Jane Charles's Blog, page 3

Lady Lilian Bliant appears to be a serene earl’s daughter...

Lady Lilian Bliant appears to be a serene earl’s daughter, but under her exotic façade she has a spine of steel.  She is determined to thwart her manipulative father’s plan to shackle her to a weak-willed man of the ton and is successful until Lord Maxwell Warrick becomes a suitor. Lord Maxwell is anything but weak-willed. He is happy with his life until Lady Lilian wreaks havoc on his heart. No lady has ever tempted him as she.Will Max be able to resist, or will he succumb? And, if he does, will Lily be able to resist?

This book was previously published as The Healing Tree by Amy De Trempe
AVAILABLE AT:AmazoniBooksKobo

CHAPTER 1
London, England – May, 1817
“I’ve made my decision, Lilian.” Henry Bliant, the thirteenth Earl of Artemisia, placed his fork in the center of his plate, the handle overlapped in direct alignment with his glass of wine. Satisfied, he signaled the footman to remove his plate.At his cue, Lilian folded her hands on her lap and lifted her eyes to her father without raising her head. “What is your decision, Father?”She lowered her eyes once again, and fixed them on a safe object, the goblet. With an elegant and perfectly manicured right hand, she lifted the crystal and brought it to her lips. This action would hide any immediate reaction to his words, a trick she perfected long ago.“I was wise in waiting to present you until later in the Season. Your dark coloring is no match for the fair young ladies presented this year. Your appearance beside them would have only forced the comparison I wish to avoid.”She set the glass back down in the exact spot where she had lifted it from. Even a fraction off could see her dismissed from the table and banned from breakfast tomorrow. Lily straightened the cloth napkin on her lap and waited for him to continue. She hoped dessert would be placed before her with haste to give her yet another excuse to avoid his gaze.  “It is one of the reasons I visited my solicitor this afternoon.”Lilian’s gaze shot to her father, but she quickly recovered her composure. Lord Artemisia demanded a serene countenance from his daughter at all times, and any show of emotion, no matter how slight, never failed to anger him. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her in disgust.Lilian immediately regretted letting her emotions show. She held her breath, hoping her one mistake did not send him into a fit of rage.With no comment on her reaction, Artemisia continued his announcement with annoyance, “I won’t bother you with all the details as you wouldn’t understand.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.  Lily inwardly breathed a sigh of relief even though his dismissal was once again a reminder of his disappointment that his only heir was a female, thus far inferior in intelligence. It was only one on his long list of her faults.  Lily masked her emotions and waited for the remainder of his diatribe.   “Obviously, I will have to offer more than most fathers to see you married,” he continued.Money, one of the many things more important than his daughter. “I am sorry if seeing me married is costing you so dearly, Father.” She buried her sarcasm in a soft tone.Artemisia pounded his fist on the table, nearly upsetting the perfectly placed china. “As if you have any awareness of the expense to see you dressed properly and tutored to be a lady. My only goal has been to attract a suitable husband for you.”Lily lowered her eyes demurely when her anger built. Another trick she learned at a young age and one her father mistook for respectful submission. To Lily, it was simply an act of self-preservation. She studied the pattern on the new china, Wedgwood she believed, and hoped it kept her from reacting to her father as he continued to lecture.“Regardless, the funds will bring me what I need. A son to take over when I’m gone.” Lord Artemisia lapsed into silence while the custard was set before them and they waited for the servant to leave the room. A son! He had a son. Yes, Wesley had been born on the wrong side of blanket, but he was still the only living son of her father. Even if he couldn’t inherit the entailed lands, Wesley would do well in managing the remaining estates and wealth. Lily lifted her left hand, but stopped herself before it was too late. After all these years, why hadn’t she developed the habit of eating with her right hand as her father insisted? She had no wish to have her left arm tied to her waist to keep her from using it again.“I can’t leave the matter of attracting the right husband in your hands. Additionally, I have hopes of receiving permission to allow your husband to inherit my title when I die.”Lily daintily slid her spoon into the custard and forced herself not to react. Her father must be half mad to think he could transfer a title meant for a male blood relative.“The king is always in need of capital. Luckily, I can afford this particular privilege, if it is approved.”Only her father would attempt such a ludicrous and impossible feat. On the other hand, given the king’s current faculties, or lack thereof, King George might just grant her father’s equally mad wish. The thought made her ill.  If anyone should be granted that opportunity, it should be Wesley, not some gentleman her father decides, who doesn’t have a drop of Bliant blood in his veins.She remembered to keep her posture erect when the earl launched into yet another lecture. He could speak continually for half an hour if he so chose, and she hoped to make her dessert last long enough to keep her busy while he spoke, and to avoid having to look in his direction. Her participation wasn’t required, as long as she appeared to be listening.“As your future husband will receive everything that is mine, it is my duty to choose the right successor. The perfect choice is the younger son of a peer. They are more willing to marry an heiress regardless of her faults. No true gentleman wishes to earn his own way, or rely on what little pension his family provides. The farther the son is from a title, the more willing he will be to overlook your flaws.” Artemisia sighed heavily. “At least I have that small advantage on my side.”Lily tried to force the food down her constricted throat.“If he agrees to those terms, then all that is mine will be his.” Lord Artemisia sat back.  “There are a few minor details to work out, but Dudley doesn’t anticipate any problems.”Afraid that he might see her bitterness, Lilian did not raise her eyes. She only sensed when he rose and walked toward the foyer. Of course, Dudley, his solicitor, always managed to achieve what the earl most desired, with the exception of a legitimate son. Lilian remained where she was and listened for her father’s departure. Yet, he’d let his own son make his own way in the world without a care or concern for him.“Gloves, hat, cane,” he yelled at the valet. “Never hat, gloves, cane.” Lilian winced at his tone, yet the footman should know by now not to disturb her father’s peculiar habits. Only when she heard the door close did she let her spoon drop from her hand, and she raised eyes toward the entrance. He may have his plans, but she had her own. Never would she marry. Especially not a man her father handpicked, who married out of greed, with a willingness to turn his back on his own family name and heritage.If she took care with her plan and execution, she would remain unbetrothed and thus unwed at the end of the Season, and every year following, without her father having the slightest hint she sabotaged his every effort. He would be angry, lay blame, and inflict punishment, of course, but she could live with that, knowing someday she would be free, having the ultimate triumph over the man who had caused her mother’s death.
* * *
It was an unusual occurrence for Lord Maxwell James Warrick to find himself sitting next to his own father, of all people, at two o’clock in the morning in the receiving room of Haven, an orphanage where Max presided on the board. Hadn’t he just been here not twelve hours ago? Following Sunday services, he and the children enjoyed a pleasant lunch and played in the park until dusk. The children were exhausted by the time the staff finished getting them into bed and Max hadn’t expected to return until Wednesday afternoon.Unlike most of the supporters, he became a living, breathing part of the home, which was why Mrs. Harper, the headmistress, had sent for him when there had been a break in. Max couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to rob an orphanage. Besides the children, there was very little of value inside. However, it was also near Seven Dials, so perhaps the criminals didn’t realize they were more likely to come away with a runny nose than a quid.  The children had been frightened when he arrived, but after calming their fears, he sent for the Bow Street Runners to investigate and then for a locksmith to fix the door that very night, regardless of the cost. He had been waiting for the man to finish when his father, the Duke of Wayland, arrived.  When he first walked through the doors, Maxwell suffered a sudden panic, afraid something had happened to one of his family members. That had not been the case. Apparently his father simply yielded to one of his own odd moods of contemplation. As his wife was already abed, and his three other sons were at home with their wives, Maxwell, his youngest and only unmarried child, was the one he sought out when he had learned from Max’s butler where to find him.  They visited until the locksmith finished and then, after a final check of all the doors and windows, took their leave into the dark, foggy night. While his father lit a cheroot, Maxwell strolled with him to the hackney waiting at the corner. Neither man brought their own carriage to this area of town after nightfall. The attention would attract the more unsavory inhabitants.“Is there something in particular on your mind this evening, Father?” Max asked.The duke shook his grey head and sighed. “I met up with an old schoolmate from years ago—Artemisia.”Maxwell stepped into the hackney and settled into the well-worn seat. He ignored the pungent smells and stained shabby interior. Dank, musty air surrounded them and Max tried not to breathe too deeply. It was best not to contemplate what may have occurred in this space prior to their arrival. “Artemisia married later than I. Your mother and I only had the pleasure of visiting with her on a few occasions. I always found Artemisia to be a pompous fool, but his wife was a very lovely woman.”“She is no longer?”“No.” Lord Wayland shook his head. “She died several years ago, along with the son to whom she had just given birth.”Maxwell said nothing. “Lord Artemisia has a daughter who is twenty and is just now being presented. That is what brought him back into London. The man has been completely cut off from society, a recluse, for all these years. Seemed rather grateful to run into me. He doesn’t have any friends in Town.”Maxwell eyed his father with suspicion. For the past year and a half, since he had turned five and twenty, his parents had been after him to take a bride. “Oh, I see.”Lord Wayland continued. “No, no, Maxwell. I leave the matchmaking to your mother.”Maxwell relaxed. If his father had been speaking of a possible match, he would have admitted to it. “Then what is troubling you?”“The way the man spoke of his daughter. They have been in London for weeks, and she has yet to make an appearance.”“Perhaps he isn’t very anxious to see her married.”“No. That is not the case at all. Artemisia was investigating. He wants to ensure his daughter brought the highest dowry this season.”“Does he hope to have every destitute lord on his doorstep?”“Artemisia refuses to consider any titled gentleman.” His Grace frowned. “He didn’t explain his reasoning, odd though it is.”Maxwell could only wonder at what must be wrong with the girl if the cost of purchasing her husband was so high. And what father didn’t want a title for his daughter? Usually those gentlemen were the first to be considered before any lesser gentleman. “Have you met the young lady?”“No, though I would like to. What could be so wrong that Artemisia feels he must purchase a husband, while rejecting those most sought after? Unless he doesn’t believe anyone of title would consider his daughter. But why discount them before she’s ever made an appearance? It’s all rather confusing to me.” “The thought does give one pause. Artemisia did not mention why he felt there would be no offers otherwise?” Max asked.Again, the duke shook his head, his mouth turned down in a frown. “No, except for her mother’s tainted ancestry.”Maxwell raised a surprised eyebrow. It wasn’t unusual for a noble English family’s blood to have previously mixed with the French, Scots, Italians, or other European countries. But to be tainted…“The man is very bitter over the fact that he doesn’t have a legitimate son, and resentful for having a daughter who cannot attract a husband on her own.”“Then he has an illegitimate one?” Max asked.His father frowned. “At one time there were rumors, but they were quickly hushed.” He shrugged. “Rumors or no, it does not change that fact that his only heir is a female.”“But you have four sons,” Maxwell reminded his father. “How would you have felt at not having any? Or, if rumors are to be believed, your only son was born on the wrong side of the blanket?”“Your mother would have been all too happy to have a daughter, not that she doesn’t love each of her sons,” the duke assured him.Max chuckled. The entire family knew his mother had always wanted a daughter, and still hoped for a granddaughter, though one had yet to be produced.“Are you sure this isn’t the real reason you came looking for me?” Max’s lips pulled into a smile.“Whatever do you mean?” His father blinked in confusion.Maxwell’s smile broadened. “After all, I am the son of a duke with no hope of ever obtaining a title. I would be a perfect candidate for the lady’s hand.”His father smiled sheepishly, and Maxwell thought perhaps his jest was in fact, the truth. “It wasn't my intention, but before I knew of Artemisia’s own circumstances, I had boasted quite a bit about my own family. Now I know why he asked more pointed questions, about you in particular.”Maxwell didn’t bother to hide his groan. It wouldn’t be the first time he had been sought out because his father was a duke, regardless of the fact that he was the fourth son and his older brothers had produced a total of four sons. The most tragic of circumstances would need to occur, which would mean the deaths of three brothers and four nephews before Max could make it to the head of the line. First, he loved his family dearly and it would destroy him to lose even one. And second, the last thing he ever wanted to become was the Duke of Wayland. “I am sorry, Maxwell.”Maxwell shrugged. His father hadn’t intentionally tried to play matchmaker. “No harm. If those are her father’s qualifications, he would have learned my name eventually.” His father sighed deeply. “I suppose so.”

