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Archive for the ‘Givaway’ Category

I’m so thrilled to welcome fellow Rom-vet and Kensington author Diana Cosby back to the blog!! Diana is here today with her latest release, An Oath Sworn!! Diana will also give away a copy of her book to one of you. All you have to do is tell her you want it!

First the lovely cover.

1 1aa An Oath Sworn Cover

Next the blurb.

Bound by honor to save a country they love …

The bastard daughter of the French king, Marie Alesia Serouge has just one chance at freedom when she escapes her captor in the Scottish highlands. A mere pawn in a scheme to destroy relations between France and Scotland, Marie must reach her father and reveal the Englishmen’s treacherous plot. But she can’t abandon the wounded warrior she stumbles upon—and she can’t deny that his fierce masculinity, Scottish or not, stirs something wild inside her.

Colyne MacKerran is on a mission for his king, and he’s well aware that spies are lying in wait for him everywhere. Wounded en route, he escapes his attackers and is aided by an alluring Frenchwoman…whose explanation for her presence in the Highlands rings false. Even if she saved his life, he cannot trust her with his secrets. But he won’t leave her to the mercy of brigands, either—and as they race for the coast, he can’t help but wonder if her kiss is as passionate as she is. With nothing in common but their honor, Colyne and Marie face a dangerous journey to safety through the untamed Scottish landscape—and their own reckless hearts…
And finally, the excerpt.

“Who is he?” Colyne MacKerran asked. He far from understood the importance of the question he asked.  “What does it matter who it is or the reason his men are searching for me?” Colyne shot her a wry grin.  “If I am going to risk my life escorting you, I need to know what I am up against.” Hope stumbled through Lady Marie Alesia Serouge.  “You will escort me? But—” The Scot held up his hand, any trace of humor gone.  “To my friend’s home as I offered before.  Nay more.  Once you are in safe hands, I must go.  I have my own business to attend to.” Colyne’s reaction to the knights who’d ridden by flickered in her mind. Uneasy, she cleared her throat.  “You believed the men were after you?” His expression grew shuttered. Marie tensed.  Was this Scot a threat?  She didn’t want to believe she’d miscalculated to such a degree.  But if she was wrong . . . Long seconds passed as he stared at her, his deep gaze assessing.  “Aye, they are.” “Why?” she asked. A grim smile touched his mouth.  “Well now, lass, I have my own reasons.   Ones I will nae be sharing.  And,” he paused, “you will have to trust me as well.”
Continue reading
Buy links.  Kindle ~  iTunes ~  NOOK ~  KOBO  ~ Google PlayAmazon.com (Canada) Amazon (UK)Amazon.fr (France) ~ Amazon.it (Italy) ~ Amazon.de Kindle (Germany) ~ Amazon.es (Spain) ~ Amazon.co.ja (Japan) ~ Amazoncom.au. (Australia)

 

About Diana.

Diana CosbyA retired Navy Chief, Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Books in her award-winning MacGruder Brothers series are translated in five languages.  Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC, and appeared in Woman’s Day, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happy Ever After,” MSN.com, Atlantic County Women Magazine, and Texoma Living Magazine.

After her career in the Navy, Diana dove into her passion – writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. With all three books of The Oath Trilogy, An Oath Taken, An Oath Broken, and An Oath Sworn, making bestseller lists in the U.S., Canada, and/or the United Kingdom, as well as the release of the e Box Set of the MacGruder Brothers series, she is now preparing for the release of the first book in the Forbidden Series, Forbidden Legacy, in August 2016!

Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.

www.dianacosby.com

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Happy Sunday! We have lots of winners this week, so lets start with them.

CongratulationsCongratulations goes to Sharon Extine for winning a copy of Jenna Jaxon’s book, Angie Garn for winning a copy of my book, and Connie Fischer for winning Shannon Donnelly’s book!!

I hope you have a wonderful time reading!!

 

 

I wish I could tell you that things are slowing down for me, but I still have to finish book 3 in The Worthingtons. My title for this one is It Started with a Kiss. We’ll see if it survives my editor.

In fun news, I received my first box of ARCs for Three Weeks to Wed.

Three Weeks to Wed ARCs

Hubby had to carry them from the mailroom to our dinghy. I can tell you that the box was not light. In any event, to celebrate I’m giving away a copy to one of you. The rules are the same, just tell me you want the book. Bear in mind that this is not the final copy, so there will be errors. On the other hand, you can laugh at my spelling and punctuation mistakes.

Also, the box set is available for pre-order. It’s only .99 and I am using this opportunity to publish A Promise of Love, the first book in The Trevors.  My new novella series based on the children of the Duke of Somerset who was introduced to you in Miss Featherton’s Christmas Prince. He has not improved, but I hope you will have fun reading about how his children escape him and find love and happiness.

I don’t have a blurb yet, but here is an excerpt.

Passionate+Promises+Final+BOX+1000x640April 1817, London

Lord Francis (Frank) Trevor glanced around the brilliantly lit ballroom wondering what the devil he was doing there. As the second son of the Duke of Somerset, one might suppose he would be used to the ton. And one would be mistaken. Other than the brief period of time he’d spent on the town during a university holiday, he had been acting as his father’s factor. A job that should belong to his eldest brother Damon, Marquis of Hawksworth. His father’s heir.

Frank hadn’t even had a holiday from running the dukedom’s estates. However, as soon as the Father had departed for Scotland with a few of his cronies, Mama had decided Frank could benefit from a touch of Town bronze. How the hell that was supposed to help him when he dealt mainly with crops and animals, he had no idea. He was trapped in a life he did not want and had no hope of employment outside of slaving for his father. If he even attempted to find another position, the duke would ensure he never got it. And after Damon’s marriage to Meg Featherton at Christmas, the duke had made very clear that in the future he would be making any necessary matches for his children.

Ergo, being here was a waste of time and money, though, thankfully, not his own.

A glass of wine was pressed into his hand. “Frank, you are supposed to be having fun.” His brother, Damon had a lazy smile on his face. “Not looking as if you’re facing a hanging.”

Frank took a long pull on the wine. “I’m having trouble knowing where to start. How did you manage to talk father into this visit?”

“Ah, well.” Rather than answering his question, his brother scanned the crowd. “Your mother decided it was time you were introduced to some of the ladies.”

