Laurel O'Donnell's Blog, page 60
February 14, 2014
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Laurel O'Donnell - Author - Medieval Romance Novels, Paranormal Romance Novels and Urban Fantasy
February 13, 2014
First Kiss February – Dance of Desire by Catherine Kean
Today’s Special First Kiss February featured guest is Catherine Kean, author of historical romance Dance of Desire. Welcome Catherine, my fellow Love Historicals author! Here’s the first kiss between Rexana and Fane.
“First, Father, I will kiss my bride.”
The crowd tittered. The priest’s mouth flapped. “Milord,” he said quietly, “that comes later in the proceedings. After I bestow upon you the Kiss of Peace.”
Fane gestured to the throng. “Surely these good people wish to see how deeply we are in love, and that our marriage is one of mutual consent.”
Rexana gasped. Her gaze shot to Henry, who stood nearby, as though seeking reassurance. Then her expression hardened.
“Rexana—” Fane began.
She wrenched her hand from his. Her eyes blazed with shock and indignation. He had expected to see maidenly trepidation, mayhap even embarrassment, but not willfulness.
Did she resent having to kiss him before a crowd? Or did she disagree that their marriage was one of consent?
Her gaze darkened with challenge, and he grinned. Clever little fig. She dared him to kiss her with all the passion simmering inside him. Dared him to show himself as a lusty, boorish oaf with no morals. Dared him, before the priest and hundreds of witnesses, to show himself as a fool.
She dared the wrong man.
He slowly raised her hand to his lips. He felt the tremor run down her arm, heard her quick inhalation. She watched him through half lowered lashes. With the grace he had learned from watching the king’s courtiers, with the civilized restraint he had learned years ago, he pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers. Once. Twice.
As though pulled by an invisible string, she tensed. Expectation flared in her eyes. Laughter bubbled inside Fane. She thought he would bite her again? This time, he deserved more than a cursory taste. This time, he wanted more.
He smiled, pulled on her hand, and drew her to him. Her fingers brushed over his tunic as she resisted, a slight, sinewy turn of her body. Before she could wriggle away, he leaned forward to cup the back of her head. Anchoring his fingers into her veiled hair, he kissed her soundly on the lips.
The crowd murmured and clapped.
As their lips met, she jumped. A startled rasp came from the back of her throat, as though the contact was not at all what she anticipated.
What did she feel? Astonishment? Pleasure?
He drew back, and her shuddered breath rushed over his mouth. Her tongue darted between her reddened lips, as though to fully explore the taste of him. Or to savor it.
He paused, his mouth close to hers. Her fragrance enveloped him, urged him to look into her eyes. She stared back at him, her breathing uneven. Her ringed hand fluttered between their bodies, even as her slightly glazed eyes looked up at him. In their depths, he read surprise. Confusion. Yearning.
“Another?” he murmured, the hand behind her head drawing her forward.
Laughter rippled through the onlookers. The priest smiled. Shaking his head, he pulled open the church’s wooden door.
As though snapping from a daze, Rexana slipped free of Fane’s hold. Her arms fell primly to her sides. “You are a man of many surprises, milord.”
“There will be more to come,” he said easily.
“Of that, you can be quite certain.”
Raising his brows, Fane looked at her. Before he could ponder her words, or offer a witty reply, she caught up her skirts and climbed the steps to the open doorway.
He laughed and followed her, his boots rapping on the stone stairs. Puzzlement and anticipation shot through him. Did she intend to surprise him? How? When? At tonight’s wedding feast?
Later, when they were alone in their chamber?
Ah, God, he could not wait.
Laurel O'Donnell - Author - Medieval Romance Novels, Paranormal Romance Novels and Urban Fantasy
February 11, 2014
First Kiss February – Her Eternal Rogue by Gina Danna
Today’s Special First Kiss February featured guest is Gina Danna, author of historical romance Her Eternal Rogue. Welcome Gina, my fellow Love Historicals author! Here’s the first kiss between Alexander and Lavinia.
Francois steered her down the hall to the last room. He knocked, opened the door and shoved her through it. She tripped inside the dimly lit room. Looking up, she brushed the hair that fell across her face. Francois pushed her further into the room, toward a bed with a rumpled sheet.
