Sherry Ewing's Blog, page 30

Medieval Monday with The Piper’s Lady

Welcome to another Medieval Monday! It’s week three of our nature theme and a new snippet from my upcoming novella, The Piper’s Lady. I hope you enjoy this continued scene. Happy reading, my lovelies!

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Excerpt:

They may not have had much speech together, but if she were to be living here at Berwyck, certainly they would have plenty of time to get to know one another and perchance come to an agreement between them. He never thought she may have all ready been spoken for, but he should have known better. As Rolf’s sister, she would be expected to marry within her station and not to someone like him, a mere piper for the clan. He was no knight, as she had assumed. He had only been training with the other guardsmen as Dristan commanded.

The Piper’s Lady

The MacLarens (Book Three)

Release Date: November 17, 2020

By Sherry Ewing

True love binds them. Deceit divides them. Will they choose love?

Lady Coira Norwood spent her youth traveling with her grandfather. Now well past the age men prefer when they choose a wife, she has resigned herself to remain a maiden. But everything changes once she arrives at Berwyck Castle. She cannot resist a dashing knight who runs to her rescue, but would he give her a second look?

Garrick of Clan MacLaren can hold his own with the trained Knights of Berwyck, but as the clan’s piper they would rather he play his instruments to entertain them—or lead them into battle—than to fight with a sword upon the lists. Only when he sees a lady across the training field and his heart sings for the first time does he begin to wish to be something he is not.

Will a simple misunderstanding between them threaten what they have found in one another or will they at last let love into their hearts?

This novella was previously released in the Bluestocking Belles boxset, Never Too Late. It has been revised with additional material and an alternative ending. The Piper’s Lady is now being released for individual sale.

Preorder Buy Links:

Amazon US |  Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Amazon AU | Amazon BR | Amazon CA | Amazon DE | Amazon ES | Amazon FR | Amazon IN | Amazon IT | Amazon JP | Amazon MX | Amazon NL | Amazon UK

Be sure to join me next week for Medieval Monday for another snippet from The Piper’s Lady!

You can also join us on the Medieval Romance Lovers Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/groups/1401384450126130/ for a complete list of all the authors who are participating including their links! Find us also on Twitter at #MedMonFall20!

Medieval Monday with The Piper’s Lady

Welcome to week two of our fall Nature theme for Medieval Monday! Today I have the next snippet for my upcoming release The Piper’s Lady. Happy reading, my lovelies, and enjoy!

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Excerpt:

He continued his hurried stride ’til he reached the edge of the forest and looked upon the beach. Mayhap, if he continued his walk along the shoreline, he would find the solace his soul was seeking. Or would he?

He would have a devil of a time whilst he attempted to erase the memory of her kissing another man, let alone how Morgan continuously held her close whenever they were together. Though brief, Garrick had shared such a pleasant encounter with the Lady Coira, he had foolishly hoped more might come of it. Garrick would admit, if only to himself, he had thought of little else since he had held Coira in his arms. She seemed to belong there, or mayhap he only imaged such a feeling in the deepest recesses of his heart. No woman had ever held such an effect on him before now.

The Piper’s Lady

The MacLarens (Book Three)

Release Date: November 17, 2020

By Sherry Ewing

True love binds them. Deceit divides them. Will they choose love?

Lady Coira Norwood spent her youth traveling with her grandfather. Now well past the age men prefer when they choose a wife, she has resigned herself to remain a maiden. But everything changes once she arrives at Berwyck Castle. She cannot resist a dashing knight who runs to her rescue, but would he give her a second look?

Garrick of Clan MacLaren can hold his own with the trained Knights of Berwyck, but as the clan’s piper they would rather he play his instruments to entertain them—or lead them into battle—than to fight with a sword upon the lists. Only when he sees a lady across the training field and his heart sings for the first time does he begin to wish to be something he is not.

Will a simple misunderstanding between them threaten what they have found in one another or will they at last let love into their hearts?

This novella was previously released in the Bluestocking Belles boxset, Never Too Late. It has been revised with additional material and an alternative ending. The Piper’s Lady is now being released for individual sale.

Preorder Buy Links:

Amazon US |  Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Amazon AU | Amazon BR | Amazon CA | Amazon DE | Amazon ES | Amazon FR | Amazon IN | Amazon IT | Amazon JP | Amazon MX | Amazon NL | Amazon UK

Be sure to join me next week for Medieval Monday for another snippet from The Piper’s Lady!

You can also join us on the Medieval Romance Lovers Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/groups/1401384450126130/ for a complete list of all the authors who are participating including their links! Find us also on Twitter at #MedMonFall20!

First Kiss Friday with Jennae Vale

Please welcome returning guest Jennae Vale to my First Kiss Friday Blog. Today Jennae has an excerpt from her time travel Wounded. We hope you’ll enjoy this first kiss scene. Happy reading, my lovelies!

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Excerpt:

“Thank you for letting me come with you.” Her voice seemed brighter now as she held her face up towards the sun, seemingly drinking in its warmth.

“I’m happy to be of service.” He meant it. He would do anything for her if it was within his power.

She was so busy looking up at Payton that she almost walked into a tree. He placed his hands on her shoulders so that she avoided it. Crystal leaned into him, as she lost her balance momentarily. “Thank you. I guess I wasn’t paying attention. You can let go now. I’ll be more careful, I promise. I can’t seem to stay on my feet around you.” She had a teasing glint in her eyes as she gazed at him.

Payton drew in a deep breath. The jolt he received when he touched her went straight to his gut. It was an uncomfortably pleasant feeling. One he shouldn’t be having. Not with this woman, but still his hands lingered for a moment longer. He let her go and then watched as she hurried ahead of him.

“This is my favorite spot,” she called back to him.

He knew exactly what she meant. It was his as well. The view from this spot on the trail was spectacular. The mountains of the Sierra Nevada stood tall, towering over all else around them.

“Do you mind if we sit for a minute?” she asked.

“No’ at all,” he replied, joining her as she sat on a fallen tree trunk which served as a bench to any hiker who needed a moment to take in the view.

“This is what I needed,” she said. “This place rejuvenates me every time.”