As if he would really be allowed to choose his own bride. “Did she happen to send you a list of ladies who father would approve?”

“Ah, no.”

Damon raised his hand, and they were almost immediately joined by Meg, his wife of four months, and the young lady she had in tow. A beautiful lady with enough curves to entice a monk. Just what he needed. Even though he was immediately smitten with her, she was not for him. He had nothing to offer a woman looking for a husband, and he had his father to contend with.

“My love,” Damon continued, “we forgot that Frank doesn’t really know anyone one.”

“Aren’t you fortunate that I have a remedy?” Meg gave Frank an innocent grin.

She was up to something. The former Miss Margaret Featherton was the only female that had ever bested his father. “Miss MacGowan, may I introduce you to my brother-in-law Lord Francis Trevor. Frank, Miss MacGowan. She has been traveling the Continent, and, like you, does not know many people here.”

The woman smiled politely, but there was a hard glitter in her eyes as she held out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

The moment their hands touched Frank caught his breath. He took another look into her eyes and could now see they were the color of a Scottish lake, and not nearly as cold as they had been a moment ago. A hint of lavender and lemon wove its magic, capturing his senses, and his hand warmed where her long slim fingers rested in his palm. Her thick, auburn hair was arranged on top of her head, with tendrils curling down to fame her oval face. He imagined running his fingers through her silky tresses. He didn’t know how long he just stood there, but someone coughed, and he remembered he had to bow and say something.

“It is a pleasure, Miss MacGowan.” He was surprised he could speak at all, nonetheless in a normal voice.

For a moment she stared at him, as if she was feeling the same strange sensations that had attacked him. Then she grinned ruefully, a look of consternation on her lovely face. “Dear me, you would think I’d know this by now.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, as if speaking to herself. “What do I call you?” After a moment, her brow cleared. “Oh, yes. Lord Francis.”

“I actually prefer Lord Frank.” Then, lost as he was by her flaming hair and flawless milky skin, he said the first thing that came into his head, “You do not sound Scottish.”

She laughed. A lilting sound that made him want to laugh as well. “That is because I am not. I have Scottish antecedents on my father’s side, English on my mother’s side, and a great deal of Dutch mixed in.” Her tone became defensive and challenging at the same time. “I, sir, am an American.”

American? Frank stilled for a moment. The only American woman he had heard of was . . . “From New York?” Holding her chin high Miss MacGowan nodded. “The one who was in Paris last autumn?”

“Exactly.” Her tone was as sour as a lemon. “The American heiress.” She leaned in confidingly. “You had better watch yourself, I might bite.”

Buy links: Amazon ~ B&N ~ iBooks  ~ Kobo

 

 

Generally, I close the blog down for Christmas, but in the middle of next week I have two guest authors visiting me, one between Christmas and New Year, and Collette Cameron has a lovely post she has asked me to run on New Years. Don’t forget to stop by.

On to boat news. We’ve been cruising the BVI. We left yesterday to go back to St. Thomas. For the next two days I’ll be removing everything from our house here. Yes, it finally closed!! Then we’re back to the BVI for Christmas and on to St. Martin for our anniversary and New Year.

Soldier's Bay, Norman IslandTall Ship Dec 2015

Sunrise Sea Cow BayFrom Norman to Peter and TortolaWe’ve decided to sail as far south as St. Lucia before working our way back up the island to the States. Europe has been put off for a year as we need to get things for the boat before we make the crossing. I generally pick up what I think are interesting items in each island I go to. Last year it was handmade jewelry and spices. I’ll probably do that again. I give these away at conference and contests. Since I’ll be back in the States for the summer, I’d love to meet with some of you.

Have a Merry Christmas. I may be on my way to St. Martin next Sunday, if so, I’ll be back after the New Year.

May peace and love be with you.

Ella

 

 

 

 

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Please welcome Shannon Donnelly back to the blog!! Shannon is here today with her latest release, Lady Chance, Book 2 in the Regency Ladies in Distress series

She’ll also give a copy of the book to one of you who tells her you want it.

We begin with the lovely cover.

Lady Chance_600x999

Now the blurb

Can an English lady find love and common ground with a French soldier?

In Paris of 1814, as a Bourbon king again takes the throne, the Black Cabinet—a shadowy group of agents employed by the British—is sent to unmask dangerous men and stop assassinations. When Diana, Lady Chauncey—known as Lady Chance—is recruited by her cousin to use her skill at cards to help him delve into these plots, she meets up with a man she thought dead.

Diana finds herself swept into adventure and intrigue, and once again into the arms of the French officer she tangled with ten years ago. But she is no longer an impulsive girl, and he may not be the man she once thought was honorable and good.

After the recent defeat of his country, Giles Taliaris wants nothing more than a return to his family’s vineyards in Burgundy. But his younger brother seems involved in dangerous plots to return France to a republic. To get his family through these troubles, Giles can only tread warily. When he again meets meet the English girl he once knew and thought lost to him, he finds himself torn between duty and desire. Can he find his way through this tangle—and if he does, how can he convince his Diana to give up everything for him?

An excerpt

She turned her steps toward the river and let her stride lengthen. The Seine flowed through Paris in civilized curves. It struck her as a tidy body of water with arching, stone bridges crossing it like stitches. It lacked the size and depth of the Thames—no tall sailing ships lined the shore. No warehouses or docks stood along its edges. The small islands that lay like oblong scones in the river had been built upon for centuries with their stone houses and cathedrals. Notre-Dame’s square towers rose into the sky, dark from soot. Its bells would ring soon for morning mass of some kind. Another place she ought to visit, but not with the feel of cards still stiff in her hands and champagne light in her head. Besides, what would a good Anglican do in a Catholic church other than make herself an awkward tourist?

Her walk did nothing to settle her. However, she became aware of other steps behind her. At the next corner, she turned sharp and waited to see who followed.

Taliaris stepped from a swirl of morning mist like some phantom soldier after a battle. Unfair that he should look not an ounce fatigued by a long night. He stopped in front of her. The impulse danced inside her to swing up her umbrella and poke him in the chest with its tip and tell him to go to blazes. But Jules had said she must patch things.