“Here she is, Capt’n,” he announced to a figure sitting in the dark. Francois caught the silver piece tossed to him, bit the coin and left.
Lavinia jumped away from the bed. A blanket of fear wrapped around her, closing her in, smothering her. She dashed toward the door as the man stood. A hand clamped around her arm, swinging her around. Lavinia realized the steel-blue eyed man from the bar had bought her.
“Lavinia Sinclair?” he asked. Fear stole her voice. A tall man stood before her, but it was too dark to see him clearly. All she could tell was that he had broad shoulders, and he dressed in black with black hair. Her imagination conjured the devil. A demanding demon. Her eyes fixed on his, which glowed, even in the darkness, and his voice dripped like poison. She trembled.
“Answer me,” he demanded angrily.
Lavinia’s mouth went dry. She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
Two bulky men suddenly appeared at her side. They were massive, their arms and chests built solid like stone. She was caged between them, with a bed behind her and their leader before her. Her stomach rolled, and she felt faint.
“Ma chère,” he stated flatly, pulling her closer. “I’d love to play with you.” His silver gaze, glowing in the dimmed room, wandered down to her breasts. She shivered. Deep inside, desire licked for his attention. “But this is not the time.” Those eerie eyes held her. He was too close.
“How long do we have, Johnny?” he queried over his shoulder, his gaze never leaving hers.
The boy behind him came closer, revealing himself as the boy who’d talked to Jean Baptiste.
“Capt’n, maybe minutes. Prob’lay not much more.”
“Sir, takin’ from the Frenchie, is nae guid,” a man on the other side of the room muttered.
The captain gave a sharp laugh. “Then we’ve gotta get out of here,” he said with a lopsided grin. Like his eyes, the glimpse at his white teeth seemed unusual because they too shined in the darkness, and she frowned at the oddity, despite the situation “Jean Baptiste will want my neck.”
“Aye, aye, Capt’n,” came the reply as the window squeaked opened.
Where was he taking her? Her fear escalated. She struggled against his grip, trying to stay put as he dragged her to the window.
“We really don’t have time for this, milady.”
He snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. When she opened her mouth to scream, he covered it with his own. The sudden crush of his lips shocked her into submission. His chest and abdomen pressed against her, and his mouth engulfed hers. Once he touched her, his actions turned soft and gentle as he caressed her lips with his. He traced her lips with his tongue, gently probing for access. Surprised by his intimate kiss, she abandoned her inhibitions, and he invaded her mouth, seductively teasing her tongue with his. Suddenly, he stopped and pulled his head back. He looked into her eyes, surprised.
The pounding at the door snapped them back to the moment.
“Capt’n! We’ve got tae go!” the Scotsman pushed.
The devil holding her grinned wickedly and spun toward the open window, he lifted her easily under his arm. She gasped as his iron grip around her middle, and had no time to think as he leaped over the sill and down to the roof’s edge within seconds. Frantic that he would lose his grip, plunging her to her death, she sucked in air to scream. She opened her mouth but he clamped his hand over her lips, stifling her.
“Not a sound.”
He handed her over to the Scotsman and leaped off the roof. The Scotsman carried her to the edge and dropped her. She fell through the air to her certain death, but he caught her deftly mid-fall. He set her down, grabbed her wrist and ran to the docks.
“We waur beginnin’ to wonder, Capt’n,” a voice echoed from a small boat in the water ahead of them.
“We were…delayed,” he replied with a wicked grin.
Amazon: http://bit.ly/HerEternalRogue
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/17NluHb
iTunes: http://bit.ly/14HnLyL
website: http://ginadanna.com
Laurel O'Donnell - Author - Medieval Romance Novels, Paranormal Romance Novels and Urban Fantasy
February 9, 2014
First Kiss February – Texas Outlaw by Adrienne deWolfe
Today’s Special First Kiss February featured guest is Adrienne deWolfe, author of historical romance Texax Outlaw, Book 1, Wild Texas Nights series. Welcome Adrienne, my fellow Love Historicals author! Here’s the first kiss between Fancy and Cord.
“All right, woman. Out with it. What did you do to Zack?”