Rattle His Cage: The Baxter Boys #4

Rattle His Cage: The Baxter Boys #4(The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled)
Twelve years Dylan White has waited.Twelve years since his family was yanked awayTwelve years of being alone—except for the friends he met at Baxter, who are now his family.His brother, Noah, has disappeared.His sister, Nina, just turned eighteen, but he has no way to find her.
Mary Robins wears her heart on her sleeve.And it’s tattooed on her chest—the dog tags of the man she worshiped, surrounded by beautiful ribbons.Her only purpose in life is to take care of those who are in need. Heal the broken and comfort that wounded—the very reason she’s becoming a nurse.
Except, she’s never allowed anyone to take care of her. Not in a very long time.
No one has wanted to take care of her until she meets Dylan and the Baxter boys.  They’re a weird bunch – fiercely loyal and… hers. 
Dylan is searching for something, and so is Mary.  Searching for family, searching for friendships, and searching for love.  Can they find what they so desperately need in each other?
***New Adult novel intended for audiences over the age of 18 due to adult language and sexual content***
Available for Pre-Order - Out January 1, 2017
AmazonKobo

1

I should not be up this early. Not after last night. But, today is not just the first day of a new year either. It’s Nina’s eighteenth birthday.  I haven’t seen my siblings since I was twelve—half of my life. Tomorrow I will be at child services as soon as the doors open to find out where my sister is.“Morning,” Kelsey whispers as she comes into the kitchen. She’s smiling, relaxed, and practically glowing. At least somebody is getting some. I’ve known Kelsey Fry since high school.  She lives on the top floor of the house, and she’s dating one of my best friends, Alex Dosek. She and Alex had been split, somewhat, for about a week, until a well-planned and perfectly executed intervention by our friends last night. I push my glasses up on my head and rub the bridge of my nose. “You okay?” Kelsey asks.“Yeah,” I answer right before yawning. Maybe I should go back to bed and try to sleep. Unless Nina suddenly makes a profile on a social media site I won’t have answers until tomorrow anyway. I’ve already checked through all the sites this morning, and she’s not anywhere. Nor is my brother, Noah, or my youngest sister, Jade. I check every day hoping I’ll find them. Kelsey grabs a mug out of the cupboard and pours a cup of coffee. I’ve already drunk half the pot, so chances are that even if I did go to bed, my brain would be just as wired as it was when I got up. Or worse.“Did you sleep last night?” she
“What the hell?” I push the blankets away and look at my clock, then groan. It’s only like noon and I’ve gotten a total of two hours sleep.                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Laughter bleeds through my bedroom door right before someone starts pounding on the wall.I grab my robe and storm out.  There are a ton of boxes in the living room and I can barely get around them. Where the hell did they come from? They weren’t here when I got home from the hospital this morning.Shelby and Tiffany are in Kelsey’s old room with who I guess is our new roommate. She’s hammering nails into the wall. “Oh, hi, Mary,” Shelby greets me with a sugary sweet smile. “This is Brit. She’s moving in.” Her grin gets bigger, but there’s a glint of cold calculation in her baby blue eyes. “Britney and I have been friends since high school. Isn’t it great that she’s living here now?”“Great.” I’m pretty sure my dry tone is missed on them, or maybe not. “Can you be a little quieter please? I worked all night and need to be in at eleven tonight.”Tiffany over-exaggerates a pout. “Poor thing.”“Your friend, Kelsey, wasn’t exactly quiet when she moved out,” Shelby reminds me.“Don’t punish me if she pissed you off.”With that, I leave them and return to my room, pull the covers over my head and two pillows, but it doesn’t drown out the sound of the drill. A damn drill. This place has been taken over. Blowing out a sigh, I grab my noise canceling headphones. I bought them when I needed to study in the dorm, so I hope they work now.Silence. Well, almost silence, but it’s better than before. Until something bangs against the wall knocking my favorite piece of art, a reproduction of Renoir’s Woman in a Landscape, from the wall. It hits the night stand and the glass shatters. Does Brit have a bulldozer in there I missed?Grabbing my pillows and blankets I head to the closet. At least it’s on the opposite side of the room and doesn’t share a wall with anything but the living room.After closing the door, I switch off the light and burrow into a nest of clothing on the floor. It’s certainly softer than the hard floor.  I hope to hell this doesn’t keep up, but now that Brit is here, and she’s Shelby’s BFF, it’s not going to be an easy semester. Wait, Kelsey is looking for a new place to live. If we combined our funds maybe we could get a place together. I’ll still be stuck with the rent here, but if this shit continues I might commit murder. I didn’t spend the last four years working on a degree to become a nurse at the nearest penitentiary. Grabbing my phone I send her a text.Me: Are you still looking for an apartment?Kelsey: No. Why.Me: New roommate, Shelby’s bff from high schoolKelsey: ShitMe: YepMe: Why aren’t you looking anymore?My guess is that she and Alex finally made up, as they should, but I don’t want to assume anything either. The other guys in the house may have just insisted she stay.Kelsey: Alex is back.Me: Happy for you. Sucks for meKelsey: SorryI am happy for her, but it puts me back at square one. I know Kelsey didn’t have any luck finding a place on a budget when she was looking so I doubt I will either. Besides, school will also start back up on Tuesday and we’ll all be on a normal schedule again. At least I hope everything goes back to normalToday they are probably just pushing my buttons because it’s Brit’s first day. I can play this game until we are back in classes. If my feathers don’t get ruffled, they’ll get bored. Music blares. Mama always said to pick your battles, and I’m too tired to pick this one. Plus, I don’t want them to think they succeeded in pissing me off on day one. Me: Getting a hotel roomKelsey: WhyMe: They’re playing Adele Kelsey: You like AdeleMe: Not when I’m trying to sleep and it’s loud enough to make my ears bleedKelsey: It’s like noonMe: Worked 11 to 9. Got 2 hrs sleep. Gotta go in tonightKelsey: Come hereMe: And sleep where?Then again, if Dylan offered his bed… maybe sleep wouldn’t be so important.Kelsey: my bed. More music blares from a different part of the apartment. I only have two more nights of thirds and then my sleep schedule will be the same as theirs. I just need to remember that and not react. Getting pissed will only encourage Shelby and that’s the last thing I want to do.Me: Heading over.I quickly dress, throw some stuff in a bag and head out of my room.“What’s wrong? Couldn’t sleep?” Shelby asks with mock sympathy.“What?” I ask as if confused. “No. I’ve got to be some place. Thank God you woke me or I might have overslept.”
I finally allow myself to smile at Shelby and Tiffany’s shock once I’m out in the hall. They were so counting on pissing me off, and I just took it away from them. Well, not totally. They did piss me off, but I’ll be damned if I let them know it.

Colors of You ~ The Academy #1 (Baxter Academy Series ~ The Academy)

Colors of You  ~ The Academy #1 (Baxter Academy Series ~ The Academy)

Alexia Deme likes her quiet life as an art teacher at the Baxter School of Art, a high school for the talented and troubled. It was a long journey to get here, but she’s finally on her own and where she wants to be. Though nothing is ever permanent, this might be the first place she can stay for a while. At least she thinks so until that peace is disrupted by a fleeing felon, turning her world upside down and bringing the past to her present.
It was a normal, typical day when Officer Kian O’Brien got the radio call and took off after a fleeing suspect, over the walls of the Baxter Academy of Art and to the side of Alexia Deme right before she nearly collapses in his arms. In one moment, everything in his life is altered and the more Kian comes to know Alexia, the more he cares.

But, can he keep her from fleeing when the past comes back to haunt her? He’s not ready to let her go, but can he convince her to stay?

