Posts Tagged ‘Regency Romance’

Good afternoon! Yes, I’m late. I have a friend visiting me and we’re frantically working on the house. I’m trying to get ready for the RWA conference in San Antonio as well.

I toyed with the idea of not posting today, but I have book winners!!

captive_295w-274x450Congratulations to rappleyea who won Grace Burrowes’s book and Eileen Dandashi who won Christi Caldwell’s book!APSS










Congratulations also goes to Diana Huffer who won a copy of my Keeper Kards.

Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret


I’ll be back next Sunday with all the new about RWA. Oh, and don’t forget to tell me if you want a copy of my Keeper Kards. I’ll have another drawing for next Sunday!

Have a wonderful week,


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It is always my great pleasure to welcome, NYT bestselling author, Grace Burrowes to the blog!!  Grace is here to tell us about her latest book, The Captive, and give away one copy. All you have to do is say your want it!!

I finished it last night and was not at all surprised that it is on the USA Today Bestseller list!!

Here is the fabulous cover!!


Now the blurb.

He’ll never be free…
Captured and tortured by the French, Christian Severn, Duke of Mercia, survives by vowing to take revenge on his tormentors. Before the duke can pursue his version of justice, Gillian, Countess of Greendale, reminds him that his small daughter has suffered much in his absence, and needs her papa desperately.
Until he surrenders his heart…
Gilly endured her difficult marriage by keeping peace at any cost. Christian’s devotion to his daughter and his kindness toward Gilly give her hope that she could enjoy a future with him, for surely he of all men shares her loathing for violence in any form. Little does Gilly know, the battle for Christian’s heart is only beginning.

And if you still are on the fence about this book, an exclusive blurb.

Gillian, Lady Greendale, and Christian, Duke of Mercia, are discussing—among other fraught topics—safety in the wake of an attempt to poison him.

“You’re safe, Gilly. The footmen or I attend you wherever you go, and the entire staff has been warned to watch for strangers.” Christian sounded very sure of Gilly’s safety, but what of his own?

“The staff has been been…protective,” Gilly said. “Discreet, but protective.”

“You’re surprised?”

Yes, she was. Also relieved—and ashamed. “I left my slippers in your bedroom that first night.”


The great lout was genuinely perplexed. “Below stairs, they know.”

“That we share a bed? If you say so.”

“I don’t like that they know.” She hated that they knew, hated that they might think her guilty of every weak, wanton behavior Greendale had accused her of.

Christian’s gaze narrowed, more closely approximating the ducal sphinx Gilly had barged in on weeks ago in London. “Will you pretend you don’t like what we do?”

She would have moved out from under his hands, but he only let her turn, and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “The question is sincere, my lady. I would not for the world impose on you.”

The wretch, saying such things out loud.

“I like what we do.”

“Then is it me? Perhaps you’d rather disport with a different partner?”

Behind the arrogance of the question, Gilly heard a hint, a well-hidden, ducally disregarded hint of vulnerability. She turned in his arms and pressed her face against his chest. She had licked, kissed, and nuzzled her way over most of this chest, and had found it delicious.

“I will never disport thus with another. I promise myself every morning I will not disport thus with you again, at least not until matters are settled between us.”

His hold on her loosened. “I do not understand your dilemma. I have determined you need time to sort it out yourself, and this sits ill with me, but as a measure of my regard for you, I do not force the matter.”

“Oh, no, you do not force the argument, you merely—”

“Yes?” He slipped his hands down and cupped her bottom, which meant she took notice of his male flesh growing hard between them.

“Even arguing arouses you.”

“Everything about you arouses me.”

Buy Links for print and ebook can be found at:


About Grace:

graceburrowes-headshot-01Grace Burrowes grew up in central Pennsylvania and is the sixth out of seven children. She discovered romance novels when in junior high (back when there was such a thing), and has been reading them voraciously ever since. Grace has a bachelor’s degree in Political Science, a Bachelor of Music in Music History, (both from The Pennsylvania State University); a Master’s Degree in Conflict Transformation from Eastern Mennonite University; and a Juris Doctor from The National Law Center at The George Washington University.

Grace writes Georgian, Regency, Scottish Victorian and contemporary romances in both novella and novel lengths. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America and Novelist, Inc. and enjoys giving workshops and speaking at writer’s conferences. If you’d like Grace to speak or present at your conference, contact her here. Giving back to the industry is a large part of the fun of being published!