Fancy hiked her chin. She swore that Cord grew more handsome the harder the sun beat down on him. She couldn’t remember ever seeing teeth so dazzling or eyes so verdant. His six-day growth of beard made him look more ruggedly virile, not grizzled and crusty the way most men would look. The man was simply gorgeous. And that meant war.
“What did I do to Zack?” She donned the smile that always rubbed him raw. “Why don’t you ask the boy yourself?”
“Because I’m asking you.”
“Really, Marshal. I’m surprised at you. You can’t hope to get a straight answer from me. I’m a lying, cheating thief, remember?”
His jaw hardened. She was amazed to see the proof of her score. Something must really be eating at him for her to have taken the advantage so easily.
“You tried crawling into my brother’s bedroll, didn’t you?”
She started. She hadn’t expected this line of questioning.
“Why, I do believe you’re jealous, Cord.”
“Just answer the goddamned question.”
“What lady could refuse such a charming request? And yet if I tell you no, you’ll think I’m lying. And if I tell you yes, well… you’ll wish that I was.”
He stalked forward, reminding her of a puma, all muscle and menace.
“Now you listen to me.” He pushed his face into hers. “You keep your claws out of my boys. Got that?”
Fancy steeled herself against her rising indignation. She liked to think she had a few redeeming qualities, and refusing to seduce innocents was one of them. But she wouldn’t let Cord Rawlins know that.
“Come now, Cord. Where’s your sense of humor? A girl like me isn’t accustomed to”—she leaned closer, walking her fingers up his chest—”all these lonely nights.”
He pinned her hand. She felt his heart hammering beneath her palm. For a moment, she knew a bittersweet triumph. She’d piqued him. That was all she’d really wanted.
“Think you’ve won, do you?” he growled.
“Don’t I always?”
His arm dropped to her waist. She gasped, too surprised to protest when he pulled her length against his. Wiry musculature folded around her, molding her softness to his ruggedness. It was unsettling to admit how good all that potent masculinity felt. Rallying her wits, she grabbed for his Colt, but he caught her hand with the speed of a gunfighter. She scowled.
“Yep,” he taunted. “Just as I figured. Call your bluff, and you get all skittish.”
“Skittish?”
“Sure. What would you call it?”
“One breath shy of suffocation!”
“Well now.” His lips twitched, betraying his dimples. “I surely do apologize, ma’am. Reckon I might have been a bit careless at that.” He leaned forward, his eyes aglow with mischief. “You just tell me where it hurts,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple. “Here?”
She tensed in reflex.
“Or here?” he murmured, his lips touching hers.
It was the barest caress, but she felt her pulse leap. For a moment, she couldn’t decide whether to protest or yield, but he had already shifted, nuzzling the corner of her mouth. Her lips turned traitor. When they parted, she felt him smile, victorious. Still, he ignored her invitation. Teasing with featherlight persistence, he trailed kisses along her jawline, down to her pulse, up to her ear. He nibbled leisurely on the lobe, making her belly flip. But when his tongue flicked inside, shooting sparks to the base of her spine, she couldn’t bear his assault any longer. She hiked her shoulder to nudge him away.
“You’re just one hot little tease, aren’t you, Fancy?” he whispered, his mouth hovering a bare inch above her own.
She drew a ragged breath. “Amateur.”
“Oh, I reckon I am — next to you. Think you’ve got something to teach me?”
She hid her uneasiness. What had happened to Marshal Do-Right? Still, she was the mistress of gaming. She’d make this one showdown Cord Rawlins would never forget.
Rising on tiptoe, she touched her lips to his. She expected him to stiffen; instead, his mouth slanted, demanding more of her kiss. She obliged. Gripping her buttocks, he ground his hips into hers, and she gasped, feeling his manhood strain hot and hard against her thigh. His heat was electric, shooting up her spine, charging every nerve.
She told herself she had no business liking the way her flesh tingled, or the way her nipples grew taut in response, but desire was like a firecracker bursting in her brain. Her limbs trembled, and her breaths rasped. The thunder of her pulse drowned out the last cries of her reason. Arching up, she pulled him closer, eager to feel her breasts flatten against his chest.
Cord, too, felt his reason slipping away. He wasn’t supposed to be liking this. He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying the pert nubs of her breasts as they rubbed and teased, just begging him to taste them. He tried to remind himself this was a lesson. A payback. He’d wanted her to forget about Zack — and Wes. He’d wanted to set her blood on fire the way no untried boy could. He’d wanted to pretend he wanted her.