Cocking her head to one side, she said, “We always seem to meet at the most inopportune moments.”

“I would not bother you, but you have no maid with you, no servant. No one in fact. Paris keeps uneasy company these days.”

“But the city is so very well guarded just now, and I can manage.” Diana waved her umbrella as she might a saber. “I have been doing so for any number of years.”

“Managing to get and lose a husband?” Giles asked, his voice a low growl.

He frowned at himself. He had told himself he would not pry. Yet, as soon as he had glimpsed her in the Jardin des Tuileries like some queen from the past, so certain of herself—seemingly unknowing that even queens could die—he had decided he must follow. Too many soldiers would think any woman on her own was no better than she should be, and he did not trust the manners of either the Prussians or the Russian.

Eyeing Diana and her umbrella—not much of a weapon that—he tucked her empty hand into the crook of his arm. She made no move to object. He started to walk her back the way she had come.

She glanced at him. “You make poor Chauncey sound no more than a glove I dropped. I assure you, it—”

“Was a love match? A passion that left you broken hearted?”

“Now you sound a cynic—and, well, no, it did not—” She broke off her words and bit her lower lip. The dawn bathed her in a pink glow. She looked the goddess now for whom she had been named, lush and proud. The years fell away. Giles could feel his mood softening. “He what, ma chère?”

She made a face and looked down to where she swung her black umbrella in step with her stride. “I hate complainers, so I do not intend to become one. And I ought to apologize. Another thing I hate. But I was in the wrong to strike you. I want to make amends.”

“Now you do not sound like a Frenchwoman. You sound too English. You look it as well, with your little bonnet and your long stride.”

“You, sir, are mocking me. No, do not waste your breath with a protest. You are. I can hear it in your tone. But tell me one thing and then I promise to leave the past be. Did you at least think of me over the years? Imagined me in Surrey, at Edgcot Place, sitting by a window, pining—”

“Never that,” he lied.

“Yes, pining. Probably sighing, too, and…and knitting, or stitching. They are the sorts of things men somehow think women are born knowing.”

“A huntress with domestic skills? You malign my imagination. No, I had you slaying hearts in ballrooms and—”

“Ah, so you did think of me,” Diana said, turning to face him, her eyes bright.

He pressed his lips tight. This was why one should not ask questions. The past was the past and should be left there. He lifted a shoulder and gave her as much of the truth as he could afford. “Do you think you did not leave your mark? I am certain many a man remembers you, much to his dismay.”

“Dismay? Nothing more?”

“Come now. We met by chance years ago. I managed to be of service to you and your aunt, and that knave with you.”

“Paxten Marset. He is now my aunt’s husband and utterly respectable, I shall have you know.”

“My felicitations to your aunt. I suppose I must give them late to you as well for the marriage you had.”

“Oh, no, not for that. I ought to have listened to my mother. I could have done far better than poor Chauncey in my earlier seasons. Why there was one year I had three proposals.”

“Three?”

His sharp question stopped Diana.

She widened her eyes and put a hand to her mouth as if she had let the words slip. She hadn’t. She wanted him to know she had once been quite the prize. The umbrella swung between them, dangling from her fingers. She pulled her hand down and jabbed the umbrella point forward, swinging it to indicate the path back into the formal gardens. “Perhaps we should save those stories for another time. We ought to manage some courtesy to each other this late in the day. Or is it early? Ah, I know. Let us start again.”

She pulled away from him. With both hands braced on the handle of the umbrella, she offered a smile and bobbed a curtsy. “Enchante. I am Diana, Lady Chauncey—Lady Chance to almost all. But I give you leave to call me Diana, for I feel we must be good friends.” She held out her gloved hand.

He looked at it. Lifting his stare to her face, he frowned. “This is absurd.”

“No, no. It is a new day. Let us not spoil it with an argument before breakfast.”

Buy links. Amazon Kindle ~ Amazon paperback

 

About Shannon.

ShannonDonnellyShannon Donnelly’s writing has won numerous awards, including a nomination for Romance Writer’s of America’s RITA award, the Grand Prize in the “Minute Maid Sensational Romance Writer” contest, judged by Nora Roberts, and others. Her writing has repeatedly earned 4½ Star Top Pick reviews from Romantic Times magazine, as well as praise from Booklist and other reviewers, who note: “simply superb”…”wonderfully uplifting”….and “beautifully written.”

In addition to her Regency romances, she is the author of the Mackenzie Solomon, Demon/Warders Urban Fantasy series, Burn Baby Burn and Riding in on a Burning Tire, and the SF/Paranormal, Edge Walkers. Her work has been on the top seller list of Amazon.com and includes the Historical romances, The Cardros Ruby and Paths of Desire.

She is the author of several young adult horror stories, and has also written computer games and offers editing and writing workshops. She lives in New Mexico with two horses, two donkeys, two dogs, and the one love of her life. Shannon can be found online at shannondonnelly.com, facebook.com/sdwriter, and twitter/sdwriter.

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Please welcome Jenna Jaxon back to the blog. Jenna is here today with her Regency Christmas novella, A Kiss Beneath the Mistletoe. And she is giving away a copy to one of you. All you have to do is leave a comment telling her you want it.

First we begin with the beautiful cover.

AKBTM15

Now the blurb.

Is one kiss ever enough?

Jenny Crowley has been duped! At her eighteenth birthday celebration her parents announce that instead of having the London Season she’s dreamed of for years, Jenny has been betrothed from birth to Alexander Isley, son of family friends and heir to a title. A distraught Jenny refuses point-blank to marry Alec, and when her aunt offers to whisk her away to a Christmas house party, complete with many eligible young bachelors, Jenny jumps at the chance to enjoy a variety of entertainments, be courted, and perhaps fall in love.

Alec Isley is between a rock and a hard place. He desires a marriage with Jenny no more than she does, but when his family’s dire financial status is revealed, he follows Jenny to the house party in hopes of convincing her to marry him after all. When he discovers who else is courting her there, Alec is frantic to keep her from making a dreadful mistake. Struggling with new-found feelings for his childhood friend, can Alec convince her of his love in time to save her from being ruined under the mistletoe?

And excerpt.

Dishes of trifle finally sat at each place. Jenny itched to pick up her spoon. She could taste the berries and cream even now. She glanced at her father, who at last smiled and nodded.

