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March 21, 2025

First Kiss Friday with To Love A Scottish Laird

Thanks for dropping by for another First Kiss Friday! I’m featuring myself this week and giving you a blast from the past with an excerpt from To Love A Scottish Laird. I was thrilled when author Kathryn Le Veque asked if I would be interested in writing in her De Wolfe Pack Connected World. I jumped at the opportunity and wrote this story featuring Catherine and Douglas who became the parents of Amira of Clan MacLaren in my self published debut novel If My Heart Could See You. I also continued the story of Douglas’s sister in To Love an English Knight. I hope you enjoy this first kiss scene. Happy reading, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

Lady Catherine looked rather surprised by the fact that she would have the opportunity to speak with Douglas alone.

He bowed before her, taking her cool hand and placing a kiss on the inside of her wrist. A lover’s gesture, and he saw how she shivered at his touch. “Glad tidings, my Lady Catherine,” he murmured, hoping somewhere in the recesses of her mind she would be glad to take him for her husband.

“I see nothing to rejoice about, my lord,” she said in a tone that could not be mistaken for anything else but displeasure.

“So…ye have learned of our betrothal,” he said, straightening to peer down at her. He wished their situation would be easily settled between them.

“Betrothal, my lord? You make this sound as though you approve of the arrangement,” she snapped before taking his arm and leading him from the room.

They did not go far, only to an out-of-the-way alcove with a shuttered window. She unfastened the latch and flung open the wood, breathing in the ocean breeze as though to calm her frayed nerves.

Douglas shrugged. “I doubt I had any more say in the matter than ye did, Catherine,” he declared, dropping all formality between them. “What is there about marrying me that is not tae yer liking?”

“You knew about this all along!” Her accusatory tone had Douglas throwing up his arms in his own defense.

“I had no notion of the intent of the duke but I must admit I was searching for a wife,” he answered with a mischievous grin.

“You wished to wed me?” she asked in what sounded like disbelief. Her face flushed.

Douglas shrugged again. “Tae be fair, I did not even know of ye, my lady, only that I needed tae find myself a bride.”

Catherine gasped before she swatted him. “You mean to tell me any lady would have suited?”

She gave him no chance to reply. He had a hard time not laughing at the lovely picture she presented as she cursed under her breath. At least some color had returned to her face.

But once he grew tired of her ill words, Douglas took her into his arms, pulling her close. She fit there so perfectly, he momentarily overlooked what they were arguing about. He watched in startled fascination when her pupils dilated and her breaths grew shallow. Ah… The undeniable connection they had both forgotten about returned tenfold as he embraced her.

Her hands went to his chest, and he swore his heart leapt at her touch. Bloody hell! Why could the smallest of gestures from this wee woman cause such a reaction?

“For such a beautiful woman, ye can certainly curse like one of my men,” he observed.

She made the slightest attempt to shove him away but ’twas only a half-hearted, for she just as swiftly began smoothing down the fabric of his tunic.

He watched as she took several deep breaths. “You should probably get used to me voicing my opinion,” she said quietly before raising her eyes to meet his.

A lopsided grin formed on his lips. “Opinionated, are ye?”

“Aye,” she declared, lifting her chin. “I will not be some submissive wife holed up in her solar doing nothing but needlework.”

“I am certain I can find something tae keep ye entertained at Berwyck, Catherine,” his voice lowered just thinking of undressing her.

His grin broadened when she tossed her head, causing her lovely, black braid to swing. He could hardly wait til he was able to unbraid it. He reached out to cup her cheek, running his thumb across her silky skin. The pulse at her neck quickened, and Douglas’s grin widened. He began to lower his head to kiss her.

“Do you have birds at Berwyck?” Her words poured from her mouth as though drenching him with a frigid blast of water.

“Birds?” he asked, trying to grasp where she was taking this conversation when he had other things on his mind. “Aye, of course we have birds at Berwyck. The forests are filled with them.”

A small chuckle left her, and Douglas was glad to see her relax. “I meant, does Berwyck have mews? I have a falcon at Wolverhampton and would hate to see all my training be for naught if I cannot take her with me.” She blushed as though embarrassed to already be making demands on her soon-to-be husband.

“Ye can bring yer bird and whatever else ye like to Berwyck, Catherine. ’Twill be yer home as much as ’tis mine.” He tugged her closer til he could feel every inch of her body against his. Her breath caught in her throat at the contact. “Shall we pledge our troth with a kiss?”

“I-I cannot kiss you, Lord Douglas. We are not yet wed, and I will seal nothing with a kiss.”