The problem was, he hadn’t had much practice pretending. Now he ached to be a part of her, to lose himself in the intimacy that grief and guilt had denied him for so long.
An amused “ah-hem” brought sanity crashing down around him. He raised his head, blinking dizzily as his surroundings swam back into focus.
“Hate to barge in on you, folks,” Wes said, rocking on his heels. He was grinning like a small dog with a big bone.
Suddenly bright red, Fancy rammed her boot into Cord’s shin. He cursed, hard-pressed not to hop as she fled from his arms. He wondered why a professional sinner like Fancy would give a hoot who saw her kissing him.
Unless, of course, she kind of liked it too.
Laurel O'Donnell - Author - Medieval Romance Novels, Paranormal Romance Novels and Urban Fantasy
February 8, 2014
First Kiss February – Redeemed by LH author Jill Hughey
Today’s Special First Kiss February featured guest is Jill Hughey, author of historical romance Redeemed. Welcome Jill, my fellow Love Historicals author! Here’s the first kiss between Doeg and Philantha.
He’d never stopped watching her, and his stiff expression had altered from neutrality to shock to something that looked like fear. Or perhaps it was disgust. His throat actually worked as though he was trying to keep from vomiting.
In an instant all her hopes came crashing down. What had she been thinking? If a tired old man hadn’t desired her enough to bed her properly, what were the chances this perfect male specimen would? She had to get out of this room, out of this house, as quickly as possible. “It does just get worse and worse, does it not?” she whispered brokenly, not even expecting him to understand. She turned to leave. He stood abruptly.
“Stop,” he barked. “Stop talking and wait a minute.”
She waited, facing the door, her hands wringing in front of her. If you have to think about it just let me go, she wanted to scream.
“Look at me,” he ordered in a gravelly voice.
She closed her eyes, her fortitude nearly depleted by his rejection and her yet again broken dream. Gathering the last of her courage, she slowly pivoted to face him. The emotion on his face stunned her. He no longer looked angry or afraid or disgusted. His eyes were wide. He held his left arm tightly against his stomach. If she’d had to choose a word, she would have said he was vulnerable. But how could that be?
“You are saying,” he began gruffly, “that you wish to carry my children. That you would expect to…to receive me in that way.”
She was not sure if he was indignant or surprised, but he sounded so brittle that she was afraid to speak, afraid that she would say the wrong words. Yet this was a moment for only truth between them, regardless of the answer he hoped to hear. Hesitantly, she nodded. “I will not marry if I cannot expect to be treated as a wife in that way.”
He watched her for a moment, his keen blue eyes probing hers as though testing her resolve. Finally, he cleared his throat. “That is your only requirement?”
“Yes.”
He stared at her some more, and breathed as if having just run a race. His hands were tight fists, the knuckles white with the strain of controlling a strong emotion he kept carefully veiled from her. Finally, he gave one curt nod. “As you wish,” he affirmed, his voice oddly strained. “I will endeavor to…to give you a child.”
Joy erupted in her heart despite his obvious reluctance toward the endeavor. She could not hold back a ridiculously large smile. “Really?” she breathed.
He frowned, indicating that she should not expect him to speak the words aloud again. But nothing could dampen her happiness now. She wanted to shout to the rooftop but managed to temper her voice to an excited babble. “Then my answer is yes! Yes! I will marry you! I will!” Her heart pounded and sweat prickled under her arms. She would get another chance. Another chance to live her life, not just as an observer but with her own marriage, her own children, her own household. Children! Her smile grew and grew.
He blinked several times as she beamed at him like the village idiot. She forced herself to soften the smile, then felt tears well in her eyes as the two of them stared at one another across the desk, snared in a moment of intimacy and promise. To her it seemed a good time for them to share a kiss but he did not stir, so she walked cautiously around the desk to him. She gripped his large left hand with both of hers, then rose on tiptoe to invite his kiss. His arm supported her easily as she balanced against it, and his hand felt warm and strong beneath hers. He studied her face for a moment, as though making certain this was what she really wanted.