“So, Charles, when is the wedding to take place?” Great-Aunt Henrietta trumpeted the question from her place at the mid-point of the table, her spoon already busy with her dessert.

“Wedding, Aunt Henrietta?”  Papa’s voice rose in a question, but he cut his eyes toward Mamma, who sent a frightened look at Jenny.

Odd, but no more so than her great-aunt’s question.  Whose wedding was she talking about?

“Yes, Charles.  Jenny’s wedding to young Alexander here.”  Henrietta nodded across the table to Alexander Isley, who sat up abruptly, staring at her aunt with wide eyes, as though he thought the old lady quite mad.

Jenny thought so herself.  A prickly sensation began at the back of her neck. She shot Alec a quick look. No, his face wore an expression of outright confusion, his brows knit over his dark brown eyes.

“She’s eighteen now, and you promised me when she was of age I’d see her married into the Isley family.  I have lived for the day that I could announce to the world that one of my family had moved into the titled class.”  She glared at Mamma, who blushed and turned to Jenny.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, Jenny darling,” Mamma said, patting her hand.

That might have reassured Jenny, except her mother’s wide, staring eyes said yes, it was that bad. Maybe worse. Her heart began to pound and the sweet trifle turned sour in her mouth.

“Not bad?” Great-Aunt Harriet swung her gaze to Jenny and fixed her with a cold blue-eyed stare. “You should be grateful, girl. Your parents and I have arranged for you to take your place in society, as a titled lady in due time.”

“It’s not true is it, Mamma?”  Jenny could barely choke out the words in a voice that didn’t sound like her own at all. Too high, too soft. A peculiar roaring in her ears made her head light.

“Yes, my dear, it most certainly is.”  Great-Aunt Henrietta nodded with such vehemence that the feathers on her green velvet turban bobbed back and forth.  “When your mother refused to marry up, I swore none of your family would ever see a penny of my money.  Then when you were born, she came to me, begged me to reconsider, and promised that you had already been betrothed to the Isley heir here.” She pointed a finger at Alec who looked like he might dive under the table.  “She showed me the betrothal papers.”

Everyone at table sat in stunned silence.  Jenny looked down at her hands, clasped together so tightly her knuckles showed white.  All her dreams of excitement and romance during her season had just exploded in the blink of an eye.  Then the real import of her great-aunt’s word sank in and her stomach twisted. They expected her to marry Alec?

Buy Link. 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 President of Chesapeake Romance Writers, her local chapter of RWA. Her debut novel, Only Scandal Will Do, is the first in her House of Pleasure series, set in Georgian London. Only Marriage Will Do, the second book in the series, released in mid-June 2015 from Kensington. Her medieval serial novel, Time Enough to Love: Betrothal, Betrayal, and Beleaguered, is a Romeo & Juliet-esque tale, set at the time of the Black Death. The companion short story, Beloveds, released in early June 2015.  And a time travel novella, Crashing Through Time, also released in June as part of a boxed set about seven plane crashes that lead to love called Crashing Into Love.

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

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Please welcome Jacki Delecki back to the blog. Jacki is here today with her latest audio book, A Christmas Code! She is giving away either an audio or ebook copy to one of you to tells her want it.

As always, we begin with the stunning cover.

JackiDelecki_AChristmasCode_HR

Now the blurb.

Tis the Season…for romantic suspense!

What does Christmas have to do with espionage and political intrigue? For a romantic suspense author, everything—including a heartwarming holiday like Christmas—holds the potential to become part of the story.

For A Christmas Code, Book 2 of the Regency romantic suspense series, the Code Breakers, I combined elements from the winter holiday season to craft a story that features an attempted poisoning set against the elegant backdrop of the Regency Ton. In this story, the hero Ash is poisoned by a dose of ground up holly berries meant for the Prince Regent.

A popular accent used in Christmas decorations, holly is an evergreen shrub that can grow to be a tree, and there are more than 400 different varieties of the plant. The fruit and leaves contain a mix of caffeine-like alkaloid theobromine, caffeine and glycosides (theobromine is also found in chocolate and cocoa).

People and pets avoid the prickly leaves, but children may be attracted to the bright red berries. As few as 20 can be lethal if consumed, and eating just three berries can cause nausea, vomiting and diarrhea. More severe symptoms include drowsiness, slowed breathing and heart rate, coma and death.

Ash catches a lucky break, because, while holly berries are toxic, people rarely die from ingesting this type of poison. Nowadays modern medicine can treat individuals who consume holly berries, but that wasn’t always the case.

And excerpt.

Hot and breathless from performing the newly imported French dance steps of the quadrille, Gwyneth paused during the break in the music. She fanned her heated cheeks repeatedly, attempting to cool herself. Lord Henley glanced down at her. His lips were tight, his eyes dark with need. She had seen the same look on the faces of many men, but never on the face of the only man who mattered.

She wanted to see the same burning desire and possessiveness in the eyes of her childhood infatuation as she knew blazed in her eyes when she looked at the impossible but dazzling Viscount Ashworth.

The gentleman, newly arrived, had barely glanced at her despite the new gown made especially to entice the hard-headed rake. Her friend and dress designer, Amelia, obsessed with the simplicity of Greek togas, had crisscrossed sky blue silk across Gwyneth’s ample chest with a dramatic décolletage. The back of the gown was draped in the same manner with a revealing V. It was a simple design, but sensual in the way the fabric clung to her body.

She felt alluring and hopeful that tonight Ash would finally throw off all the restraints. She had felt his eyes on her back, knowing he watched her as she gaily danced the intricate pattern she had recently learned from her French dance master.

Lord Henley offered his arm as the quadrille ended. “May I take you to the refreshment table for a glass of punch? This new French dance is very demanding.”

“Thank you. I’m not thirsty. Can you please take me to my dear friend, Miss Bonnington?”

Lord Henley’s eyes clouded with emotion. Gwyneth couldn’t refuse the dance, but she needed to escape the gentleman before he embarrassed himself. She wanted to spare him the pain of rejection. After five marriage proposals this season, she had become somewhat of an expert in recognizing the signs of imminent declaration.

Lord Henley escorted Gwyneth to Amelia, who had also finished dancing and now stood alone.