“Douglas,” he murmured against her ear. “Say my name, Catherine.” He cupped her face with both hands while he awaited to hear her say his name.

“My lord, I cannot call you by your given name.”

“Ye will be my wife. Say my name,” he urged gently and saw the small spark of acceptance in her magnificent, hazel eyes.

“Douglas.”

Smiling, he lowered his mouth to hers and swore God smiled down on them as Douglas took what Catherine so willingly offered.

***

Catherine fought against the urge to completely surrender to Douglas and his all-consuming kiss. She should not be allowing him such a liberty. She should be voicing her outrage at the close proximity of their bodies. But when his lips slid against hers, she was completely lost.

If only Douglas knew what he was doing to her. She was not experienced with the intimacies between a man and woman. Oh, she understood the fundamentals of the act of kissing but had only been given meaningless pecks on the cheek. But this… A whole new world opened up to her, and she rejoiced in what Douglas brought out in her!

Her arms wound their way up his neck, and she played with the length of his hair. In turn, he all but crushed her to his body but ’twas not unpleasant. Nay! Her body begged for something she could not understand. Parts of her began tingling as if she was coming alive for the very first time, and she never wanted it to end.

When Douglas’s tongue skimmed across her closed mouth, she gasped. Apparently, ’twas just the opportunity he was looking for! His tongue began playing with her own. A low moan escaped her and only encouraged him to take her deeper into what could only be described as sheer bliss. Catherine felt as though she was soaring into the sky like one of her birds. But this was so much better!

His arm tightened around her waist, and she finally became aware of the unmistakable form of his manhood pressed intimately to her body. By the Blessed Virgin! What was she doing?

Catherine emerged from the abyss of pleasure, snapping back to a reality that would possibly become her worst nightmare; wed to a man who would probably control her every move. Douglas was a complete stranger, no matter how handsome. She was concerned she would lose the freedom she had grown accustomed to.

He must have sensed some change in her, for his grip loosened as he broke the kiss. Catherine felt the loss immediately and almost stepped forward for them to continue. Her heart felt as though ’twould beat its way out of her chest, and she was pleasantly surprised when it appeared Douglas felt the same. Their kiss had revealed many things to Catherine. First, Douglas certainly knew what he was doing when it came to kissing. Second…, she began to think mayhap ’twould not be so difficult to be this man’s wife.

To Love A Scottish Laird: De Wolfe Pack Connected World
By Sherry Ewing

Sometimes you really can fall in love at first sight…

Lady Catherine de Wolfe knows she must find a husband before her brother chooses one for her, but none of the knights and lords she knows have caught her eye. A tournament to celebrate the wedding of the Duke of Normandy might be her answer. She does not expect to fall for a man after just one touch.

Laird Douglas MacLaren of Berwyck is invited to the tournament by the Duke of Normandy. He goes to ensure Berwyck’s safety once Henry takes the throne. He does not expect to become entranced by a woman who bumps into him.

Before they can express their feelings, the Duke orders them wed to strengthen ties between his English supporters and the borderland, and then separates them by commanding Douglas’s escort to his home.

Yet, nothing is ever quite that simple. Not everyone is happy with the union of this English lady and a Scottish laird. From the shores of France, to Berwyck Castle on the border between their countries, Douglas and Catherine must find their way to protect their newfound love.

Buy Links or read for #FREE in Kindle Unlimited:

And just in case you haven’t read the sequel, here’s the info for To Love An English Knight

Can a chance encounter lead to love?

Sir Charles de Grey is in turmoil. He cannot forget the Scottish lass he kissed in Caen, but her jealous spite toward the lady he was sworn to guard infuriated him. Living at Berwyck Castle, he is torn between his desire for Lady Freya and his need to rebuke her sometimes reckless behavior. Leaving her almost tears him apart, but it might give him time to recover some balance.

Lady Freya of Clan MacLaren didn’t expect to become blinded by love until she became quickly besotted on first seeing the English knight in Caen. How quickly everything fell apart when she defies him! Even worse, when he begins to show signs of returning her feelings, he receives a message from home that will tear them apart. Defying him again may put an end to any chance they may have together, but what other choice does she have when he leaves her?

Can the fragile love they found blossom into something more or will circumstances beyond their control continue to provoke behavior that keeps them apart?

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Published on March 21, 2025 00:00

March 14, 2025

First Kiss Friday with Edie Cay

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog. Today I’d like to welcome author Edie Cay who has an excerpt from her story The Boxer and the Blacksmith. We hope you enjoy this first kiss scene. Happy reading, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

Bess felt oddly naked, standing in front of the foundry, waiting for the blacksmith to appear. The chickens shuffled and clucked, softly cooing as they scratched around her, hoping for crumbs. Jean had run in to fetch Os, but as she shivered under her thin woolen shawl, she wondered if she was being ridiculous. It would be just as easy to search for Violet on her own.

