Cecelia Mecca's Blog, page 8

New & Noteworthy Books Historical Romance Novels

Looking for a new book to read this week? These are some new releases (and sales) from my historical romance author friends.

I have not personally read all of the books on this list, but I can assure you these are real books by real authors who have taken great care to bring you an HEA worth reading!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A Sneak Peek of Taken by the Elderman

 

Chapter 1: Hilla

Craighcebor, Kingdom of Meria

“Get your hands off of me.”

I did not survive these past two years to be taken prisoner now.

My sister’s men are mere yards away from us. But as I open my mouth to scream, tis promptly covered by a gloved hand.

I saw my opportunity to escape as my husband cowered inside the blacksmith’s shop. He yelled for me to return inside, of course. But I knew there was help to be had. All I needed to do was get to one of my sister’s men.

The queen’s men.

One glimpse of the glorious Tree of Edingham on one of the men’s surcoat, spotted through a crack in the closed window, was all I needed to summon the courage to finally leave the loathsome man responsible for me being here, in the thick of battle.

Ignoring the screams and relentless clanging of swords between my hateful husband’s men and innocent Merians that surely spell death for some, I sprinted to the door of the darkened shop, where Whitley hid like the coward he is, and tossed it open—and was at once grabbed from behind.

Now I try to turn around, to see my attacker. But his hands are like wrought-iron vices. One of his arms encircles my waist as he drags me effortlessly away from my salvation.

When I was accused of adultery, I did not fight.

When I was excommunicated from court, I did not fight.

When my husband came to my bed, I did not fight.

But now, as this hooded stranger whose robes mark him as an Elderman, drags me away from my sister’s men, away from the only thing I’ve lived for these past two miserable years—to be reunited with Cettina—I fight like the devil.

“Be still.”

His voice is like a whip cracking against my resistance.

Farther and farther from the fight we move until the edge of the small village is just out of running distance. If he manages to get me into those woods, I am lost. And so, with every bit of strength, I push against his arm. To no avail.

Attempting to bite his cupped hand, and failing, I watch as the very husband who made my life hell these past two years is dragged from the blacksmith’s shop by the queen’s retinue, taking him captive for this unauthorized attack against the Merian village. As always, I do not fear for myself.

Nothing this man could do to me, short of slitting my throat, could compare to all that I’ve gone through since the day my father announced my betrothal to the aging Lord Whitley of the Edingham Borderlands. But without my account of what happened here today, the bastard could very likely use his silver tongue to escape persecution. Again. Whitley’s treachery against my sister must be exposed lest she remain in danger. Cettina must know he ordered the attack to draw Edingham into a war with Meria. One my sister does not want.

I hear the horse before I see him. Panic wells inside my chest, bubbling to the surface. Does he plan to take me with him? Why?

I cannot leave this border town. Not with Cettina’s men so close by.

Think, Hilla. Think.

He cannot get me on that horse and keep me silent all at once. We are not so far away from the village that my screams will go unheard. Tis my only chance.

But then, I am let go.

Taking a deep breath after being trapped by my kidnapper, I prepare to run. Until I see the reason for my release.

Two men, my husband’s men, are approaching from behind. Swords drawn, they stare down my abductor without a glance at me.

“Give her to us.”

Though one is hardly known to me, I am quite familiar with the taller of the two. One of many who’s guarded my door every step of our loathsome journey from our home at Redmare Castle to the ill-fated village of Craighcebor, his cruelty matching that of his master’s with no care for my well-being.

“She comes with me.” That emotionless response, from my captor, makes me curious to see his face. From my vantage point, I see only deep brown robes and a hood. What does the Elderman want with me? I’m not so naive to think his intentions are pure. Under the current Prima’s leadership, the actions of many of these supposed “men of God” leave much to be desired.

When my husband’s men step forward toward us, the Elderman warns them.

“One step closer and this morning’s sunrise will have been your last.”

My captor’s words manage to sound menacing but not exaggerated. As if he means each and every one.

But one churchman against two armed knights?

Tis only when the Elderman draws his sword that they stand down. My husband’s men, those with no qualms about attacking a village of innocents, men who appeared a moment ago so mighty and strong, turn and run.