Crystal leaned towards him for a better view, resting on his arm. That same feeling overtook him once again, but more powerfully. He was frozen in place not wanting to move. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the touch of a woman. He wondered would it be the same if it were any other woman? He thought not. There was something about Crystal that captivated him. Try as he might to ignore it, it overtook him. Everything about her touched him in that place that belonged to Jenny. At the thought of his wife, he jumped to his feet.

“Are you okay?” Crystal asked, standing in front of him. When he didn’t answer, she placed a hand on his arm. “Payton?”

The sight of her face tipped up towards his, the feel of her hand on his arm, the heat of their bodies drawing him closer made it impossible for him to think of anything but Crystal. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she closed what little distance there was between them. He had decided to be her friend, but his hands moved on their own going to her face, as his lips found hers wanting so much more than her friendship. Lost as he was in the rapturous feeling of her lips on his he almost didn’t hear the sound of rustling from the trees behind them. He reluctantly let her go and turned to see a bear lumbering their way.

“Hey, bear,” Crystal said in a calm, soothing tone. She began to sing a song he’d not heard before, while holding onto Payton’s waist and walking backwards away from the bear.

“He means us no harm,” Payton said.

“I know. We’ll be fine if we just keep moving away.”

“Slow and steady, lass.”
He pulled the bear spray from the spot where it hung on his belt. Ready if the bear charged. He was happy Crystal was behind him. “If he charges us, I’ll spray him. Ye keep walking.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” she said, repeating the same thing she’d said last night in the car.

He would have insisted, but the bear made a detour into some bushes to forage for berries.

“I think we’re fine. Let’s go.”

They picked up their pace and as soon as the bear was out of their line of vision, they turned and made their way back to the trailhead.

“That was close,” Crystal said as they reached the car.

All the way down the trail, Payton thought about the kiss he’d just shared with Crystal and chastised himself for betraying Jenny. It hadn’t been his plan, but he somehow couldn’t stop himself. His emotions were all over the place. He was angry at himself for his actions, sad because he’d disappointed himself and guilty because Crystal had just told him about her husband and he felt he’d taken advantage of her vulnerability.

“Crystal, my apologies. I should no’ have kissed ye.”

“Why not?” she asked in that straightforward way of hers.

“’Twas wrong of me,” there was a note of surprise in his voice. Why would she ask that? Wasn’t it obvious?

“Not in my mind,” she said. “Didn’t you like kissing me?”

“I did, verra much, but it can no’ happen again.” His discomfort was overwhelming him, and the firmness of his statement should have left no argument, but he was learning Crystal was quite outspoken.

“Okay. Again, why not? You’re an adult and I’m an adult and I liked it. I liked it a lot. If you wanted to kiss me again right now, I’d be more than okay with it.” She stood facing him, her hands on her hips, almost daring him to kiss her again. And oh how he wanted to.

“I can no’ explain it.”

“Try.” Was her curt reply.

“Yer husband… I can no’ take advantage of ye that way.”

“I think I should be the one to decide whether you’re taking advantage of me, don’t you think?” Her face went from confused to irritated with a scrunching of her eyebrows and narrowing of her eyes. She turned and opened her car door. “Get in.”

He did and she immediately started the engine and drove off towards the ranch.

Wounded Book 3 of

The Delight Series

By Jennae Vale

Small town romance meets time travel in California’s Sierra Nevada.

Payton Fletcher is a grieving widower who has lost his wife and child in eighteenth-century Scotland. Time traveling to present day Delight, California hasn’t helped him move past his grief. He spends his days and nights working to avoid the painful memories that he can’t seem to keep at bay. His only escape is hiking the rugged trails that surround his new home. The solitude of the hikes brings him relief from the good intentions of his brothers and the people of Delight, but keeps him locked in the prison of emotions he seems unable to escape.

Crystal Stone has had a loss of her own. After her husband’s death, she and her daughter move back to Delight to live with her mother. Crystal is a psychic and believes there is someone nearby who needs her help. She thinks it might be Payton, but there is a very real possibility it could be someone or something else that is calling to her for help.

Crystal has an almost immediate attraction to Payton, but he has vowed to love only one woman and he will not betray his vows. Will Payton and Crystal be able to abandon their grief, or will they remain tethered to their pasts? If the people of Delight have their way, anything could be possible.

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B086R5Q5PT

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About the Author:

Jennae Vale is a best selling author of romance with a touch of magic.  As a history buff from an early age, Jennae often found herself day-dreaming in history class and wondering what it would be like to live in the places and time periods she was learning about.  Writing time travel romance has given her an opportunity to take those daydreams and turn them into stories to share with readers everywhere.

Originally from the Boston area, Jennae now lives in the San Francisco Bay area, where some of her characters also reside.  When Jennae isn’t writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and her pets, and daydreaming, of course.

www.jennaevaleauthor.com

www.facebook.com/jennaevaleauthor

www.twitter.com/jennaevale

www.instagram.com/jennaevale

www.bookbub.com/authors/jennae-vale

 

Medieval Monday with The Piper’s Lady

Welcome to another round of Medieval Monday! For the next twelve weeks, I’ll be giving you snippets of my novella The Piper’s Lady right here on my blog. Previously in the Bluestocking Belles’s box set Never Too Late, I’m now releasing it on November 17th for individual sale. I’ve given it a little more depth and gave it a proper happily ever after ending. So sit back and enjoy the first snippet from The Piper’s Lady! Happy reading, my lovelies!

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Excerpt:

He was the biggest fool in all of Christendom. Garrick stormed through the woods as though hell’s demons were fast on his heels. A low-lying limb from a tree slapped at his face, whacking his thick skull. He knocked the annoyance aside only for the stick to recoil and smack him once again in the back of his head. A growl of outrage ripped from his throat. He tore at the branch ’til it snapped in two. Cursing, he tossed it aside in his irritation to get as far away from Coira as possible.

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The Piper’s Lady

The MacLarens (Book Three)

Release Date: November 17, 2020

By Sherry Ewing

True love binds them. Deceit divides them. Will they choose love?

