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Posts Tagged ‘Ella Quinn’

Happy Sunday!! We have book winners and here they are:

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Congratulations to Shelia who won a copy of Jenna Jaxon’s book, Time Enough to Love!!

 

 

 

 

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And to Joanna Mortes who won Loreen Augeri’s Lost Honor!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

In more book news, I have a Christmas novella releasing on October 27th. It’s now on pre-order and, I’m giving away one copy to someone who tells me she wants it. It is in ebook only. Those of you who read The Secret Life of Miss Anna Marsh will remember Georges. Madeline's Christmas Wish_ebook

 

Madeleine’s Christmas Wish

The bachelors in Ella Quinn’s Marriage Game series make a habit of resisting the irresistible. But during the season for giving, surrendering to temptation may be the greatest gift of all…

A French spy, Georges, Marquis Cruzy-le-Châtel, has lived in England for years, sacrificing his life for his country—but not his heart. For he’s never been able to forget his childhood friend, Madeleine. And now, in her hour of need, he is there to rescue her…

The victim of a ruthless statesman, Madeleine, Comtesse du Beaune, has been abducted and sent to England to work in a brothel. Her greatest wish is to return home for Christmas, and her only hope of it is to marry Georges—though she will be his wife in name alone. Yet as they steal across the snowy countryside, Georges decides to woo her—with kisses that melt the winter’s frost and leave her longing for a holiday miracle…

Amazon ~  Barnes and Noble ~ iTunes

I hope everyone had a wonderful Labor Day weekend last week. We drove to my mother-in-law’s house where we met up with my son, daughter-in-law and, most importantly, my lovely granddaughter, Josephine.  We haven’t had the opportunity to spend a lot of time together, but it didn’t seem to matter. Great-Grandma brought out the children’s books and we spent a lot of time reading. She is only four, but she’s already hooked on books.

One of our rituals was to have breakfast together, after which, I’d braid her hair. We took this photo because she was unable to hold the mirror just so she could see it. Braiding worked much better than the ponytail she’d had before.

 

Josephine's Hair

On the way back (it was a 13 hour drive) we stopped at Rockfish Gap and I took these pictures. It still boggles my mind that people fought their way through the wilderness and made homes and lives for themselves.

 

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You won’t see me around on social media much for the next week or so while I finish the next book in The Marriage Game and a novella that will be part of a boxed set with several other authors, including NYT bestseller Cheryl Bolen.

I’d love to hear how you’ve been doing.

Ella

 

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This is Loreen’s first time on the blog so please give her a warm welcome!! Loreen is going give us a peek at her release, Lost Honor!! She’ll also be giving away a copy to one of you who tells her she wants the book!

 

As always, let’s start with the cover.

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Now for the blurb:
 
Captain Morgan Danvers sets sail to rescue his brother, kidnapped by pirates. Fearing he will become like his father who abandoned him, he has cut himself off from his emotions. Then a willful stowaway crashes into his life, awakening dormant feelings and firing his lust. Soon he finds his all-important honor threatened, for even though he is betrothed to another, he is drawn to her against his will.Arianna Pemberton hides in a barrel she thinks will be loaded on her brother’s ship but lands on Morgan’s brig. Her father has forbidden her to sail, and this is her only course of action. Unwilling to allow a man to control her, she is determined to make her way as a seaman, a profession she knows and loves. But when Captain Danvers discovers her deception, he refuses to permit her to prove herself. As she struggles to convince him, unwanted passion emerges, jeopardizing her plans for independence.

And an excerpt.
Throwing open the door to his cabin, he pushed her inside, entered, and slammed it shut. He remembered doing this once already today. He hoped this time would be the last.
Morgan folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door.
 
She stood defiantly before him as her perfect, seductive chest rose and fell in a swift rhythm. From the quick trip down here, fear, or anger, he couldn’t tell. She acted the opposite of every female he had ever encountered.
 
“Now, let’s get a few things straight. I run this ship. I am the captain. I am king on the Sea Dragon. You obey my rules. And the first one is, you go where I tell you and stay there until I command otherwise.” A paper from the top of his desk floated to the floor, reminding him of her other infraction and possible spying. “And you never, ever, touch my belongings.” He swung his arm in a wide arc. “This is not how I left my cabin. Return it to its previous condition.”
 
“But—”
 
“Quiet!” he roared. “I am not finished. You will remove those clothes and dress as a female should.” He stalked toward her.
 
She instinctively stepped back.
 
He snatched the cap off her head, and sunshine spilled out. Ensnared by her golden beauty, he stilled and pictured her hair unbound, enveloping her curves, enveloping him. He shook himself. Her allure would not save her. He was immune to feminine charms. Morgan shoved the wool cap at her, and she caught it in her hands. “Women do not wear these.”
 