They sprint in the opposite direction, leaving me alone with . . . not a simple Elderman. I’d not noticed his sword. My feet remain still even though this is my opportunity to run. He turns to me, his face still obscured by the hood.

“You are a Shadow Warrior,” I say.

His nonanswer is my answer. I resign myself to this new fate, for resistance to such a man would be the height of futility.

 

Chapter 2: Aiken

That we are feared even more than we are revered worked in my favor today. Though I had two plans to get the lady onto Sorel without attracting attention, her sudden acquiescence made the task much simpler.

But now, as she—the traitorous sister of the queen—sits practically on my lap as we ride, rattling off question after question, none of which I’ve thus far answered, I wonder if  I’d been too hasty when I decided against tying a rag around her mouth.

“Answer me,” she demands, as if she were the queen herself.

Since getting as far away from Craighcebor is my only concern, I try to block out her questions and concentrate on those who might be following us, but her constant barrage is beginning to grate.

I’ve seen the queen only twice, but not in the past several years. Unlike Cettina, a strikingly beautiful woman with blonde hair so light some call it unnatural, Hilla, her hair a darker shade, might seem to pale in comparison.  But her full lips are hard to ignore. Her hair, neither blonde nor brown. Her shape, neither slim nor thick. All the same, I recognized her immediately. Even if she’d not been hiding in that smithy’s shop with her equally traitorous husband, I could have identified her as the queen’s sister. Clearly raised at court, the daughter of a king, her mannerisms mark her as more than a mere noble.

“Where are we going?” she demands yet again.

Ignoring the question, I slow our mount nearly to a stop. Although not the main road, this particular path is well-traveled enough to cause concern, and I’ve detected a presence. Moments later, a deer sprints out from the dense woods, directly in front of us, disappearing almost as quickly.

“How did you know he was there?”

After more than an hour, finally a question I am able to answer.

“A change in the sound of the woods.”

I spur our mount forward.

“He speaks. Finally.”

I do not answer, as there is no need. Speak only when necessary. Answer only when your words cannot be used against you. Two of the many, many lessons I received in training all those years ago.

After a moment passes without me elaborating on those words, Lady Hilla makes a strangled sound of frustration, and I’m brought back to that day when Baldric Orazio began to instruct me.

“If you are to complete your training, you cannot be simply another warrior. A skilled swordsman. Or bowman. This isle has plenty of both. But you must be more than that. Your secret weapon, my son, are these.” My mentor pointed to my ears. “You cannot listen if you are speaking.”

Minutes turned to hours with none but that single deer as our witness. Lady Hilla, now squirming in front of me, her backside reminding me I’m still very much a man, finally reached her limit.

“Either you answer some of my questions, or I will jump from this horse.”

Listening less to her words than the tone of her voice, I conclude the lady is serious. She is actually considering such a thing. And although that would solve the problem of what to do with her, it would leave me with a dead body to attend to.

“You would risk breaking your neck?” I ask, responding with little more than an arch of my brow when she snaps back, “Yes,” so quickly. She is speaking from emotion. Not surprising as that is precisely what most people do in situations they cannot control.

“Surely,” I say, because tis fact, “you’ve deduced I do not mean to kill you?”

I’d have told her as much sooner, but then, I’ve no great desire to reassure a woman who conspired with her husband to incite violence for the sole purpose of starting a war between two kingdoms.

“I would not think a Shadow Warrior, an Elderman, would kidnap a queen’s sister either, but alas, here we are.”

I’d smile at her sharp wit if I did not think so poorly of the woman.

“Indeed,” I say, against my own better judgment. “Here we are.”

Knowing I must offer at least some bit of information lest the woman actually carry out her threat, I tell her only what she needs to know.

“I do not plan to kill you. We will stop as soon as I deem it safe.”

Though I thought the explanation sufficient, she continues with more questions.

“Why did you take me? What do you plan to do with me? Where are we going?”

It has been an excessively long day. My head began to throb hours ago. And though we’ve actually started backtracking toward Craighcebor along a different path, and are indeed traveling toward Edingham—a fact that Lady Hilla does not seem to realize—there is always a possibility Whitley’s men could still be looking for her.

Not to mention the queen’s.