Lady Coira Norwood spent her youth traveling with her grandfather. Now well past the age men prefer when they choose a wife, she has resigned herself to remain a maiden. But everything changes once she arrives at Berwyck Castle. She cannot resist a dashing knight who runs to her rescue, but would he give her a second look?

Garrick of Clan MacLaren can hold his own with the trained Knights of Berwyck, but as the clan’s piper they would rather he play his instruments to entertain them—or lead them into battle—than to fight with a sword upon the lists. Only when he sees a lady across the training field and his heart sings for the first time does he begin to wish to be something he is not.

Will a simple misunderstanding between them threaten what they have found in one another or will they at last let love into their hearts?

This novella was previously released in the Bluestocking Belles boxset, Never Too Late. It has been revised with additional material and an alternative ending. The Piper’s Lady is now being released for individual sale.

Preorder Buy Links:

Amazon US |  Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Amazon AU | Amazon BR | Amazon CA | Amazon DE | Amazon ES | Amazon FR | Amazon IN | Amazon IT | Amazon JP | Amazon MX | Amazon NL | Amazon UK

Be sure to join me next week for Medieval Monday for another snippet from The Piper’s Lady!

First Kiss Friday with Rue Allyn

Welcome to another First Kiss Friday. Today’s guest is fellow Bluestocking Belle Rue Allyn who has an excerpt from her upcoming novel that’s currently up for preorder. Happy reading, my lovelies, and take it away Rue!

Sherry, thank you for this opportunity to reveal The Legend of Skinner Robelard to your readers. The time is 1875. The setting is a fictional Wyoming camptown. This story’s two main characters, Boyd and Elise met briefly five years ago. He’s never forgotten her, nor she him. So, when they are reunited, of course the sparks fly.

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Excerpt:

Poised on his lap for a long two seconds, she grabbed her hat then slid downwards, pushing herself off his legs onto the stairs. Once she stopped moving, she put her hat on her head and looked back at him.

A sheepish grin spread across her face.”

What the hell does she have to smile about? Boyd glared all the harder.

Elise grasped her middle and subsided into a fit of giggles.

He lunged for her before she could tumble down the steps, slapped his hand across her mouth, and anchored her against the stairs with his body. “Will you be quiet, or do you want to bring Miz Riper and the other boarders down on us,” he hissed.

Against his hand, laughter still burbled. Against his body, hers wriggled as the laughing fit shook her, and he went instantly hard. Damn, this had to stop or he’d take her right there, Miz Riper and disguises be damned. He had to shut Elise up. He refused to use force; striking a woman was just wrong. So, he used the only other part of his body he was certain would do the job.

He covered her mouth with his. The giggles faded into a hum. Her arms went around his neck and hot damn if she didn’t kiss him back. Enthusiastically, to the delight of his least responsible organ. Inexpertly, to his surprise. She’d been an innocent when he first met her. He’d assumed she’d have learned a few things in the past five years, but her kiss told another story. He lifted his head. Kissing a drunk woman was almost as wrong as hitting one, but how else was he supposed to keep her quiet.

She stilled instantly, but she didn’t pull away. How could she, with him plastering her to the stairs? She had to be uncomfortable. He started to ease away. But her hands grabbed his neck and pulled him back. She attacked his mouth, thrust her hands into his hair, and gentled her kiss to tiny nips on his lower lip.

She wanted kisses? Well, they’d do it right or not at all. He opened his mouth over hers. It took her a moment, but she opened in return, and her tongue tangled with his, her mastery of the basic mechanics growing as she copied every move he made. Boyd’s head spun. We can’t do this on the stairs. He rolled over. Elise clung and rolled with him, ending with their positions reversed.

He felt the stair treads press into his spine and his shoulders, but more, he felt the firing of every nerve as she stroked his arms, throat and chest. Chest? When did my buttons come undone?

“Elise, stop.”

“No.” She’d left off kissing his lips to nuzzle the fine hairs of his torso. Her hands raced downward.

He caught her wrist before she could unbuckle his belt.

“You don’t know what you’re doing?”

“Do, too.” She slipped from his grip and aimed for his trouser buttons.

“No.” He lifted her bodily away and sat her beside him. “You don’t. You’re drunk.”

Her expression would have done a mule proud. “I know how to handle my liquor.”

“Maybe.”

She added a glare to the mulish set of her jaw.

“Probably.”

Her mouth twisted, and she folded her arms before her.

“All right, definitely. You definitely know how to handle your liquor, but I don’t know how to handle you.”

The Legend of Skinner Robelard

By Rue Allyn

Pampered and privileged then betrayed and disowned, Elise Van Demer hides in plain sight and plots her revenge on the men who destroyed her life. With her goal in sight, she encounters a lawman from her past. Boyd Alvarez could ruin everything, and the last thing she needs is wanting some man who only wants to protect her.

His family dead and without a home, Boyd Alvarez rides the range and hunts bounties for a living. When he stumbles on Elise Van Demer his only thought is to keep her safe. He can outgun just about every man, but can he protect her from her own plans of revenge? Can he teach her that loving a man is a better dream than destroying her enemies?

Excerpt: Find another excerpt from The Legend of Skinner Robelard at https://www.rueallyn.com/the-legend-of-skinner-robelard/

Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/mVKJDJ The Legend of Skinner Robelard is currently available for pre-order only. Release day is Nov. 16, 2020.

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Author Bio: Award winning author, Rue Allyn, learned story telling at her grandfather’s knee. (Well it was really more like on his knee—I was two.) She’s been weaving her own tales ever since. She has worked as an instructor, mother, sailor, clerk, sales associate, and painter, along with a variety of other types of employment. She has lived and traveled in places all over the globe from Keflavik Iceland (I did not care much for the long nights of winter.) and Fairbanks Alaska to Panama City and the streets of London England to a large number of places in between. Now that her two sons have left the nest, Rue and her husband of more than four decades (Try living with the same person for more than forty years—that’s a true adventure.) have retired and moved south.  When not writing, enjoying the nearby beach or working jigsaw puzzles, Rue travels the world and surfs the internet in search of background material and inspiration for her next heart melting romance.. She loves to hear from readers, and you may contact her at Rue@RueAllyn.com.  She can’t wait to hear from you.

