Cathy MacRae's Blog, page 32
May 20, 2015
Congratulations, Anna!
A huge thanks to all the readers who sent Anna and Duncan's story to #1 in Scottish historical romance and #1 in Medieval romance!The consensus is pretty unanimous- strong heroines rock!
Way to go, Anna!
May 19, 2015
Thursday Threads with Elle Hill
Are you a fan of sci-fi romance? Check out Elle Hill's book, The Tithe!Genre: Science fiction romance
Heat level: Sensuous
Back blurb:
“Every seven years, seven persons from each of the ten towns must go into the desert, where they will enter into the realm of Elovah, their God.”
No one knows exactly what happens to these seventy Tithes, but everyone knows who: the “unworkables,” those with differing physical and mental capacities. Joshua Barstow, raised for twenty years among her town’s holy women, is one of these seventy Tithes. She is joined by the effervescent Lynna, the scholarly Avery, and the amoral Blue, a man who has spent most of his life in total solitude.
Each night, an angel swoops down to take one of their numbers. Each night, that is, except the first, when the angel touches Josh… and leaves her. What is so special about Josh? She doesn’t feel special; she feels like a woman trying to survive while finally learning the meanings of friendship, community, and love.
How funny that she had to be sacrificed to find reasons to live.
Excerpt:
The lights in the Great Room went out.
No flickers, no dimming, no sizzling sounds—nothing. Just darkness where light used to be.
A man cried out and several people gasped.
“It’s all right, everyone,” Marcus called. Really, he was beginning to annoy Josh, too. He didn’t know that. No one did. “I’m sure this has—”
A whooshing sound, like air displaced, sliced through the room. For a tiny, tense moment, no one spoke.
“Is it an angel?” a child’s voice asked.
Several voices broke out then, some in shouts, some in startled cries, one or two in terror.
Just like the night before, the fold and crack of feathered wings in motion breathed through the room. Weak light from the multiple hallways leaked through the perimeters. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the sudden darkness, Josh found she could identify vague outlines.
Someone a few seats down leapt to her feet and hurled herself toward Josh, perhaps seeking the sterile safety of the kitchen. She stumbled over Josh’s outstretched legs and hurtled to the ground. Josh gasped in pain.
And still, the snap and sigh of wings overhead.
Josh wanted to stand up, to defend herself. She wanted to shrink into the upholstery, to make herself as small as possible. In the end, she sat still, trembling in indecision.
“The angels!” someone cried in something like terror, or perhaps ecstasy.
“Keep them away from me!” Someone—she thought it might be Len—shrieked.
Several people jumped to their feet and pushed their way through the room, seeking some kind of safety. The woman who’d tripped over Josh lay whimpering on the ground.
Whump, whump . . .
A warm arm encircled Josh’s shoulder. She shrieked before realizing it belonged to Blue. The baggy sleeves of his black tunic partially covered her head. She turned to him, and he pressed her closer.
I don’t think I want to court you, she remembered him saying, and almost sprayed laughter. Who knew they’d practically snuggle later that day?
The thump of wings grew closer. An outline of a human-sized object hurtled through the air and the darkness toward her. What had to be its wings spread around it, moving and tilting. Some stray ray of light gleamed whitely off the area where eyes should be. They seemed fixed directly on her.
* * *
Book buy link: http://www.amazon.com/Tithe-Elle-Hill-ebook/dp/B00MVCPJFG
Links: Email: elle@ellehill.com
Website: www.ellehill.com
Blog: ellehillauthor.blogspot.com/
May 16, 2015
Medieval Monday with Barbara Bettis
Barbara Bettis gets the spotlight today on Medieval Monday with her book, The Heart of the Phoenix."Some call him a ruthless mercenary; she calls him the knight of her heart"
Memories
Lady Evelynn’s childhood hero is home—bitter, hard, tempting as sin. And haunted by secrets. A now-grown Evie offers friendship, but Sir Stephen's cruel rejection crushes her, and she resolves to forget him. Yet when an unexpected war throws them together, she finds love isn’t so easy to dismiss. If only the king hadn’t betrothed her to another.