I’d considered some time ago taking her directly to Queen Cettina’s men to let them deal with the traitor. She cannot come with me to the Merian court, of course, so I will need to relinquish her into Cettina’s care. But first, once I am sure we are not being followed, I will learn the truth of her actions. Learn precisely how large a threat she is to her sister’s rule.

This woman will share any secrets she holds. And as the wife of one of the most hated men on the Isle, Lady Hilla may provide valuable insight into his goal and that of his warmongering allies.

“They say,” she begins again, “you are the deadliest of warriors in all of the kingdoms.”

Nay, that accolade belongs to another group of men, although the warriors who fight for the church are highly skilled indeed. I wait, curious where she intends this new argument to lead.

“They say the Prima’s Shadow Warriors could overwhelm any of King Galfrid’s men, and my sis—the queen’s as well, at the same time. And quite easily.”

She thinks I do not know her identity. This time, I do smile. How very much Lady Hilla has to learn.

“They say none see you coming. That you could raise your sword before the enemy even has a chance to blink.”

I say nothing but silently agree with her assessment.

“Why then, would an Elderman, a Shadow Warrior, a man whose skills are superior to all others, waste such talents on a lowly woman such as me?”

Two things become apparent to me with her question.

Lady Hilla believes that flattery will advance her position. A belief that is not all that surprising given that she is married to a man who loves himself above all things. Such a tactic must have worked well with Whitley.

Second, she believes that disparaging herself as a woman might gain my trust. Indeed, there are men who feel themselves superior because of their gender. The man I serve, the leader of the church, is such a man.

Since she cannot see my face, I allow myself to smile. If she knew who I truly served, knew my life’s purpose, Lady Hilla would not make such a remark. One I know she does not believe herself.

Tis not because of her questions that I slow once again to a stop. This is as good a place as any to camp for the night. To begin my interrogation.

Lady Hilla has questions, but I do as well. Ones she will answer.

Of that I have no doubt.

Keep reading on May 13th! Sign up here for a new release notice so you don’t miss the special $2.99 release price.

 

Haven’t read the first book in Kingdoms of Meria yet?

Start here:

 

5 Ways the Weeping Monk in Cursed is Like My Book Hero

When I began writing the medieval romance series Kingdoms of Meria two characters stuck out in my head most. The first, Kipp Aldwine. The bastard son of the king of Meria, an “Aragon-like” figure, I knew would Kipp would the hero in the fourth and final book in the series. And the second character I could not wait to write? Father Aiken. A mysterious Elderman, a warrior priest, who first appears in book one of the Series, The King’s Commander. Taking inspiration directly from Daniel Sharman’s Weeping Monk in Cursed, I could barely contain myself for two books to begin penning his story.

With just a few weeks until the release of Taken by the Elderman, featuring none other than Father Aiken, aka Daniel aka the Weeping Monk, here’s a bit of a comparison breakdown. There are a few differences, of course, but here are some of the similarities between the two men.

1. Both are church men and serve a not-so-good guy

While the Weeping Monk works with the Red Paladins, Father Aiken is an Elderman in the medieval world of Meria. He’s pledged himself to God, works with the Prima, or head of the church, who also happens to be a bad, baddie guy, like our monk’s evil Father Carden.

 

 

2. Both wear a hood

This may seem like a small, inconsequential fact, but one look at this image below, and I’m sure you will agree that hood, and what it potentially hides, really ups the sexiness factor.

Am I wrong?

 

 

3. Both have the broody/mysterious gig down pat

For “reasons” both the Weeping Monk (real name suppressed since it is a major spoiler) and Father Aiken say few words and are the epitome of broody heroes.

 

4. Both are kick-ass swordsmen

Did you really think I would create a warrior priest without the skills to match his alpha male hero status? Never!

 

 

4. Both are bad boys

When I say “bad,” the Weeping Monk has a leg up on Father Aiken. He’s a bit more murderey than I was willing to make our hero. But Aiken has a secret which gives him more of a bad-boy edge than even his Shadow Warrior status gives him.

Learn Father Aiken’s secret, and see what kind of heroine can handle such a man, in Taken by the Elderman, a medieval romance, coming on May 13th. Get a new release notice so you don’t miss out on the $2.99 special release price. Already signed up! Then your next order of business is to enter to win a Kingdoms of Meria starter pack of two signed paperbacks here.