He finally bent forward, slowly and carefully. She adjusted the tilt of her head until their lips met. He just brushed across her mouth with his smooth lips, stopping at the corner of her mouth. They stood that way for several seconds in the quiet as they grew accustomed to this new intimacy.
To Philantha it felt more sacred than any ceremony in a church. And it was pleasant. He smelled good and he felt good, with his restrained strength and reassuring size. A little bubble of excitement burst in her abdomen as they stood in silent affinity. He would be her husband, and she his wife. She only hoped that someday he might derive some pleasure from her as she already did from him.
LINKS
Amazon Any region – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007FDRV0M
Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/redeemed-jill-hughey/1109753932?ean=2940014366120
Apple https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/redeemed/id537392586?mt=11
Smashwordshttps://www.smashwords.com/books/view/164695
Createspacehttps://www.createspace.com/title/384...
Laurel O'Donnell - Author - Medieval Romance Novels, Paranormal Romance Novels and Urban Fantasy
February 6, 2014
First Kiss February – Redeemed Rebel by LH author Cynthia Woolf
Today’s Special First Kiss February featured guest is Cynthia Woolf, author of historical romance Redeemed Rebel. Welcome Cynthia, my fellow Love Historicals author! Here’s the first kiss between Jake and Becky.
Jake left Becky sitting on a stool by the fire. Tears in her beautiful green eyes. What kind of heel was he? He couldn’t explain to her his failings as a man, he wanted her too much. But he didn’t want her falling in love with him. He had nothing to offer. He couldn’t give her her dream. The white house with picket fence and kids playing in a yard. It sounded like a wonderful dream to him. Almost the same as his own, but until he got these murder charges and the bounty taken care of, he couldn’t think about having a life. A real life.
And then there was Zach. Damn him! His brother had screwed up his life to save Jake. Maybe it would be best if Jake just turned himself in. He didn’t know if he could face hanging. But he couldn’t let them string up Zach, too. The AWOL charge would still condemn Zach. Jake needed to remedy that situation but he had no idea how to get it done.
He arrived back at his brother’s camp before he even knew where he was headed.
“Whoa,” said Liam with one look at Jake’s frowning visage. “What’s the matter? Did you and Becky have a fight?”
“No. Yes. Maybe.” He couldn’t seem to make up his mind as to what exactly had happened with Becky. After pushing him away or keeping him at a distance, she seemed to have decided that Jake was husband material. Little did she know. “I don’t understand her.”
“She’s a woman. There is no understanding involved. There just is,” said Liam.
“She knows what happened with Elizabeth. Knows I can’t give her the life she deserves, but she seemed upset when I said it.” He grabbed a cup and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that was always filled and ready setting on the side of the campfire. It was strong, probably left over from that morning, but he needed strong. “You got any whiskey?”
“No. You know we don’t keep whiskey here,” Liam chastised him.
“You might have changed your mind since I was here last.”
“That was yesterday,” laughed Zach. In the laughter, Jake heard the carefree young man Zach had been when he’s left home as an Army private. Not the war weary Captain that had returned. “She’s really got you twisted in knots.”
“I want to be able to give Becky what she wants. I care for her. But until I get the bounty off my head and the charges dropped, what have I got to give her? An outlaw’s life? Constantly looking over our shoulders? And what if the U.S. Government annexes Deadwood? Then the law will be here and we’ll have to run again. That’s no life.”
“What makes you think they’ll annex Deadwood?” asked Zach.
“There’s gold here. Lots of it. Do you really think the government isn’t going to try to come in and get their share?” said Liam. “Jake’s right. If we don’t figure out how to get those charges dropped. It’ll be a life on the run. Not a prospect I’m happy with.”
“You wouldn’t have to run. You and the kids are safe here,” said Zach.
“I’m not happy with my brothers on the run from the law either. I believe in justice and you shouldn’t have to flee from the law because of false charges.”
Jake listened to his brothers discuss the prospect of law and order in Deadwood but all he could concentrate on was Becky. He’d left her alone and in tears. What kind of man did that make him? He swallowed the last of his coffee and got up. “I’m going back to camp. I don’t want to leave Becky completely alone. At least I’m closer to her if something happens when I’m in my own camp.”