***Recommended for adult readers due to language, sexual content and adult situations***
Amazon          iBooks          Kobo
ALEXIA
“Hey, Miss Alexia, when you gonna let me tag this wall?”I roll my eyes and lean back against the stone wall, setting my charcoal drawing aside for the moment. Louie always asks to tag the ten foot walls surrounding the school whenever it’s nice enough to be outside. As its November, days like this are nearly non-existent. But, by some fluke it’s warm. So much so that the kids are wearing short sleeves and modest shorts. Naked trees are outlined by a hazy sky and the ground is covered in a blanket of red, brown, orange and yellow leaves. This just might be my favorite time of year. “Those dull stones are borrrring.” He stands back and studies them. “What color do you call that anyway? Dirty white?”I can only laugh at Louie. He likes color. Everything he paints is bold and bright. That’s one thing we have in common. These walls could use some color. A magnificent piece of art that would make people stop and take notice.  “It is a cream, ecru or light stone,” Marissa answers without taking her eyes from the watercolor she was working on. Her voice is as crisp as the air should be. “It is calm and soothing. I would appreciate you not defacing it.”“I call it boring as hell.” He flops down next me. “Come on, Teach, let me tag it.”I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Louie always makes me laugh and I find it hard to believe he is only eight years younger. It feels like there are decades between our ages.“Her name’s Miss Alexia, not Teach,” Carlie disciplines. “Show some respect, dumbass.” “You calling me a dumbass?” Louie laughs. “It’s over seventy degrees and you got those long sleeves on. Bet you’re sweating like a motherfucker.”“Louis!” No longer finding him funny. It’s one thing for the kids to give each other a hard time, tease and have fun. It’s an entirely different matter to mention a sensitive subject. In Carlie’s case, she wears long sleeves to cover the scars on her arm. She may have stopped cutting, but white lines are still there and she doesn’t like to see them.  I know very little about the students’ backgrounds. It isn’t my business. I am here to teach art, at least until the end of the December. I still haven’t heard if they’re going to keep me on. It makes my stomach churn. They need to keep me. I love this job and have no clue what else I would do. Well, I do have other skills, but I don’t exactly want to rely on those and I make a shitty waitress.As far as the kids are concerned, we’re told only what’s necessary. In Carlie’s case, we’re to watch for any signs that she may be cutting again. How the hell I’d be able to tell that is beyond me. She’s always covered from head to foot regardless of the temperature. If she’s cutting, I’d never know it. All I can do is what I’ve been told, and that’s to keep a careful inventory of our art supplies. The brushes and paints might be innocent, but I also have X-acto knives, scissors and any number of items that could be harmful, whether the person wants to use it on themselves or someone else. So far, at least since May, the only thing that’s gone missing is a stack of post-it notes. For all I know, those could have been taken by anyone, or fallen behind a cabinet.Besides, Carlie meets with a therapist or psychologist twice a week. Aren’t they supposed to be watching for these things, questioning the girl, or even inspecting her body? I really don’t know how it works. I just teach art. I am not a therapist by any stretch of the imagination.I asked when I got here where these kids would be if they didn’t have this high school and was told that they’d have been released from wherever facility or home they’d been a resident and returned to their parents, guardians or foster care. But, because of their talent, they were accepted to come here instead. The kids still have issues and meet with therapists, but for the most part, seem to be doing okay. Well, at least to me they seem to be doing fine.“Sorry, Carlie,” Louie says after a moment and I know he feels bad. He’s got a good heart, despite what nightmare he might’ve lived through before coming here.Marissa purses her lips and looks away from her painting only long enough to glare at Louie.Louie shrugs and goes back to his drawing. “That art would be epic, I’m telling ya.”I’m sure it would be. “I’ll speak with the dean.” He looks up at me with a gleam in his hazel eyes.“But don’t get your hopes up.”He snorts. “I learned long ago never to get my hopes up, Teach.” He says this so matter-of-factly that it’s almost painful. For many years I never allowed myself to get my hopes up either. A part of me is still afraid to. At the blare of sirens coming from somewhere in the distance the students stiffen, look up and listen. Fear registers in some eyes and while others only seem slightly curious. Anxiety sweeps through me.  It’s automatic. For too many years I ran whenever the police were near and I suspect a number of these kids have as well. No one is painting or drawing anymore, just listening.  Do they have the same instant reaction as me? Never, ever trust a cop, or fucking pig, as my father was fond of calling them. From before I could remember, if the cops were around, you ran. It was instilled in me before I could walk. A few of the students lay their brushes aside and I push down my own anxiety.  I haven’t needed to run from the police in six years, but it’s instinctive. I wonder if this is something that I’ll ever get over.A highway runs along the other side of the wall and this isn’t the first time we’ve heard sirens, but there’s more than one car and they’re getting closer. Even though I know we’re safe, I can’t relax. I listen, waiting for them to pass.“I wish we had some loud music,” Mick complains. He’s Louie’s best friend, at least since shortly after they both arrived at the school. I am actually surprised he isn’t begging to tag the wall right along with Louie.“Me too.” Marissa’s hands shake as she dips her brush into the water.Emma unplugs the earphones from her iPod and classical music fills the air. The school provides iPods to all the music students. I can’t believe that’s where a portion of our funding goes.I normally don’t allow the kids to have them in class, but today we’re working on individual projects and it’s more relaxed. Besides, Emma works better with music playing, so I let her keep it today.“What the hell is that?” Carlos asks.“Pachelbel!” Emma answers as if it’s obvious.Tires squeal and something crashes into the other side of the wall, right behind me.  Had the car taken the tight curve too fast and wrecked? It wouldn’t be the first time, but nobody had ever struck the wall before. Usually they hit a tree or one of the guardrails.I jump up. My pulse is racing and my heart may very well pound right out of my chest. We’re safe. We should be safe, but something in my gut warms me otherwise. Nothing good ever happens when the cops were around.More tires squeal and the sirens stop just on the other side of the wall.  “Everyone, inside.” I urge them toward the art building. Even though the wall around the school is ten feet high, the safety and security I felt not ten minutes ago is gone.The kids drop their brushes and jump to their feet. Some run, others walk more casually. I wish they’d hurry. I can’t go in until each of my students are inside, safe and secure.There’s a scuffling sound on the other side of the wall and I hold my breath, wishing I didn’t have to be so close to it, but I have to stay between the kids and the potential danger.  Something heavy drops onto me, knocking me to the ground. The back of my head slams into the stone and pain shoots down my arm.Just as quick, the weight is gone.“Miss Alexia,” Carlie cries, rushing to my side.“You fucking asshole,” Louie yells. I want to tell him to just get inside, but I can’t focus long enough. Everything is happening in a fog, quickly but in slow motion, a mass of confusion as my brain tries to focus. I can’t seem to voice the words in my head.“Get him,” Mick yells and I struggle to get my bearings.I finally pull myself to my feet. My eyes are a bit blurry but I can see a man is running away with Louie and Mick chasing after him. “Don’t,” I scream just as Louie lunges, grabbing the man around the thighs, bringing him to the ground. Something flies out of the stranger’s hand, but I can’t tell what it was.“Get the gun,” Louie yells.Oh my God! The man has a gun! My chest tightens.Before I can respond, Mick races forward and kicks the gun further away so that the stranger can’t reach it. Thank God he didn’t touch it.I start forward as Louie rolls the man over, straddles him and then draws back his arm before hitting him in the nose. Blood splatters everywhere and Louie is yelling in the guy’s face. “You hurt Miss Alexia, you son of a bitch.”“Stop,” I cry. Louie doesn’t seem to care and hits him again.Officers rush by me from behind as more cops start pouring in from the front of the campus. “Hands in the air,” one of the cops orders.I blink, trying to clear my vision again as I stumble forward.Mick, Louie and the stranger are now down on their knees, hands locked behind their heads. This is all happening too fast.“Stop,” I shriek. “The boys didn’t do anything wrong.”“We’re taking them in,” an older cop bellows. He yanks Mick off the ground and I watch as the cop cuffs him like a common criminal. Louie is being cuffed by another cop. Mick doesn’t deserve this and neither does Louie.“They’re innocent,” I cry, swaying slightly. Why am I so dizzy? I need a clear head. I need to stop them before they harm the boys.“We’ll question them at the station,” one of the cops tells me.“Don’t worry none, Miss Alexia.”  Louie gives me a lopsided grin. “We’ll be okay.”How can he smile? Doesn’t he know what this could mean? He’s come too far and if he’s charged with something he’ll get kicked out of Baxter.  “You can question them here.” I’m finding it hard to breathe as panic takes hold. “They didn’t do anything wrong.”“We only need to get their statements.” An officer steps in front of me and puts a steadying hand on my arm. I look up into his light blue eyes. “Do you understand?” He’s looking at me with such concern. All I can do is nod as stars begin dancing in my peripheral vision.
KIAN
I grab the young teacher’s arms as her legs give way. Slipping an arm around her waist and supporting her the best I can, I lead her to a cushioned, iron-bench beneath a shade tree. Blood drips from the back of her head and soaks into my shirt. She sits and puts her hand down at her side as if to support herself. I settle beside her for fear she might fall over. She needs medical attention and I radio for an EMT. Not only is her head gushing blood, but she’s unstable, and it looks like her right wrist is swollen and injured. I don’t have the medical knowledge to know if it’s a break or a sprain.“Look at me.”She slowly tilts her head up then squints her eyes at me, trying to gain focus. They are such a beautiful, dark brown, framed with such thick lashes. I blink and look more intensely, studying the size of her pupils since she did hit her head pretty hard. “An ambulance will be here in a moment.”“Don’t need one.”I don’t argue the point. She’s in no condition to make any decisions right now.Her glance drifts lower as she sways, and her gaze locks on the badge at the left side of my chest. “Fucking pig.”Okay then, I laugh to myself. This one obviously has no affection for cops, but I won’t hold it against her. Besides, in my short one year career, I’ve been called much worse, though nobody’s ever called me a pig before. That’s what my dad was called, and usually by people who were old enough to have been at Woodstock.“Why don’t you lie back?” The way she’s swaying from side to side, she won’t be able to hold herself upright much longer.“No.” She glares at me. “The boys. Bring them back.” “They’ll be returned after questioning.”She groans and lays back and then winces as her head comes in contact with the cushion. “They didn’t do anything wrong.”She’s right. There’s no reason the kids had to be treated like criminals, but that’s an issue I’ll take up with my sergeant later. There’s no color to her lips and she’s grown pale. I hope the EMTs get here soon.  “Bring them back,” she mumbles, nearly slurring her words.Her eyes are drifting shut. Shit. I can’t let her pass out. Isn’t that the first rule of a head injury? “I promise, I will.” She’s still bleeding and I know heads can bleed a lot, but what if it’s worse than I thought?  I shift and turn her so her legs are resting on the cushion and she’s practically lying down. I squat on the ground beside her. Her breathing is even. That’s good, but she needs a doctor now. She opens her eyes slightly. “I don’t trust cops.”I’m not surprised. She had just called me a fucking pig. “You can trust me.”She snorts.  “That’s what they all say.”Her arms stiffen and she grabs the cushion, sitting forward as she groans. I know the look and sound too well, but can’t move quick enough to avoid her puking in my lap. Given her feelings for cops, I don’t ever expect an apology.
OTHER BOOKS IN THEBAXTER ACADEMY SERIES ~ THE ACADEMY

It Started with a Kiss - To Walk in the Sun 1st Chapter

AmazonBarnes & NobleiBooks


Frequently of a night, instead of retiring to hisconsort's chamber, he repaired to Brunhilda's grave,where he murmured forth his discontent,saying: "Wilt thou sleep for ever?"
Wake Not the DeadJohann Ludwig Tieck



One

Cornwall England, 1802
Lightning flashed in the distance and Tess Crawford gripped the ladder tight.  The wind whipped hair across her face and skirts against her legs. This was a perfect night. She looked up toward the open window.  It was past ten and her students should have been asleep by now.  At the very least, all lights should be extinguished, but candles flickered in Rosemary’s room.  With slow deliberation, Tess inched her way to the destination. Upon reaching the top, she ducked to the side and listened. It would do no good for the girls to catch her.“At length Walter, heated with wine and love, conducted his bride into the nuptial chamber:” Yes, that was Eliza reading. Why wasn’t she surprised?“…but, oh! horror! Scarcely had he clasped her in his arms ere she transformed herself into a monstrous serpent, which entwining him in its horrid folds, crushed him to death.” The voice rose with further anticipated horror.Tess peeked around the corner of the window frame. One candle sat on the table and flickered with the breeze.  Further into the room, three girls sat huddled together, their robes wrapped around their legs.  A lamp burned brightly behind Eliza’s shoulder, casting a halo around her red curls.  Tess grinned.  Her timing could not have been more perfect.“Flames crackled on every side of the apartment;” Eliza continued. “in a few minutes after, the whole castle was enveloped in a blaze that consumed it entirely: while, as the walls fell in with a tremendous crash, a voice exclaimed aloud -- "Wake not the dead!"Tess blew out the candle by the bed and ducked out of sight.  In her most dramatic voice, she moaned, “Not the dead.”Screams erupted from inside the room.  One of the girls slammed the window shut, apparently too frightened to notice the ladder or Tess, and yanked the curtains closed.  Tess bit her lip to keep her laughter inside.  She edged down the ladder when pounding erupted on the door.  “Girls, is everything all right?” Natalie, her friend and also a teacher, called.The wind grew stronger as Tess hastened her descent before Mother Nature helped her to the ground in a most unpleasant manner.  She tipped the ladder so it lay on the ground and raced to the door.  She could not wait to hear the explanation the girls offered for their screams.
[image error]
Sophia sighed and shot an irritated look at her cohorts.  “They thought the monster was at the window.”“Monster?” Tess tried to hold back her laughter as she walked into Rosemary’s room.“Yes.  The creature that lives in that old manor.”  Eliza explained.  Tess knew exactly which one she meant.  Lord Atwood’s house must date back at least a century or more, and it did look a bit spooky with its gabled windows and grey stone exterior with dark ivy creeping up the side and the gargoyle overlooking the portico entrance.  Of course, she would never admit such a thing to her students.“It’s just like Wake Not the Dead,” Rosemary whispered.This time Tess couldn’t help but laugh.  “Are you saying a vampire lives in Atwood Manor and he came here?”“Yes,” Eliza insisted and the other two girls vigorously nodded their heads in agreement. Their curls bounced in rhythm to the movement.“Whatever gave you that idea?” Natalie asked and settled onto the bed. If Tess didn’t know better, she would think her friend was giving some credence to the girl’s irrational fears.“Lord Atwood never goes out during the day,” Eliza answered, all knowing.“Is that all the evidence you have?”  Tess crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head, eyebrows raised waiting for the girl to continue.  “No,” Eliza retorted.  “He died only to return from the grave after his wife willed him to.  Just like Walter did.  Except Lady Atwood perished upon his return and now Lord Atwood is doomed to be alone on this earth.” Eliza sighed, placing a hand over her heart and glanced toward the window.  She returned her focus to Tess; color high in her cheeks and eyes lit with excitement. Eliza continued the tale, or rumor rather, that circulated around their small village.  “Everyone knows he visits her grave every midnight because there are fresh flowers every morning.  Lord Atwood has not been able to bring his beloved back from the dead, yet.”   Too bad Eliza was the daughter of a viscount.  Had she been common-born, no doubt she would make a nice living trodding the boards on Drury Lane.  Tess leaned down and whispered, “But why would he come here?” Eliza glanced toward the window. “Because he is hungry.” Rosemary turned alarmingly pale. Tess bit her lip. Perhaps she had taken this too far?  No, she argued with herself.  They were being ridiculous and the girls should know better. Still, Tess made a mental note to once again go through the library and remove any book that could possibly resemble a horrid novel. She thought she had found and hidden them all a week ago, but apparently Wake Not the Dead had been overlooked.  Tess clapped her hands to get their attention. “Enough of this nonsense.  Lord Atwood is not a vampire, nor did he come here tonight.”“But, who was at the window?” Sophia asked, her big blue eyes round with fear.“The wind,” Tess said dismissively, not about to reveal the truth.  “That will teach you to read horrid novels when you should be asleep.”  Tess tapped her finger against her chin.  “This gives me an excellent topic for our literature lesson tomorrow.”“Are we going to discuss Wake Not the Dead?”  Eliza bobbed with excitement.“No. We are going to discuss the difference between fiction and nonfiction.”
[image error]
Vincent Latimer, Earl of Atwood, pulled the collar up to his ears. Wind whipped the greatcoat out from his body. He grasped the front and buttoned it in haste while he glanced up to the overcast sky. Not even one star could be seen, but he knew they lay just beyond.  Lightning flashed.  There would be a wicked storm tonight. He grinned and stepped onto the road and turned toward the cemetery.The walk was not long but he was glad he did not bring his hat. It would have blown off his head as soon as he stepped out from the protection of the front portico.  Thunder rumbled behind him. No doubt he would be soaked with rain by the time he left the cemetery.Nearing the church, he stopped and looked around. The houses were closer here and each held well-tended gardens.  Who should he steal from tonight?  A grin pulled at his lips. Mrs. Harpy had a lovely selection.  He hopped the low fence and strode into the back garden. However, since he was taking a bouquet from the woman’s gardens, he should at least think of her by her proper name, Mrs. Harper.  He shook his head and withdrew the scissors from his deep pocket.  No, Harper was too kind of a name for her.  After all, Harpy was the one who first fueled the gossip when his wife died.  The flame ignited, and ever since he had been deemed the most feared monster of history and lore.  On the other hand, it did benefit him.  Everyone knew he took the bouquets from the gardens in the neighborhood, yet no one would ever reproach him. They were too afraid.  It also served his lifestyle well.  By using the gardens owned by his neighbors, he did not have to employ a gardener for his own.  The less people who lived on his estate the better. Besides, what would the neighbors think if he did not visit his wife’s grave at midnight? What else would they have to talk about?The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He glanced toward the house.  Harpy stood in the upstairs window watching him.  She stepped back into the shadows, but he knew she could still see him.  Vincent flashed his teeth at her and growled.  Her silhouette disappeared.  The woman was probably cowering in her bed, or her husband’s. He doubted Mr. Harper would thank him.Vincent turned back to study the garden.  There was little to choose from as fall was descending and many of the fragrant summer flowers he preferred were long dead.  He selected mums, asters and late blooming roses.  From his pocket he withdrew a pink ribbon and tied it to hold the arrangement together. 
[image error]
 Tess paced in the front parlor, too on edge to sleep. It was easier to control her anxiety over the storm brewing in the distances when she was focused on the student or conversing over tea with the other teachers in the school, as she had done tonight.  However, everyone retired a short time ago but she knew she would not find rest tonight, not when she was now alone with her thoughts.  She grabbed her cloak and stepped out on to the porch. Leaves flew, carried by the fierce winds.   Energy surrounded her and she could not stay inside.  She glanced up at the house. The lamp still burned in Rosemary’s room. She would need to speak to the girls about their late hours, but knew she had brought on their fright tonight.With a shake of her head, she started down the road.  Tonight was no different from the night her life irrevocably changed.  No, she would not think about that now. If she did, she would never sleep. What she needed was a walk.  The storm was a little ways off to the southwest, coming in off the Channel, and she had only the wind to contend with at the moment.  Once she strolled the area, she would be able to retire.Tess pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and walked down the lane toward the village.  Nobody was out at night and she preferred it this way.  The others did not understand her need for these evening strolls nor did she wish to explain. They each had their own secrets that brought them back to the school where they met, to become teachers.In truth, Tess did not go out at night all that often. Only when there was a storm brewing.  It helped to chase her demons away.  The demons that only visited her on nights such as this.All of the houses were dark, for which she was grateful. Her cloak was black so if someone peered out a window, they might not even see her.  If they did, the hood covered her head and hid her face.  It would not serve the school well if someone reported that she was seen out and about alone so close to midnight.  If someone did catch her, would she be labeled a monster as well?  A smile pulled at her lips at the ridiculous thought.She started to pass the cemetery, but did not glance in that direction.  Tess did not want to know if Lord Atwood actually visited there each night and she refused to give credence to the rumors.  Besides, if the man had any intelligence, he wouldn’t be walking around on a night like this anyway.Thunder rumbled and the wind picked up and whipped around her, blowing the hood off of her head.  Perhaps she should return home. It appeared the storm was much closer than she realized.An ominous crack, sharper than thunder, sounded overhead. Tess looked up but before she could determine the source a large body flattened her.  The trapped air left her body in one great whoosh.  Though from fear or being crushed to the ground she couldn’t tell.  She looked into the almost black eyes of Lord Atwood. His cloaked arm came up and covered her face in blackness as his head descended to her neck.