“Thank you, sir, for the dance.” Gwyneth did a brief curtsy.

Lord Henley bowed. “It was my pleasure.” He hesitated, then sharply nodded his head. She didn’t want to be unkind, but there was no reason to pretend interest and encourage hope when there was none.

They watched Lord Henley circle to the other side of the room.

Amelia hid her face behind her fan, her bright eyes dancing in merriment. “Another stricken gentleman.”

“I believe he was about to ask if he could call on my brother tomorrow. I think I did an excellent job of extricating myself before Lord Henley declared his feelings.”

“Lord Henley is quite a catch. He’s heir to a vast fortune. His interest can’t be limited only to your dowry.”

“Thank you. I’m glad it isn’t only money that makes me attractive.” Gwyneth liked to believe it was her wit, her sparkling eyes, but she knew her position as sister to an earl and heiress to a hefty inheritance gave her a definite cache with the gentleman. And it was just like Amelia to tease her.

“Your following of swains has nothing to do with your luscious figure, your dramatic looks, or your amiable personality. My unique skill as a designer has brought all these gentleman to swoon at your feet.” Amelia snickered, which made Gwyneth laugh.

Tears were running down Gwyneth’s cheeks. “You do know how to level a woman’s confidence.”

The comment drove both to louder laughter.

Gwyneth noticed that Ash had turned in her direction. He smiled.

Lost in the merriment, she smiled back before she remembered her resolution not to appear as a puppy, waiting at his feet for a pat on the head. She could hide her feelings as well as he did. Forbidden by some unwritten gentleman’s code, Ash considered her off limits. She wasn’t sure if it was the age difference of eight years, his rakish past, or her position as his best friend’s younger sister.

He still kept her at a distance, maintaining that she was a mere youngster and they were simply childhood friends. She had spent the entire season trying to convince him otherwise, but she was tiring of the game.

Jacki recently released the audiobook version of A Christmas Code, which is narrated by the talented Pearl Hewitt, who also narrated two other books in this series: A Code of Love and A Code of the Heart. You can listen to an audio sample here: http://bit.ly/1ToZIx9

Buy links. AmazonBN ~  iBooks ~ Kobo ~ Google Play ~ Audible ~ iTunes

About Jacki.

Head ShotJacki Delecki is a bestselling romantic suspense writer. Delecki’s Grayce Walters Series, which chronicles the adventures of a Seattle animal acupuncturist, was an editor’s selection by USA Today. Delecki’s Romantic Regency The Code Breaker Series hit number one on Amazon. Both acclaimed series are available for purchase at http://www.JackiDelecki.com. To learn more about Jacki and her books and to be the first to hear about giveaways join her newsletter found on her website. Follow her on FB—Jacki Delecki; Twitter @jackidelecki.

 

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Please welcome historical author Alanna Lucas back to the blog!! Alanna is here to tell you about her latest release, Wish Upon a Waltz. And she will give away a copy to one of you who tells her you want it!

We begin with the lovely cover.

Wish Upon a Waltz6 (1)

Now the blub.

Quiet lady’s companion Anastasia Quintin understands her place in society and wishes for no more than the life she has undertaken…until a fateful house party for the Earl of Huntingdon gives her one night, one dance, one chance at all of her discarded hopes and dreams.  

ONE NIGHT, ONE DANCE, ONE CHANCE

At twenty-five, Anastasia Quintin has resigned herself to live in quiet seclusion as companion to Miss Albryght, but one lost wager by her headstrong bookworm of a mistress soon requires Anastasia’s return to the society from which she hides. Her first event in eight years is to be a house party in honor of the recently entitled Earl of Huntingdon, hosted by his haughty old grandmother.

Having come to his title by tragedy, the handsome Huntingdon is new to the ton, but he is not new to Anastasia. Dante St. Clair is the very man who long ago stole her heart and thereafter dashed all her hopes and dreams. He is the man she must never let discover her identity, but whom she can no more avoid than a moth can a flame. One waltz will destroy her, and for it, Anastasia will risk everything…and win.

 

And an excerpt.

“Anna, wait.”

“Damn,” she muttered the unladylike word. Anastasia turned around, but refused to look at him, instead keeping her gaze settled on the pristine white marble floor. This was the moment she had been dreading. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing her.

With caution, he approached her. “It is you,” she heard him sigh with relief. “Anna, where…?”

Anastasia raised her eyes to his. She saw the pain and despair in his eyes. Good. She steeled her nerves. He would not crush her hopes and dreams beneath fairy tale promises. She had to stay strong. “I’m sorry to have to correct you Mr. St. Clair, but my name is not Anna.” She had not been called by that name in over eight years. That person no longer existed; like he had said, she was dead.

Confusion streaked across his face. He took a hesitant step toward her and began to extend his hand almost as if he intended to touch her. Did he think her a ghost?

She backed up several steps. Anastasia fumbled for words. “I best be returning to my friends.”

“Wait,” he pleaded. He continued to gaze at her, to look deep into her eyes, searching. Anastasia knew she should walk—no, run—away, but she couldn’t. The longer he stared, the faster her heat beat. “Please, Anna.”

“For the last time,” she said with all the frustration that was brewing inside, “I am not Anna. That woman is dead.” She blinked quickly trying to fight back the tears. She would not let him see her cry. Anastasia turned to run from the room and almost collided with Gibbs.

“Pardon me, Lord Huntingdon. Lady Huntingdon has requested Miss Quintin’s presence in the south parlor.”

Anastasia whipped around and stared at him. Lord Huntingdon? Dante St. Clair was the Earl of Huntingdon. Her world started to spin, humiliation the catalyst.

 

Buy links.

Amazon ~ B&N ~ Boroughs Publishing ~ Kobo ~ All Romance

About Alanna.

Alanna LucasAlanna Lucas grew up in Southern California. From an early age, she took an interest in travel, incorporating those experiences into her writing. When she is not daydreaming of her next travel destination, Alanna can be found researching, spending time with family, or going for long walks. Alanna Lucas is a member of the Romance Writers of America, East Valley Authors, The Beau Monde, and Celtic Hearts Romance Writers.