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Please welcome Regency author, Christi Caldwell, back to the blog. Christi has a new book out and she’ll be giving away a copy to one of you who tells her you want the book!

The winner will be announced on Sunday News!

Without further to do, I give you the cover of Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous!


Now the blurb.

Geoffrey Winters, Viscount Redbrooke was not always the hard, unrelenting lord driven by propriety. After a tragic mistake, he resolved to honor his responsibility to the Redbrooke line and live a life, free of scandal. Knowing his duty is to wed a proper, respectable English miss, he selects Lady Beatrice Dennington, daughter of the Duke of Somerset, the perfect woman for him. Until he meets Miss Abigail Stone…

To distance herself from a personal scandal, Abigail Stone flees America to visit her uncle, the Duke of Somerset. Determined to never trust a man again, she is helplessly intrigued by the hard, too-proper Geoffrey. With his strict appreciation for decorum and order, he is nothing like the man’ she’s always dreamed of.

Abigail is everything Geoffrey does not need. She upends his carefully ordered world at every encounter. As they begin to care for one another, Abigail carefully guards the secret that resulted in her journey to England.

Only, if Geoffrey learns the truth about Abigail, he must decide which he holds most dear: his place in Society or Abigail’s place in his heart.


And if you need more, an exclusive excerpt!

In desperate need of a drink, Geoffrey took a step toward a liveried servant bearing a tray full of champagne when his black Hessian boot suddenly snagged the hem of a young lady’s skirt.

The tear of fabric ripping blended with the din of conversation around them.

The lady gasped, and pitched forward. Even as the glass of ratafia in her hand fell to the floor, her hip collided with the passing servant who teetered on his feet. The young man’s serving tray tilted precariously, and for an infinitesimal moment Geoffrey believed the servant had steadied his burden.

But the servant’s tray slipped from his fingers. Champagne flutes careened to the floor, and sprayed the bubbling liquid onto the gown of several matrons standing nearby, who cried out in shock and scurried off.

“Pardon me,” Geoffrey murmured to the servant, and then returned his attention to the woman he’d inadvertently sent reeling. A mere five or so inches smaller than his six foot frame, she stood taller than most of the ladies present. “Forgive me. Are you all…?”

She smiled up at him.

His question died upon his lips as he gazed down at the woman who’d unwittingly beckoned from across the ballroom mere moments ago. His eyes traveled the high planes of her cheekbones, the gray irises of her eyes, her full, red lips.

…and then her slipper met the moisture upon the marble floor. Like one of the skaters at the Frost Fair on the River Thames, she slid forward, into a nearby pillar. “Ouch.”

Geoffrey’s arm shot out and he sought to steady her.

“Thank you,” she said. She shook out her sea foam green skirts and unlike the horror that wreathed the faces of the surrounding ladies, wry amusement fairly glittered in her gray-blue eyes. “I am uninjured,” she assured him.

His eyes widened and with alacrity, he released her.

She cocked her head to the side. “Are you injured?”

Her flat accent did not possess the clipped proper tones of a proper English lady. He blinked. “Injured?”

“You appear unwell, sir.”

By God…

“You are an American,” he blurted.

A mischievous smile played about her lips. “I am.” She looked around and then back to him. “Never tell me you’re scandalized by me being an American?”

He was scandalized by the wicked direction his mind had wandered that involved an American woman. If his mother was outraged at the prospect of a Scott assuming the Redbrooke title, what would she say to an American lady having garnered Geoffrey’s attention?

“Ahh, you do smile,” the young woman said.

Geoffrey frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“Alas, it is gone,” she said with a long, exaggerated sigh.

Geoffrey became aware of the appalled stares of Polite Society’s most respectable peers, trained upon him. From across the room, his mother, who stood alongside Lady Tisdale, glared with blatant disapproval. It was the much needed reminder of past failings and inner weaknesses that had wrought much agony upon his family. By standing here engaging this…this…stranger, in the midst of Lord and Lady Hughes’s ballroom, he opened himself up to public censure. His intentions were marriage to Lady Beatrice, and any hint of untoward interest in another would not be countenanced by the Duke of Somerset or his daughter.

Geoffrey folded his arms across his chest. This American upstart might have a face and body to rival Helen of Troy, but possessed the uncouth manners one would expect of an American. “Miss,” he said from the corner of his mouth. “We’ve not been properly introduced, therefore, any discourse between us is highly improper.”