Social Media Links:

Website~~https://RueAllyn.com

Facebook~~https://www.facebook.com/RueAllynAuthor

Twitter~~https://twitter.com/RueAllyn

Amazon~~https://www.amazon.com/Rue-Allyn/e/B00AUBF3NI/

Goodreads~~https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5031290.Rue_Allyn

Pinterest~~https://www.pinterest.com/RueAllyn/

 

New preorder from Sherry Ewing

¸.•*´

First Kiss Friday with Kate Moore

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog! Today’s guest is my friend Kate Moore who is giving us a wonderful first kiss scene from her novel Winterburn’s Bride. We hope you enjoy this scene. Happy reading, my lovelies!

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Excerpt:

Leigh woke to a throbbing head and knew he must not open his eyes. He concentrated on the sharp beat of pain, learning its rhythm, waiting for a lull. Somewhere, far from the hammering in his head, his body lay cold and still. Then he felt a warm, light touch on his right hand. He opened his eyes and for one confused moment saw Rosalind Merrifield bending over him, her eyes closed as if in prayer, her bright hair framing her face. He had a fleeting recollection of the rose and the light and the wheel, then his lids fell, and the pain mastered him.

An indefinite stretch of time passed before he opened his eyes a second time. The ache was now a dull constant, permitting his wits to work. A fine ceiling stretched high above him. A fire hissed and snapped nearby. A cold floor pressed against his back.

“Where am I?” he asked.

Her eyes opened, and she smiled at him. “At Merrifield. Jeremy Braithe brought you.”

Her hand started to slip away from his, and he caught it in a firmer grip.

The curve of her cheek blossomed with extraordinary pink delicacy. “What happened?” she asked in a strained voice.

“Awdry’s wagon was stuck in a ditch.”

“You went into a ditch to help?”

He would have laughed at her surprise, but his head would not allow it. “My boots must be muddying your floor.” The words made him conscious of his feet, bare and warm, his body’s nakedness. There was a wet cloth on his forehead, and he released her hand and brushed the cloth away.

She pressed her hands together in her lap, staring at them. “Jeremy Braithe removed your clothes,” she said. “I fear they’re ruined.”

“How long have I been here?” He could feel his bare chest, his damp drawers clinging to his loins. He was naked on his back with Rosalind Merrifield. Heaven certainly mocked his pretensions to be a man of the cloth. “Braithe brought me here?”

She nodded. “Nan and I covered you.”

“Observed the proprieties, did you?”

He’d made her uneasy, and her gaze shifted away from him. “We were trying to bring you round.”

“You were waiting again, Miss Merrifield.” He liked the way she stiffened, offended at his tone. He wanted to kiss her in spite of his aching head. “You did not think to wake me with a kiss?”

She took a quick breath. “You heard.”

It was a slip, not the full admission he wanted. He turned his head carefully to the right. “You thought about it.”

“No.” Her mouth was a firm, tight line of denial, but her eyes betrayed her.

His chin was just below her knee. It was an odd position for a man considering a seduction, even a minor one. Her skirts smelled of crushed grass and lavender. “Think about it now.”

Her glance, wary and fascinated, flickered over him once.

“There’s no need now. You are awake.”

“There’s more need now.” He struggled to raise himself on one elbow and stopped, dizzied by the effort.

She lifted her hand and gently pushed him down, a sturdy competent hand, brown from the sun, the palm lightly calloused from work. His heart beat madly in answer to the touch. “A mistake, Miss Merrifield,” he whispered.

She knew it. Her eyes grew big with the knowledge. Her fingers curled against his chest. She was tempted, so tempted. He spoke before she could gather the strength to break away. “You could find out what more there is to want.”

Rosalind withdrew her hand from his chest. It was unbearable not to know. He made it unbearable. He offered a mysterious knowledge beyond all the knowing of her familiar world, an understanding of the deepest mystery of herself.

“Why you?”

“Why not a sensible choice?” He guessed her thought. “Why not Vernon, who takes his duties seriously?”

A wry smile crossed her face. “Well, not Mr. Vernon.” She lowered her gaze briefly and raised it again. “There was a naval captain once, and a young duke who invited my parents to explore his ruins,” she confessed.

“Why not one of them?” His throat felt tight. He did not want to answer the question as it had been answered for him in his father’s favorite brothel years before. Because love is an illusion. Because we are base creatures ruled by lust.

A moment passed. He ought to warn her, but she was simply looking at him with open curiosity.

“It makes me so impatient not to know. Does it make you impatient?”

“You have no idea.”

Rosalind leaned forward. He lay dark and unyielding, his face marked by lines of mockery, his gaze heated. Her senses played tricks on her. She thought she saw generosity in his mouth, veiled hope in the depths of his eyes.

She touched with permission now. The smallest details of his person required her attention. A hollow under his lower lip invited the tip of her finger. The smooth gleam of his cheekbone and the rough, dark edge of his jaw drew her palm. As she studied him, she grew self-aware, conscious of a tight pull in her breasts, the heated surface of her skin, a dizzying plummet somewhere deep in her person.

She braced her hands on the cold marble tiles, bent lower, and pressed her mouth to his. His pent breath, released, mingled with hers, a recognition of wanting. His lips parted and hers opened in response. He pushed up, compelling her acceptance of their openness to one another with all its lack of reserve, its danger and exhilaration. It led her on. She moved with him, following his lead, finding the fit between them. His hand came up and slid into her hair, binding her to him, ensuring the union of their mouths.

Then his tongue touched hers, a taste of undreamed intimacy, wicked knowledge. She would have drawn back, but his hand at her nape held her to him. At her faint hesitation he made a low, aching sound in his throat and withdrew his tongue. She regained her courage. His warm mouth on hers stirred the consuming impatience to know more. His hand slipped from her neck down her shoulder to cup her breast, his thumb brushing the peak, sending aching spirals of longing through her. A tiny gasp escaped her. As if in answer, he reached up and pulled her down to him so that she lay along his length.

His hands trailed down her back and locked around her waist, while he raised tiny kisses to her brows, her eyes, her chin. Her limbs melted against his without resistance, and he claimed her mouth again. Then some realization seemed to take him, and he slid from under her, releasing her. She pushed herself up, conscious of the disorder of her senses and her person.