“Jake, think about what you want and what Becky needs. I’m not saying that you should get married or anything like that, but know that there are trials and heartaches no matter what choice you make. Just make sure you make your decision’s based on the right reasons,” said Liam.
Zach nodded and clapped Jake on the back. “Don’t make any decisions tonight. Take your time and reason it out.”
He left and headed back to his place. Somehow he forgot to stop and wound up at Becky’s. She was sitting on the log, staring into the fire with her hands hanging between her knees. Jake had never seen her look so forlorn.
He walked up to her.
“What are you doing back here?”
He didn’t say anything, but pulled her to her feet, took her sweet face between his palms and lowered his mouth to hers.
She looked at him wide eyed and then closed her eyes and kissed him back.
“Jake,” she said, holding on to the lapels of his jacket to steady herself.
“Becky, I want you. You know what I can’t offer you, but I want you with all my being.” He ran his thumbs over her cheeks in gentle up and down motions, easing her. Calming her.
She leaned into his palm. “I want you, too, Jake. I really do. You’ve made me feel things I never thought I could feel.”
“But…,” he encouraged her.
“But…I want more than just a night here or there. I want to be more to you than one of those women down at The Gem.”
He felt like he’d been slapped and took a step back. She was right. He was treating her no differently. “I…I’m sorry. You’re right, but that doesn’t change how much I want you or how I feel about you. I care for you, Becky.”
“But you don’t love me. It’s not enough, Jake.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “I know.”
“Just go away.”
“I’m not leaving you alone. Our plans don’t change. You still need to get away from Billy and I’m going to see that you can do it. I’m talking to my brothers about starting on the cliff. That’s where the gold is. That’s where the gold we get from the river is coming from.”
Becky collapsed into the camp stool and stared at the fire. She didn’t speak for the longest time and he thought she wasn’t going to say anything when she spoke quietly. “Working those ropes is dangerous work. Are you sure you and Zach are up to the task?”
“We are. We’ll start tomorrow.”
Laurel O'Donnell - Author - Medieval Romance Novels, Paranormal Romance Novels and Urban Fantasy
February 4, 2014
First Kiss February – Dance of Love by LH author Anna Markland
Today’s Special First Kiss February featured guest is Anna Markland, author of historical romance Dance of Love. Welcome Anna, my fellow Love Historicals author! Here’s the first kiss between Farah and Izzy.
Background: Farah is a survivor of imprisonment by Saracens in Jerusalem, freed by Crusaders, who has accompanied the old soldier who saved her life home to die in Normandie. She is a learned healer, conversant with the teachings of Islamic physicians. She uses her knowledge to help Izzy de Montbryce, who suffers from arthritis in his hands.
Farah’s heart swelled at the improvements in Izzy’s health. It was plain to see that his disposition had also changed for the better. The level of respect he had earned from the people who lived and worked in Giroux Castle was admirable. She was in awe of his prowess with her shamshir. (note: a lightweight curved Persian sword she brought from the Holy Land)
But Giroux Castle remained a dark, dismal, and increasingly unpleasant place to live. She would be leaving soon. What did it matter to her if they lived with dirty rushes upon the stone floors, cobwebs, mouldy food, and animal droppings everywhere? Yet it did. The odours were worsening. A harem might not offer freedom, but it was a place where cleanliness was prized and filth punished.
Steward Aubin was efficient in organising provisions, meals, horses, rents and the like, but had never married and seemed to have no inkling of the domestic improvements that needed to be made.
Farah hesitated to mention her concerns to Izzy. He might be offended, or he might dismiss Aubin. She had no wish for such an outcome.
However, she could hold her tongue no longer when Izzy inadvertently stepped in a pile of dog excrement on his way to the evening meal in the Great Hall. His disgusted embarrassment was evident. She had to smile at his boyish grimace as he scraped off his boots on the rushes.
“Good thing it wasn’t King Henry who stepped in it,” she teased. Izzy had shared with her his hopes and dreams for the castle’s future.
“Huh!” he replied, his face reddening. “You’re right. This place needs cleaning up.”
He glanced around and she suddenly knew he had no idea how to accomplish such a thing. “May I gather some of the women of the castle to improve matters?”
Izzy protested. “You are a king’s daughter. I won’t have you working as a servant.”