“Are you finished?” She stood straight and tall. All five feet of her.
 
He nodded.
 
“I’m sorry I made a mess of your cabin, but you left me no choice. I needed to find a way out.”
 
“Why? I explicitly stated you were to remain. I even locked you in.” His gaze searched the cabin. “How did you escape?”
 
“I used the key.”
 
“How did you get it?” A sudden thought struck. “From Mark? Is he the one who let you out?” Morgan spun toward the door to summon the boy. She grabbed his arm to stop him, and a shocking sizzle shot through him.
 
An indrawn breath escaped her. She immediately released him and clasped her hands together in front of her, the knuckles white, her arms tense. “He had nothing to do with me leaving the cabin. It was all my idea.” The words tumbled from her mouth.
 
Morgan strove to ignore the tingling sensation running up and down his arm and to summon back the anger that had seeped from him. He held out his hand palm up. “Give me the key.”
 
She brushed blonde wisps of hair from her face. “I don’t have it.”
 
“Where is it?”
 
She hesitated. “At the bottom of the ocean.”
 
Lost Honor is available in e-book and paperback from The Wild Rose Press, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble online. Buy links can be found on my website www.loreenaugeri.com
 
 
 
About Loreen:
 
Loreen3 pictureLoreen Augeri has always liked to read and write. As a young child, she created stories featuring a young girl and her loyal horse. Riding was her favorite pastime.
 
She started reading historical romances when her children were babies. When her youngest daughter started school, she decided she wanted to write a novel. At first, to see if she could, later as a hobby, and then seeking publication. Joining Romance Writers of America and her local chapter helped in the process.

Loreen lives in Massachusetts with her husband of 33 years and her two adult daughters. When she is not reading or writing, she enjoys walking, dancing, and spending time at the beach.

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Please welcome Jenna Jaxon back to the blog!! Today she has her medieval romance, Time Enough to Love. She’ll be giving away a signed print copy to one of you!!  Just tell her you want it!

Look at this lovely cover!

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Now the blurb.

When Lady Alyse de Courcy is betrothed to Sir Geoffrey Longford, she has no choice but to make the best of a bad bargain. The hulking knight is far from her ideal man, and although he does possess some wit and charm, he is no match for the sinfully sensual man she secretly admires, Thomas, Earl of Braeton, her betrothed’s best friend.

From the first, Sir Geoffrey finds himself smitten by Lady Alyse, and, despite her infatuation with his friend, vows to win her love. When Geoffrey puts his mind to wooing Alyse, he is delighted to find her succumbing to his seduction. But when cruel circumstances separate them, Geoffrey must watch helplessly as Thomas steps in to protect Alyse—and falls in love with her himself.

As the three courtiers accompany Princess Joanna to her wedding in Spain, they run headlong into the Black Plague. With her world plunged into chaos, Alyse struggles with her feelings for both the men she loves. But which love will survive?

And an excerpt.

“Lady Alyse de Courcy!” King Edward called out again, bringing Alyse’s head up like a startled deer. “Present yourself before the court.”

Alyse shot off her seat. Oh, Lord! She had kept King Edward waiting.

“I beg pardon, sire.” She hurried from behind the table, too aware of all the eyes now on her. As she moved to stand before the king, the low drone of many voices rose around the room.

“Impudent girl.”

“I’d not want to be in her place.”

“Do you think the king will…”

Each snatch of conversation made her heart beat faster.

What will he do to me?

Her normal embarrassment at being the center of attention tripled at the thought of this blatant lapse of protocol. She stopped several feet from the dais and the room hushed as though everyone held their breath.

“What do you require of me, Majesty?” Her mouth so dry she could taste sand, Alyse fought to speak in a normal tone. With a sigh of relief, she dropped into a deep curtsy, hiding her face in the folds of her skirt. If only she could remain bowed thus before His Majesty for the remainder of the evening.

King Edward laughed. “Obedience, Lady Alyse, as I require of all my subjects. As your father requires of his daughter.”

Her heart thumped wildly in her breast. That could mean but one thing.

“Rise, my lady.”

She did so on unsteady feet. “I am ready, as always, Your Majesty, to obey my father as I would you.”

Holy Mary, let it be Lord Braeton.

King Edward lifted an eyebrow toward Alyse. “A very pretty answer, my lady. And are you ready to accept your father’s decree for your betrothal? His messenger has today reached me with the contract, as I am to stand in his stead in this matter.”