Connect with Alanna:

www.alannalucas.com 

https://www.facebook.com/alannalucas27 

https://twitter.com/alannalucas27

 

 

 

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Please welcome Eileen Richards back to the blog!! Eileen is here today with her new release,  An Honorable Wish! And she is giving away a copy to one of you. Just leave a comment telling her you want it.

We begin with the cover.

Anhonorablewish_2

Now the blurb.

LOVE MAY BE THEIR GREATEST GAMBLE…   Tony Matthews spends his time in London’s most notorious gambling dens, frittering away his fortune. But when his latest victory leaves a man ruined, Tony knows he’s reached his lowest point. Determined to make amends, he returns home to his family’s country estate with plans to settle down and marry at last. And he hopes the lovely Juliet Townsend will help him—if only he can keep his disgrace a secret.

Juliet’s secret wish has always been for Tony to love her. The only bright spot in her dreadful London season was dancing with him—before he disappeared to the card rooms. Now, he’s returned, but has he truly changed? Or will gambling always be his mistress, even if she becomes his wife? And does Juliet dare risk her heart by finding out?

And an excerpt.

He had finally lived up to his brother Nathaniel’s low expectations of him.

Tony Matthews stared through the veil of newly budded leaves to the village of Beetham below. The cold stone of the Fairy Steps seeped into his bones from his perch at the top. Spring fought against the winter chill in the air in the faint green of the grass and the blooms of early flowers. New life.

God, how he wanted a new life, a different direction.

What seemed like a good idea at the time, in hindsight, was now a nightmare.

Usually, the rolling hills of the southern portion of this part of England soothed Tony’s soul unlike any other place. The restlessness inside him eased with each breath of the fresh clean air.

Not this time. This time he was trapped in his own stupid arrogance. This time he’d finally lived up to his father’s legacy.

He’d taken a man’s estate in a card game. A game he wasn’t even planning to play except for alcohol-fueled bluster and a dare from a friend. He’d played and lost a fortune, then played again and won an estate.

The man, Chelsworth, ended up being a neighbor of his brother’s home, the Lodge.

Honor and pride wouldn’t let Chelsworth back away from the bet. No, the man had signed away his estate and his livelihood to Tony. It was a matter of honor, even as Chelsworth’s hand shook while he penned his name.

Tony hadn’t wanted to take the estate. The alcoholic stupor had started to wear off with the realization that he’d stepped into his father’s shoes. Only this time on the winning side. Tony had sunk to the lowest depths of vile.

Nathaniel, was never going to forgive him. Hell, Tony would probably be thrown out of the family and left to his own devices. He had money. He had the reputation of a rake and a gambler, well-earned at this point.

But it wasn’t who Tony really was. His entire life was an act. One he didn’t want to maintain any longer, an act that was beginning to become a reality.

The fact that it had taken no effort to become this vile man scared the hell out of Tony. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t know who he saw any more.

He wanted the house, but not this way. The estate must be in a bad way already, given the owner was willing to wager it in a card game. If it was making any living at all, Chelsworth would not have been at the tables.

Unless the man was sick with gambling. Tony knew that sickness existed. His sister-in-law’s brother was addicted to gambling, always pushing for that next win.

Tony could walk away from the games without looking back. He was sure of it, at least on most days.

His problem was infinitely more difficult. He needed a way to repair the mistakes he had made without alerting Nathaniel. Tony could not disappoint him again.

Nathaniel was a man of high regard in Beetham and in Town. His business prowess was legendary. Nathaniel had a lovely wife, a child, a house, and the respect of his peers. He had everything Tony wanted but hadn’t been able to achieve.

And now Tony had lived up to his brother’s greatest fear: He’d become their father.

Buy links. Amazon ~ B&N ~ iTunes ~  Kobo

About Eileen.

eileen-richards-authorEileen Richards has been writing for most of her life. Poetry, totally inappropriate answers to essay questions in school, and interesting error codes during her 30 year IT career has prepared her for the manic world of publishing.

She writes sassy regency romps set in the small villages of England where the rules are bent a bit and gossip rules the day.

Eileen resides with her husband and their diva of a greyhound in North Carolina.

Social Media Links:

Website: http://www.eileenrichardsauthor.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/authoreileenrichards

Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.com/EileenRAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EileenRAuthor

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Please welcome Collette Cameron back to the blog!! She is here today with her latest release, Heartbreak and Honor!  And she is giving away a copy to one of you who tells her you want it!

We begin with the cover.

perf5.000x8.000.indd

 

 

 

Now the blurb.

Abducted by a band of renegade Scots, Highland gypsy Tasara Faas doesn’t hesitate to blacken the eye of her rescuer when the charming duke attempts to steal a kiss. Afterward, Tasara learns she’s the long-lost heiress Alexandra Atterberry and is expected to take her place among the elite society she’s always disdained.

Lucan, the Duke of Harcourt, promised his gravely ill mother he’d procure a wife by Christmastide, but intrigued by the feisty lass he saved in Scotland, he finds the haut ton ladies lacking. Spying Alexa at a London ball, he impulsively decides to make the knife-wielding gypsy his bride despite her aversion to him and her determination to return to the Highlands.

The adversary responsible for Alexa’s disappearance as a toddler still covets her fortune and joins forces with Harcourt’s arch nemesis. Amidst a series of suspicious misfortunes, Lucan endeavors to win Alexa’s love and expose the conspirators but only succeeds in reaffirming Alexa’s belief that she is inadequate to become his duchess.

 

And an excerpt.

A click announced the lock giving way.

Creaking on unoiled hinges, the door edged open, inch-by-cautious-inch, and as it did, the brutal sounds from below filtered into the chamber. Light from the passageway’s primitive torch-lit brackets illumined a sinister, black-clad form.

A disheveled man paused at the threshold, his coat unbuttoned and a pistol protruding from his waistband. In one hand, he held a sword at the ready, and in the other, he brandished a dirk. Legs braced, he stood at the entrance like a buccaneer balancing atop a ship’s pitching deck.

A pirate in the Scottish Highlands?

She blinked, slapping aside the ridiculous notion. Lack of food and sleep made her imagination run amuck.

For a tormenting instant, Tasara feared the ethereal body Satan himself, except she doubted the devil possessed flaxen hair and required blades to inflict mortal damage.