The last few days of training had taken flesh from her, and the dress hung loosely. She knew that by next week, the regimes of plain food and morning work would invigorate her, but today she felt tired and sluggish. Her plain skirts and kerchief felt like she was swimming in fabric, but she hoped they would entice Violet back. Convince the neighborhood that their resident female boxer wasn’t unnatural. But she was only what she’d always been. And here she was, presenting herself as some kind of maiden at this smithy. She was a fool.

Just as she was about to turn around and leave, he appeared, pulling on his coat. It made her happy to think he would treat her like a lady, putting on a proper coat, just like everyone else. “Miss Abbott,” he greeted her.

“Blacksmith,” she said.

“Lovely evening,” he said as he approached her, still fussing with the lapels. His hat looked smart and new.

“Just a drizzle.” She ought to get on with it. Ask for help. Clearly, he was patient, standing there waiting for her to speak her peace. She shifted her weight. “I’ve, er…there’s a girl wot’s need finding—”

“Your Miss Violet is still missing?” The chickens cooed around them. Even the man’s voice had a calming effect.

Bess nodded, feeling a total fool. She’d not been struck dumb since…well, never, actually. And she liked that he’d called the girl her Miss Violet.

“Would you accept my help in looking for her?” Os looked tired.

Instead of making the polite excuses she should—let him get his rest—she said, “Yes.”

Once outside the fence that surrounded the front of the foundry, Os offered her his arm. It was a simple gesture, polite and distant, but still a touch.

“Do you have an idea of where she’d be?” Os asked.

Bess explained about the bakery and the tavern with a lion—Tuck’s place.

“Children are clever,” Os said, an odd look on his face. Something was clearly bothering the man, but Bess didn’t feel she ought to pry.

As they made their way down the winding streets, they became a team, both looking down alleyways, peering around buildings. They didn’t speak much as they searched. Bess wasn’t sure what to say, and he seemed lost in thought.

“How did you end up with a French apprentice?” she asked.

“His parents were among the first ardent Republicans in France, liberté, égalité, fraternité.”

Bess nodded her understanding. The evening was growing darker and cooler.

“But when neighbor turned on neighbor, the family fled to relatives here. Jean was born on English soil, but the family speaks nothing but French at their home. He’ll make an excellent blacksmith someday, as long as we last.”

“As long as blacksmiths last?”

“We’re a dying breed. The factories have already started making nails and spring coils. I do more farrier work and repairs now than I ever did as an apprentice or a journeyman. There will come a day when every forge goes cold.”

“Makes me shiver to hear such talk,” Bess said.

“Don’t mourn for me, Miss Abbott. The world is changing apace. I’m looking forward to it.” Os gave her a reassuring look. His eyes locked on hers, and she couldn’t tear herself away. He was talking about something else, but her mind was fog when she looked directly at him.

Their amble slowed further, and her arm tightened around his. She wanted to pull him towards her, even here on the street like a common doxy. She shook away the spell.

“I looked in at Newgate for Violet’s father today, and he’d just gotten out.” Bess needed to keep herself focused. “I need to find her before her father does.” They were almost to the bakery, where she thought she might find Violet. “So if Old Mr. Grim is coming for the smithies, why’d you move to London?”

Os glanced at her and then back down an alleyway. It seemed as if he were considering what to tell her. Finally, after Bess thought he was going to ignore her question entirely, he said, “I’m looking for my mother.”

“And she’s here?”

“Either her, or a woman with her same first name and profession. Though I find that now that I’m here, I’m reluctant to look for her.”

“Sometimes we’re afraid of the answers to our questions,” Bess said, slowing.

“Exactly.” Os stopped as she stopped, turning to her, taking her by both elbows. She could feel a pull towards him, as if he were the ground and she’d just got knocked in the domino box. Her guts fluttered, causing her to stumble back, shaking free of his loose grip.

“Here we are. It’s closed, but Violet might be in back.” Bess charged around the corner building into the alleyway. Behind her, she heard the blacksmith take a steadying breath.

Bess peered into the rubbish pile, kicking muck about. “There’s no burnt bread, so she may have already been here.” There was so much Bess wanted, so much she thought was in her grasp, but whenever she tried to close her fist, it evaporated like smoke.

“To the tavern?” he asked.