Alyse took a deep breath and hoped her voice did not tremble. “Yea, Majesty, I will obey my father.”

King Edward nodded and leaned over to whisper something to Queen Phillipa, who sat beside him, heavy with their twelfth child.

Mere seconds before she learned her fate. She could scarce affect an indifferent pose before the court when inside every inch of her quivered with anticipation of the name. His name, pray God, on the king’s lips.

  1. Thomas.

In her mind, she heard the word.

The king straightened, glanced at her then at the man by her side.

“What say you then, Sir Geoffrey? Does the lady not speak fair? I vow she will make you a proper wife and a dutiful one as well.”

Alyse turned, until that moment unaware that Geoffrey Longford stood beside her. Chills coursed down her body as the king’s words echoed in her mind. The sensation of falling backward assailed her, as though she rushed away from the tall man at her side even as his figure loomed larger and larger in her sight.

Not Lord Braeton.

Her numbed brain repeated the phrase, trying to comprehend that instead he would be her husband. Geoffrey Longford.

God have mercy on me, for by the look of him, this man will not.

Buy Links: Amazon

About Jenna.

Jenna Jaxon is a multi-published author of historical and contemporary romance.  She has been reading and writing historical romance since she was a teenager.  A romantic herself, she has always loved a dark side to the genre, a twist, suspense, a surprise.  She tries to incorporate all of these elements into her own stories. She lives in Virginia with her family and a small menagerie of pets.  When not reading or writing, she indulges her passion for the theatre, working with local theatres as a director.  She often feels she is directing her characters on their own private stage.

Jenna is a PAN member of Romance Writers of America as well as a member of Chesapeake Romance Writers. Her debut novel, Only Scandal Will Do, is the first in her House of Pleasure series, set in Georgian London.  Her medieval novel, Time Enough to Love, is a Romeo & Juliet-esque tale, set at the time of the Black Death.

She has equated her writing to an addiction to chocolate because once she starts she just can’t stop.

 

 

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Last week we did heroes. Today we’ll show off our heroines. Please post the first page of your heroine’s POV from your latest release, a next release, or your WIP!!

Here is mine from Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret.

Enticing Miss Eugenie VillaretJuly 1816, St. Thomas, Danish West Indies

Miss Eugénie Villaret de Joyeuse followed Gunna, an old black slave, down a narrow back street lined with long houses in Crown Prince’s Quarter. Her maid, Marisole, stood watch as Eugénie and the woman entered the building.

“He be here, miss.”

A baby, not older than one year, sat in the corner of the room playing with a rag doll. His only clothing was a clout, which, by the strong scent of urine, needed to be changed.

She and Gunna and the boy were the only occupants of the cramped, dark room. She crouched down next to the child. “What happened to his mother?”

“Sold.”

Naturally; why did she even bother to ask? It was cruel to separate a mother and child, but there was no law against it here.

“When?”

“A few days ago.” Gunna glanced at the child. “He be gone to a plantation soon.”

Even worse. He’d likely die before he was grown. Eugénie placed the small bag she carried on the floor. “Help me change him. He can’t go outside like this.”

A few minutes later the baby’s face and hands were clean, his linen was changed, and he wore a fresh gown.

She handed the woman two gold coins. “Thank you for calling me.” Gunna tried to give the money back, but Eugénie shook her head. “Use it to help someone else. Our fight is not finished until everyone is free.”

One tear made its way down the woman’s withered cheek. “You go now, before the wrong person sees you.”

Eugénie pulled a thin blanket around the babe’s head, thankful her wide-brimmed hat would help hide his face as well as hers, and stepped out into the bright sunshine.

“That’s her!” a male voice shouted.

She shoved the babe at Marisole. “Take him and run! I’ll catch up.”

Amazon US ~ Barnes and Noble ~ iTunes ~ Kobo ~ Amazon CA ~ Amazon DE ~ Amazon FR ~ Amazon UK

Now it’s your turn!! I can’t wait to read them!

 

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Happy Sunday to you!! Let’s start with winners! This is the first time all the books won are signed print copies!!

Drum roll please!! Congratulations to:

Enticing Miss Eugenie VillaretEli Yanti who won a copy of Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret.

 

 

 

 

Merri Williams who won a copy of Grace Burrowes’s laird_4501Laird.

 

 

 

 

 

Murder In Retribution coverKi Pha who won a copy of Anne Cleeland’s Murder in Retribution.