Can be cruel
Sir Stephen lives a double life while he seeks the treacherous outlaws who murdered his friends. Driven by revenge, he thinks his heart is closed to love. His childhood shadow, Lady Evie, unexpectedly challenges that belief. He rebuffs her, but he can’t forget her, although he knows she’s to wed the king’s favorite.
And deadly
When his drive for vengeance leads to Evie’s kidnapping, Stephen must choose between retribution and the love he’s denied too long. Surely King John will see reason. Convict the murderers; convince the king. Simple. Until a startling revelation threatens everything.
EXCERPT:
“I don’t believe you heard me, Sir Stephen.” Evie’s words dripped honey. “I’m going home on orders of my brother. If the travelers Davy were to join haven’t appeared, then he can accompany me.” She shot a glance toward the youth, deep in conversation with the maid.
The back of Stephen’s neck tingled, and he clenched his hands. God’s blood, she made him so angry he longed to grab those soft arms and shake some sense into her.
“You are not remaining at the monastery, and you are not traveling to England.” His words came out in a growl. He stepped forward, and she tilted back her head to meet him eye to eye. “Must I tie you to that horse?”
She leaned in. “Just you try, Sir Stephen-the-Bully.”
He glared and crossed his arms against his chest, daring her to continue.
“Do as you think you must.” She echoed his stance, her crossed arms pushing her plump breasts higher.
Not that he noticed, blast her.
“I vow I will return the moment I’m free,” she added. “You have no authority over my movements, for you are no relative of mine.”
“And I thank God for it. How Henry has put up with you all these years I do not know. A more troublesome, contentious wi...woman I’ve never seen.”
“Did you call me a witch?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buy Links: Amazon:http://amzn.to/1vSZgLF
May 12, 2015
Guest Author- Red L. Jameson
Do you love time-travel? Today my guest author is Red L. Jameson. Her book, Enemy of Mine, the first book in her Glimpse Time Travel series, is on sale for 99 cents!Amazon: http://amzn.to/117wPQx
Barnes & Nobel: http://bit.ly/1vhG9O8
iBookstore: http://bit.ly/Zl05Sb
Blurb:
Kidnapping mortals to different eras is such fun. Trickster muse sisters, Clio and Erato, call it a glimpse, but military historian Minerva Ferguson, Erva, is fairly certain she’s gone nuts when she wakes two hundred miles from her apartment. And two hundred years in the past to Brooklyn, 1776. In an unfamiliar manse, during the American Revolutionary War, she’s not too sure how to regain her sanity. Especially when she realizes whose mansion she’s just woken in, the one British general she studied more than anything else, Lord William Hill.
When Will hears Erva’s screams of panic, he breaks down a door to save her, even if he can’t quite remember why she’s visiting. She calms, though, the instant she sees him, as if they’ve known each other for eons. From the second he sees her dressed in a toga made from a bed sheet to later when she’s with his troops, wooing them with her musket skills, he realizes he’s smitten. But he’s a weary soldier, shrouded in grief, while she reminds him of a sun goddess. Is she too good for him? Lord, how he wants her to want him.
How could Erva not fall for a guy who accidentally quotes a Cheap Trick song? But now she has to get to the bottom of if Will is really a rake, how to stop one of the most important battles of the war, and lastly how to stop her insane crush on the general. After all, he’s going to die in less than a week.
The muses have to work fast for this glimpse. But that’s when they work best. And as explosions erupt through New York, sometimes it’s not from the artillery.
* * *
Excerpt:
“Why are you—” She stopped herself again. This time she bit her lush bottom lip and looked away.
“Why am I what?” He should have let her question falter, but he had to know for himself if she were a spy or not. The more questions she asked, the more she would reveal herself.
The anomalous thought flittered through his mind though that he wasn’t too sure if he cared if she were a spy.
She glanced back up at him, her eyes wide and timid. “Why are you here?”
That, he hadn’t expected. A spy would wonder about his men, his drills, his arms, anything else that mattered to the war. Not a philosophical question about why he was here. But even the reason why he was here could be used against him, if court martialed. He hadn’t realized that thus far. Then again, he’d thought he wouldn’t have survived this long in the war. In his mind, he would have no reason to be court martialed. He wouldn’t be alive for it.