She nodded and began to make her way out of the deep, scattered rubbish pile. Rodents rustled under soiled newspapers. Bess picked her way through, each movement careful. Still, her foot came down on a rat, which squealed, knocking Bess off balance.

* * *

The lady boxer was quick jumping back, but Os was fast, too. He moved to catch her. Miss Abbott landed on her feet but crashed into him, his chest breaking her fall. He put his arms up to steady them both. She stiffened but didn’t move to break away as his arms gently encircled her.

“Are you well?” Suddenly it felt as if the entire evening were still and quiet.

“Just stepped on a rat.”

On a chance, he looked down at her, hoping to read her intentions. Was she as nervous as he, heart pounding away, the fastest striker he’d ever known? He shifted his arms, urging her to turn around and face him.

Her brown eyes were wide and her brow furrowed, her expression full of questions. As if he was holding far more than just her body in his arms. Strange, but all he could think of was a sheep. Like the wool of the sheep was not the actual animal itself, but made it appear larger than it was. Here, his arms cut through all of the hopes and desires and wants that surrounded the woman, and he held just the core of her.

He wondered if he was not exactly the same.

“I would like to kiss you,” he said, trying to keep his words soft and tame, not at all like the riot inside of him.

“I—I—” she stammered.

To be fair, she looked terrified. Doubt clouded his mind. So he waited. He watched as she swallowed hard and wrested control of her emotions.

“Yes please,” she said, as if he were offering her half of a meat pie.

He bent his head to meet hers. She watched him with wide eyes, as if at any moment, something unexpected might happen. But then their lips touched, a softness he had not expected. The desire that he had kept so well-contained threatened to spill over, but Os tamped it down. There was so much inside of him—his mother, Chitley, the whole bloody world—but here, it was just her and him. And it was a thing as delicate as goldsmithing, and it was theirs.

Her arms tightened around his shoulders, pulling him closer, further into her. Her strength surprised him, even though he should have expected it. He matched her intensity, exploring her mouth with his tongue. His hands dropped to her waist, kneading the flesh of her hips.

Perhaps the kiss would have lasted longer had the rats not protested. Os pulled away after one bit his shoe.

“I should have picked a better place for our first kiss,” he said, picking his way out of the rubbish heap. “I apologize.”

“I think on the mouth is perfectly acceptable,” she said.

He chuckled. “I can’t wait to see where the second kiss is, then.”

She seemed lighter, suddenly. And so did he. Perhaps they had both needed that more than they realized.

“Come on. Let’s go see if we can find Violet at Tuck’s,” she said. “Maybe we’ll have more luck there.”

“More luck?” he quipped. “Any more luck and I won’t be a bachelor any longer.”

Bess put her hands on her hips, waiting for him to pick his way out. “Well, look at that. The blacksmith makes jokes.”

It was the smile on those lips, that look of flirtation, the ease with which she leaned against the wall of the bakery. He took her by the hips and pushed her up against the bricks, kissing her again.

Her hands came to his face, cradling him as they kissed, softening, deepening a connection between them, as if every piece of him was now attuned to her. She sighed into him, and he felt as if he could gather her up and carry her off to someplace safe. Instead, she let her hands drift to his chest and gently pushed him away.

“Violet,” she said. Her brown eyes were shining, full of something he didn’t know how to name.

Os stepped away, letting both the heat and the magic of their bodies dissipate into the evening air. Bess straightened her skirts and brushed the brick dust off her back.

“Once again, then?” Os asked, offering his arm. There was a whirling in his mind but there was no way to straighten out those thoughts. The best thing he could do was put one foot in front of the other and help someone else. Bess needed to search for Violet, and so he would help her until they both dropped from exhaustion.

The Boxer and the Blacksmith
By Edie Cay

Can London’s lady champion fight for love?

As London’s undefeated women’s boxer, Bess Abbott has the scars—both inside and out—to prove it. But when one of her boxing students, Violet, needs protection, Bess Abbott’s rock hard heart cracks open. And when a handsome blacksmith comes along, giving her compliments and treating her, well, like a woman, Bess doesn’t know what to do. She’s on the ropes in the face of his affections.

Os Worley was a child when he became an accidental stow-away. He grew up not knowing the family or the island that inflected his accent. His only memory of his mother is a head bent, hands working a stitch, a voice humming a melody. Now that he has his own foundry, and his own apprentice, he’s come to London to find the woman attached to this impression. His heart is already tempered and quenched, focused on his goal—but a lady boxer threatens to recast his love in her own image.

As Os and Bess face off, will they toe the line or retreat to their corners?