Farah laughed. “Izzy, being the bastard daughter of a king means nothing to me, but living in filth does. Let me help you make this castle a place where people will want to live.”
He sniffed the air, apparently noticing the odors for the first time. “Filth, eh?”
She feared she had offended him, but then he smiled, sending the usual shivers of desire scurrying around her body. “My mother called it porquería. There was lots of it to be found in Jerusalem after the siege.”
“Bien!” he roared, throwing his arms wide. “We will have no porkereea in this castle!”
Farah burst out laughing. He laughed too, taking hold of her hands and pressing them to his chest. “Do your worst, milady María Sancha!”
She held her breath. No-one except her mother had ever called her by her Spanish name. Izzy’s deep voice made it sound right. She stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his, not caring if people in the Hall gawked. The smile left his face and his eyes blackened with desire. He put his hands on her waist and drew her to his body. He kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She twirled her tongue around the tip of his and threaded her fingers through the hair at his nape. For the first time in her life, she felt a man’s hard arousal pressed against her. It filled her with a longing she had never known before.
When they broke apart, both breathing heavily, she became aware people watched, but smiles rather than censure marked their expressions. Izzy leaned his forehead against hers. “Forgive me. I forget myself in your presence.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Izzy de Montbryce,” she whispered.
He took her hand and led her to the dais. “Careful where you step,” he quipped.
Laurel O'Donnell - Author - Medieval Romance Novels, Paranormal Romance Novels and Urban Fantasy
February 2, 2014
First Kiss February – Where The Wild Wind Blows by LH author Nancy Morse
Today’s Special First Kiss February featured guest is Nancy Morse, author of historical romance Where The Wild Wind Blows. Welcome Nancy, my fellow Love Historicals author! Here’s the first kiss between Katie and Black Moon.
Not all first kisses are gentle and sweet. This one was too long denied and led to forbidden passion, as in this scene from WHERE THE WILD WIND BLOWS.
Her eyes blazed up at him and her chest heaved and strained against the tanned skin of her dress. He pulled her hard up against his naked chest. Winding his arm around her waist, he crushed her body to his, taking her breath away with the strength of his hold. She opened her mouth to protest, but the sound was eclipsed by his lips that closed over hers in a hard, anger-filled kiss.
There was no tenderness in him, no gentleness. Holding her pinned against him, he kissed her harshly and thoroughly. She felt the bite of his arousal beneath his breech cloth and the hard muscles of his thighs wrapped in leggings of blue trade cloth. Her legs grew weak. Her thoughts began to spin out of control. Trapped in Black Moon’s powerful embrace, Katie was unaware at first of the way her own body was responding.
It grew upon her slowly. The throbbing began somewhere deep down inside, spreading outward, racing like a wildfire through her bloodstream to every limb until the feverish pounding threatened to consume her. Her mind gave up its hold on reason, ceding control to her emotions. Without thinking, she lifted her arms and wound them around his neck.
His hand moved slowly up her back to caress the bare flesh at the nape of her neck beneath the heavy curtain of her hair. His fingers entwined themselves in the thick, red mass, crushing it in his palm.
She made a little sound that vaguely resembled a moan. She struggled, but only halfheartedly. Something took hold of her that she didn’t fully understand. In the arms of this half-naked man she was powerless to do anything but submit. She was all too conscious of the pressure of his lean, hard body, the heat of his flesh, the softness of his hair between her fingers.
His voice issued from a place deep in his chest, low and threatening against her lips. “If you know what is good for you, you will leave this place now. If you stay, you know what will happen.”
Yes, she knew where this was leading, but she had not the will to try to stop it. His kiss was hot and strong and sucked the breath right out of her lungs. She could scarcely breathe when he guided her to the ground.
Laurel O'Donnell - Author - Medieval Romance Novels, Paranormal Romance Novels and Urban Fantasy
Month of February
While the month of February tends to be dismal outside – dirty snow, gray skies (at least in the midwest), it is the month of Valentine’s Day. A romantic day. So, in honor of this romantic month, I will be renaming this month First Kiss February. All month long, I am bringing you the first kiss from very special authors and very special books. All my guests will be from the Love Historicals site. It is a site that features talented historical authors.
So, enjoy this month of First Kisses!