Winterburn’s Bride

By Kate Moore

Kate Moore, award-winning author of twenty novels and novellas, brings readers the first e-book version of Winterburn’s Bride. Set in the lush English countryside and brilliant salons of London in the last days of the Napoleonic Wars, Winterburn’s Bride is the story of Rosalind Merrifield’s desperate efforts to hold onto her home as her brother games away his fortune and Leigh Nash’s efforts to resist his family’s demands that he marry for wealth and power. If you’re a fan of the Poldark stories or of angsty heroes like Sydney Chambers from Grantchester, you’ll root for wounded veteran Leigh to outwit his scheming relatives and Rosalind to save her home even if it means staging her own bride sale.

Buy Link: Amazon

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About the Author:

A native Californian, Kate studied English Lit near Boston and returned to California to teach generations of high school students, who are now her Facebook friends, while she not-so-secretly penned Romances. In Kate’s stories honorable, edgy loners meet warm, practical women who draw them into a circle of love whether in Regency London or contemporary California. A Golden Heart, Golden Crown, and Book Buyers Best winner and three-time RITA finalist, Kate lives north of San Francisco with her surfer husband, their yellow Lab, a Pack ‘n Play for visiting grandbabies, and miles of crowded bookshelves.

Website: www.katemoore.com

Facebook Author Page: www.facebook.com/KateMooreAuthor

Twitter: www.twitter.com/MooreKate0

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Kate-Moore/e/B000APE8YE/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1

First Kiss Friday with Pamela Gibson

I’d like to welcome back to my First Kiss Friday blog my dear friend Pamela Gibson. Pamela will be sharing a first kiss scene from her latest release Scandal’s Promise. Isn’t the cover just lovely? Happy reading and enjoy!

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Excerpt:

After a few minutes, he swept her near the open terrace door, barely cracked because of the cold. A few couples had bravely escaped the stuffy ballroom. He led her outside into the darkness and took up the dance position again.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you not like dancing in the dark on a cold night?”

Drawing her closer, he danced her into the far corner, out of the light from the windows. Stopping, he lowered his head and whispered in her ear. “Emily, I need to kiss you.”

Her breath caught as he gave her time to push him away. When she didn’t, he pulled her into his arms and pressed her against his warm body. She closed her eyes, wanting to feel every inch of him against her, to somehow ease the longing tightening her breasts and pulsing between her thighs.

Drew, how could you have left me for her.

His mouth closed over hers, sending tingles of pleasure to her core. When he deepened the kiss, she sighed and let delicious heat swamp her senses. His tongue slipped in as he lowered his hands and pressed her bottom against a hard ridge. She touched him, tasted him, her body begging for more. He broke the kiss and nuzzled her neck. “God, you feel so good and you taste even better. But this is not the place or the time, is it?”

“No.”

A laugh she knew all too well trilled from somewhere nearby. Had Lydia followed them out? Mortified, she stepped back and took his arm. “I believe it is too chilly to be dancing out of doors, my lord.”

“Indeed. It is also too public.”

They strolled back toward the ballroom and entered together, aware tongues would wag once again as those who remembered their old scandal shared it with others who didn’t know their story.

She’d taken a dangerous step into the past, but it was not an irrevocable one. She would only briefly have to put up with those who would scorn her as a pathetic spinster, tied to one man, a man who had betrayed her with another woman.

Papa was on the mend. Aunt Lily was satisfied he would recover. Their return to the country was already planned.

Out of sight, out of mind?

Never.

Scandal’s Promise

By Pamela Gibson

Haunted by questions and her own insecurities, Lady Emily Sinclair longs to discover why her betrothed abandoned her and married another. Seven years have passed, but the pain of his betrayal still lingers, buried beneath layers of humiliation and mistrust. When he returns after the Napoleonic Wars, she vows to avoid him. If only her foolish heart felt the same.

Broken and addicted to his medication, widower Andrew Quimby, Lord Cardmore, rattles around his ancient manor, oblivious to his deteriorating health and state of mind. When he learns the woman he was forced to abandon remains unmarried, he vows to try to win her back, even if it means returning to a society he despises.

But Andrew soon discovers he has a secret enemy. Threatening notes appear and sinister accidents put those in his inner circle in danger. Can he overcome his demons in time to keep them safe or will everyone and everything he loves disappear forever.

Buy Link for Scandal’s Promise: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08F2LVR5B/

 

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About the author:

Author of eight books on California history and fifteen romance novels, Pamela Gibson is a former City Manager who now lives in the Nevada desert. She has a bachelor’s degree in history and a master’s degree in public administration, but her passion is and always has been writing.

Having spent three years messing about in boats, a hobby that included a five-thousand-mile trip in a 32-foot Nordic Tug, she now spends most of her time indoors happily reading, writing, cooking and keeping up with the antics of Ralph, her Siamese rescue cat.

If you want to learn more about her activities go to https://www.pamelagibsonwrites.com and sign up for her quarterly newsletter. Or stalk her in these places:

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Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Pamela-Gibson/e/B00MKVB4XE

First Kiss Friday with Julie Johnstone

Thanks for joining me this week for another First Kiss Friday. Today’s guest is Julie Johnstone who is a new author to me. Julie has a first kiss scene from Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue. Isn’t the cover gorgeous? Happy reading and enjoy, my lovelies!

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Excerpt:

“Lord Charolton, release me!” she yelped, but instead, his lips crushed over hers.

The shock of the unwanted contact stilled her for one breath, but before she could react, he broke the contact. She staggered backward with a gasp as Asher jerked Lord Charolton away from her and then sent his fist into the man’s nose. It connected with a crunch, and Lord Charolton howled, doubling over.

Asher turned toward her, his face a mask of cold, hard fury. “Are ye unharmed?”

Was she? Her heart beat so hard it hurt her ears. She brought trembling fingertips to her bruised, throbbing lips. This was the second time in her life a man had kissed her without asking permission, but at least Kilgore’s kiss, though unwanted, had been gentle.

Asher’s gaze softened to one of concern as he looked between her and the still doubled over Lord Charolton. “Guin?” he said in little more than a whisper. “Are ye all right?”

“You mustn’t call me Guin,” she replied, her voice trembling as terribly as her hands were. She wrapped her arms around her waist and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m unharmed. Ash—Your Grace”—she caught herself barely in time—“I fear someone may be coming.”

“Ye have nothing to fear, my lady,” he replied before taking Lord Charolton by his collar to yank the man upright. “I redirected the two gossiping ladies headed in this direction before I arrived here.”

The relief that filled her at his words was dampened by her roiling stomach. She never had been one for the sight of blood.

“You have broken my nose,” Lord Charolton whined to Asher as if on cue with her thoughts of his predicament.

“I’ll break a great deal more than that if ye do not leave this ball immediately. And,” Asher continued, his face and tone growing threatening, “if ye ever even look Lady Guinevere’s way again, I’ll see ye over the barrel of my pistol. Do ye understand me?”

Lord Charolton, a rather peacock of a man, turned green but managed to nod. As he started for the library door, Guinevere said, “And if you ever try to ruin another lady again, the duke will also meet you with his pistol.”

Asher looked at her in surprise, and she shrugged helplessly. She could have sworn he smiled faintly, but he turned his attention to Lord Charolton once more as the man, in his haste to quit the room, knocked into the same table that had trapped her. A few grunts later, Lord Charolton was gone.

Asher, before she even realized what he intended, stepped to the library door and clicked the lock into place.

Her pulse quickened. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she had been nearly accosted moments earlier, and her nerves, which he naturally jumbled up anyway, were tight as knots. When he turned to her, aching concern showed on his face, and to her utter horror, unexpected tears filled her eyes.

“What’s this?” He closed the distance between them and brought his fingers to her cheeks to wipe away her tears.

His touch was so gentle, so tender that she forgot their past for a moment and blurted how she truly felt. “I do not care to feel so helpless,” she admitted, then bit her lip before she blabbed any more of her secrets, such as the fact that Asher’s kisses were the only ones she’d ever received that she had actually wanted. Not that wanting his kisses had done her a farthing of good, but at least she’d been a willing participant.

“I imagine ye don’t.” His thumb stroked the slope of her cheekbone so deliciously that her belly clenched and gooseflesh rose on her arms. Did he realize he was fondling her cheek?

She should tell him to stop, except it felt so wonderful, and hadn’t she imagined just this very thing too many times to recall?

“I can help ye feel better,” he said, his voice sliding over her like velvet.

Had he swayed closer? He must have. She was suddenly awash in heat. His warm breath fanned her face, making her inhale greedily and sigh. He smelled of leather, grass, and oak—so divine that her thoughts felt slippery, save for one. “How can you help me feel better?”

A slow, utterly seductive smile tugged the corners of his lips upward. “Kiss me.”

She smiled. Good heavens! She should not be smiling—or rather, it felt like she was smirking. She should push him away, remind him how improper he was being, and storm out of the room. Except she had lain awake so many nights wondering if she’d imagined how wonderful his kisses had been. His kisses had tormented her. She was quite sure the made-up memory of how perfect they were was the main reason she could not seem to gather any interest for another man. Perhaps if she kissed him now, she could finally set him out of her mind.

Guinevere’s lips started to tingle in expectation, and her heart beat at a dizzying, knee-weakening rate. She had to set her hands to his muscular shoulders so as not to drop into an embarrassing puddle of desire.

“Is that an invitation?” he asked, sounding every bit as devilish as he looked. If ever a man could lead a woman to be improper, it was him.

She couldn’t speak, her thoughts spun so quickly, but her fingers curled in silent entreaty, and the sensation in her lips moved slowly down to the pit of her stomach. She was going to expire if he didn’t kiss her.

“I need ye to show me ye wish me to kiss ye, Guin.” His voice sounded tight, as if he were just barely restraining himself. The thought that she could possibly unhinge this man filled her with a wild sort of exaltation.

“Do not be a blind fool,” she whispered, her heart jolting at the shock of her hoydenish behavior.

Something intense flared in his eyes as his hands cupped her face and his lips descended to meet hers. Whatever indifference to him she had managed to persuade herself she possessed shattered with the heat and the hunger of his strong lips on hers. He demanded a response with the slide of his tongue along the crease of her mouth, and she opened willingly, eagerly moving to her tiptoes with a desperate desire to get closer to him.

He groaned, moving one hand from her cheek to circle his arm around her back, and suddenly, she was no longer standing but pressed hard against his chest, her feet just above the ground. His mouth ravished hers, and his kiss overwhelmed her senses. His heart pounded through his clothing, and hers seemed to burst through the very chambers of her own heart. A million delicious sensations swirled through her as she returned his drugging kiss with reckless abandon. His mouth did not become softer as he kissed her; it was as if he could not get enough, which was exactly how she felt. She delved her hands into his thick hair, allowing her nails to graze his scalp, and he released a guttural sound.

Propriety was gone. The past was gone. Her anger was gone. In this moment, it was just here and now, simply Guinevere and Asher.

A knocking at the door hurtled her back to reality as hard as if she’d been dropped from the clouds to the earth. She released her breath in a whoosh as Asher broke the kiss—and all contact—and stared down at her, looking every bit as shocked as she felt.

“Guinevere, are you in there?” came Lilias’s frantic voice.

Guinevere swallowed with difficulty. Her heart felt as if it were lodged in her throat. What had she done? What had she allowed him to do? Why did her senses disappear every time this man was near?

“Guinevere?” The door rattled.

Asher opened his mouth as if to answer Lilias, and Guinevere quickly pressed a finger to his lips, her shock at her scandalous, dangerous behavior loosening its grip on her just enough so she could speak.

“I’m here,” she said, clearing her throat, which sounded entirely too husky, entirely too much like she had just been kissed senseless.

“Whatever have you been doing?” her best friend asked.

Asher’s warm brown eyes danced with wicked amusement, the unrepentant rogue! Heat flamed her cheeks and crawled its way down her neck to her chest. Egads, she wished she had a fan.

Before she could gather herself to answer, Lilias spoke again in a rush of words. “Your mother is beside herself looking for you!”

Guinevere rolled her eyes. It was most unfortunate that her mother had noted her absence from the ballroom. Usually she did not pay Guinevere much heed once they’d arrived at whatever affair they were attending, since it was Mama’s companion Miss Prichard’s job to chaperone her and her sisters, but Miss Prichard was home ill.

“I was beset with a megrim,” Guinevere said, sounding unconvincing to her own ears.

Another prick of guilt pinched her, but this one was for lying to Lilias. She never withheld secrets from her best friend, but how could she admit that she’d allowed the man who had callously thrown her over once before to take liberties again. And in a library in the middle of a ball no less! It was the very behavior ruinous scandals were made of.

“Did the megrim attack you before or after you rescued Lady Constantine?”

Asher arched his eyebrows in raffish perfection. Why did he have to be so devastatingly handsome and make her act so untoward?

“After,” she responded, giving her throat, which was still too husky, another good clearing.

“Guinnie, I think you are getting a cold.”

Lilias was such a true friend, and Guinevere felt horrid about lying. She bit her lip as Asher pushed her hand away from his lips and grinned at her, making her belly flutter.

Blast him, blast him.

“Possibly,” she squeaked. “Did you see Lady Constantine?”

“Yes, but not Lord Charolton. How did you stop his plan for Lady Constantine?”

Asher wiggled his eyebrows at her while making a pretend pistol with his fingers. The man was beyond the pale. Didn’t he comprehend that their behavior of moments before had put them a hairsbreadth from ruination?

“You know I can be very persuasive when I try,” Guinevere said.

Lilias snorted at that. “Where is he?”

“I assume he departed as I suggested.”

“Excellent. By the by, I have not seen the odious Carrington.”

Oh, dear heavens!

Guinevere cringed. Lilias was calling Asher odious as a loyal friend would, but her timing for a strong show of allegiance was most unfortunate.

All the lightheartedness disappeared from Asher’s face, and his gaze narrowed upon her. What did he expect, that he could publicly stomp on her heart five years ago and she would praise his nonexistent virtues?

“Perhaps he left, as well,” Lilias continued, unaware that the man in question was listening to her every word. Guinevere wanted to expire on the spot. “Oh, and I forgot to mention that Kilgore approached me and asked, none too subtlety, after your whereabouts. He seemed most concerned that you keep your promise to dance the last set with him.”

Asher’s stare turned positively brutal and unfriendly. She did not fool herself that if he was jealous, it was no more than him wanting her attention because she was giving it to Kilgore.

“Should you not depart and tell my mother I’ll be straight to the ballroom?” Guinevere asked weakly.

“Of course, of course,” Lilias replied, “but I think you should consider Kilgore if he is truly pursuing you this time.”

“Lilias!” Guinevere hissed, aghast.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go soothe your mother, but the subject of you and Kilgore is not finished. He may be a rogue, but I have always said—” Guinevere squeezed her eyes shut, praying Lilias would not finish the sentence “—reformed rogues make the best husbands.”

Guinevere opened her eyes with a sigh to find Asher staring at her as if she had leprosy. Lilias’s departing footsteps echoed against the hardwoods for one moment before uncomfortable silence descended. She didn’t know what to say, but it occurred to her that she did have a question.

Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue

Scottish Scoundrels: Ensnared Hearts Book 1

By Julie Johnstone

Five years ago he humiliated her. Five years ago she betrayed him. And when fate forces them together once more, they’ll discover what burns hotter- vengeance or desire.

USA Today Bestselling author Julie Johnstone has a new release today, and it’s full of sizzle, sass, and suspense! Grab a fan before you start reading!

Buy Link:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/31VwvqK

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About the Author:

Julie Johnstone is a USA Today and #1 Amazon bestselling author. Scottish historical romance, Regency historical romance, and historical time travel romance featuring highlanders, aristocrats, and modern-day bad billionaire bad boys are her love, and she enjoys creating both with a hefty dose of twists, plenty of heartstring tugs, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Her books have been dubbed “fabulously entertaining and engaging,” making readers cry, laugh, and swoon. Johnstone lives in Alabama with her very own lowlander husband, her two children – the heir and the spare, her snobby cat, and her perpetually happy dog.

In her spare time she enjoys way too much coffee balanced by hot yoga, reading, and traveling.

From the bestselling author of the Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts series comes a new, richly drawn Scottish historical romance saga! The Renegade Scots series sweeps you into medieval Scotland and England and transports you into dangerous deceptions and daring feats with swoon-worthy heroes and fiery romances!

http://www.juliejohnstoneauthor.com

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First Kiss Friday with Cerise DeLand

It’s another First Kiss Friday and my guest today is the lovely Cerise DeLand. Cerise has an excerpt from her novel Miss Harvey’s Horribly Loveable Fiancé. Happy reading, my lovelies, and enjoy!

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Excerpt:

By their fourth meeting—another ball—Northington had been introduced to Esme by a mutual friend. As he took her hand to lead her in a quadrille, he revealed that he’d come only because he’d learned she would attend.

“I’m complimented,” she said, as a challenge to cover her admission of delight.

“Good. Shall I ask you to call me by my given name?”

“You could.”

“Giles. Will you use it?”

“When it’s suitable.”

“You are careful.” He grinned. “I like that about you.”

“Evidently not careful enough. When we met, you found me alone in a most unsuitable place.”

“As you found me.”

She could not help the appeal of his charming mouth. “Did she find you?”

“He did.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“You should believe me.”

Time to admit the truth. “I want to.”

He inhaled, frustration ripe on his brow. “Let me talk to you in the hall.”

“Why?”

“Esme—I hope I may address you that way. The hall, behind the marble statue of our host, affords more privacy than here.”

Hope of being naughty with him made her tingle. “My lord, why would we need privacy?”

“Because Esme, I’d like to kiss you.”

She licked her lips.

“I see that idea appeals to you.”

“Are you always so bold with women?”

“Only you.”

Caution was a practice she rarely employed. With him, she should apply it. “I think we’ll wait.”

“Not long, Esme. Not too damn long,” he whispered as he devoted himself to perfection in the rest of the dance.

That evening, she’d learned from her friends that in the past two years, he’d had two lovers, both wealthy widows. Now he was free of both.

So when he returned to sit beside her, he murmured, “Esme, darling, look at me.”

She’d given in. With such endearments, who could deny him?

His hazel eyes faceted into shades of desire. “I want to become friends.”

“We are.”

“More than friends, Esme.”

She shook her head. She mustn’t lose it. “You’re a marquess.”

“True.”

“Not considered appropriate for me, a viscount’s daughter.” Furthermore, his father was an old roué. That man, it was said aloud and in gossip sheets, wanted a glorious match for his only son. Specifically, ‘glorious’ translated into rich as Midas. That criteria she fit.

“Will you count me out of your life because of my status?” He joked, appearing amused as well as seriously dismayed.

“You’re twenty-nine,” she said in accusation.

“I am. You are six years younger. Is there a problem?”

“You’ve waited rather a long time to—” Well, why not say the obvious? “A long time to look for a bride.”

“I’ve had other occupations.”

She harrumphed. Yes, she knew two of them, too. “Aren’t you getting long in the tooth?”

He chuckled, looked about and leaned closer. “Do you think me so doddering that I might be incapable of begetting—?”

“No!” She burned with the power of her blush. “No. I do not.”

He laughed whole-heartedly. “I am in want of a wife. And I have looked for one for many years.”

“With any results?”

“None. Until lately.”

So by their fifth meeting (at Lady Elsworth’s tea), they were jovial friends who appeared to one and all to sit and discuss the cartoonist Rowlandson’s ability to portray the ironies of the Royals.

“May I call on you, Miss Harvey?” he had asked her when those in the room finally left them alone in their cozy corner.

“Why?” she’d been bold enough to inquire.

“I find I need your company.”

She stared at him and dared not believe it. The way he made her breath hitch just by gazing at her told her that if he pressed his magnificent mouth to hers, if he touched her arm or (please, God) her breast or (yesss) her quivering thigh, she could dissolve into little puddles of goo. And that was no way to maintain one’s reputation, especially if one liked to ride out at dawn or drink three glasses of champagne without comment or censure.

“Have dull friends, do you, sir?” She challenged him. Had to.

“Too many.”

“What of the lady you met in the small salon at Lady Wimple’s?” She had to know from his lips if he was engaged in a new affair with anyone. She wouldn’t stand for him having mistresses. She couldn’t bear the competition. She was no Diamond, no Incomparable. But she had her assets. Good hair. A straight nose. Abundant breasts. So she’d brook no competition. Never. If he wished to marry her, he had to be hers, all hers…or not at all.

“Esme, listen to me.” In that crowded drawing room with dozens of the ton chatting on and noting every eye that drifted to every heaving bosom, he put a hand to hers and held it tightly. “That was no lady.”

Oh, how she wished to believe him.

“May I call?” he asked once more, his face full of earnest hope.

“Yes.” She wanted him, as she’d wanted no other. “Tomorrow.”

And so he had.

For three days in succession.

By the fourth day, her Mama (reading the air, Esme supposed) left them alone on some flimsy excuse.

He moved to Esme’s side on the settee and took her hands. Into both palms, he’d placed hot little kisses. Her nipples had beaded. Her belly had swelled. And her head had swum as he threaded his fingers into her coiffure and placed his firm lips on her own. And oh, he felt like heaven.

“Darling, I want to marry you,” he whispered. His mouth traveled her cheek and he bit her earlobe.

She sank her fingers into his thick soft curls and kissed him back with an ardor that (afterward) frankly shocked her.

“That’s yes,” he stated with finality. “I know it is.” He stood up so fast she thought he’d been shot. He left her there, aching to have his hands on her everywhere. But to his credit, he went in search of a footman and asked for her father. Straight away, he asked Papa who gave his immediate approval.

And then, quick as you please, Northington had disappeared.

The man who had rushed her into courtship, who had teased and bantered and lured her to fantasies of lying abed with him naked, had simply vanished.

Then two weeks ago, he had reappeared at Courtland Hall with a special license in hand. He apologized for his absence, but gave no explanations. Then he had promptly taken her out into her mother’s parterre and had kissed her senseless.

“May second, I want us to wed, darling.”

Not a question. A statement.

And she—twenty-three and aglow from head to heart to breasts to quivering belly—was  in lust with him. She marveled, for she was no twit. No foolish woman whose daydreams ruled her life. No. She’d entertained numerous swains over the years. After all, she was a wealthy catch. She’d refused six gentlemen in marriage. She hadn’t found any of those fellows—titled, well-healed and accomplished in their own rights— interesting or even vaguely exciting.

But this man, this Northington, mesmerized her.

Truth be bald and bold, she pulsed to feel him wholly devoted to her. And soon, all things to her, dear and vital, tender and lusty, sacred and nakedly profane.

That, she concluded, or she was going to run off with him without benefit of marriage and allow him all sorts of liberties.

But that was two weeks ago.

And this morning as she looked out upon the rolling meadow, rosy in the rays of a rising sun, she questioned if her unmaidenly ardor to have him was enough to bind him to her for the next thirty or forty years.

Or did she need much more?

Miss Harvey’s Horribly Loveable Fiancé

Four Weddings and a Frolic, Book 3

By Cerise DeLand

Theirs was to be The Wedding of the Season!

Until the bride ran away and…

The groom chased after her.

Then she tried to shoot him…

And thankfully aimed poorly.

How can this escapade end, if she’s marrying him for his titles?

And he’s marrying her for her money?

Yet their affair appears to be the Romance of the Year?

Amazon: KU $0.99 August 10-Sept. 2 https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08FF5LFQV

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About the Author:

Cerise DeLand loves to cook, hates to dust, lives to travel, read and write! She pens #1 Bestselling Regencies known for their spice, historical accuracy and their eloquence! With awards on her shelves for more than 60 romances, she’s also written for Pocket, St. Martin’s and Kensington. She likes wine at 5 p.m. and tries desperately to persuade herbs and veggies to grow in her south Texas garden!

Find Cerise:

Cerise DeLand’s Website:  http://www.cerisedeland.com

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