It Started With a Kiss

It Started With a Kiss


Title: It Started With A KissGenre: Regency Historical Romance AnthologyRelease Date: December 13, 2016Authors: Jane Charles, Elizabeth Essex, Aileen Fish, Rose Gordon, Jerrica Knight-Catania, Emma Locke, Sue London, Amanda Mariel, Deb Marlowe, Christina McKnight, Erica Monroe, and Ava Stone

AVAILABLE TODAY!Amazon – http://amzn.to/2g09R9JiBooks – http://apple.co/2fDDavUB&N – http://bit.ly/2elh6bMKobo - http://bit.ly/2fDzg6i
Available for a LIMITED TIME ONLY!

IT STARTED WITH A KISS... Twelve First In Series From Stars of Regency Historical Romance!  Enjoy dashing dukes, reformed rakes, and scandalous bluestockings in this sweet to sexy boxed set.

MAD FOR LOVE by Elizabeth Essex
Mignon du Blois needs an accomplished thief to steal back her father's statue so he won't be arrested for forgery--too bad the man willing to help her is actually Rory Cathcart, noted art expert.

A SCANDALOUS WIFE by Ava Stone
After living separate lives since their rushed wedding, an earl and countess stumble upon each other and begin to see the other in a whole new light.

TRIALS OF ARTEMIS by Sue London
An independent bluestocking sneaks into a library to read rare Greek texts and ends up with a husband instead.

HER SUDDEN GROOM by Rose Gordon
The overly scientific, always respectable, and socially awkward Alexander Banks has just been informed his name resides on a betrothal agreement right above the name of the worst chit in all of England. With a loophole that allows him to marry another without consequence before the thirtieth anniversary of his birth, he has only four weeks to find another woman and make her his wife.

THE ROBBER BRIDE by Jerrica Knight-Catania
Victoria Barclay is determined to make a difference in the world, so she finds a way to rob the rich and donate to the poor. But the Earl of Leyburn, her lifelong friend and neighbor, threatens to expose her in his constant pursuit of the truth.

SHUNNED NO MORE by Christina McKnight
Lady Viola Oberbrook longed for a quiet life in the country, far from London and the society who'd shunned her during her first season. She never expected to come face-to-face with Lord Haversham, the only man who had every right to despise her.
 A DANGEROUS INVITATION by Erica MonroeStruggling to survive in London's dangerous rookeries, Kate Morgan is determined not to give into the temptation of past love Daniel O'Reilly when he returns to win back her heart and prove he's innocent of murder.

THE TROUBLE WITH BEING WICKED by Emma Locke
Courtesan Celeste Gray wanted a new life free of the infamy of her notorious past--the last thing she planned on was falling for the stuffy viscount next door, Ashlin Lancester.

HIS IMPASSIONED PROPOSAL by Aileen Fish
Stephen Lumley returns from battle wounded and jaded, only to find his home life had been changed forever. After proposing while drowning his sorrows in liquor, he now has only four months to convince himself and Jane Marwick he is worthy of her, before she's off to London to find a man who is.

SCANDALOUS ENDEAVORS by Amanda Mariel
Lady Amelia's willing to create a scandal to stay in her beloved England. A Scottish duke ignites her passion, but will she abandon her endeavor for love?

THE LOVE LIST by Deb Marlowe
Somebody has added Miss Brynne Wilmott's name to the Love List--that wickedly witty register of London's light skirts.  She'll do anything to stop the publication.  The Duke of Aldmere will do anything to be left alone--but his brother is mixed up in this Love List business and he's gone missing.  Together they work to unravel the mess, and find that it's a plot more twisted and treasonous than anyone suspected.  Yet the danger and intrigue are nothing compared to the effect they have on each other ...

TO WALK IN THE SUN by Jane Charles
Hiding from a dangerous man, Tess Crawford thought The Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies would be the perfect place to disappear…except she didn’t anticipate being drawn to the reclusive Viscount Atwood, who has many secrets of his own.
Learn more about the authors:Jane Charles - http://www.janecharlesauthor.com/Elizabeth Essex - http://www.elizabethessex.com/Aileen Fish - http://aileenfish.com/Rose Gordon - http://www.rosegordon.net/Jerrica Knight-Catania - http://www.jerricasplace.com/Emma Locke - http://emmalocke.com/Sue London - https://bysuelondon.com/Amanda Mariel - http://amandamariel.com/Deb Marlowe - http://www.debmarlowe.com/Christina McKnight – http://www.christinamcknight.comErica Monroe - http://ericamonroe.com/Ava Stone - http://www.avastoneauthor.com/
It Started with a Kiss features twelve sweet to sexy Regency romances from award-winning and bestselling historical authors.  

Merry & Bright for TOYS FOR TOTS

Merry & Brightfor TOYS FOR TOTS
Merry & Bright  features eight sweet to hot Contemporary Romances novelsfrom award-winning and bestselling authors for the benefit of
TOYS FOR TOTS


Title: Merry & BrightGenre: Contemporary Holiday Romance Charity AnthologyCharity: TOY FOR TOTS – 100% of the proceeds will be donated to TOYS FOR TOTSRelease Date: November 25, 2016Authors: Tammy Falkner, Sarra Cannon, Marquita Valentine, Sawyer Bennett, Ava Stone, Jane Charles, Zoe Dawson, Regina Cole

AmazoniBooksBarnes & NobleKobo
Available from 11/25/16 thru 1/1/17 ONLY!

CHRISTMAS WITH THE REEDS by Tammy Falkner
A SEASON FOR HOPE by Sarra CannonALL FOR YOU by Marquita ValentineIF I RETURN by Sawyer BennettSTAY WITH ME by Ava Stone
BRAVE by Zoe DAwsonLIGHT UP THE TREE (abridged) by Regina Cole
&
STILL RATTLED by Jane Charles 
 Only three things matter to Kelsey Fry: an envelope full of memories, a pink box full of hope, and a well-planned future, soon to be realized. Alex Dosek knows that Kelsey needs more than the tattoo he gave her. Who would have thought a house full of boys—Alex and the Baxter boys—would be a refuge for Kelsey?

READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OFSTILL RATTLED BELOW

 Kelsey
Alex “Douche” Dosek isn’t really a douche, or at least not anymore, and I should probably stop thinking about him that way. I get why he resented me. He didn’t have the whole story, and after his mother shit on him the way she did, of course he’d think I was just as heartless because I had abandoned my baby. But, now he gets it. If he didn’t, Alex wouldn’t have given me the most perfect tattoo. It’s exactly what I needed, from the little foot that I thought I wanted, to the little handprint over my heart that I hadn’t even considered. The manila envelope still holds those precious items: her birth certificate, sheet music from Brahms’ Lullaby and the pink rattle I snatched from the bassinet. I’ve always had these with me, but now that everything, with the exception of the rattle and the only picture I have of Brandon, is permanently on my midriff, just below my boobs, I’m not as worried about losing the documents. I’ll still keep them close though, in the pink box on the top shelf of my closet with the letters I’ve written to Brandy. But nobody can take the art from my body. Brandy and Brandon will be with me always.Shit! My eyes are tearing up again and everything in front of me is starting to blur. After sobbing inside of Reed’s, you’d think I’d be done by now.“Coffee?” Alex pulls his gloves on as he steps outside in to the cold.“Coffee!” I blink and quickly wipe away a few stray tears. I’m drained and really just want a nap, but it’s kind of nice spending time with someone I don’t have to guard myself around. Not so much protecting my feelings and heart and that type of stuff, but not having to watch what I say, or slip about Baxter, or mention I was once pregnant and lived on the streets. Those things are what people judge you by. Alex already knows the ugly. Far more ugly about my past than anyone else, with the exception of people at Baxter, like Mrs. Robak and a handful of therapists.“There’s a diner a few blocks down,” he says and we head in that direction, keeping our heads down against the cold November wind. My hands are shoved in my coat pocket because I lost my gloves on campus two days ago. At least I have a warm, though not exactly fashionable, scarf around my neck, and I duck my chin inside.I can’t believe that Alex did my tattoo. He’s lucky I didn’t walk right out when I found what artist had been assigned to me. Or, that’s what I thought then. I’m the lucky one. I don’t think anyone else could have done what he did. They would have given me the foot I asked for and left it at that. Alex stops and I look up and into the long windows. I like diners, but they usually aren’t this busy, with people sitting at every table and the counter. How good could their hamburgers, fries and milkshakes be? “They must have good food,” I mumble as we step inside. The heat from the bodies, kitchen and furnace engulfs me. I’ll be sweating in my coat if I don’t get it off me soon. “How long?” Alex asks.The waitress in her mid-fifties with mousey brown hair streaked with silver gives him a disbelieving look. “It’s Thanksgiving. I’ve got about fifteen people ahead of you.” Then I notice the sign. Thanksgiving Special. Turkey and the fixings $3.99. I glance around again.  I’d bet what remains of my savings that ninety percent of the people enjoying their meal are homeless or barely have two nickels to rub together. I so don’t want to take a table, or even a seat at the counter from someone who needs a cheap meal far more than me. And, $3.99 is way cheap for a meal in New York. A young couple, who look like they haven’t slept in days are in a back booth with two small children. Worn and dirty backpacks are on the floor beside them. All of the plates in the diner are filled with turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, green beans and a roll. The works. There are also pumpkin pies lined up on the counter, waiting to be served for dessert. My mouth waters. I’ve practically existed on ramen to save money for the tat, make rent and pay for luxuries like internet. I wouldn’t even be paying for that if I didn’t need it for research and emails with professors.“We see Santa after this?” the little girl asked with excitement. She couldn’t be older than four or five.The parents share a look and my heart breaks in that instant from the pain in the mother’s eyes. I’ve seen many families like them. They can barely feed their kids, let alone give them a magical Christmas, and every kid deserves a visit from Santa. No, I don’t have money to spare, but I did save a lot by risking my tattoo on someone auditioning and not insisting on having a Reed do my tat. Pulling my wallet out of my bag I look at the bills, then take a deep breath and take out fifty dollars, leaving me with $200 from what I’d saved up, then I fish out an envelope and shove the money inside.“You keep envelopes in your bag?” Alex asks.“I write a lot of letters.” He doesn’t need to know who those letters are written to, or why. On the inside flap I write “For Santa shopping”.When the waitress comes by, I ask her to give it to the family in the back booth.Alex pulls me back outside.“What’s wrong?”“I forgot that it’s Thanksgiving.”Actually, I had to. Today was about my daughter turning six and getting a tattoo. “If you have someplace to be, no big deal. We can catch up later.”He shoves his hands in his front pockets and blows out a breath. It’s white in the cold air. “What are you doing for dinner?”I shrug. Maybe I’ll splurge and open a can of tuna. Turning, I glance back at the window and to the booth where the family is sitting. I want to make sure they get the envelope and that the waitress doesn’t pocket it. It’s not that I don’t trust the waitress specifically. I just don’t trust a lot of people to do the right thing.The mother is holding it, a hand is over her mouth and then she wipes a tear before giving it to her husband. He opens it and a small smile forms before he covers his wife’s hand with his own.I did need that money, but they need it a hell of a lot more and for once, I’m glad I acted spontaneously.“Roommates got stuff planned?”I blink up at Alex.“Roommates? Plans?” His blue eyes bore into mine as if saying Earth to Kelsey.“No, they went home.” Each invited me along but I had the excuse of the job interview tomorrow. They thought it odd that I’d interview on a day when schools are closed, but I explained that Baxter was working with my schedule. Nobody else needs to know that Baxter doesn’t celebrate holidays. Any holiday, and tomorrow is just another Friday for them. My roommates don’t know about the tat either, and probably never will. They don’t even know all of my past. Just that I’m an orphan and went to an art academy. It’s good enough for them, and thankfully, they don’t pry. Besides, I’d been to their homes and never felt comfortable. Families gathered around the table, being nice to each other because it’s a holiday, trying desperately to make me feel welcome, like one of them. Feigning interest in my school and future plans. It’s like being dropped into a foreign country where you don’t know the language and you’re without a translator. The job interview was my perfect out.Alex grins and grabs my hand. “Come home with me.”I pull back. “That’s okay. I’ve got stuff to do.”“You can’t be alone on Thanksgiving, Kelsey.”“I don’t exactly want to be with strangers, Alex.”His grin grows large. “But, they aren’t. Not really.”I narrow my eyes on him. Was he just trying to get me back to his place? He’s got to know that we may have started repairing a once burned bridge, but I sure as hell am not starting anything or getting involved with anyone at this point in my life.“Come on.” He pulls me toward the subway. “Great meal, great guys. You won’t be sorry.”I anchor my feet so he can’t pull me any further. “Alex, we haven’t seen each other in almost five years, and we were never friends.”His head drops, and he turns around, facing me. “Yeah, I know.”“Just go on home. I’ll go home, and maybe we’ll get coffee some other time.” I pull on my hand, but he’s not letting go. Normally this would send off alarms in my head and my gut, but it’s not.His blue eyes study mine. “Come with me Kelsey.”“Why?” What can this matter to him?“I fucked up. I should have gotten to know you, and because I was a stupid ass with a chip on my shoulder, I didn’t.” “It’s no big deal.” Though it was. At least back then, and the reason I hated him. But it’s not so much anymore. Not after today.“It is to me.” He grabs my other hand so that he’s now holding both, like he doesn’t want me to get away or something. “Come back to my place, enjoy an awesome Thanksgiving meal, and we’ll talk.”His phone dings and he lets go of one hand to pull it from his jeans pocket. After reading the screen, he grins at me and turns the phone so I can see. “See what awaits.”There’s a photo of a turkey, or what I think is a turkey, mostly wrapped in foil. Beside it on the counter are bowls and all kinds of pots on the stove in the background. Thirty minutes and counting. Browning, carving then eating, the text read.Damn. He’s offering turkey and all the fixings. My stomach grumbles. I don’t even have turkey-flavored ramen. Actually, I’m not sure if they even have that flavor, but if they did, I don’t have it. I know exactly what’s in my allotted cupboard back at the apartment. A can of coffee, half a loaf of bread, 3 cans of spaghetti, 2 cans of tuna and two packages of chicken-flavored ramen. Then again, I did save money by letting Alex do my tat instead of insisting and waiting for one of the Reed Brothers to be available, but that didn’t mean I needed to go out and spend it. Besides, I just handed over fifty to a family in need. “I’ll just go home. Enjoy your meal.”Alex types something into his phone and then shoves it in his pocket. “Nope. You’re coming with me.” This time he hooks his arm with mine and pulls me to the stairs leading down to the subway.I try and jerk it away, but he has a tight grip. Not that he’s hurting me or anything. Just being pushy. Or make that pulley since he is practically dragging me along behind him.“I saw that look in your eye when you saw that turkey. You want it, even if you don’t want to admit it.”Of course I want it. I’d love to sit down to a real meal for a change, but that doesn’t mean I should. Alex is still practically a stranger. What if he’s all weird and shit like that? He doesn’t strike me as dangerous, though. I’m not getting that vibe that usually warns me when someone’s a creep, but we don’t know each other. Not really.He stops at the turnstile and gets out his metro card and scans it. “You won’t be sorry.”I pull my card from my pocket and scan it, before following Alex down another flight of stairs to the platform. “I’m already sorry.” We get there just as the train pulls in.“Perfect timing.” We wait for the passengers to exit before getting on. There are no empty seats, and barely enough room to stand. I didn’t think the subway would be this busy on a holiday. “Where do you live?”“Brooklyn.” Alex answers as he grabs the pole for balance. I do the same. I’ve lost my balance before, and the last thing I want to do is end up on some stranger’s lap. “We’re renting a townhouse.”“How many live there?” “Six.” He shrugs and I gape at him. I’ve been in a number of brownstones and townhouses that were once gorgeous but were now broken up into apartments. One on top of the other, similar to the four bedroom I share with my roommates. Some were roomy and some, not so much. But six guys in one apartment? “That has to be crowded as hell.”He frowns and then his blue eyes lighten just before he laughs. “We don’t rent an apartment, we rent the entire townhouse.”Holy crap. I didn’t know tattooing paid so well. Those places cost a fortune.He’s shaking his head. “It’s not what you think. It was a family home but got to be too much for the older couple who owns it. They moved to a smaller apartment. He wanted to cut it up for apartments and even started to in the attic. He planned an apartment for each floor like a lot of owners have done. Make it into an income property.”I hate how so many early twentieth century buildings are cut up like the one I live in. Such beautiful architecture destroyed for the purpose of making as much money as possible.“The wife is completely against the idea and wants the place to keep its original charm. The rent was already cheap because of the condition of the place, but we talked the couple down because two of my roommates also work construction. In exchange for cheap rent, we’ve fixed the roof, plumbing and electrical, but there’s still a ton of work to do. We got the important stuff done, the rest is mostly cosmetic.” Sounds like a great deal. If I knew how to operate a power tool, I’d try to find something like that. But, since I can’t even hammer in a nail, I’m stuck in an expensive shoebox close to campus.“Each month we give him the receipts and an estimate on what a contractor would have charged, and he adjusts the rent. We don’t know what we are paying from one month to the next, but it’s the best deal in town, and he’s happy to have people living there who aren’t just keeping the place up, but making it better. It’s cheaper for him in the long run to have it done this way instead of hiring a firm to gut the place.”“So, who do you live with? You said they weren’t strangers, but we don’t exactly have the same circle of friends.”Alex chuckles and shakes his head. “You’ll see.”
Alex
I didn’t even think when I asked Kelsey back to the house. The guys will be surprised, but I hope they aren’t pissed. Not that they should be. It’s not like I just grabbed a stranger off the street and brought her home to be fed. Not that they should have a problem if I did. Okay, maybe a total stranger in our home would be a bad idea. Kelsey narrows her eyes on me. “I don’t like surprises. And I’ve already had enough today.”The seeing me and almost bolting from Reed’s before getting her tattoo, or the tat that wasn’t just a foot? I’m not sure I want to know. She loved the tat, but she didn’t love seeing me, at least not at first.“Trust me. It’s a good one. You’ll fit right in.”Kelsey blows out a sigh. “Listen, I don’t do family meals well. Is somebody’s family going to be there?”I seal my lips and make a sign like I’m throwing away the key.“If I’m uncomfortable, I’m leaving, okay. No making me stay.”Kelsey has her defenses up, like she’s afraid. I get it. I’m not exactly open to strangers either, but she’ll be happy once she sees who’s there. At least, I assume she will be. “Only long enough to fix you a plate so you can take it home.” Maybe she’ll relax knowing she can walk out the door as soon as she walks in, if that is what she wants, though I doubt it will happen that way.She gave me a small smile. “Is there going to be pie?”“Chocolate, pumpkin and cherry.”Her eyes practically rolled back in her head as she groans. “I can’t remember the last time I had pie.”I’m surprised that particular dessert didn’t bring all kinds of unpleasant memories. She was delivering a piece of pie to Brandon when he was killed.The smile slips. “I couldn’t eat pie for two years after Brandon died.”Could she fucking read my mind?“Then I realized, if I hadn’t been taking him a piece, I wouldn’t have been able to say goodbye and tell him that I loved him. I would have just gone home and waited for him to get off work.” Her dark eyes meet mine. “So, pie is good.”“And, these will be delicious.”The train slows and I glance out to see where we are. I haven’t been paying close attention to the stops, but we’re getting close.Close? Hell, this is my stop. If I hadn’t decided to look this time, we would have gone right past and that would have been a pain in the ass to get off at the next stop, and then go around and grab the train going in the opposite direction.“Here we are.”She takes a deep breath and steps out onto the platform. “Are you sure they won’t mind?”“I promise,” grabbing her hand, I head for the stairs to exit the subway.