Laurel O'Donnell - Author - Medieval Romance Novels, Paranormal Romance Novels and Urban Fantasy
January 30, 2014
First Kiss Friday – A Matter of Trust by MJ Flournoy
Today’s First Kiss Friday featured guest is MJ Flournoy, author of contemporary romance A Matter of Trust. Welcome MJ! Here’s the first kiss between Jolie Wyngate and Mac Carlson.
“Let me go, you big oaf!”
Instead of complying, he rolled with her again trapping beneath him.
Frustrated she drew back taking aim for another blow.
She targeted his face, trying to connect with his nose.
Clobber him, Maniac screeched. Wish I could get ahold of him.
Jolie didn’t trust the idea of the Maniac getting “ahold of him.”
He caught her hands, first one and then the other and pulled them over her head, trapping them with one large hand. His breath stirred the loose tendrils of hair framing her face, teasing the tender skin of her neck.
With his other hand he began to explore her upper body intimately.
Maniac shrieked in outrage.
Trembling Jolie resumed her struggles, twisting and bucking she fought to dislodge the man who pinned with his weight. Her effort futile, she could not free herself from his domination.
“Stay still, I just want to remove the wire.” Mac forced through gritted teeth.
Wire, what wire?
“The only wire we’re wearing is from Victoria’s Secret.”
As suddenly as it had started, his assault ended. He released her hands, slid off her and sat up.
Lean tanned fingers shoved through ruffled blonde hair with reckless impatience. Before she could move away, his hand snaked out to capture hers, shackling her to his side.
“You’re not wearing a wire.”
“I could have told you that, it was hardly necessary to assault me.”
Again his hand raked his hair, but instead of encouraging a semblance of neatness, left it ruffled and falling over his brow.
Jolie scolded herself for noticing.
“You said we?”
“I did?”
“The only wire we’re wearing is from Victoria’s Secret?”
Jolie shrugged.
“Dammit, this makes no sense. I’d have bet my life that you were not involved with Walters, and then you dropped a bombshell only he could’ve given you.”
He moved closer, so close that his nose was mere inches from her face. His Paul Newman eyes bored into her. He focused first on her eyes, and then allowed his gaze to drop to her lips.
Jolie couldn’t stop herself from darting her tongue out to moisten her lips. Sudden fire blazed in his eyes when they followed the motion, then banked to smolder just beneath the surface of his arctic gaze.
“I can’t figure you out.” He moved closer still. He filled her vision and her senses screamed overload. Her body, no longer comatose from exertion, spiraled to vibrant life. The scent of him filled her senses, her very being.
He closed the inches separating them, eyes ablaze.
Jolie held her breath. His lips met hers, slowly brushing them. With infinite care his lips glided, caressed, tasted, his tongue gently probed her lips. Her eyes closed of their own volition. His arms closed around her, pulling her into his embrace.
All thought fled under the heated onslaught of his kiss. It was at once sweet and demanding, gentle, yet controlling. For a moment, she let go of all questions, doubts and fears, allowing her body to go with the onslaught of his kiss. It was torture and bliss, his desire bombarded her, sheer physical wanting inundated her as his body telegraphed its needs to hers.
He drew away and Jolie sensed his withdrawal in more than just the physical sense. Once again cloaked, shuttered, a world unto himself, guarded from her.
Jolie felt alone, outside that world. She sat for a moment in wonder. What had just happened? Why had she allowed him to kiss her?
Because he is totally hot, screamed Maniac.
Jolie lifted trembling fingers to her lips, found them swollen and tender from the onslaught of his kiss. His taste lingered there, and she licked her tongue out to touch its’ tip to her tender lips, testing the slight tingling awareness lingering there. She had not invited his kiss, yet strangely, she could not have resisted because his lips ignited a burning deep within her. Her blood sang. Her body responded. Never had she experienced such overwhelming, blatant, raw sexual power. It both attracted and repelled her.
Jolie blanched at the discovery. Where Mac Carlson was concerned, she could not trust her own body not to betray her.
Laurel O'Donnell - Author - Medieval Romance Novels, Paranormal Romance Novels and Urban Fantasy
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Perhaps it was ridiculous, Ryen thought. Men never seemed to have a problem with taking what, ...more
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