Fallen angel seemed more apt for the apparition illumined within the doorway.

She strained to see the man’s face. The dim interior hid his features except for a well-defined profile and a chiseled jawline. Evil men weren’t supposed to be attractive.

Stance wide, and her hand lifted to bury her knife, she waited for the intruder to move away from the door’s protection.

She must defend the children, no matter the cost.

“Tathara?” Lala’s plaintive cry filled the chamber. “Piuthar, where be ye?”

The man’s head whipped toward the bed.

The bedding rustled, and Lala, her voice tear-clogged, whimpered, “Me be afraid. I hearded fighting.”

Advancing farther into the room, the intruder looked this way and that. Light from the passage spilled across the threshold but failed to reach the bed or the room’s outer edges.

“A child? Might have told me,” he muttered in a clipped British accent while sheathing his weapons. “No matter, I suppose. A female’s a female.”

My God, what did the debauched knave intend?

The same loathsome things the Scots threatened?

Not as long as Tasara’s heart pumped, he wouldn’t. She shifted, ready to spring. A wee bit farther and she’d have a clear target. He would taste her blade before he laid one finger upon Lala.

The man faced the bed and extended his arms. “Come, sweeting, let’s be about it then. I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

How dare he, the loathsome degenerate? Tasara made an inarticulate noise.

He whirled, his body tense and alert.

“Tathara!” Terror resonated in Lala’s high-pitched cry.

Tasara lunged, swinging the blade in an arc intended for his neck. “Depraved sot.”

Ducking, he leapt away, and her dagger sliced air instead of flesh. Half-crouched and keenly alert, he regarded her.

“Ah, the gypsy wench I expected.” Straightening, and unperturbed at practically being skewered, he pointed at her knife. “I do believe you tried to impale me. Most ungrateful of you, I must say.”

 

Buy Links. Amazon

 

About Collette.

Collette CameronCOLLETTE CAMERON is a best-selling and award-winning Historical Romance Author of featuring rogues, rapscallions, rakes, and the intrepid damsels who reform them. Mother to three and self-proclaimed Cadbury chocoholic, she’s crazy about dachshunds, cobalt blue, and makes her home in Oregon with her husband and five mini-dachshunds. You’ll always find animals, quirky—sometimes naughty—humor, and a dash of inspiration in her novels.

Her award-winning Castle Brides Series, Highland Heather Romancing a Scot Series, and Conundrums of the Misses Culpeppers Series, as well as her other books, are all available on Amazon.

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Please welcome Amara Royce back to the blog! She’s here to tell us about her new book and she’s giving away on copy. All you have to do is tell her you want it!

 

First the cover.

OnceBeloved_hires2

Now the blurb.

In bustling Victorian London, a desperate woman turns to the last man who would ever want to come to her aid…


Years ago, when Helena Martin escaped to London with a dashing captain, she had no idea she was endangering her entire village. Little did she know, the arranged match she fled was the little town’s last chance at prosperity. Now, with her beloved grandmother’s health failing, Helena must face the damage she wrought. And she must do it with an unlikely escort: her jilted fiance’s brother. 


Daniel Lanfield is undoubtedly attracted to Helena—and furious with her. Though it was unintentional, her thoughtlessness has caused great misery to their village. Yet Daniel is uniquely positioned to help her return home, and strangely compelled to keep her close along the way. For no matter what their pasts, the desire between them now is ever-present…

 

And an excerpt

As her friend spoke, she froze, a chill spreading downward from the crown of her head to engulf her. Daniel Lanfield. It couldn’t be. There must be plenty of Lanfields in England. After so many years and so many miles, what were the odds that one of the Marksby Lanfields would visit London—would be here at this place and this time? Inconceivable. They were devoted to the village and to their family’s business and held a disdain for anything metropolitan. Still, with dread sinking into her skin, she turned to look fully at the man beside her.

He looked nothing like the boys—young men—she remembered, but much change was bound to happen over a score of years. No, she was wrong. He did look like the boy who was supposed to be her brother-in-law. His brown eyes could be Daniel’s eyes. The shape of his face was perhaps broader from time and age but still that same strong square that marked the Lanfield men. His broad shoulders and his bearing reminded her of the elder Mr. Lanfield. The fall of curling hair beneath his cap, that was what had always distinguished him from his brother Gordon, who’d kept his straight hair closely cropped. This could be Gordon’s brother. Please, heavens, let it not be him.

“Someone should stay with you to make sure you don’t suffer a relapse,” he said, his accent nostalgically familiar and his faint smile achingly conscientious. She couldn’t deny it any longer. While his older brother had been rather distant and stern, Daniel had always been the kind one, the attentive one, the one to reach out to help others. The polite concern and deference in his eyes now said he didn’t recognize her. Best to keep it that way.

“No, no, sir. You should feel free to go about your business. You too, Mrs. Clarke—I’m sure the boys need more attending than I do. Now that I am free of those chaotic masses, I will be quite well.” She had to make him leave before he figured out who she was. Averting her eyes, she said pointedly, “I do not do well in the presence of large groups of people. I would be much better off by myself.”

Marissa nodded and said a hasty good-bye to Mr. Lanfield, exchanging cards with him and insisting he dine at the Clarke household as an expression of gratitude.

“Far be it from me to cause you discomfort, Mrs. Martin,” he said after Marissa left them. “I’d not feel right, though, leaving you unattended. ’Tis no trouble to spend a few moments in your company while you indulge your sons. This visit to London has been filled with activity—meetings, dinners, interviews. Today’s been my first chance to breathe all week.”

“You are not from London?” She shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t encourage conversation, but she craved information about her childhood home. It had been so long.

“Does it not show? I’m but a country bumpkin from a small village to the north, near the city of Bradford. Surely, I must stand out like a pig amid a herd of sheep.”

“Not at all,” she replied honestly. His speech and mannerisms were as cordial and appropriate as any of her husband’s business associates had been. He didn’t have the smoothness of a metropolitan industrialist, but his forthright demeanor held its own appeal. And that voice, the stretch and twist of the vowels…it stirred a deeply buried longing for the home she’d given up when she ran off with Isaiah, breaking her engagement with Gordon. If this truly was his brother, Daniel, she prayed he wouldn’t realize her identity. “But I really think I would benefit from some quiet. I hope you understand.”