Christmas Spirits (Spirited Storms #1) (The Spirited Storms)

Christmas Spirits(Spirited Storms #1) (The Spirited Storms)
(A Novella)
FREE - 11/25/16 - 11/29/16

Mary Soares was supposed to spend Christmas, nice and warm on her family’s estate in Falkirk, Scotland, tending to their whisky business. However, the English have made smuggling almost impossible, and so order after order is waiting at the distillery until it’s safe enough to continue shipments. Most customers understand this. Most customers are reasonable. The Duke of Danby is not most customers. After a number of demands from His Grace, insisting upon his order, Mary decides to deliver the whisky herself.
Benjamin Storm, Earl of Kenley, breathes a sigh of relief when his summons from the Duke of Danby has nothing to do with matrimony or a stack of special licenses. Instead, his uncle just needs Benjamin to travel to Scotland and procure his missing whisky shipment in time for his holiday festivities. The chore sounds easy enough, at least until he encounters a most unusual smuggler on her way to Danby Castle. Benjamin’s life may never be the same.
*This story originally appeared in “The Duke’s Christmas Summons” anthology.



Amazon          iBooks          Barnes & Noble          Kobo
Benjamin,
I am very much aware that you have been avoiding me since the wedding of Mr. Jonathan Bridges and Miss. Genviève Mirabelle nearly a year and a half ago. Your excuses in the past have been flimsy at best, and I will accept no more. You will attend me in Yorkshire, with your equally absent siblings and remain at the castle through December 26th. If you wish to stay longer, I have no objections. However, you must present yourself to me no later than December 17th. If you fail to do so, the retribution will be harsh and long in duration.
Danby
ONE
Danby Castle, Yorkshire ~ December 17, 1816
Benjamin Storm, Earl of Kenley, eyed his great-uncle, the Duke of Danby, with trepidation. For the past year and a half he’d been able to avoid His Grace, but no longer. The threat in the missive was non-specific, but Benjamin was not about to take any chances. While he wasn’t exactly certain what His Grace could actually do to him, the gentleman wasthe Duke of Danby and held almost as much power as Prinny or the Prime Minister.“Where are your siblings?” His Grace demanded. “I was very specific that you bring them with you.”Benjamin resisted the urge to pull at his cravat and sat straighter in the chair before His Grace’s massive desk. “I have no idea where Nathaniel is, though last I heard, he was in India.” That was months ago. His brother could be anywhere right now and if he ever bothered to write, Ben would know where that was.His Grace frowned.“As you are well aware, Abigail gave birth to a son a few weeks ago and cannot travel.”“Your sister is not my concern,” Danby ground out. Of course not. Abigail was married and just delivered her fourth child, which only solidified Benjamin’s suspicions of why he’d been ordered to the castle. “What of Samuel?”His other wayward brother, and Nate’s twin. “Barbados.”“Still?” Danby demanded incredulously. “He’s been there five years!” Benjamin simply stared at his great-uncle and wished to be done with this unnecessary conversation. Danby knew exactly where his brother was. In fact, he likely knew where each of his siblings were at this very moment and what they had for supper a week ago. “Yes. He has.” “He needs to come home.” His Grace thumped his cane against the floorboards. That’s probably why there was no carpet or rugs in this room. One could not have the desired effect of a thumping cane if it were muffled by tightly woven wool. “I believe he rather likes it there,” Benjamin answered dryly.“Bah!” Danby narrowed his eyes on him. “Is he still with that Easton fellow?”The Duke didn’t like Easton, never had. As younger sons, it had been Easton who decided to travel to Barbados and take over his uncle’s plantation. Samuel thought it a grand idea and went along and soon after purchased his own land. Neither had returned to England and saw no reason to do so. “Yes, he is. Both have been very successful in their endeavors and have become very wealthy gentlemen.” So successful that if the crops didn’t improve next year, Benjamin would be seeking financial assistance from his younger brother to help save the estate. It was far more palatable than marrying a dowry.“I assume there is an excuse for each of them for not being here?” His Grace grumbled.“Peter remained home with Mother, as did my younger sisters,” Benjamin answered honestly. “Mother has not been feeling her best and they are concerned, as am I.” He sat forward. “So, if we can bring this interview to an end, I’d like to return home.”Danby narrowed his eyes. “Your mother is no more ill than I am. She twisted an ankle, which would not prevent her from entering a carriage and traveling.”“Besides the discomfort, of course,” Benjamin answered wryly.“She injured it a fortnight ago.” Danby thumped his cane again. “There is no reason she could not travel. If it still pains her, you need a new physician. I’ll send mine if she doesn’t recover before the ball.”Benjamin didn’t bother to argue. He knew as well as His Grace that his mother had latched onto the excuse so she didn’t have to endure a holiday at Danby Castle. It wasn’t the castle she objected to as much as the current owner. Further, he wouldn’t put it past the woman to have intentionally caused the injury. “Do as you see fit.” He’d let his mother deal with His Grace because Benjamin wasn’t about to become embroiled in the middle of any dispute that may arise.“Very well then,” Danby announced as he stood. “Let’s discuss the reason why I summoned you.”Benjamin already had a fairly good idea, but held his tongue. Instead, he watched as his great-uncle strode to the sideboard and poured two glasses of a golden liquid.  Benjamin followed him to the sitting area, hoping he didn’t have to return to his seat before the desk. It was too reminiscent of sitting before the chancellor and waiting to be disciplined. That was many years ago, of course, but that sick feeling he always got in the pit of his stomach returned with a vengeance in these situations. Besides, he was a gentleman of nine and twenty and did not need to be disciplined by his great-uncle like a wayward school boy. They could discuss His Grace’s concerns in the comfort of the chairs or the blue and gold settee arranged before the fireplace.  Danby turned and handed him a glass before taking a drink of his own and sinking into the well-worn dark leather chair.Benjamin sipped slowly and let the liquid roll over his tongue to burn a trail down his throat. No hint of poison could be detected. Not that he expected His Grace to try and kill him, but he wouldn’t put it past the old man to somehow put something in his drink that would render Benjamin unconscious only to wake and find himself married to a lady of the duke’s choice.The whisky was excellent, however. Superb in comparison to the others he’d enjoyed over the years, and he took another sip. If anything, His Grace had excellent taste in whisky.His great-uncle gestured to the settee and Ben settled into the comfort of the soft cushion. “Why haven’t you married?”Benjamin practically choked on the whisky. He knew the question was coming but would have preferred if it hadn’t been asked mid-drink or without a more pleasant lead in to the topic.“I have not found the right lady.”“Have you looked?” Danby demanded.“Diligently!” he defended. “For the past five seasons, if you must know.” Benjamin knew he owed a duty to the title. He was an earl and was expected to produce an heir and a spare before his death. As much as he’d like to think he could rely on at least one of his brothers to fill the role should something happen to him, Benjamin did not have the confidence they would. Nathaniel, the spare, was never in England long enough to even discuss the matter, and half the time, Benjamin had no idea where to even find him. Should something happen, he wouldn’t be surprised if Nate faked his own death to get out of those duties, thus foisting them onto his twin, younger by five minutes, Samuel, who had no intention of ever leaving the Caribbean. Sam wouldn’t go so far as Nate to avoid the responsibility. He’d just ignore it as if it didn’t exist and go about planting sugar as if nothing had changed. Danby snorted. “You couldn’t find a bride in five years? Where were you looking? The brothels?”Benjamin looked his great-uncle in the eye and in all seriousness answered, “In truth, I found many candidates that would suit at Madame Delight’s. Unfortunately, society would frown on a soiled dove becoming my countess.”The corner of Danby’s mouth quirked slightly then he frowned again. Had Benjamin not been watching, he would have missed the reaction completely.“What’s wrong with the suitable young ladies?”“That depends on which lady you are inquiring about.” He had met a number of them, and though none would suit, the reasons varied.Danby pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. “Good God, is that list of ladies?”“You should have anticipated that I’d be prepared.”Benjamin suffered a sigh and stood. He was not going to be allowed to leave until his great-uncle was satisfied, so he poured more whisky into his glass. If he must endure the interrogation, there was no reason why he could not partake of the excellent whisky in the process.As His Grace began listing names of the current crop of debutantes and those who had been out for a few years, Benjamin in turn provided one word answers of why he would not consider them, such as: pretentious, unkind, antagonistic, condemnatory, insipid, anxious, conceited, feather-brained, bluestocking and silly.Danby folded the list and Benjamin hoped this meeting was concluded.“I noticed you used silly several times.” “In truth, Your Grace, I do believe those being presented get sillier each and every year.” Ben sat back down, relaxed against the upholstery and crossed his legs, feeling much more at ease. He wasn’t sure if it was because the interrogation was turning into a conversation between gentlemen or the whisky or both, but Ben was glad to no longer be on edge.“Yes, I can see where you’d believe so.” He stood and refilled his glass. “A few of your relations fall into that category.” He returned to his chair and took a sip. “Three come to mind immediately,” he grumbled.“Three?” Benjamin was not sure which of his relations Danby referred to. There were so many first, second and third removed…unless he referred to the triplets. One of them had caused quite a scene last season. “It does not matter,” Danby dismissed. “I’ll deal with them, and their mother.”By the austerity in His Grace’s eyes, Benjamin was thankful he was not part of that family, whoever they were.“So, you don’t want a silly chit.” He nodded and took a drink. “What of physical characteristics. Are they not pleasant to look upon either?”Benjamin chuckled and shook his head. “They are all pretty, some beautiful, but that means little when contemplating a future.”Danby frowned at him.Ben blew out a sigh. “Of course I wish for an attractive wife, but beauty often diminishes over time. I’d rather have someone I enjoy spending time with, conversing with, than simply looking at.”His Grace settled back, studying Ben with shrewd eyes. “God willing, I’ll be spending many years with my bride and I’d prefer to like her, even love her, as opposed to a beautiful lady with little substance.”For the longest time His Grace said nothing and Ben’s nerves began to resurface. Not for one moment had he forgotten what Danby had done to his own grandchildren to see them married off, and he wasn’t fooling himself by thinking His Grace didn’t have the same plan for him. All he could do was wait for the pronouncement. An order to go find a bride and be quick about it, ignoring what Ben may wish. As the silence continued, Ben finished his drink and poured another. He would remain at the castle tonight regardless of how much he wished to be gone, and if Danby was going to issue a dictate that would see his life miserable, he might as well get properly foxed. He stared down into the glass. He was going to be miserable enough on the morrow, perhaps he shouldn’t add a headache and sickness to his misery. Besides, he shouldn’t lose his head now. Not while sitting with Danby. His Grace wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of the situation and secure an agreement from Benjamin that he would regret for the rest of his life.“Very well,” His Grace finally said.“Very well, what?”“You know what you want. I’m certain you shall find it.”Ben eyed him suspiciously. That was too easy.“I can see you’ve given this a good deal of thought and am confident you will make the right choice when the time comes.” He finished his drink, set the glass on the table. “Now that the discussion of your future is concluded, I have a request before you return to your mother.”Ben set his glass aside, no longer wishing to drink. Apparently His Grace was going to let him plan his own life, much to his relief. “I’ve been waiting on a delivery and it hasn’t arrived.”“What type of delivery?” He couldn’t imagine anyone would have the daring not to fulfill a request by the Duke of Danby. Well, unless they were dead. Danby nodded to the decanter. “The finest whisky ever produced.”“Whisky? That’s what you’re waiting on?” Yes, it was a fine whisky, but Ben was just as certain bottles could be procured from other sources if necessary.“Two cases of the spirits. I need it before Christmas.”“I’m not sure how I can be of assistance.”“Dear boy, I wish for you to go and retrieve them.”“Spirits for Christmas?” He couldn’t believe this was what was being asked of him, but it was far preferable to a strange bride.“Exactly! Christmas Spirits.” [image error]
Falkirk, Scotland
“Are ya certain Lachlan is no’ goin’ to return for Christmas?” Mary Soares asked her mother, hoping for a different answer this time.“Ye ken his wife just had a bairn. They canna travel.”“I doona know why she couldn’t have had the babe here like the first one,” Mary grumbled. Had her brother and Madeline just come north for the birthing then she would not be in this predicament.“Yer brother had it difficult enough this summer with all the rain, getting’ stuck on the road, the poor barley crop, and bleak skies. He dinna wish to add to his troubles by takin’ his family away from Grosmont for fear they’d get stuck or encounter ice covered roads.”“Aye, but the babe was born a month ago. Surely he could come now.”“And not make it back in time for Christmas?” her mother scolded. “That would be unfair to Maddie and the children.”Mary blew out a breath. Of course her mother was right, but it didn’t help their circumstances at the moment. With a sigh she settled at the scarred table in her work room. Her brother, Lachlan Grant, Marquess of Brachton, was to have seen to the delivery of the mounting orders for whisky. Her sister’s husband, Magnus, was to have helped, but he’d fallen from a ladder nearly a month ago and still couldn’t stand up straight without severe pain. “I wish Ian would come home.” Ian was the next oldest, and in charge of the distilling, but he also helped with deliveries on occasion. However, he’d been in Edinburgh for the last fortnight waiting on the ship to take whisky to London. For years Jonathan Bridges had shipped her brother’s whisky to his London warehouse and the ship was to have been here by now, but had been delayed by the weather. At least that was what they all assumed. But, until the ship did dock, Ian had to remain because they trusted nobody else to see to the cargo.There were several men and lads who helped with the distilling, but never on the deliveries. It was far too dangerous. She’d never forgive herself if they were caught by the excisemen who were currently in the area looking for smugglers. She’d seen the lights when they appeared on the hillside as soon as the sun set yesterday. A warning to all of them not to take the whisky from hiding until the gougers were gone.  At the moment, Mary had few options available to her. They could pay the taxes, which were so high that it was impossible to make a profit. Wait until the excisemen were gone. Or, risk moving the whisky. If caught, the whisky would be confiscated. Or worse, someone could be killed. It wasn’t unusual, unfortunately, for fighting to break out between the gougers and the smugglers, especially along the border, often ending with someone’s death. Tensions were high as it was. Crops failed this last year because of the unusually cold weather, and food was scarce in many places. Not only did smugglers need to worry about the excisemen, but thieves as well.In the past, only Lachlan or Magnus drove the wagon to the docks in Edinburgh or over the border into England but as neither of them were available, the task would now fall to her.She rifled through the orders, setting aside those who would receive a note explaining the delay and held back the most demanding requests. Three letters and all from His Grace, the Duke of Danby. If she thought him reasonable, she’d write to him as well and explain the current set of circumstances they found themselves in, but nothing about the Duke of Danby struck her as reasonable. Demanding – yes. Reasonable – no.He’d been to her home twice, when once would have been more than enough, to call on her brother. Why His Grace hadn’t called on Lachlan at his estate in Grosmont was beyond Mary’s comprehension. Grosmont was in Yorkshire, Danby Castle was in Yorkshire, so it stood to reason that estate was much more convenient for His Grace than traveling to Falkirk, Scotland.He was also their most important customer and one they did not wish anger. Lachlan had reminded her time and time again that whenever His Grace requested a shipment, it was to be sent immediately. Which was all fine and good, until there was no one to make the delivery.She needed to find a way to get the whisky to Danby Castle and the rest would just have to wait. Except she had no idea how to go about it.Lifting the lamp from the desk, Mary made her way to the stables. She could use the traveling coach, with the Brachton coat of arms, as her brother often did, with the bottles wrapped in wool and hidden in the seats and floor. But, that would require a driver and a maid to accompany her, thus putting three people at risk if they were caught. Beside the coach was the wagon Magnus used for deliveries, and above it on wide shelves, the means in which he used to hide the whisky. A smile pulled at her lips. “Of course!” She had driven many wagons in the past and was quite comfortable doing so. Happy with her plan, Mary made her way to the distillery and gave instructions to have the wagon prepared so that she could leave at first light and hope the excisemen were gone. She couldn’t delay longer or His Grace wouldn’t have his whisky in time for Christmas. She wouldn’t be home by Christmas, but at least His Grace would be happy, and that was really all that mattered.

Ruined by a Lady (Spirited Storms #3) (The Spirited Storms)

Ruined by a Lady(Spirited Storms #3)(The Spirited Storms)
(A Novella)

** Previously published in Evading the Duke ***
There is nothing Samuel Storm wants more than to leave London behind him and return to his plantation in Barbados, until he sees a portrait come to life. At least he’s fairly certain the girl across St. Paul's is the same one depicted in the scandalous painting he owns back in the Caribbean. But how can he be sure? And why would a lady pose for such a painting?
Lady Jillian Simpson has made many mistakes in her life, but the worst was falling for an artist who took advantage of her trust. She is fairly certain her father has found and destroyed all of the paintings, all but one, at least until she encounters the dashing Mr. Storm and learns another exists. But after everything she’s experienced, how can she ever trust him with her secret or her heart?


Amazon          iBooks          Barnes & Noble          Kobo
Nathaniel,
You and Samuel must return home immediately. The most horrendous circumstance has occurred and I am so beside myself that I do not know what to do. It is far too distressing to even write in a letter. Suffice it to say, nothing this horrific has happened to our family in a very long time, and your presence is needed most urgently.
Mother

CHAPTER 1

April 18, 1817, London
Samuel Storm sucked in a breath the moment those familiar blues eyes met his. It had to be her. But how was it even possible? He took a step in her direction but Nathaniel, his twin brother, placed a hand on his arm and handed him the missive that had been delivered as soon as they stepped out of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Sam took it without removing his eyes from her. The late afternoon sun shone on her head, making it appear as if her blonde locks were laced with gold, and for a moment she glanced back. Her haunting Caribbean blue eyes met his before she was assisted into a carriage displaying the Duke of Eldridge’s coat of arms. An older man stood waiting. By his regal bearing, no doubt he was Eldridge.Either the duke’s daughter at one time sat for a rather scandalous portrait, or a woman who looked exactly like her had. That very portrait hung in his home in Barbados, and Sam needed to know if the two were one and the same.With reluctance, Sam tore his eyes away from the duke’s carriage and glanced at the missive. The one thing that had not changed in the five years he’d been gone was the habit of his mother to succumb to hysterics. “What could be so blasted important that she thought it appropriate to pull us from a wedding?” Nate demanded.Sam handed the summons back to his brother who promptly crushed it in his fist. “At least the footman ignored her dictate and waited until we exited the church or you might have missed the wedding you stood to witness for Roxburg,” Nate grumbled.Sam and Mark Easton, the Duke of Roxburg, had been friends for a number of years. The last five of which they’d lived in Barbados, each managing their own sugar plantations. Life had been good living on an island of beautiful women when one was wealthy and a bachelor. Roxburg’s sudden change in title was what brought them back to London. Not that Sam needed to return, but Roxburg had wanted the one gentleman he trusted by his side when facing society once again. Not that he needed Sam. In the month that Sam was away visiting his family, Roxburg had met his wife, and the two had married just a short time ago.“Let’s make it quick,” Sam was resigned to deal with their mother, but waste no more time than necessary on whatever crisis had arisen. He and Nate had planned on going to their club until it was time for the ball. Roxburg managed to obtain a Special License so that he could be married at the earliest time the church was available, which happened to be today at five. He had also decided to forgo the wedding breakfast in lieu of a ball, which he insisted would begin in a few hours and not late in the evening as was tradition. “If Mother starts going on and on about torn flounces, stained gloves, or spilled tea at the al fresco, I swear I’ll send her right back home and let Ben deal with our sisters.” Benjamin, the Earl of Kenley, their older brother, could see to their three younger sisters attending the Season.“I’d hate to see her reaction if something actually horrific occurred,” Sam grumbled after he followed his brother into the carriage and relaxed against the squabs. As he glanced out the window, the duke’s carriage passed and his eyes met those all too familiar blue eyes. Could it really be her?He’d first spied the painting in a gallery in New Orleans and knew instantly that he must have it. Not so much because of the lush body that lay in repose upon a fainting coach, a long leg extended and uncovered, though white gossamer shielded the rest of her body, or because of the delicious breasts practically spilled from a fitted corset, or the full, red lips beckoning for a kiss. Not only did he want that woman on his own couch, clad similarly, but he wanted to know her too. Those blue eyes conveyed innocence, seduction, spirit, vulnerability, rebellion, and sadness that pulled him in. He longed to ask why sadness lurked in the deep recesses of her blue irises. Why her mouth may tip at the corner when there was no happiness? Why was she haunted?It was ridiculous, of course. The girl was a model and the artist was simply excellent at his craft. Yet, when Sam spied the lady in St. Paul’s Church, not only did the same emotion lurk in her eyes, but the sadness seemed deeper. Yes, she smiled, but it was forced. The tension in her jaw betrayed what she was trying not to show. Did nobody else realize she wasn’t happy?He needed to know her. Just because the lady in the painting bore a striking resemblance to Eldridge’s daughter, it was impossible that it was her. A duke’s daughter did not pose for erotic paintings, yet Sam felt the same pull towards Eldridge’s daughter as he had experienced when he first viewed the painting, and he had every intention of gaining an introduction.The carriage pulled up before their townhouse and the gentlemen jumped out and hurried to the door. Not because Sam believed distressing news awaited them, but because he wanted to be done with whatever had fluffed mother’s feathers this time. They found their mother, the Dowager Countess of Kenley, in the sitting room with three of their younger sisters. Hannah was pacing as if she were too agitated to sit. Tabitha was stitching, which he learned she often did when there was little else to occupy her time, and Deborah simply sat in a chair by the window, watching the others as if in deep contemplation. His oldest brother, Benjamin, relaxed with his lovely and enchanting wife, Mary, sipping tea. It certainly didn’t appear as if there was anything urgent that required his or Nate’s attention, which he already suspected would be the case. “What happened?” Nate demanded, his tone laced with the irritation Sam felt.“We were at Lady Emma Heathfield’s al fresco when we saw him.”“Who?” Sam asked. He had not been back in England all that long, but nobody had uttered a word about any gentleman his mother feared.“I didn’t know what to do, so of course, we left immediately.” His mother waived a handkerchief in front of her face. “Oh, I do hope he didn’t see us. Though it was highly rude to leave so quickly without paying our respects to Lady Heathfield, but it was necessary given the circumstances. I must send her a note of apology right away.”“Stop!” Nate yelled. “Who did you see that has you so upset?”Her eyes widened and she looked at them. “His Grace! The Duke of Danby.”“I don’t understand why this is important.” He was a duke. Wasn’t he required to be here with Parliament in session, and what the blazes did his great-uncle being in London have to do with them? “You do realize I was at the wedding of my closest friend. I stood as a witness.”His mother’s eyes grew wide. “But, it is the Duke of Danby.”“I don’t care if it’s the Crown Prince,” Samuel yelled as he turned for the door. Of all the ridiculous nonsense. He needed a drink and only in a place where reasonable gentlemen were allowed.“But, you don’t understand,” their mother cried.“What the blazes is there to understand?” Nate demanded.“He’s going to ruin everything.” Sam turned just in time to see his mother’s eyes fill with tears. “He’ll ruin my family.”Ben stood and assisted Mary to her feet. “My wife and I are going for a drive in the park.”“But, but, but….” their mother sputtered.Ben didn’t look back and stopped before his brothers. “As I need to deal with this all of the time because neither one of you can be bothered to remain in England, you now have the pleasure of calming her while I enjoy the afternoon with my wife, which was ruined by her early return.”


“Forget him,” the Duke of Eldridge ordered his daughter.Lady Jillian Simpson blinked at her father hoping her face conveyed innocence. “Who?”“That gentleman you kept looking at in the church.” Her father frowned. “He’s beneath you.”She knew better than to argue or question him further. Father had very specific ideas about who he believed was worthy of her, not that she’d managed to marry any of them. Save one, but as nobody knew of the marriage, they weren’t aware of the annulment either. It’s as if it never happened. “It’s bad enough that those Valentines are marrying titles while you remain unwed, but I will not tolerate them marrying better than you.” They’d just left the wedding of the Duke of Roxburg and Miss Bianca Valentine, which meant Jillian had better set her cap on a duke. She no longer gave a wit of what title a gentleman may or may not have, but even her father must realize that finding an eligible duke to marry might be rather difficult. It wasn’t as if they grew on trees, waiting to be picked. “That man you were watching is Mr. Samuel Storm.” The mister was said with disgust. “His older brother is the Earl of Kenley and there is another brother between Mr. Storm and the title.”Heaven forbid she marry a mister. Her father would have an apoplexy. As much as the idea of acting in such a rebellious manner would give her great pleasure, Jillian did not have the nerve to face the inevitable consequences and thus accepted her lot in life. As the daughter of a powerful duke, she would marry the highest title she could attain, and settle into her role as lady, wife, and eventual mother. All she could hope for was that she at least liked her husband, instead of any of the lesser emotions like love. Father hadn’t loved her mother, the daughter of an influential marquess, nor did he believe in its existence.Jillian glanced out the window. Of course she thought she’d been in love once. She’d been a fool. Young and naïve. Never would she love again.“You know who you are to charm, Jillian. You are two and twenty, and I will see you married to an acceptable title before this Season is done.”Taking a deep breath, Jillian straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, shut down all emotions. The cloak of superiority she’d fought in her youth had since become her most comfortable persona and the strongest of armor. As long as she let no one in, she would be safe. And, she must put Mr. Samuel Storm from her mind, if that were possible. There had been something arresting in his clear emerald eyes when they met hers. Almost a recognition, then delight and something else she could not understand. Her breath had caught and her pulse sped. It wasn’t a reaction she was familiar with, and she wished she knew what it meant. 