Historical Romance Weekend Reads {Book Picks}

Looking for a new book to read this weekend? These are some new releases (and sales) from my historical romance author friends.

I have not personally read all of the books on this list, but I can assure you these are real books by real authors who have taken great care to bring you an HEA worth reading!

April 2021

 

Subscribe here as a CM Insider to get my top five books, announcements, bonuses and more each week!

Order of the Broken Blade, Now in Three Languages

When I’m asked for my favorite books that I’ve written, it’s hard to choose. The Thief’s Countess was the story that resided in my head for over twenty years before I finally wrote and published it. I’m always a huge fan of what I’m currently writing which, at the moment, is the third book in Kingdoms of Meria. Just this morning I read a review saying fans of The Last Kingdom would love this series, and so I’m over the moon. I LOVE that show!

But there is something about this series, Order of the Broken Blade, that holds a special place in my heart. I’m a fan of the anti-hero, of which there are a few in this series. From “wrong side of the tracks” romance in The Blacksmith, to one of my favorite bad boys of all time, Guy Lavallis, in The Mercenary, this tale of four friends, bound together by a past tragedy, who form a secret knightly order to blunt the power of the king. . . I did enjoy writing this series. To see it translated to German, and now French, with beautiful, brand new covers is a joy.

Recently The Blacksmith was free for a limited time. If you don’t want to miss sales or new release of my books, be sure to follow me on BookBub and sign up for my bi-weekly CM Insider newsletter. And if you’ve already read the series but somehow missed the book bonuses for this series, grab those here.

Best Scottish Romance Books

Love Scottish romance and looking for a few good books to read? Rather than suggest them myself (in which case I’d not be presumptuous enough to recommend my own) I instead asked my readers for their favorite book recommends. Here are a few they love:

 

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

Series Name: Outlander

Series Length: 8 books

Published: 1992

Wide or KU: Kindle Unlimited

Download here

 

The Gift by Julie Garwood

Series Name: Highland Lairds

Series Length: 3 books

Published: 2011

Wide or KU: Available on all retailers

Download here

 

The Duke’s Perfect Wife by Jennifer Ashley

Series Title: Mackenzies Series

Series Length: 11 books

Published: 2012

Wide or KU: Available on all retailers

Download here

 

The Chief’s Maiden by Cecelia Mecca

Series Length: 11 books

Published: 2017

Wide or KU: Kindle Unlimited

Download here

 

My Highland Bride by Cecelia Mecca

Series Length: Ongoing

Published: 2020

Wide or KU: Kindle Unlimited

Download here

 

Do you have a great historical, medieval or Scottish/Highlander book to suggest for a future post? Comment below or email me. I’d love to include it in a list.

 

What to Read After Outlander

You just finished an amazing book, turned the last page. . . and now what?

There’s nothing worse than being immersed in a world only to be jolted back to reality with nothing on your TBR. Or maybe you have LOTS of books on your to-be-read list, but none you’re in the mood for. None quite like the one you just finished. And that’s what you’re in the mood for.

Sure you could spend countless hours scanning Amazon or Barnes & Noble virtual bookshelves, jumping into Facebook groups and looking for that perfect next book. But none are just like the one you finished, and that’s the book you want.

I give you, “What to Read After,” a new blog series that will tackle this very problem. From my own personal reading library, to favorite books from my own readers, we’ll pair books to help you find your next perfect read.

 

This week, what to read after Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. It just so happens, I can fit this bill. Having partnered with two sets of authors, Emma Prince and Keira Montclair for the Enchanted Falls series and Julie Johnstone for Highlanders Through Time, serving readers who love sexy Highlanders and falling through time to find them, or in the case of HTT, modern men who fall through time to test their warrior skills, and find love in the process, was our goal.

Enchanted Falls

Available on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited

 

Highlanders Through Time

Available on All Retailers

 

Did you read a book after Outlander you loved? Would you like to submit a book for “What to read after” or a recommendation for one of your favorite books of all time?

Comment with answers to any of those questions below!

Love Through the Ages: From Medieval Scotland to Modern Day Pennsylvania

“It must be strange, writing a story set medieval England and Scotland one month and then hopping to contemporary times? They are so different.”