 

 

 

 

 

This week has been crazy. I’m still neck deep in moving plans and, for the first time, under a real deadline for a book I haven’t finished. Maddie, my husband’s new kitty, has decided pouncing on Raphaella, my older cat, is a fun thing to do. Raphaella begs to differ. Raphaella not happy

Maddie also likes shopping bags. As you can see, we only use non-plastic.Maddie bag good

She is having to learn office etiquette, such as no paws on the computer, or the iPhone. One of her major fascinations is the printer. We have a new one that opens and closes itself, better for a boat environment. Every time it turns on, she rushes over to see what’s going to happen next.

Maddie printer

Next weekend we’ll be in southern Illinois at my mother-in-law’s house. Our son and granddaughter are meeting us there. It will be the first time we’ve all been together since he got back from Afghanistan.  What are your plans for Labor Day?

Have a great week!

Ella

 

 

 

 

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It’s time to hook your reader! Today let’s post the first page of you new or recent release, or your WIP that is in your hero’s point of view! Don’t forget your buy or social media links.

Here is mine from Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret.

Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret

July 1816, England

William, Viscount Wivenly, caught a glimpse of sprigged muslin through a thinly leafed part of the tall hedge, behind which he’d taken refuge.

“Are you sure he came this way?” an excited female voice whispered.

  1. He didn’t like the sound of that. Will found himself in sympathy with the fox at a hunt.

“Quite sure,” came the hushed response. “You must be careful, Cressida. If I reveal to you what Miss Stavely told me in the strictest confidence, you must vow never to repeat what I’m about to say. I swore I’d never breathe a word.”

“Yes, yes,” Miss Cressida Hawthorne replied urgently, “I promise.”

He’d been dodging the Hawthorne chit for two days now, and unfortunately she wasn’t the only one. The other woman sounded like the newly betrothed Miss Blakely.

“Well then”—Miss Blakely paused—“I really shouldn’t. If it got out, she’d be ruined!”

“I already promised,” Miss Hawthorne wheedled.

After a few moments, the other girl continued. “Miss Stavely said she followed Lord Wivenly to the library so that they’d be alone, and he’d have to marry her.”

“What an excellent plan.” Miss Hawthorne’s tone fell somewhere between admiring and wishful.

“Well, it wasn’t.”

Even thinking about the incident with Miss Stavely made Will shudder. There were few worse fates than being married to her in particular. Fortunately, the lady was not as intelligent as she was crafty. The minute she’d turned the lock, she had announced he would have to marry her. However, she’d failed to take into account the French windows through which Will had made his escape.

“What do you mean it wasn’t a good idea?” Miss Hawthorne asked.

“Have you heard a betrothal announcement?”

Their footsteps stopped. Drat it all, there must be another way out of here. He surveyed the privet hedge, which bordered three sides of this part of the garden. Across from him was a wooden rail fence about five feet high. Large rambling roses in pale pink and yellow sprawled along it, completing the enclosure. Whoever designed this spot had wanted privacy. Will’s attention was once again captured by the voices.

“No,” Miss Hawthorne said slowly, as if working out a puzzle. “So it didn’t work.”

“Do you know what Miss Stavely failed to take into account?”

When Miss Hawthorne didn’t reply, Miss Blakely continued. “She didn’t bother to ensure she had a witness at hand. Miss Stavely said Lord Wivenly looked her up and down like she was a beefsteak and told her he’d ruin her if she wished, but not to think he’d take her to wife.”

Now it’s your turn! I can’t wait to read them.

Ella

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While I’m off on the last stop of my blog tour at Karen’s Killer Fixen’s. , Anne is going to introduce you to her latest release, Murder In Retribution! The second installment of Anne Cleeland’s Acton & Doyle Scotland Yard series. The two detectives are investigating an escalating turf war between two underworld factions.

Ann is giving away one print copy to a commenter who tells her you want the book!

Murder In Retribution cover

Now the blurb.

Perhaps there’s nothing more to the murders than under-the-table business dealings gone wrong, but Doyle is uneasy because there’s something here that doesn’t make sense. . .and sometimes vengeance takes a wrong turn.

Here’s the starred review from Library Journal:

“While dealing with the aftermath of their relationship going public, DC Kathleen Doyle and CI Michael Acton set out to discover who is behind a rash of underworld murders in London. As the couple try to find a balance between their work and personal lives, everything escalates when violence hits close to home. In addition to dealing with her not-so-traditional marriage to Acton, Doyle must face some hard truths during her investigation that might better have stayed unrevealed. VERDICT Doyle and Acton are incredibly flawed and engaging protagonists who stay in the reader’s mind long after the case is solved and the last page turned. With just a second book (after Murder in Thrall), Cleeland is developing a memorable series that will captivate fans of police procedurals and complicated sleuths such as the protagonist in Carol O’Connell’s “Mallory” series.”

Here’s an excerpt:

Detective Constable Doyle and Detective Chief Inspector Acton crouched on the cement floor of the aqueduct and peered into the conduit that diverted surface waters into the greater London drainage system. Lodged in the conduit—dry at this time of year—was the decomposing body of an adult white male of perhaps forty years.  Doyle held a paper mask over her face because the odor was making her stomach heave, and they studied the crime scene in silence while the SOCOs—Scene of the Crime Officers—stood by, clad in their paper bunny suits and awaiting instruction. Weak morning sunshine filtered through the trees lining the aqueduct, which ran though a remote wooded area near Epping Forest.

“Less than a week?” suggested Doyle.

“Perhaps,” said Acton. “Difficult to say—it is cool down here, and so we’ll wait for the Coroner to come up with something more precise.” He glanced at her. “Ready to pull him over?”

Doyle nodded, unaccountably annoyed that he was being so deferential, and they carefully rolled the corpse over, allowing the SOCO photographer to step in and take photos as they studied the decedent. It was an unusual wound; the man had been shot in the face with a large caliber weapon. An act of rage, thought Doyle; not your average professional job, which was a bit strange as all other aspects indicated a professional job. The remains of the face were a mess as the maggots had been busy, and between this gruesome sight and the odor of decomposition, Doyle made a strangled sound in her throat and wished she were elsewhere.

“Need a moment?” asked Acton quietly, motioning the photographer away.

“No. I am in perfect curl.” Annoyed, she broadened her Irish accent so that she pronounced it “paarfect,” just so he was aware she was annoyed—not that there was any mistaking. She knew she was being childish, snapping away at him, but couldn’t seem to help herself; she was miserable, he knew she was miserable, and he was walking on eggshells which was a sad, sad testament to her supposed role as his helpmeet.  Unconsciously lifting a hand to bite her nails, she was thwarted in this desire by her latex gloves, and so instead fought an almost overwhelming urge to cry. Or start throwing things; either, or.

Acton’s dark eyes rested on her for a moment and then returned to study the body. “It would probably be best to know for certain.”

With a monumental effort, Doyle took hold of her foolish, sorry self. “I do know for certain. I took a pregnancy test this mornin’.”  Best not to mention that she had panicked, thinking he’d discover the evidence, and so had thrown the stupid stick out the bathroom window, no easy feat from seven stories up.

He raised his gaze to meet hers.

“I am wretchedly sorry, Michael; I am bein’ such a baby and I can’t seem to help myself.” She sighed so that her mask puffed out and then collapsed again.

He touched her hand and said with quiet emphasis, “I am not sorry; it is wonderful news, Kathleen.”

It was the truth—which came as a complete surprise. Doyle had an innate ability to read people, and she could usually tell when someone was lying. Presumably, this ability was inherited from some Irish ancestor—hopefully one who hadn’t been burned at the stake as a result—and it was a mixed blessing; it was no easy thing to constantly aware of the currents of emotions that swirled around her at any given time. Acton guarded his own emotions very closely but she knew on this occasion he was speaking the pure truth. It was a huge relief, all in all.

Fearing she would disgrace herself by being sick during what should be a sentimental milestone in married life, she stood and backed away a step, taking in a deep breath and trying to settle her stomach.  Acton rose to stand alongside her and the SOCO team took this as a cue that the visual inspection by the detective staff had now concluded—although there had been precious little detecting done, thus far.  As Acton nodded permission, the examiner moved in to bag the corpse’s hands and conduct preliminary tests for trace evidence before the body itself would be bagged and removed.  After the man moved away, Doyle continued, “And do not pretend this blessed turn of events is not completely my fault.”

“Oh? I feel I may have had a hand in it.”  He cocked his head, trying to tease her out of the sullens.

For whatever reason, this attempt to humor her only succeeded in making her more annoyed and she made a hot retort. “I am well-aware that you have no self control, my friend; mine is the burden of keepin’ you at arm’s length.”

“You failed miserably,” he agreed. “A very memorable occasion.”

She had to duck her head to suppress an inappropriate smile; it wouldn’t do at all to be seen giggling while this poor mucker’s mangled body was supposedly under examination.

 

Buy Links: Amazon ~ B&N

 

about Anne.

Anne Cleeland

Anne Cleeland holds a degree in English from UCLA as well as a degree in law from Pepperdine University, and is a member of the California State Bar.  She writes a historical series set in the Regency period as well as a contemporary mystery series set in New Scotland Yard.  A member of Romance Writers of America, The Historical Novel Society and Mystery Writers of America, she lives in California and has four children.  www.annecleeland.com; @annecleeland.

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