She licked her lips and slightly shook her head. “I mean, you didn’t vote for any of the acts the Americans protested. The newspapers said that you didn’t support any kind of action against the Americans. You don’t support this war, yet here you are. Why?”
“Why not?” He tried to deflect the conversation.
She narrowed her eyes, no longer looking sheepish but challenging, ruthless, and so lovely. He liked her best like this, shooting faster than most of his men, speaking of sedition to his superiors, the Howe brothers. Lord, how he liked it when her eyes caught fire and turned back into dark red-brown honey. His veins pumped his too hot blood through his body.
“Why not, hmm?” She gave him a wicked smile. “Why not, indeed. I think you don’t want to be here.”
“On the contrary, there is no other place I’d rather be.”
She blinked, then caught his meaning that standing so close to her was exactly where he’d love to be. Arching a blonde brow, she said, “You know what I mean, obtuse man.”
He silently chuckled at his new name.
“I think you don’t want to be in this war.”
He felt his own mirth leave his face. “You might be right.”
“Then why are you here? Why do you fight? Especially so efficiently?”
“Do I?”
She growled, making Will grin again. “Quit evading the questions with your own.”
“Why? This is fun.”
She smacked one of his shoulders, then he caught her small hand in his.
“Is this fun for you too?” he asked, carefully gauging her reaction as he twined his fingers through hers.
She didn’t look at their hands. Instead, her gaze was focused on his chest. He especially enjoyed that, as if she found him desirable. Lord, he hoped so, that he wasn’t making a fool of himself.
She never answered, but looked up at him, her long lashes batting. He took hold of her candle and set it on a nearby table. In so doing he’d gotten that much closer to her, and just as he was thinking of holding her other hand, she reached up, probably on her toes, and kissed him.
This time he reacted immediately. His lips melded with hers. She tasted strongly of mint, and he licked the seam of her lips to enjoy. She opened for him, and he dove his tongue into her mouth. God, she was sweet. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he pulled her closer by holding onto her not-corseted waist. Next her tongue was inside his mouth, and he couldn’t help but pull her even closer, her stomach against his, her breasts crushed against his chest.
Will felt Erva fiddle with the ribbon at the nape of his neck, and his hair was released from its hold. Instantly, her hands raked through his mane. It gave him silent permission to finally take hold of her tresses with one of his hands. Pure silk ran through his fingers. He loved her long hair, so wild and free this moment. Like the color of corn silk, Erva’s locks were close to white with a light dandelion sheen. He fisted what he held, which tilted her head back, all the better to deepen the kiss. She moaned into his mouth. All his blood rushed south. That little noise was his undoing.
* * *
As a military historian by day, sometimes Red does feel a bit clandestine when she writes romance at night. No one knows that while she researches heroes of the past and present, she uses everything for her characters in her books. Her secret's been safe . . . until now. She lives in Montana with her family and far too many animals but never enough books.
She loves her readers, so please feel free to contact her at http://www.redljameson.com
Blog: http://immortalhistory.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100005536457451
Amazon Author Page: http://goo.gl/Gvd2vq
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/redljameson/
* * *
May 9, 2015
Medieval Monday with Sandra Jones!
From Sandra Jones we have a Medieval Welsh romance-
HIS CAPTIVE PRINCESS
Earned respect is sweet…but deserved revenge is sweeter.
Warren de Tracy was assured the Welsh village of Dinefwr would be an easy conquest, as would the widow of its fallen prince. Wedding her will appease the locals and win the respect of his liege, the usurper King Stephen.
Instead, Warren is ambushed, taken prisoner by a hooded Welshwoman with skin that glows like moonlight. If he must die at her hands, at least his honorable death will silence the whispers of disloyalty hanging over his name.
Princess Eleri has never seen a knight as stoic—and as eager to die—as Warren. She’d love to oblige the bastard, but something in his ocean-blue eyes stays her hand. Plus, suspicion nags at her, for the arrows that wounded him and killed his men are Norman, not Welsh.