 

I get this question a lot. And yes, my home state of Pennsylvania, the setting of Bridgewater in Boys of Bridgewater, is quite different than the places I write about in my books. Of course, I’ve never been to the Anglo-Scottish border in the 13th century, although I did visit it a few years ago for book research purposes (see left).

On the other hand, as an author of Scottish and medieval romance novels, as well as contemporary romance under the pen name of Bella Michaels, I can attest to one thing that stays very much the same. Love.

But wait? It did not! Nobles married for advantage, not love, in the middle ages. Right?

“I think the most widespread impression of medieval marriage is that of a cold, loveless, and practical union, made simply for the purpose of transferring real estate. This could certainly be a frequent occurrence, especially among the elite, but was not always the case,” says Danièle Cybulskie of Medievalists.net.

Years after the setting of my book, William Shakespeare wrote a prologue to a little play called Romeo & Juliet. In it, he sets the stage for a story of love, betrayal, sex and tragedy. Do those themes sound familiar? If so, it’s probably because you just watched a Netflix show with some or all of them, just as the hero and heroines of my novels would be familiar in their time with the ideas lust or love.

If I’m able to seamlessly navigate between a medieval woman who feels jealousy at the prospect of her intended being in love with another woman and a book heroine who feels stuck in her career it’s because the human condition is timeless, as evidenced by a study of literature. Take Lays by Marie de France (yes, a medieval woman writer!) which offers readers stories of love won and lost by knights and ladies. Cool, right?

 

Looking to read a bit of love through the ages? 

Since it’s nearly Valentine’s Day, check out The Chief to wet your palate. It’s a novella, so a quick read, with a fun Valentine’s Day theme. Although it is the final book in my Order of the Broken Blade series, it’s a standalone HEA. Or, if modern day love is more for you, jump into the world of big city billionaire Enzo DeLuca, a sexy small town romance (yes, it’s both!) with a best friend’s little sister twist.

Download The Chief on Amazon or read in Kindle Unlimited

Download Billion Dollar Date on Amazon or read in Kindle Unlimited

 

Brand new to me? Start here with free stories!

Get a free medieval romance prequel or a free contemporary romance prequel

 

A Map of the Isle of Meria

When a few readers asked for a map of the Isle of Meria after The King’s Commander, I said I would look into it. And I did. Without a clear plan to get one completed, My Highland Bride was released to more questions of, “Can we have a map, please?” Enter the uber talented Tanya Anne Crosby who shared her map-making wisdom with me. Thanks to her and a pretty cool program which I’ve gotten lost in this past week, a map depicting Murwood End and the Kingdoms of Meria and Edingham, in addition to the ill-fated Galmouth Bay and the mountains of the Highlanders where the tournament of Loigh took place is nearly complete.

What else would you like to see on this Merian map?

Extended Excerpt of The Chief

Bradon Moor Castle, Scotland, 1215

“You toss an axe like you bed a woman. Weakly and without aim.”

Rory laughed at his own jest, although his friend did not appear to appreciate the observation. Whether Darron’s foul mood was owed to his poor aim or the fact that snow and ice surrounded them, making this day’s training even more frigid than usual, Rory couldn’t be sure.

“I’d like to see you do better,” Darron grumbled.

He would do so easily. At least if the shouts at his back would cease. Turning toward the rowdy clansmen behind him, Rory smiled. Waiting for them to settle, he finally turned back and took aim at the poorly abused tree.

Concentrating on the sooty new mark they’d made earlier, Rory raised his hand. A moment later, his axe soared through the air, landing precisely where he planned for it to be buried. The cheers that broke out behind them deepened Darron’s frown. Nearly as competitive as Rory, although not quite, his friend stalked toward the tree to reclaim his weapon.

“Again,” Darron said for what must have been the twentieth time that morning.

If Rory’s bollocks were not nearly frozen, he’d accommodate him for the sheer pleasure of seeing his aim prove truer than Darron’s. Again. But it was too cold.

“Nay,” he said, turning to the others. “A break for the midday meal,” he shouted. And before the men departed the training yard, he added, “and a rest for the remainder of the day. To celebrate.”

Darron looked at him as if to say, Pleasing the men will not make you the new chief.