“Aye, of course. ’Twas a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Martin. I wish you well.” He stared at her a fraction too long for her comfort. She nodded and was relieved when he finally turned and walked away, his gait slow and hesitant, as if he was reluctant to go.

She put her bonnet back on and had just finished tying the ribbons when she felt a strange awareness and looked up. He hadn’t gone far, it turned out, and he looked at her with a puzzled expression. Then, to her chagrin, he began walking back in her direction. She calculated what she could do, where she could go, before he returned, but there was no way to escape without being obvious.

“Mrs. Martin,” he said, coming to stand before her again. “Forgive me if this seems intrusive, but I can’t help feeling that perhaps we have met before. May I know your husband’s name and, if I may be so bold, his occupation?”

Now she had a choice to make: tell him the truth and risk his recollection, or lie and risk him later finding out the truth from Marissa, assuming he accepted her dinner invitation. Despite that one long-ago promise she’d broken, she strove to maintain her integrity in all things, and this could be no different.

“My husband was Captain Isaiah Martin,” she said formally, a tendril of pride wreathing through her. Even now, she sometimes couldn’t believe he’d chosen her to be his wife those many years ago. And she couldn’t believe how fortunate she’d been to choose him as well. “When he retired from the military due to injury, he worked in various capacities for what is now the LNWR.”

Daniel Lanfield blinked twice, gave the curtest of nods as his expression turned ominous, and then turned on his heel and walked away without another word.

So apparently he hadn’t forgotten her.

His reaction was better than she’d expected.

 

Buy Links: Amazon  ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Kobo ~ iTunes ~ Google Play

About Amara.

Amara's photoAmara Royce writes historical romances that combine her passion for 19th-century literature and history with her addiction to happily ever afters. She teaches English literature and composition at a community college in Pennsylvania. When she isn’t writing, she’s either grading papers or reveling in her own happily ever after with her remarkably patient family.

 

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Please welcome Christy Carlyle back to the blog!! Christy is here today with her latest release, One Tempting Proposal!! She is also giving away a copy to one of you. All you have to do is tell her you want it!

We begin with the beautiful cover.

ONE TEMPTING PROPOSAL hi res

Now the blurb.

Becoming engaged? Simple. Resisting temptation? Impossible.

Sebastian Fennick, the newest Duke of Wrexford, prefers the straightforwardness of mathematics to romantic nonsense. When he meets Lady Katherine Adderly at the first ball of the season, he finds her as alluring as she is disagreeable. His title may now require him to marry, but Sebastian can’t think of anyone less fit to be his wife, even if he can’t get her out of his mind.

After five seasons of snubbing suitors and making small talk, Lady Kitty has seen all the ton has to offer…and she’s not impressed. But when Kitty’s overbearing father demands she must marry before her beloved younger sister can, she proposes a plan to the handsome duke. Kitty’s schemes always seem to backfire, but she knows this one can’t go wrong. After all, she’s not the least bit tempted by Sebastian, is she?

And an excerpt.

He would leave. The duke was already two steps away from the threshold, and there was a firm, decided solidity in the line of his back. The man seemed quite finished with her and their strange encounter. Then he shocked Kitty by halting midstride and spearing her with a glance over the wide span of his shoulder.

Those eyes of his were a nuisance.

“Perhaps we can dispense with a bit of formality, Your Grace.” She paired the words with one of the simpering smiles she’d perfected over the years. It wouldn’t do to make an enemy of the man. “Please, call me Kitty.”

Many called her by the diminutive. There was no true intimacy in what she offered, but he wouldn’t know that. Gifting the concession drew people in and tended to soften them toward her.

He turned fully and snapped his head up, his inscrutable gaze tangling with hers. His eyes widened, but irritation still furrowed lines between his brows.

“Kitty?”

Ignoring his incredulous tone, Kitty lifted a hand to her elbow and pulled her white evening glove snug on her right arm. She brushed a fingertip across the spot where he’d touched her. Held her. As if he had any right to do so.

“That’s what my friends call me. So you must do so too.” She pasted on a grin and turned her chin down at the precise angle to allow her eyes to tilt up at him flirtatiously.

He’d succumb like all the others, and she would choose what he called her and when he touched her, if she ever allowed him to touch her again.

Then he stalked toward her, and her sense of control faltered. A tremor skittered across her skin, but she refused to retreat. She stood firm, only reaching up to twine her long strand of pearls through her fingers, twisting the gems tight to cover her pulse where it flickered wildly at the base of her throat.

He tipped his head and studied her in a slow agonizing perusal. “No, I think not.”

“No?” With him standing close, his rich verdant scent scrambling her wits, she wasn’t certain what he refused.

Her name. He was denying the invitation to call her Kitty. No, that wasn’t the way of it. Men didn’t refuse her. She refused them.

He closed the distance in one long stride. Warm man and the aromas of oak moss and bay assaulted her senses. Shock arced through her body. Shock that he affected her, and that she craved any man’s body so near.

“Is that truly what others call you? It can’t be your name. There’s nothing kittenish about you.”

She gasped, to breathe him in, to catch her breath, and when he moved his arm, she had the mad notion he might reach up and trace her lips with his fingertip, and then claim her mouth with his, letting her taste his woodsy cologne directly from his skin.

His gaze locked on her eyes.

“You’re not a kitten. You prowled that ballroom as sure-footed as any woman I’ve ever seen. And while you manage to appear disinterested in everyone and everything, I’d wager nothing escapes your notice.”

He lifted a hand as if to touch her but hesitated.

She held her breath, drawn taut and tense.

“You’re much more cat than kitten.” He grinned, the lines between his brows softening, and a glint of satisfaction lighting his gaze. “Yes. Kat suits you far better than Kitty.”

Buy links. Amazon ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Google Play ~ iTunes ~ Kobo

About Christy.

Fueled by Pacific Northwest coffee and inspired by multiple viewings of every British costume drama she can get her hands on, Christy Carlyle writes sChristy Carlyleensual historical romance set in the Victorian era. She loves heroes who struggle against all odds and heroines who are ahead of their time. A former teacher with a degree in history, she finds there’s nothing better than being able to combine her love of the past with a die-hard belief in happy endings.

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