A ghostly prophecy portends danger that thrusts the enemies closer together, where hate explodes into passion that won’t allow Eleri to surrender Warren to her vengeful clan. But returning him to his king breaks more than it mends…and for Warren, retaliation will be sweet, indeed.
Product Warnings:
Contains a Norman warrior with a thirst for justice, a Welsh rebel princess with second sight and a steady bow hand, magical prophecies, and a plot of royal proportions.
EXCERPT:
“‘Your Highness’?” Warren jerked in astonishment, pulling against his bonds. The ropes chafed his raw skin, sending a fresh wave of pain down his arms. “You’re of royal blood?”
She leaned over him, reaching for his bonds. “Hush! In addition to your arrow wound, I trow your tongue has healed as well these past days. It would behoove you to use it less and just be grateful you’re alive.”
Her breasts hovered inches above his face. In fact, if he lifted his head, he could bury his face between them. What would she do, this spirited wench, if he chose to do so? He would’ve enjoyed finding out if circumstances had been different. “I’d rather be dead than be a prisoner. But first...I’ll kiss your feet if you’d scratch my nose.”
She made a choking noise in her throat that almost sounded like amusement.
He felt a tug at his ropes and the friction of a knife. By the saints, she was freeing him. He couldn’t allow it.
Air stung his raw skin as soon as one of his wrists came loose. With his one arm still useless in its restraints, he shot out his free hand and clutched her forearm. Using all his strength, he turned her over beneath him, wedging her between his torso and the bed. Nose to nose, he could make out her eyes gone wide with shock in the darkness. “No!” he growled. “Do not let me leave here alive.”
Suddenly, her warrior was upon him and his knife back against Warren’s throat. “Get off the princess, you cur!”
The woman’s blade touched his chest plate. She could dispatch him with ease. Her arms were strong and lean. Her body was far from frail, and he recalled her skillful defeat of his conroi. She twisted beneath his pelvis defensively, and the grinding of her soft mound awoke his sex. Shame heated his cheeks at his sudden need and dark desires. This one time, he would allow himself to speak his mind. “If you release me, Princess, I’ll go to Kidwelly and inform my commanders what has befallen my five men at the hands of you and your people. The king will strike at the subjects of Cantref Mawr with vengeance such as you’ve never known.”
Her expression shifted from stark panic to slow derision as her saucy lips curved up at one corner. “You think I don’t know what you’re capable of?” Her eyes flashed downward meaningfully, and he knew she’d noted the turn of his wicked thoughts. “You want to have your way with me. To tear my clothing from my body and part my legs. But you know nothing of my people, Norman. You haven’t even bothered to learn the language—” she broke off, slurring in Welsh at her vassal.
The burly guard grabbed Warren’s bandaged shoulder, twisting it back until bile climbed in his throat. “Umpff!” While he convulsed in pain, the woman slipped loose and turned him on his back, pinning his groin beneath two very sharp knees. He hissed through his teeth, “Par les saints!”
If he’d been successful in his mission, this devil-wench would’ve been his bride?
“You are my prisoner, knight.” She planted the flat of her hand against his neck, leaving no doubt of her desire for domination as her angry pulse drummed against his skin. “I am the Princess of Deheubarth, widow of Prince Owain ap Daffyd, murdered by your Norman peers. It will be my pleasure keeping you alive. We’re taking you to those who will do with you what they will. I care not. Until then, you are my dog. My captive. My slave. And you will obey."
ISBN: 9781619224452
Buy Links: (Samhain store) https://www.samhainpublishing.com/book/5407/his-captive-princess
(Amazon) http://www.amazon.com/His-Captive-Princess-Sandra-Jones-ebook/dp/B00TLIGB14/
(Barnes & Noble) http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/his-captive-princess-sandra-jones/1121228851?ean=9781619224452
(All Romance) https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-hiscaptiveprincess-1748538-161.html
Guest Author- Mary Gillgannon
Visit with Mary Gillgannon today and find out what she loves about writing, her favorite places to travel and her new book, Wicked Wager.* * *
Mary G: When I began writing romances, they were set in the dark age and medieval eras. I loved the intensity, the “life and death” stakes playing out in these time periods. Later on, after reading several Regency romances, I realized that the stakes for people in this era, even though there was less violence, were pretty intense as well. The lives of women of the Regency era (and, alas, most eras of history), were defined by who they married. It was the only thing that mattered, the only way to improve your circumstances.
Because of this, love wasn’t really a focus. Young men and women met each other during the “season” in the London “marriage mart”. It was all a complex game of prestige and wealth and beauty. But that’s no fun for us romantic sorts. So, starting with Jane Austen, we’ve added the wild card of romance to the equation.
Which is the perfect introduction to Wicked Wager, a book that focuses on both gambling and romance.
Excerpt:
He might have known she’d take hours, Marcus thought with irritation as he waited in the drawing room. Offer to take a woman somewhere, and she fussed and fiddled half the day. He’d thought Penny was more practical than that, but it appeared she was as tardy as other members of her sex. A pity if she’d already been corrupted by Madame Dubonet and lost that ingenuous charm of hers. He rather liked the grubby hoyden he’d met in the drive of Horngate. She’d been a delightful change from the coy, manipulative women of the ton.
He paced across to the window to check on the phaeton and team. Hearing a faint sound, he turned.
For a moment, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His gaze moved down Penny’s slender form, then returned to the expanse of lush creamy flesh exposed by the low neckline of her dress. He swallowed hard, then choked out, “What the devil are you wearing?”
She gave him an innocent smile. “It’s my new daydress. Do you like it?”
Gone was the sweetly pretty young miss he’d brought to London. She’d been transformed into a sensual, sophisticated, breathtaking… goddess. It wasn’t merely the sumptuous décolletage the gown revealed, but the color of the fabric. Some subtle shade of pink that made her look edible. He longed to kiss and lick and nibble every inch of the silken, creamy skin the garment exposed.
He took a deep breath and tried to focus on Penny’s face. “The dress is very fashionable, I’m certain. But if you don’t want to catch a chill, you’d best put on your pelisse.”
Penny hurried to do as he suggested. Despite having carefully planned this moment, when it actually came time to appear before Revington in the skimpy gown, she’d experienced an attack of nerves. It had taken all her willpower to walk boldly into the drawing room, despite feeling half-naked.
Revington’s expression had turned quite strange, almost savage. But then a moment later, his normal reserve had prevailed and he’d carried on in his usual impatient style.
She put on her pelisse and started for the door. Then she remembered the other part of her plan. Turning, she said, “I wondered if rather than driving today, you could have footman take the reins and sit in the carriage with me. That way you’ll be able to tell me about the sights as we travel through the city.”
Seeing a muscle twitch in his jaw, she wondered whether he disliked the thought of spending time with her. Too bad, she thought stubbornly. For her plan to work, she needed to force him into close proximity.
* * *
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/ B00VU8L64K
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wicked-wager-mary-gillgannon/1121799505?ean=2940151266314
The Wild Rose Press: http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=195&products_id=6209
Mary Gillgannon writes historical and paranormal romance and fantasy. She’s worked in a public library for over twenty-five years and as part of her job, has the enviable task of ordering fiction. She’s married and has two children. Now that they’re grown, she indulges her nurturing tendencies on four very spoiled cats and a moderately spoiled dog. When not working or writing, she enjoys gardening—a real challenge in Wyoming—reading and travel. She loves history, which may explain why her favorite places to visit are Ireland and Wales. Links:
Website: http://marygillgannon.com
Blog: http://marygillgannon.blogspot.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mary.gillgannon
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MaryGillgannon
May 8, 2015
Release Day for Highland Escape!!
Today is Release Day for Highland Escape!The heroine, Anna Braxton, is not your typical young woman in 14th century Scotland--or England, for that matter. Here is what DD has to say about her.
DD MacRae: The inspiration of Anna was born of two things, my 35 years of love of martial arts and fascination with the Crusades. She is actually a composite of two women I used to train with. With the exception of her archery, the other skills are held by a combination of both of these ladies. I attempted to keep the weaponry and abilities authentic to the period. In Chinese martial arts, it was common to learn the art of healing along with, or before one learned to fight, hence Anna’s knowledge of acupuncture and other herbal healing. History tells us acupuncture goes back thousands of years.
The trick was to figure out a way to get Chinese martial arts and weaponry, along with healing arts, into medieval England, and the 9th Crusades provided the vehicle. During this period, the Silk Road, which was a means for many cultures and peoples to mingle, was dominated by the Mongols as they and the Muslim Mamluks fought for superiority in the region. When Edward (Longshanks), son of Henry III, came crusading after arriving too late to aid Louis IX of France in the capture of Tunis, he headed toward the Holy Land. Edward negotiated an alliance with the Mongols to fight the Mamluks in the region.
While seeing some success in places like Tripoli (modern day Lebanon and Syria) and Acre (Northern Israel), Edward withdrew due to pressing needs back home. The 9th Crusade wasn’t a loss per se, but rather the campaign ran out of steam as its principals were needed elsewhere.
The backstory for Highland Escape gives us Sir Everard Braxton, a English knight, who proved instrumental in the campaign in Tripoli and was in turn rewarded with a small barony in the borderlands. It was common for second sons who wouldn’t inherit and other knights to go on crusade for the opportunity to earn land and wealth in the Holy Land, or purchase land for themselves with the spoils back home. Some would say such a title and holding wasn’t much of a reward, as the borders were a dangerous and tumultuous place, particularly at this time. Longshanks would want men he knew to be loyal and strong at the border.
Having won victory at Tripoli, it wasn’t a stretch for Braxton to have freed Mamluk prisoners. Zhang was a bodyguard to a rich merchant who plied the Silk Road who met with a foul end. Attaching himself to Braxton in exchange for his freedom, Zhang provided the means of cultural transfer to the borders of Northern medieval England. His time in captivity would have changed his perspective on training, much like US POWs in Viet Nam changed how military training is done today. Anna and her brother Edrick became beneficiaries of his experience.
Braxton used diplomacy rather than war to keep the peace on his piece of the border by marrying the daughter of the local Scottish laird. While this made him a peacekeeper in his territory, it set up an impossible situation for his daughter, who was despised for her Scot’s blood south of the border, and for her English heritage north of it. This provided enough conflict for Anna to become someone other than a pampered English noblewoman.
We hope you enjoy Anna’s story and the rich history behind it.
May 6, 2015
Guest Author- Saranna DeWylde
If you like your heroes big, bad and a wolf under the moon, check out Saranna DeWylde's book, Big Bad Billionaire, on sale now for 99 cents!Blurb:
Blake Woolven is the bad boy CEO of Woolven Industries, but he’s badder than the luscious, BBW Randi Rutger would’ve guessed. After Woolven took down her father’s company and devoured it like a shaking rabbit, she’s determined to get close to him and make all the Woolvens pay for destroying her father. Blake knows Randi’s agenda, but the wolf inside him will do anything to have her. Even expose the Woolven family secret. When Randi sees Blake and his brothers shed their skins beneath the moon, she’s terrified. But it’s just what she needed to bring him low—that and the silver nitrate plasma gun her father designed. With her loyalties torn, Randi must choose between avenging her father and the big bad wolf who clawed his way into her heart.
Amazon Link
Guest Author- Sally Berneathy
My new friend, USA Today Best-selling author, Sally Berneathy, has her book, The Great Chocolate Scam (The third book in the Death by Chocolate series) on sale today for 99 cents!For all you chocoholic readers out there, she's put a recipe for Cookie dough cheesecake bars in the back!!
Blurb:
Finally Rick has agreed to sign the divorce papers and give Lindsay her freedom! She is sitting in her lawyer’s office waiting for him when she gets the call.
Rick is dead. Murdered by a bomb that blew up his car in his own driveway.
Lindsay is his sole heir. Or is she? She’s never met any of Rick’s family. Though he told her various conflicting stories about them, she came to believe they didn’t exist, that Rick was an alien stranded here when the mother ship left without him. But then Rick’s mother and two brothers show up followed by a woman who claims to be his ex-wife and a boy she claims is Rick’s son. Everyone except Lindsay wants to inherit Rick’s estate. What’s so valuable that someone killed for it and is ready to kill again?
Come for the Cookie Dough Cheesecake Bars, stay for the murder, mayhem and fun!
Amazon Link