To which Rory would respond he did not care to be chief. That honor, and the trappings of responsibility that came with it, could remain firmly in his older brother’s hands. Just like the earldom attached to Dromsley Castle in England. Rory was quite content to be his brother’s second. And although their current situation was unusual—a chief’s second usually stayed with him—it suited both of them. Or so he kept telling himself.

“You don’t wish to celebrate?” Rory asked as he wrested his own axe from the frozen trunk of the tree. Darron, who’d waited for him, led the way uphill toward the keep.

“St. Valentine. Bah.”

Of course, he’d expected no less. Darron was not the sentimental sort. When they were children, he’d lost his home to a fire that could not be doused. Standing in front of it, watching it burn with his parents and his sister, all of whom had, thankfully, made it out safely, he’d said, “Tomorrow, we build another.”

But Rory tended to agree with him—holding a feast to celebrate lovers was unnecessary.

“Rory, look.”

He glanced over Darron’s shoulder and caught sight of two riders moments before they disappeared from view. By silent agreement they changed direction and walked toward the gatehouse instead, the normally bustling courtyard mostly empty. Even the animals knew better than to venture onto the frozen, snow-covered ground.

“They wore Kerr colors, did they not?” Darron climbed the gatehouse stairwell with him, although he’d fallen behind him, letting Rory lead the way. The Kerrs were their longtime allies.

“Aye, I believe so.”

They greeted the guards and watched as the two riders once again surfaced into view. Bradon Moor Castle was built on the only flat stretch of land for quite a distance. And though guards were stationed strategically to keep watch on the entire plot of land, the dips and valleys of the hilly terrain just outside the walls could hide small parties like this one.

Thankfully, this time the riders were friends instead of foes.

“Come through,” he yelled down, their colors indeed marking both men as belonging to Clan Kerr.

“Nay,” one of the men shouted up to them. “We’d best be on our way. Just coming through with a warning for you. McKinnon is on the move, so we cannot stay.”

“In winter?” Rory asked, already knowing the men would have no answer. “Why?”

“Ties to France most like. The chief says, ‘Be prepared.’”

Unlike Rory, who was nothing but a placeholder for his brother Terric, Clan Kerr’s chief was highly respected among the border clans. But Terric would not be back until spring, which meant Rory would be responsible for dealing with this threat. One that had been plaguing them for as long as Rory could remember, McKinnon’s constant quest to increase their land and holdings as relentless as the methods they used to do so.

“Stamus Semper!” He shouted the Kennaugh clan motto loudly enough for an echo to carry the words beyond the gates.

With a nod, the riders departed as quickly as they’d come.

“Double the watch,” Rory said to the guards. “And spread word of Kerr’s warning.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Confident his orders would be carried out, Rory nodded for Darron to follow him back down toward the keep.

“Ties to France,” he muttered, thinking.

Terric was part of an order of knights that had successfully forced the English king to sign the Treaty of Lambeth, after which Prince Louis of France had sent a contingent of knights to help protect London. The knights had remained in the city throughout the winter, which the king saw as an act of rebellion. But others, thankful for Louis’s support, saw it as insurance against unstable times.

Either way, there had been definite repercussions—even this far north, leaders who had ties to France, tenuous or tight, felt emboldened. Including the bastard McKinnons, apparently.

“Send men to Dalrigg Manor,” he told Darron. Although his friend had no official title, Darron had become Rory’s closest advisor in Terric’s absence. “Tell them to bring my mother here.”

“She will not come. Not today, anyway.”

Rory cursed. He’d nearly forgotten. His parents had been married on the Feast of St. Valentine many, many years ago. She’d moved out of the main keep years ago, assailed by memories of the man she’d loved and lost. The torment would be even worse for her if she returned on the feast day.

“Send them,” he said, “and bid them stay with her until she agrees to come.”

Though the small manor was not so far away as to cause concern, Rory would feel better to have his mother safely in the keep if McKinnon threatened an attack against his neighbors.

“And you will warn the horses?” Darron teased as Rory stepped away, making for the stables.

“Aye,” he shot back, “they need to be prepared as well.”

He did not go a day without visiting them, and if this morn were any indication, he might not have another opportunity. One quick stop before he spoke to the other men. Besides, the stables were as good a place as any to avoid the cloying St. Valentine customs sure to plague him all day.

 

Keep reading The Chief on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited.