morgan might be her brother, but he was useless when it came to thinking beyond his next good time.

She glared at the source of the fingers of light stretching over the meadow. The owner of the Lending Library was an Other the local fae had embraced with open arms. Even Uther, the one-time leader of the night elves and her uncle, had taken a personal interest in the older female.

"Must be losing his sanity."

She spotted a pinpoint of red light glowing in the far distance. As hard as she tried, she couldn't sense the origin of the light.

"I hate not having my magic!" She smacked the wall with her hand, immediately regretting the action. Bolts of pain shot up her arm.

"Damn it!"

Turning on her heel, she tramped out of the room.

 

Friday, January 29, 2021

#Friday'sFeaturedTitle #Dakota'sBride

 


Dakota's Bride by Christine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level:

 

Buy at Amazon

 

BLURB: Dakota's Bride

 

When Emma St. John received her brother's letter imploring her to escape her stepfather's vengeful scheme and to trust Dakota Barringer with her life, she was willing to chance it. But the handsome, brooding riverboat owner Emma found in Natchez a danger of another kind. For Emma soon found herself surrendering to an unrelenting desire.

 

Raised by the Sioux when his parents were killed, Dakota had been betrayed once before by a white woman. He wasn't about to trust another, especially one claiming that her stepfather, a powerful U.S. senator, had framed her as a murderess. But he couldn't let Emma's intoxicating effect on him. Now Dakota would risk his very life to protect the innocent beauty who had seduced him with her tender love.

 

EXCERPT: Dakota's Bride

 

Moonless and frigid, the December night sent chills down Emma's spine. Yet she didn't stop at the lighted inn nearby, nor did she break stride when she stumbled over a rut in the muddy road. Instead, she pulled her skirts higher. A carriage raced by, hell-bent in the same direction, spitting mud as it flew past

 

A frantic look over her shoulder did nothing to relieve the fear. He was closing on her, forcing her from her hiding place. She stopped for a moment while she quickly shook the mud off her cape, then she turned to the little girl.

 

"You all right, Clare?" Emma asked.

 

The little girl nodded but didn't say anything, her face screwed tight with concentration, her breaths ragged and hard.

 

The big Mississippi paddle wheeler, due to leave in ten minutes, let out two loud, booming whistles. To Emma's frayed nerves, the sound was heart-stopping.

 

The wind from the docks smelled of fish and tar. When it shifted, she could make out the aroma of fresh baked scones coming from the inn. Emma gripped the tiny hand she held in her own a little tighter, and prayed that Clare could keep up the pace.

 

"It's only a wee bit farther. We can make it," Emma told the little girl, her sister. Half sister, she reminded herself.

 

Clare's father was not her own. His demonically hand­some face leering at her while he calmly explained what he meant for Emma to do in the bordello was something she'd never forget.

 

Clare was a tiny and very fragile seven-year old. She had loving green eyes and a long, slender nose coupled with delicate cheekbones. Emma knew that someday Clare would grow into a classic beauty.

 

One long blond lock of hair slipped loose from Clare's cap. The little girl pushed it away with her free hand, wrinkling her nose disgustedly.

 

Frost coated the road, and each hurried step caused the almost frozen mud to crunch beneath their feet. A horse and rider passed them, the man tipping his hat as he and his mount thundered by. Church bells rang out, the sound hollow and thin. It was almost six o'clock. She had five minutes to reach the boat.

 

A gust of wind caught her broadside and whisked the hood of her cape off the top of her head. She grabbed the soft fur and pulled the fabric back where it belonged. Distracted by the wind and her haste to reach the boat, Emma caught the toe of her shoe on a rock and balanced precariously for an instant.

 

She swore softly under her breath.

 

Had only one month passed?

 

No, three weeks ago her mother had died and two weeks ago she had learned the awful truth. Lawrence Stevenshad slowly poisoned her mother. He had given her a small dose of arsenic each day until finally her mother took to her bed. Several days later Emma had held her mother's hand while she breathed her last.

 

Emma would never have known about the murder if she hadn't overheard Stevens speaking in harsh whispers with a friend of his. There were other things said and promised, things Emma had not wanted to acknowledge.

 

Disbelief and denial had caused her to waste precious time. Seven days had come and gone since she'd had her last horrible encounter with her stepfather. It was an encounter that had left her with no doubts that everything she'd heard was the god-awful truth. Stevens had meant to sell her to a whorehouse. Still, she'd had a difficult time believing the extent of Lawrence Stevens's depravity. But when he'd installed her in Madame leBon's bordello, she realized too late that her life was in grave jeopardy.

 

And Clare, sweet, sweet Clare, had understood all she'd told her and perhaps more. With the eyes of a child, Clare had somehow sensed the evil that surrounded her father long before anyone else did.

 

Five long days and nights they'd spent on the run. Clare had not complained. No matter how exhausted or hungry she was, the little girl had pressed on, understanding the imminent danger that faced Emma. Clare had somehow known that Emma had to get as far away from Lawrence as possible.

 

 

 

This incredible romance is one I positively fell in love with and is good enough to read again and again.

Cherokee 
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More 
4 Cups

I can’t remember the last time I was so engrossed in a book: Dakota’s Bridetook over my weekend, and even now, am wishing to go peruse it one more time…

Rating: 4.5 Books
Reviewed by Snapdragon Long and Short Reviews 

Thursday, January 28, 2021

TwelveDancingPrincesses #BoxedSet #HistoricalRomance

 


Title: Twelve Dancing Princesses Series

            Part One

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Regency Romance

Book Heat Level: 

 

Buy at: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple, Kobo, Google Play

 

Read first chapter

 

TAGLINE

 

The first four books in the twelve book Regency Romance series The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Pay for three books and receive the fourth one free.

 

BLURBS: Twelve Dancing Princesses Series

 

Allura’s Secret

 

Allura McClellan is horrified by her father’s decision to take out an ad in the Times awarding her to the man strong enough and smart enough to win her hand and uncover her secrets. She’s an intelligent young woman who takes great delight in the freedom allotted to her by her father. She’s well aware that marriage would effectively curtail the adventures she’s shared with her sisters and cousins. Hunter Gray is nothing like the other men who’ve arrived to vie for Allura’s hand in marriage and everything that goes along with it. However, he is the first to refuse to concede defeat and pursue her despite her attempts to disguise her true appearance. It’s her temperament that is of more concern to him than her looks. Hunter has worked all his life with the hope of someday owning his own land. Now that it looks like there’s a very real possibility that everything he’s ever wanted is within reach nothing is going to deter him – including Miss Allura’s disagreeable disposition.

 

Amorica’s Wager

 

Amorica Hepburn was sent to London to find a husband. However, finding a man was the last item on her agenda. With her two cousins, Amorica wagers she can dissuade her suitor before the others. Despite her efforts she discovers a chemistry that cannot be denied. Suddenly she is the arrogant man's wife, pledged to a marriage neither desire. But swept off to his ancestral home above the Dover cliffs and into his strong embrace, Amorica is soon possessed by a raging passion for the husband she had vowed to despise…

 

Damian Andrews couldn't afford to trust the emerald-eyed spitfire who happened upon his secret. Amorica's hatred of all men of his kind only inflames the war that rages between them. Still, he can not control the intense desire his stubborn bride inspires, or make her surrender to his will until he has conquered the headstrong beauty on the battlefield of love…

 

Ravyn’s Marriage of Inconvenience

 

A REGAL BEAUTY

When the duchess decides to wed her to a wastrel and a fop, Ravyn Grahm takes matters into her own hands and declares her engagement to another man. Instead of fessing up and telling her great aunt what she has done, she goes through with the pretense. Aric Lakeland is the bastard son of an earl and has a dangerous reputation. But Ravyn is willing to do most anything to keep the duchess from discovering the lie.

 

A DEVIL-MAY-CARE SMUGGLER

He'd bought land in America, looking to put down roots and end his life of adventure, but Aric Lakeland got more than he bargained for when he encountered a beautiful heiress who made a promise she didn't want to keep. But the promise could not be undone and standing between them were more obstacles than either ever dreamed. Aric had made plans to spend the rest of his life in America and that was at odds with Ravyn's plan of living in England and running her father's estate. Now, he'll have to choose between his dreams and the woman he loves more than life.

 

Christel’s Sunrise

 

He Made Her An Offer...

Life has thrown Christel McClellan some experiences that could have devastated a less determined woman. Beautiful, self-assured and fiercely independent, she is trying to forget the loss of her stillborn child. But is the child alive?

 

She Couldn’t Deny...

Life is carefree for Ryder MacLaren who loves to see what is on the other side of the sunrise. Laird of Clan MacLaren, he is wealthy, handsome and happily unencumbered...until stunning Christel McClellan enters his life. When he hears her story, he believes the child she thought dead has been sold to a wealthy buyer.

 

EXCERPTS: Twelve Dancing Princesses Series

 

Allura’s Secret

 

"You can’t plan to wed me to that--that man down there!" Allura McClellan’s heart thundered and lodged in her throat. Balled into fists her hands trembled. "You promised I could marry for love. I thought when the last man failed to discover this imaginary secret you think I have, you would stop this craziness. I thought you would take the ad out of the Times and the other papers."

From the boxing ring below, fist met flesh, the sound echoing throughout. Hunter Gray whirled and ducked. He guarded his face to block the stinging blows his opponent rained down upon him. He spun and ducked again. The man he fought countered the attack, but he did not move fast enough. Hunter’s next jab was so fast and so hard the other man didn’t block the punch. The man staggered backwards, blood running from his eye. Men yelled and cheered for the two combatants. Hunter paused and spoke to the man he practiced with before the match continued once more.

Allura saw her life as she had planned it slip away as if it was grains of sand in an hour glass. She stopped pacing and watched the men below. She turned on her father. "The ad in the Times--giving me away to any man--you have gone too far. A marriage of convenience is barbaric. You promised." For a moment, she closed her eyes. She did not want to acknowledge anything that went on here. It was not her fault she could not find a man she loved. What horrific bit of bad luck had found her? 

The laird cleared his throat. "Perhaps I have not gone far enough or soon enough. And the ad did not promise you to just any man. He must be strong enough and smart enough to win your hand."

It was not Allura’s nature to allow others to rule her fate. “These men,” she waved her hand in the air, frustration sweeping recklessly within. "They don’t want me. They come for one reason only. They are greedy and hungry for power. You have taught me everything I need to know. I can run your estate and all of your holdings. I’ve studied endless hours. I know the men who work for you. I swear I’ll defy your wishes. At the altar I will say no."

The McClellan’s grin faded as quickly as it had appeared and without further thought, he said, "Perhaps not, you are beautiful lass--one with rare promise. And," he stroked his chin, "no matter how much book learning a woman has she cannot dictate her own life. It is up to the men in her life to make sure she is happy and provided for."

A strained silence followed. She sagged against the stone wall. As if sensing her vulnerable position, she stiffened. Outraged and furious she looked upon her father. "They are money grubbers and want your land--our land. They have no right to any of your estate."

The McClellan held back for a moment, seemingly aware there was more than just a little truth in what Allura said. "How indeed?" he questioned her. Yet his smile was tight, forced. "I grow old. I only want this land secured and my daughters happy before I die. You are twenty-two. I have given you ample opportunity to fall in love. I thought it time to bring new blood to this land, a new man. I thought perhaps one would take your fancy."

"That man," she began. Her hand shook when she pointed at the man who danced and whirled avoiding each blow as if he dallied in child's play. She trembled so violently she could not speak. “Is an Englishman.”

 

Amorica’s Wager

 

Coast of England 1816

 

"It's a bloody cursed day." Damian Andrews swept the child into his arms and waded through the pounding surf to the beach. He braced himself against the out-going current then sloshed through the crashing waves. Salt spray clung to the wind, stinging his nostrils.

Damian turned. Beneath his ribs, his heart pounded the cadence hard and fast. He swore again as he watched the captain shout orders to his crew. The French brandy that was supposed to have arrived this night would have to wait.

Standing in the longboat, the captain of the ship that brought the brandy as well as the political refugees from the Germanies held a torch aloft--the only light in the vast darkness. "Hurry, laddie. We have human cargo tonight and the tide is changing."

A little girl whimpered.

Damian pulled her into his arms, bent on protecting her at all cost.

"It's all right. You will all be together soon." The smuggling of French brandy was a cover for the cause that meant so much to him. Religious and political refugees--at times it seemed they came in droves. All were seeking a better life. A life of freedom. "Your mother is coming as well as your baby brother. You will all be safe."

Damian looked to the captain. "The father?" he queried.

"He didn't come with his family. He said he had one more thing to do. You must hurry."

The child leaned into Damian, her little face nuzzling his shoulder, her silent sobs gut-wrenching. He pulled her closer, cursing at the elements as well as mankind and wishing he could find a way to shield the tiny child from all harm. He knew the feat to be impossible. The little girl touched a place in his heart and for a moment filled that broken space with light. Yes, the mother would be with her children, but why had the father stayed where his life was in peril? He had learned long ago one could come to regret rash actions. And he'd also learned one could lose all chance at love in one instant.

Lord, but he'd lost his concentration and in losing that, he could well lose his edge.

No secrets-- no lies. The thought haunted him.

His life was a lie, but he would change nothing until his penance was paid. A constant drizzle soaked him to the skin. The wind sent goose bumps rising on his arms. He reached shore and handed the girl over to Aric Lakeland, a trusted friend and accomplice in this night's work, then turned and walked back to the longboat. Her baby brother as well as her mother waited.

He had never meant to get involved. It was the greatest of ironies that he was here now. He'd been a man who loved his family and his home.

He'd been content but that seemed years ago--a life time.

It felt like centuries.

The captain spoke, his voice hushed. "Hurry, now, Master Damian.

It's the watch. They are due to ride by here any time now. The patrols have doubled these last few weeks. I fear it's not as safe as it used to be." The captain handed over the baby wrapped in blankets. Damian stared at the child. The babe couldn't be a year old. The child didn't make a sound, not even a whimper.

This was injustice, a travesty. He looked at the mother. "Can you make it on your own?" He prayed the fragile lady standing before him had more courage than she appeared to have. She nodded and with the captain's help, she stepped into the ocean, struggling for balance. Yet her shoulders were squared and her spine stiff.

As soon as the captain placed the babe in Damian's arms and the three of them were headed for land, he gave orders. Two sailors rowed out to sea, moving toward the black ship that rose and fell on the distant waves.

On a cliff above, the dark silhouette of a third man, Ryder McClaren, could be seen for a brief moment. He waved his arms then disappeared into the shadows once more.

"Hurry," Damian bade the mother, his hand resting on the small of her back, urging her forward.

Ravyn’s Marriage of Inconvenience

 

Aric Lakeland dodged foot-traffic along the boulevard in a crazy attempt to keep up with the bouncing erratic carriage he followed. The day was intolerably hot and his mood was no better. He resented this mission. He’d left a cool pub and a cold brew to sweat beneath the hot sun.

His idea of fun was not traipsing after a notorious gambler and womanizer. Nor did he want to baby sit a spoiled debutante.

Yet, he’d promised. A wave of guilt washed through him.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping down his face. He swiped it with the back of his hand and sidestepped, nearly knocking packages from a lady just exiting a dressmaker’s shop. 

“You owe me, my friend. When this is done, I will collect,” he swore beneath his breath and began thinking of all the favors he might ask of his half brother.

The carriage he followed turned a corner and disappeared from sight. He plowed into a lamppost, swore again and raced through the crowds. Richy Richmond did not deserve this absurd protection. Richy could deal with his own affairs. The other part of his half brother’s request bothered Aric. He did not want anything to happen to the lady he followed. His half brother had reason to believe Richy might do something to compromise her. His gut instincts had never been wrong. Ravyn Grahm, cousin to his half brother’s wife, was in serious trouble.

Richy’s carriage came to an abrupt halt. Richy jumped from the vehicle. His cane in hand, he strode toward a dress shop Aric had reason to visit on occasion.

Aric watched, fascinated as the scene unfolded. He started forward but noticed Richy race to protect the women Aric followed.  

“You ruffians!  Get your hands off me!”  The white-haried Duchess shrieked, her age-lined face mottled with rage, pushing at two little guttersnipes who seemed more intent on shoving the elderly woman around than stealing the packages she carried.

Ravyn swiped her parasol across a boy’s head and turned to the other, her eyes blazing, shooting violet blue sparks.

“Stop it!” she cried out, raising her parasol again and again. “Take that!  And that!” 

Amused, Aric leaned against a lamppost similar to the one he had run into earlier in his race to keep Richy’s carriage in view.

He crossed his arms over his chest, grinning as he watched Ravyn batter the boys who had had the audacity to try and harm the Duchess.

He chuckled, prepared to step in if needed but it appeared the two women had the situation under control. Ravyn, he mused, the regal, classy lady who seldom had a hair on her gorgeous head out of place was decidedly disheveled. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair flowed beautifully from its perfectly coiffed hairdo. Her jacket sleeve was torn and to his amazement, she grinned as if she were having the time of her life.

“Go on, get,” Richy stepped in, shooing the two boys away. He grabbed hold of one of the boy’s arms and shook him. “Patrol,” he yelled, looking around for help. The boy stomped on Richy’s foot. Surprised, Richy let go. “Bloody hell!  Come back here. Little brat,” he yelled as the boy ran off.

Aric cocked an eyebrow, watching and wondering what would happen next, knowing Richy had a card up his sleeve. He had not forgotten he was supposed to be watching Richy, nor had he forgotten the man had suffered innumerable losses at the gaming tables and the racetrack the last few days and he might do something to Ravyn.

Aric pushed away from the lamppost and strode toward the women and Richy. He watched Richy change demeanor. Suddenly instead of rescuer, he was attacker. Aric’s heart stopped for a moment then raced. 

Richy wrenched Ravyn against him, pulling her close, her arm behind her back, his mouth close to her ear as if he whispered something to Ravyn. 

“Let go,” Ravyn cried out, twisting and thrashing her arms. It seemed to be the opposite scenario as moments before. The crowds that had previously closed around the women had now dissipated. 

“Let go,” Ravyn cried again.  

“You’re mine, Ravyn,” Richy said in a low well-modulated voice. “You should have realized it months ago and I’d have won the wager. But instead, you ignored me. You taunted me and sometimes you pretended to care while other times you turned up your pert little nose when I walked by.”

“What do you think you are doing?  Let go of me!”  Ravyn cried out, hatred now in her stormy violet eyes.

To Aric, she sounded incredulous, perhaps confused. But strangely, not afraid.

“We--“he paused a moment--“are going to Gretna Green. We are getting married and I will inherit your estate. You will be mine.”

 

Christel’s Sunrise

 

But Christel pushed away from him and pointing, "There, do you see her. She is sitting on the wall."

Ryder strained to see the apparition Christel pointed toward but he saw nothing. "No, but I think I hear her."

"Yes, she is crying, not weeping as usual. Do you know anything about her story?" Christel turned to him, hope shining in her soft blue eyes.

"I've heard her lover died. But that was a long time ago."

"How?"

Ryder pulled her back into his embrace, not ever wanting her to leave. He would hold fast to her for as long as she would allow him. "At war... I don't recall which one. The clans seem to have always been at war with someone, especially the English."

He felt the nod of her head against his chest. "Does anyone know the legend? I would seek them out."

Her breathing was slow and she seemed relaxed. But Ryder feared for her. If she started asking questions, would this ghost come to harm her? He didn't know anything about apparitions. But he also knew he would have to give her a chance to discover the truth. "Only if you let me go with you. I would be honored. There is a woman, older than time. She wanders the castle grounds. Most see her in the late evening and early morning."

"Old as time, no older?"

A shimmering silver light hung over the castle and floated above the turrets. Ryder pointed toward the light. "Is that her?"

"She's a bit reclusive." Christel turned in Ryder's arms. "Yes, that's her."

"One might say that about her." His hands rested at the small of Christel's back. He wanted to kiss her but didn't want to frighten her again. Maybe a lazy gentle kiss would be accepted. The thought made him grin.

He traced her neck with the tip of his finger, hoping she would find his attentions acceptable then bent close to her. "I want to kiss you. Will you let me?" She shivered in his arms but turned her face up to him.

"Yes." She breathed softly. Her words gentle yet hesitant.

Her reticence bothered him. What had happened in her past? His thoughts shot to Lord Rathen and her hasty departure from London. Every part of him tightened with disgust. He would discover the truth and make the despicable rake pay for any injustice committed against Christel.

Watching her eyes for signs of fear, Ryder lowered his mouth to hers. He touched her gently, molded his lips against her, thrilled to hear the sigh of pleasure emanate from her. He ran one hand up her back, pulling her closer, reveling in the feel of her softness against his hard planes. Her breasts pushed against him. The need to feel every inch of her pulsed through him but he didn't dare.

He moved back and once again looking into her eyes. She lowered her lashes then returned his gaze.

"Don't think, little one, just feel and know that I would never hurt you. I want more but I won't rush you."

She touched his cheek with one slender fingertip. "Kiss me again."

 

 

 

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Wednesday, January 27, 2021

#Tira'sEducation #HistoricalRomance

 


Title: Tira’s Education

            Twelve Dancing Princesses Book Eleven

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Romance/Regency

Book Heat Level: 4

 

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Read first chapter

 

TAGLINE

 

While pursuing her dream of learning how to build ships, Tira never bargained on finding an irrevocable love and a passion for a man who could not fulfill her dreams.

 

BLURB: Tira's Education

 

WHISPERS OF EDUCATION

 

Learning how to build ships is Tira Hepburn's only dream until she meets Jamie Lundin and her world is turned upside down. With her raven black hair and vivid green eyes, she tempts Jamie and pushes him to defy his vows. She never bargains on finding an irrevocable love and a passion to a man who cannot fulfill her dreams despite his burning desire for her.

 

WHISPERS OF A BARGAIN

 

Proud and self-assured Jamie is brought up short when Tira captures his heart. All his carefully made plans are put to the test when he decides to teach her the art of ship building if she will spend a week with him alone on his ship. He is unable to deny Tira's intoxicating effect on him. When Tira leaves him behind unwilling to live with him without the benefit of marriage, he races after her. Jamie will risk everything to shelter and protect the innocent debutante who seduces him with her sweet love.

 

 

EXCERPT: Tira's Education

 

“What the devil,” Jamie mumbled after the incessant knocking woke him up from a deep sleep. “The town must be on fire...the docks, the ships.” His heart racing, he slipped on his buckskins and running his hands through his hair then racing down the stairs, opened the front door.

            Tira Hepburn, what the bloody eyes was she doing at his front door at five in the morning and what was she doing aping a man? For that matter, what was she doing in Baltimore? Tira must have been the reason her cousin Aidan was inquiring about the ships coming in from London. “Can I help you?” he asked out of politeness but wishing he still lay in bed sleeping.

            “I’m here to apply for the job.”

            “What job?” Sleepily, he ran his hands through his hair, unable to take his gaze off the woman on his front porch wearing men’s clothing. Even dressed in that ridiculous outfit she mesmerized him. The only job he knew of was the one for an experienced ship builder.

            “The one building ships.” She smiled, puffing up her chest and settling her hands seductively on her hips.

Obviously, she had no idea how the simple gestures emphasized her femininity.

If he didn’t miss his guess, she sounded indignant, but for some reason he couldn’t fathom, he didn’t want to end the conversation this instant. He had no choice though. His six-year-old daughter was asleep upstairs and needed breakfast before he could continue with this strange encounter. “Come back at eight o’clock. Not here but at the shipyard. I’ll speak with you then and not a moment before.”

            “I went there to begin with but when no one answered my knock, I came to your house. I need this job.” Her voice filled with indignation.

You need this job my ass. “Come back at eight and we can discuss this civilly.” He started to close the door.

            “Promise me you won’t give the job to someone else before the interview.” She smiled at him.

            “Doubt if anyone in town besides you wants the job. The sign has been up for over a month. Besides, there aren’t very many skilled ship builders in town. Are you skilled?” He challenged, hoping she would back down and he wouldn’t have to be at the office at eight.

            “Papa, who is it?”

            “Go back to bed, honey. It’s no one you need to concern yourself with.” Yet he suddenly knew what he wanted Tira Hepburn for. She could be Annie’s nanny. He reminded himself none of the Hepburns could possibly need a job. He was eager to find out more, and the upcoming interview with Miss Tira could be enlightening. Getting to the bottom of this made the day a bit more interesting than he thought it would be. Suddenly, he was eager to start the day and discover what would come of this chance encounter.

            “Papa.” Annie stood beside him, tilting her head slightly and pursing her lips.

            “Who is it?” Tira shifted her position as if she was trying to see beyond his shoulders.

            “She’s no concern of yours,” he told Tira a bit too harshly, his protective nature kicking in. Where Annie was concerned, he would guard her with his life and make sure nothing bad happened to her, ever.

            “I’m sorry,” Tira said weakly. “I didn’t mean...”

            “Of course you didn’t. Come back at eight. I’ll meet you then.” He was surprised at her smile and how that simple gesture affected him, touched his heart in a way he didn’t understand. What on earth was she doing to him?

Awkwardly, she backed away and nearly fell off the porch before she turned and headed away from the shipyard, her hips swaying provocatively as she walked. He felt a crazy urge to run after her and then what? Drag her into his arms and kiss her?

            He remembered her from Drake and Ella’s wedding months ago. She’d been the first woman who found a way beneath his hardened heart since his mistress died in childbirth and left him to raise Annie on his own. Tira Hepburn was not a candidate for his mistress, a wife maybe...

            Lizzy, his mistress, had never wanted to become his wife and after his first marriage, he sure as hell never wanted to be wed again, but he cared for Lizzie and mourned her loss. Before she died, he promised her he would take care of Annie and make sure she would never have to sell her body to make a living.

He was too awake now to go back to bed, so he walked Annie to her bedroom. It seemed she was awake now too.

            “Would you like a big breakfast this morning?” He ruffled his daughter’s hair and delighted in her smile and laughter.

            “Pancakes,” she asked, “and bacon too? Anything but oatmeal.”

            “What ever you want today but don’t get used to this royal treatment. Get dressed and by the time you get down for breakfast, I should have most of it cooked. We can talk then about the rest of the day.” He loved her more than life itself.

            “Who was the lady?” Annie asked.

He chuckled softly. Even his five-year-old daughter knew the person at his door was a woman, not a man. For a quick second the thought of going along with her ruse crossed his mind, but he shrugged it off. Truth was always better than lies, and if he let her work for him, he could risk her life. He wasn’t about to do that. Damian Andrews, her brother-in-law, would have his hide if he hired her. Truth be told, he was more afraid of her sister Amorica.

            Annie stopped at the top of the stairs. “Are you going to get dressed before breakfast? Did you know she was staring at your chest, Papa? Why was she doing that?”

 

 

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