Weathering Captain Storm (Spirited Storms #2) (The Spirited Storms)

Weathering Captain Storm(Spirited Storms #2)(The Spirited Storms)
(A Novella)

Captain Nathaniel Storm fell in love with Miss Isabella Valentine during the time of war. She followed the drum, he knew his duty. If not for the fear of making her a widow, Nate would have claimed her as his long ago.Isabella knew Nate could never been hers, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming of what could have been if her life was as she claimed. She thought never to see him again after he was reassigned to a different regiment, which was for the best. Until he returned...His kisses spark lightening.Her smile is as bright as the sun.His eyes as green as new grass.Hers as grey as a stormy sea.His presence and touch, are tumultuous to her soul, tossing and turning her about, wondering when it would end. Will she weather her love for Captain Storm, or will it destroy her in the end?On the eve of Waterloo, she is nearly within his grasp, but will Isabella’s secrets make her as elusive as a rainbow after a summer rain. 
Amazon          iBooks          Barnes & Noble          Kobo
ONEBrussels, May 1815
“Lieutenant Storm, get back in that bed right now.”Nate jerked his head toward the voice, convinced he was only hearing what he wanted, but there she was, Isabella Valentine, striding down the aisle of cots, those lovely red lips fixed in a frown.He grinned. He’d happily get back in his bed if she’d join him. Those were his thoughts today, just as they had been the first time she’d said those very same words to him. The first time they’d ever spoken. Nate had stayed away from Isabella. Not that he hadn’t noticed her moving among the injured and sick, but he’d assumed she was married to Dr. Orlando Valentine and had followed the drum. A married woman was always off limits, no matter how beautiful or desirable, and he’d envied the good doctor. It was only after he took a bayonet to the side that left him laid up, waiting for the blasted thing to heal, that he learned that Isabella was the good doctor’s sister, and an unmarried miss.  She’d chastised him them for moving too much and ripping a few of his stitches, and it was Isabella who repaired them because the doctors and surgeons were busy with the more seriously wounded men.Nate could still remember her soft fingers pressed against his side as she cleaned his wound then tried to gently stitch the ones that’d been torn. Nate had felt none of the pain as the needle pricked his inflamed and irritated skin. How could he when her kind grey eyes were so full of compassion and she smelled like heaven, as if she’d bathed in moonlight? Perhaps it was because Isabella was one of the few women who were respectable. Or, maybe it was because she was the only miss who wasn’t a camp follower, or maybe it was because she was simply Isabella, but Nate began to fall in love with her that very day. However, as much as he’d tried to occupy all of her time then, she gave him no more attention than she did the others, much to his irritation.Once he was free from the sickbed, he’d visited and talked with her in the evenings, but many soldiers also wished for her companionship, and he was constantly fighting to be noticed. It was no different from being one of many bachelors at a ball, vying for a dance with the prettiest and sweetest debutante. After the Battle of Toulouse, Nate had even less time to spend with her because he began to divide his free time between Isabella Valentine and Mary Soares. Dear Mary Soares, who had been injured and then rejected by her husband. Of course, her husband had already been unfaithful more times than Nate could count, but at least Soares tried to be discreet about it in the beginning. It became much worse after his wife was struck down, leaving a scar on the side of her cheek and neck. Nate had carried Mary from the battlefield, sat by her when she was ignored by her husband, and then took her walking in the evenings so she wasn’t near her tent when the major brought a light skirt back for personal entertainment. Isabella occasionally joined them on these walks, but not nearly as often as Nate would’ve liked. He was always torn between trying to protect Mary from the shame her husband brought, and wanting to be with Isabella, hoping she’d see him more favorably than the others under Major Soares’ command. Nate hadn’t laid eyes on Isabella for nearly a year, and he had missed her; but he hadn’t realized how very much until she leaned over a patient and checked the man for a fever. It shouldn’t be a surprise, many of his nights were filled with dreams of Isabella in his arms and in his bed, her soft voice in his ear, the tenderness of her touch against his skin. He should have courted her back then and expressed his feelings, but he held himself back. War was not the place to begin a courtship, and he was never certain where her emotions lay in regard to him. She was kind and caring to every soldier, never once indicating she saw him any differently than the dozens of others who conversed with her daily.Frankly, he was afraid he’d profess the truth of his heart, and she’d tell him that she thought of him only as a dear friend. As it was nearly impossible to avoid one another, Nate had kept his feelings to himself so as not to cause an uncomfortable and awkward situation between the two of them.However, they were both here now, and he was going to make the best of it. This war would end, eventually, and he’d return home. If he learned nothing in the year away from Isabella, he did know that he wanted her with him, and this time he wouldn’t hold back. He would claim her as he should have before.The only drawback to being in Brussels and this close to Isabella meant that he’d be near Major Soares, the ass. If Nate hadn’t punched the man, he wouldn’t have been transferred to a different regiment, and then he wouldn’t have been separated from Isabella in the first place.Isabella stopped beside his bed and placed the back of her hand against his forehead. “You are feverish.” He hadn’t been until he heard her voice, though he wouldn’t explain the sudden rise in his body temperature.“I feel well.”“You’re a soldier with a fever. Not to be taken lightly.” She glanced around the small medical tent. There wasn’t an empty cot and each patient suffered from either dysentery, typhoid, typhus or pneumonia. Luckily it was only a small percentage of the men who had arrived in Brussels after following Wellington. “It’s better to keep the ill from the others. We’ve both seen the devastation disease can cause to an army.” An unchecked illness could bring an entire regiment to their knees, unable to fight and dead soon after. Begrudgingly, Nate had to admit Isabella was correct. “But, I’m not ill,” he pointed out. “My head ached a few days ago and I did have a fever. If I remain here, I will become ill.”“You will remain as long as you are flushed and warm.” Isabella pushed on his shoulder. “Now lie back and rest.”“Perhaps illness isn’t the cause of my condition.” Nate grinned and winked at her, and the soldier beside him chuckled.“I’m not letting you leave this bed until I’m convinced you’re better, and then I will inform the doctor.”“Isabella,” Nate began to plead.“Nathaniel!” She lifted an auburn eyebrow and her grey eyes bore into his. Her tone was no different than he’d heard too often from his nursery maid, housekeeper, and even his sister’s governess.“Do you know our lovely nurse, Captain?” the man beside him asked in surprise.“Captain?” Isabella questioned with a smile. “Congratulations on your promotion.” “All the more reason why I should not be wasting time in this sickbed when I’m not sick at all.”“You will rest, and you will get well. You can’t lead your men if you’re dead.”With that, she turned and marched away, having delivered her orders, and all Nate could do was watch the gentle sway of her backside beneath her dark skirts. He would get well and quick. Then, he would pursue her as he should have done a year ago. For now, he had time. During the day, he and his men would continue to train and prepare for the eventual confrontation with Napoleon. At night, she would be his.* * *Isabella exited the hospital tent and went directly to her brother’s tent. She was not allotted one for herself, but Orlando made room for her in his, both giving each other privacy when needed.It was all she could do not to run from the hospital, and she ignored everyone who called out to her, not stopping until she sank down onto her cot.Nate Storm had returned! She never thought she’d see him again. He was the man she dreamed about. The only man she’d ever loved. They were friends, and she cherished the memories of the short time they were in the same regiment, before he was transferred. Of course, she knew he’d never be hers. While she might love him, Nate loved Mary, a woman he could never have because she was married to Major Soares. Not that Nate had ever behaved inappropriately toward Mary, but a man does not spend so much time with a woman without caring deeply for her.It used to pain Isabella to see them together. Their heads close in conversation. And even though Nate always asked Isabella to join him and Mary when they walked in the evening, she declined when it was too painful to have to witness the closeness they shared. Other times, she went along because it was her chance to have a bit of Nate, even if only for a short time.Now, he was here. Her heart sang for joy, her stomach twisted in knots, her hand shook when she pressed it against his brow, and her blood heated when he winked at her. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice. As much as she wanted to remain by his side, Isabella knew she could not. If she lingered but a moment longer, she might not have ever left, and that would never do. Besides, Mary was in camp. As soon as Nate realized his love was near, his attention would be for her friend, and Isabella wasn’t sure she could stand to watch the man she loved, pine after another. Both of them wanting what neither could have.

Ratted: The Baxter Boys #1 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled)

Ratted: The Baxter Boys #1(The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled)
(Short Story)
FREE READ

She enters the tattoo shop with an envelope full of memories and a heart filled with longing. What she leaves with is more than she dreamed of, and it just might be the first step to healing the wounds of the past.
Rattled is a short story and was originally published in the anthology "Forget Me Not: Charity Anthology Supporting Alzheimers and Brain Health"
***Recommended for adult readers due to language, sexual content and adult situations***

Amazon          iBooks          Barnes & Noble          Kobo


KelseyI shake out my hands, take a deep breath, but continue pacing in the green room. Why am I so nervous? This is all I’ve thought about for over a year. I’ve saved every penny and existed on ramen noodles just so I could get this done. And it has to be today. And it has to be here. The Reeds are and have some of the best tattoo artists around and I can’t just trust this to anyone.I’m not alone in here. There are others, all waiting to see a tattoo artist, but I’m not really paying attention to them. I’m too anxious to just sit and make idle chitchat with a stranger.I planned ahead and made the appointment weeks ago, but instead of getting on the schedule, I was asked if I’d be interested in letting one of the artists being auditioned for the show do my tat. At first, I rejected the option. This was an important tattoo and I didn’t want it fucked up by an amateur. But then I went back and watched the previous shows. The Reeds don’t just let anyone walk in off the streets and start tattooing, or even audition. The artists are vetted way before they are trusted to apply ink. So after thinking about it further, and knowing the price is half of what I’d saved for the occasion, I called back and asked if I could still participate.It’s probably better that I didn’t get one of the Reed brothers anyway. I’ve watched since their show first aired and if I came face to face with any one of them I’d probably go all fan girl and humiliate myself. Today is going to be hard enough.It’s already hard.I clutch the worn manila envelope close to my chest. Everything that’s important to me is in here. It’s with me always. If it’s not in my big purse, it’s in my backpack. It goes everywhere I go, and what I want is in there.My stomach churns and I take a deep breath. I just hope to hell that whoever I get assigned to doesn’t fuck this up.
Alex
I’ve checked my station five times. I have everything I could possibly need for a tat. All I can do now is wait for the skin to get here.I just hope she’s clear in what she wants, and that she’s not difficult to please. I’ve done tats that are perfect, yet sometimes customers are just never happy, and others have remorse. But for the most part, everyone has been happy with my work, often returning and referring customers. I need one of those today. This is too important and I don’t need a bitch or an asshat showing up, being a pain in the ass.I need to land a spot on the show. I need to work for the Reeds.I’m good at what I do. Damn good. But they’re better. Nobody is as good as they are, and anyone who gets an opportunity to work with the Reeds will only get better.Once I’m on the show, I’ll have a regular paying job and I’ll be creating art. In time, I’ll have name recognition and will be able to do what I really want.The door starts to open and I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Your skin is here, Mr. Dosek,” says one of the producers.A young woman steps through the door. Her dark head is down and she’s clutching a wrinkled and stained manila envelope to her chest. The door closes and she slowly looks up.Her brown eyes meet mine and widen. “What the fuck?” she says by way of greeting.I glance around. There is a cameraman