Her lips twitched, with, he suspected, mirth. “I would say toppling over the host’s servant and spraying his guests with champagne and glass is also improper, but you’ve done that, sir.”

Geoffrey felt heat climb up his neck, and resisted the urge to tug at his suddenly tight cravat, shamed by the accuracy of her charge. He did not create scandals. Not anymore. He was proper. And poised. And…

She arched a brow.

Well, in this instance he’d created a small scandal. Still, he needn’t raise further eyebrows by talking to the vexing miss.

Even if he wanted to.

He needed to go. Immediately. Anywhere but within mere inches of the lady who smelled like lilacs and lavender and now champagne. “Again, forgive me for causing you distress.” He bowed deeply and beat a hasty retreat.

Geoffrey had made a fool of himself once over a young lady. He’d not be so foolish again.

Buy Links:

Barnes and Noble


About Christi:

Twitter Picture ChrissyChristi Caldwell is the best-selling author of historical romance novels set in the Regency era. Christi blames Judith McNaught’s “Whitney, My Love,” for luring her into the world of historical romance. While sitting in her graduate school apartment at the University of Connecticut, Christi decided to set aside her notes and try her hand at writing romance. She believes the most perfect heroes and heroines have imperfections and rather enjoys tormenting them before crafting a well-deserved happily ever after!


When Christi isn’t writing the stories of flawed heroes and heroines, she can be found in her Southern Connecticut home chasing around her feisty five-year-old son, and caring for twin princesses-in-training!



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Happy Sunday!! Let’s start with winners.

Congratulations to Andrea Schiffner for winning Jennifer Bray-Weber’s book, Carol Cork for winning Miranda Neville’s book and Sue Gorman for winning a set of Keeper Kards and a pen!!

I’m giving away a set of Keeper Kards and a pen each week for the next month. All you have to do is tell me you want them.

The house reorganization is still underway. This week will be devoted to painting kitchen cabinets and touch-ups.

I did buy new chair cushions and a mooring ball.

New cushions 001

Mooring ball 001

I’ll leave you with an excerpt from Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret.

The morning following the disaster with his betrothed, Will sent his groom to the flower market. As he was tying his neckcloth, Griff returned empty-handed.

This was not good. “Where are the flowers?”

Griff fiddled with his hat. “Ain’t got a market hereabouts.”

Will almost rolled his eyes. His groom wasn’t usually so dense. “Why didn’t you go to the florist?”

“Ain’t got one of them either.”

They must have something. Will ran a hand through his hair. What the deuce was going on? He’d seen a flower arrangement at the Whitecliffs’. “I need to find a bouquet.”

“Sorry, my lord. I looked all over town and didn’t see any at all.”

Damn and blast. “Get your breakfast and meet me down at the warehouse. I’ll ask around.”

“Yes, my lord.” Griff bowed and left the bedchamber.

Will finished his cravat before strolling into the parlor, where he found Andrew already discussing a good portion of fruit. Will strolled to the sideboard and inspected the offerings. “There is apparently no flower market in town.”

Andrew glanced up with a smug expression. “That is what I was given to understand.”

Will paused in the process of selecting a baked egg. “Then where am I to find flowers for Miss Villaret?”

A grin split Andrew’s face. “You have to go to someone’s house and ask to be allowed to pick a bouquet from their garden.”

The egg slipped off the serving spoon Will held. “Ask a private person for flowers? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Andrew nodded. “There is a woman in the Queen’s Quarter who raises roses and lilies, among other plants. I have her direction. You may go immediately after breakfast. I was told it is better to pick the blooms in the morning.”

Will retrieved the egg and took a piece of Dum bread stuffed with cheese. “I’ll send Griff.”

“You’ll go yourself,” Andrew said, “or you won’t have them at all. The woman is particular about who she sells them to.”

“Give me the directions.” Will heaved an exasperated sigh. Was nothing easy when it came to Eugénie?

And a picture of the beach.

Sunday news 001

What have you all been up to?


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I’m also so happy to have the fabulous Miranda Neville on the blog!! I know you’ll help me give her a huge welcome!

Miranda’s spotlighting her latest book, Coming June 24, 2014: Lady Windermere’s Lover  (Book 3 of The Wild Quartet)

She’ll also give away a copy to on of you who tells her you want the book! We haven’t done a giveaway for several weeks, so let’s make this a good one!

Don’t you think this cover is gorgeous!


Now for the blurb:

Damian, Earl of Windermere, rues the day he drunkenly gambled away his family’s estate and was forced into marriage to reclaim it. Now, after hiding out from his new bride for a year, Damian is finally called home, only to discover that his modest bride has become an alluring beauty—and rumor has it that she’s taken a lover. Damian vows to keep his wife from straying again, but to do so he must seduce her—and protect his heart from falling for the wife he never knew he wanted.
Cynthia never aspired to be the subject of scandal. But with her husband off gallivanting across Persia, what was a lady to do? Flirting shamelessly with his former best friend seemed like the perfect revenge . . . except no matter how little Damian deserves her loyalty, Cynthia can’t bring herself to be unfaithful. But now that the scoundrel has returned home, Cynthia isn’t about to forgive his absence so easily—even if his presence stirs something in her she’d long thought dead and buried. He might win her heart . . . if he can earn her forgiveness!
And finally an exclusive excerpt!

 The awkward first meeting between Lord and Lady Windermere, after he returns from abroad, is interrupted by the Duke of Denford. Damian believes him to be Cynthia’s lover; all Cynthia knows is that Denford and her husband have been on bad terms for years.

“Clearly I have much news to catch up with since I’ve been away,” Windermere said, for all the world as though he were on the best of terms with the friends of his youth. “Can I persuade you to join us for dinner one evening, Julian? I am engaged with Grenville tonight, but tomorrow perhaps. Unless you have another engagement, my lady.”

“If I did, my lord, I would cancel it. It would ill become me to amuse myself elsewhere when my husband has been restored to me after so long.”

“Excellent. Shall we say seven o’clock then? Unless you prefer to keep country hours.”

“I am no longer the country mouse I was when you left me at Beaulieu, my lord. I would not dream of sitting down to dine a minute earlier.”

“I can see that you are not. You have become quite worldly, my lady. Admirably so.”

If someone had told Cynthia back at the Birmingham Academy that one day she’d be sitting between an earl and a duke, she’d have called him a fantasist. Keeping up with the byplay between the two men tested her newly developed sophistication. One man had never wanted her, the other said he did. Too bad that the former was the husband to whom she owed loyalty, however undeserved.

She looked at Julian, who had been following the exchange with the wry twist of the mouth that both fascinated and exasperated her, then turned back to her husband. Windermere had a singularly beautiful smile, as she remembered to her cost. In her experience he deployed it seldom and almost never with genuine intent. What he directed at her now sent her heart thudding against her ribs, but it did not reach his eyes. She knew it was a meaningless curve of the lips.

She inclined her head with a graciousness that was wholly feigned. “Why thank you, my lord. Your praise overwhelms me. I live only to please you.”

“What do you say, Julian?”

“How could I possibly resist such an invitation.” He swept a bow of matchless urbane mockery. “A demain, Cynthia,” he said, and stalked out like the sleek black cat he resembled.

She didn’t miss the flash of emotion that crossed Windermere’s face when Julian used her given name, nor the thoughtful look that pursued him out of the room.

“You are very cordial with Denford,” she said. “I had heard you disliked him.”

“And knowing that, you pursued his acquaintance? Such a loyal wife.”

Her behavior did prick at her conscience, though logically Windermere’s had been worse. “I pay little attention to gossip. I am glad I did not allow rumor to keep me from a friendship that obviously you don’t object to. I am delighted to see you and Julian on such good terms.” Her sunny smile felt like a death grimace. “I have lived quietly in your absence without entrée to the ton. Caro, Denford, and their friends welcomed me. Now that you are home, I look forward to expanding my circle with your other acquaintances.”

“I suppose you are ambitious to be received in more fashionable circles,” he said with a sneer. She’d never heard Windermere speak so rudely, and it caused her fierce satisfaction that she’d rippled his glassy calm. She didn’t know why he was upset, but that was nothing new. Since the moment he’d slipped the ring on her finger, pleasing her husband had proved impossible.

“Only for your sake,” she said with a careless wave, intended to convince him—and herself—that his ill opinion meant nothing to her. “I haven’t forgotten you telling me a wife is important to a diplomat’s career.”

He walked over to her chair and extended one elegant finger to tilt her face upward. Her heart skipped a beat when, for an instant, she thought he was going to kiss her, as a man might be expected to do after a year apart from his wife. But those perfect lips came within a foot of hers and no closer. She made herself meet him eye to eye, wishing she could read his thoughts. They were engaged in an unspoken struggle she didn’t entirely understand.

“What?” she whispered finally.

“You have changed,” he said.

“Just as you requested. I tried to become the wife you wanted.”

Buy links:  Amazon     Kindle    Nook/Barnes& Noble    Kobo    iTunes  


NevilleColorSmallerAbout Miranda:

Miranda Neville grew up in England but as a long time resident of the United States she considers herself bilingual in American and British English. She has written eight historical romances for Avon, including the popular Burgundy Club series and the current Wild Quartet. Publisher’s Weekly has described her work as a “mix of hilarity, mystery, and passion.”  She can be reached on  Facebook, Twitter, or through her website.



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Welcome to Monday Excerpts! I threw the metaphorical dart at a book this morning and it landed on chapter three. So, I invite you to post the first page of your chapter three from a new release, an upcoming release, or a WIP! Please keep it PG-13 and feel free to post buy links.

Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret

Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret

Here is mine from book #5 in The Marriage Game, Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret which releases in August.

An hour later, Eugénie and Cicely entered the large parlor on the lower level of Whitecliff House. Cicely’s apartment consisted of one large room, flanked on one side by her bedchamber and dressing room, and on the other by a small parlor with her piano and books.

Cicely called for coconut water. After her maid left, she motioned to a settee positioned against the back wall. “No one can hear us from here. Now, tell me what is wrong.”

With her flaxen curls and wide cornflower-blue eyes, Cicely gave every indication of being a silly widgeon, yet she had the sharpest mind of anyone Eugénie knew.

She chewed her lower lip. “I need to look at the business’s books, without Mr. Howden catching me.”

“Because?” Cicely asked, drawing the word out.

“He’s been telling Maman that it is losing money.”

Cicely heaved a loud sigh and made a “come on” motion with her hand. Eugénie told her about her previous attempt to view the ledgers and Mr. Howden’s threat to quit.

“Hmm.” Cicely pursed her lips in thought. “I know my father hasn’t heard your family’s company is in poor condition.”

“Mr. Howden said he was keeping it a secret.” Eugénie untied her hat and flung it down next to her. “It’s bad enough that Papa is . . . gone.” She fought the tears threatening to fall. “That is dreadful, but now Maman worries all the time about money as well. Nothing cheers her.”

Buy links: Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon German ~ Amazon France ~ Amazon Canada ~ Barnes and Nobel ~ Kensington ~ iBooks ~ Kobo

Now it’s your turn!!

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If you came by the blog yesterday you’ll know I promised you a surprise, and here it is!

Cara Elliott is releasing a new traditional Regency, Pistols at Dawn, under her nom de plume Andria Pinkens. She sent me the cover and an excerpt!

Pistols At Dawn

A metallic click caused Marcus Fitzherbert Greeley, the seventh Earl of Killingworth to look up from his ledgers.

“Who’s there?” he called sharply.

No answer sounded in reply, but after a moment the draperies stirred and a dark shape emerged from the midnight shadows. As the cloaked figure approached his desk, candlelight glinted off the steel of an ancient pistol.

“Stand up,” came the curt command.

The case clock ticked off a second or two before the earl put down his pen and rose.

“Take off your coat.”

He didn’t move, save for a slight twitch of his raven brows.

“You think a mere female incapable of pulling the trigger? I assure you, I should like nothing better, if you give me the slightest provocation.” The young lady—for her speech, if not her actions, indicated that she was indeed a lady—stepped closer. “And in case you are wondering, I am accorded to be a decent shot.”

Marcus slowly shrugged out of the elegant navy superfine garment and let it drop to the Oriental carpet.

“Now your cravat and waistcoat.”

He frowned, but his fingers loosened the folds of starched linen, then worked free the buttons of the striped silk. The items joined the crumpled coat.

A wave of steel indicated for him to go on. “Your shirt as well.”

The earl looked for a moment as if to refuse. However, after a brief hesitation, he undid the fastenings and tugged it over his head. The flickering candles cast a ripple of light and dark over the muscled shoulders and the chiseled planes of his bare chest. A glint of what might have been grim humor flashed in his amber eyes.

“Do you wish for me to go on?” he asked coolly, his lithe fingers openly toying with the flap of his breeches. “I am not unused to females seeking out my attention, but this is a rather imaginative approach. Tell me, are you as creative in other techniques as well?“

On seeing his assailant’s eyes widen, he gave a curt laugh. “Or perchance you have been sent as some prank by Allenby—though I would not have given him credit for being quite so clever.” One button slipped out of its slot. “But whatever your game is, sweeting, don’t you think it’s time you joined in the spirit of things and removed something as well?

“Hold your tongue!” The sharp order, more shrill than sure, cut off his words. “I am not interested in any of your lecherous suggestions, sir.” The barrel of the gun wavered slightly as her gaze slid along the dusting of dark curls that ran from his breastbone to navel. “I’ve seen enough. You may put on your clothes—you are not the one.”

“How disappointing to hear it. Things were just getting interesting,” he murmured softly. “A good deal more interesting than the blasted ledgers I was wrestling with.”

She ignored the tone of mocking irony. “What other gentlemen are part of this household?”

“What? Having found my flesh wanting, you wish to disrobe someone else?” The earl’s lips curled in a sardonic smile. “With all due modesty, I doubt you will find the footmen—”

“I warn you, do not trifle with me!” Her face went rigid with fury as she raised her gaze. “I am quite capable of pulling the trigger, Lord Killingworth. And there is no doubt that you would deserve it just as much as the one I seek.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?” he demanded. He usually had no trouble shrugging off slurs to his character, but somehow her note of scorn struck a raw nerve. “I imagine you do not threaten to put a period put to a man’s existence without a good reason.”

The young lady took a deliberate step forward and aimed the pistol at his heart. But the swagger did not quite reach her eyes. “It is I who will ask the questions! Now once again, what other gentlemen are in this house?”

Marcus regarded the weapon calmly. “Surely you do not think a shot will go unnoticed?”

“I have another pistol.”

“Ah—but I have considerably more than one servant.”

“I shall count to three, sir.” Her finger tightened on the trigger. “One.”

“If I am to shuffle off this mortal coil, may I at least be permitted to put my shirt back on? I should like to meet my Maker wearing a bit more than when I entered this world.” He gave a slight cough. “Besides, I believe you left the window open and it’s getting rather chilly in here.”

“I imagine it will be a good deal warmer where you are headed,” she snapped. However, a curt nod indicated that he might retrieve the cast off garment.

Two,” she added, as he bent to pick it up.

The earl slowly straightened. Suddenly, with a flick of his wrist, the shirt snapped out like a whiplash, knocking the pistol from her hand. Just as quickly, he was at her side, clamping hold of her arm to prevent her from drawing the other weapon.

”Let go of me!” she cried, flailing wildly with her free hand. The fist caught him flush on the mouth, drawing blood.

“Sweet Jesus, you are a real spitfire, aren’t you?” he growled, trapping her in a bear hug. In contrast to the hard-edged fury of her limbs, the softness of her tumbled curls was . . . surprising. As was the subtle sweetness of lavender that scented her skin. It was oddly intriguing that such a fierce creature could possess such beguiling hints of femininity . . .

An unladylike kick slammed into his shin. Her knee aimed a vicious blow even higher.

“Hell and damnation,“ Marcus swore, a grimace adding to the lopsided cant of his mouth. He tightened his hold, drawing a grunt of pain. “Enough! Don’t force me into doing something we will both regret.”

Seeing no chance of freeing herself from his grip, his assailant ceased thrashing. “Go ahead and call the magistrate,” she said with a defiant tilt of her chin. “Let them throw me in jail or hang me for this! I shall find some way of seeing justice is done, even if I have to claw my way back from the bowels of Hell to do it.”

Marcus could feel the heat of her against his bare skin, but even more searing was the fire in her emerald eyes. Puzzled, he could not imagine what had sparked such an intense hostility. No female in her right mind would behave as she had done without good reason—and despite all absence of civilized behavior, she did not appear to be lacking in sanity.

Slowly releasing her, he brushed the back of his hand to his split lip. “Perhaps you would care to explain just what is going on here before any more blood is shed. Mine or yours.”

The young lady drew a ragged breath, though in truth she sounded more angry than fearful. “You fine London gentlemen think it a sport to force yourselves on country girls?” she demanded hotly. “And is the game, as you put it, more enjoyable when they are naught but innocents?”

The earl’s jaw tightened. “A gentleman does not force himself on any female, country or town, innocent or otherwise.”

“Ha!” Her look of patent disbelief expressed how much credence she gave to such a statement.

“What makes you think the man you seek is under my roof?” he demanded.

“Given your reputation, Lord Killingworth, it seemed a likely place to start.”

“Ah. So, despite my infrequent visits here, I see that I am not unknown in this area.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Oh, this may be a small country village but we have all heard the stories about the infamous Black Cat, sir. It is truly an unlucky day for Chertwell that such a mangy feline has chosen to cross our path and take up residence here.”

Buy Link: Amazon 


Now for your excerpts and mine. A few weeks ago, I invited you to post your first page of whatever you were working on, something newly released, or a future release. Today let’s do page two. You’re welcome to post buy links if you have them.

Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret

Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret


Here is mine from Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret which releases in August.

“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.” Gunnatried 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.”

Eugénie quickly drew out her dagger, concealing it in the gray of her skirts, and turned, crouching. A large man stood hidden in the shadow of a building, while a wiry boy, she guessed to be in his late teens, came at her. She waited until he reached out to grab her arm, then sliced the blade across his hands. Before he started to scream, she dashed down an alley between the long houses. Doors swung open, and several women stepped into the street behind her. That wouldn’t help for long, but it would delay the pursuit.

Perspiration poured down her face as Eugénie pounded up the hill, using the step streets to cross over to Queen’s Quarter. Ducking behind a large Flamboyant tree, she waited for several moments, listening for sounds of men running, but there was nothing, and no one other than a few going about their business.

She took out a scrap of cloth and cleaned the blade before returning it to her leg sheath. Then Eugénie removed her bonnet and turned toward the breeze, drawing in great gulps of air as she fanned herself with the hat.


Buy Links:

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


Now it’s your turn!

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The blog tour is over, and Monday excerpts is back!! I hope you’ll forgive me for not posting it during Desiring Lady Caro’s release.  Anyway, I invite you to post your blurb, or a short excerpt as well as any buy links. Covers are welcome as well. I can never figure out how to do it, but it you can, go for it.

Here is mine from my August release Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret.

Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret

Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret


Ella Quinn’s intriguing and irresistible bachelors are masters in the game of seduction. But nothing has the power to change a single man’s mind like a captivating woman…

William, Viscount Wivenly, plans to remain the most eligible of bachelors. He refuses to surrender to the schemes of husband-hunting ladies and matchmaking mamas. Fleeing the pressure of the ton, he’s bent on finding refuge in the West Indies. What he finds instead is a fascinating stranger, a woman so unlike those of his society that he can’t resist such a beguiling distraction… 

Determined to let nothing complicate her mission to protect her family’s livelihood while covertly rescuing orphaned slave children, Miss Eugénie Villaret does her best to evade suitors. But when dashing William lures her down a path of forbidden adventure and delicious danger, she may be convinced that business can indeed be mixed with pleasure—and persuaded to add passion to her priorities…

Buy Links: Amazon ~ B&N ~ Kobo ~ iTunes

Now it’s your turn! Please remember to keep it PG.

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Happy Sunday! Let’s begin with book winners.

Congratulations to: Tarenn98 who won Gina Danna’s book Love and Vengeance!
Raquel M, who won a copy of Desiring Lady Caro for commenting on The Literary Shed!
And Monica Perry who won a copy of Desiring Lady Caro for commenting on RomCom! Monica, please contact me. I don’t have your email address.

Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret

Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret

On my Facebook page, I have an ongoing contest. Be the first to post a buy link for Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret, and win a copy of the book. (Hint: Amazon has sites in the UK, France, and Germany to name a few)

The week has been busy as I got back into work. I will have book #6 finished today, and my editor very helpfully sent me the copy edits for Madeleine’s Christmas Wish, and the galleys for Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret.

The winners so far are:

Linda Thum:  iTunes

Christina Evenson:  Amazon US

Nicole Laverdure:  Amazon Canada

Lisa Schmidt-Ringsby:  Barnes and Noble

Since I was able to walk again, I took these pictures for you.

Sand turtle







Sailboar in Bay








Hubby took this one of me working.

Ella Working


Have a wonderful Sunday and rest of the week!


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I’m on Fresh Fiction talking about my muse, and giving away a copy of Desiring Lady Caro!! I’d love it if you could stop by and visit!

Desiring Lady Caro

Desiring Lady Caro

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