Direct: https://store.ediecay.com/products/the-boxer-and-the-blacksmith

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08MTKYWMH

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-boxer-and-the-blacksmith-edie-cay/1138116649?ean=9781734439731

Apple iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-boxer-and-the-blacksmith/id1539366062

Universal Book Link: https://books2read.com/u/3JXDEJ

About the Author:

Edie Cay is an award-winning romance author. Her award-winning series, When the Blood Is Up, is about women’s boxing during the Regency era. Her current series, The Ladies Alpine Society series, is about Victorian women mountain climbers. She is a founding member of Paper Lantern Writers. She lives in the California foothills with her family. You can find her at ediecay.com.

Find Edie here:

www.facebook.com/authorediecay

www.instagram.com/authorediecay

www.threads.com/authorediecay

https://www.bsky.app/profile/ediecay.bsky.social

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Published on March 14, 2025 00:00

March 7, 2025

First Kiss Friday Will Ella Leon

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog. I’m so happy you’ve dropped by. Today I have a new author to me which is always exciting! Please welcome Ella Leon who has a first kiss scene from her novel The Sapphire Heiress. Happy reading, my lovelies, and enjoy!

Excerpt:

Locke splashed through the puddles of the alleyway, not surprised when Miss Blackthorne lagged behind.

“You’re not taking me to an inn, are you?”

Locke grumbled a curse. Their trip through town seemed all he could endure. His body ached everywhere and he was in desperate need for a good night’s sleep. Food was definitely in order too.

“No time to argue.” Locke waved her forward. “Quickly now.”

Miss Blackthorne sighed and lifted her skirts an inch higher. Evidently all too aware of the stagnant puddles, she took slow and careful steps. Even now when she was undoubtedly exhausted from their journey, her skirts already ragged and dirty, she was as collected as ever.

She didn’t need the ostentatiousness of silks or furs. Even without, she stood far above the likes of him.

Still in her fine dress, she held whispers of her true self. Perhaps it was their escape from the manor or their near encounter with death, but that bold, wayward air of hers seemed clearer and more apparent than before. For once, it wasn’t so fleeting, hidden or aloof.

“Over here.” Locke shot down the alleyway. If he was going to get through the night, he needed to keep her at a distance.

“You’ll get us in trouble,” she whispered harshly. The longer she took in the ominous grayness of the surrounding buildings, the more questioning her eyes became.

Locke thrust his elbow into the glass of a door. “We’ll be fine.” He reached through and unhinged the lock.

Miss Blackthorne inspected the alleyway. She picked one of many crumpled show-bills and dropped it.

“A theater?” She gasped. “You can’t be serious.”

“I won’t risk discovery at an inn.”

He could not shake this constant feeling that Ellsworth, in a rare moment of intelligence, had lingered behind and had seen them leave the estate. He was likely following their trail. Their route had been too direct. Too easily, it could be followed.

More than his life was at risk now. He didn’t like that Miss Blackthorne’s life seemed to balance in his hands. The least he could do was play the gentleman. Even if he hated the theater for its cheap laughs and overacting, the grandeur and stateliness before them made good manners seem possible. At an inn, he couldn’t be sure.

She bit her lip. “They could be rehearsing…”

“The place is closed for the season. Said so on the marquee.” Locke offered his hand.

After a tense moment, she grabbed it, much to his satisfaction. He wasn’t completely sure if she trusted him, but his efforts to keep her safe had at least not gone unnoticed.

The glowing necklace guided them through the dark, windowless lobby. The fog of light just enough to make out a glistening staircase. In its pristine, nearly dust-free condition, the place had likely closed only weeks ago.

Still, Miss Blackthorne kept close, searching the floor, probably for rats.

“It’s not so bad.” He gave her a reassuring smile, his eyes lingering then snapping away.

He relaxed his tensing muscles. The baser parts of him knew all too well that inn or not, they would be alone. But, hang it, he could not think of Miss Blackthorne like this.

For decades, he had been waiting for his chance to reclaim the sapphire. He could not let some woman, some short-lived attraction, get in the way. She was useful for now, but she would not be so always. Finding the sapphire might not call for saving her life like it had in the cellar. More likely, she would only stall him. He should leave her behind and take all the treasure. A pirate would think nothing of it. A true pirate wouldn’t care.

Though somehow, that had ceased to matter. He was leaving that life behind, wasn’t he? The one ahead of him seemed much brighter with her in it.

As they climbed the stairway, her father’s betrayal was forgotten. The sense of revenge that had fueled him in the beginning had been squashed to nothing.

He had once despised Alastair’s ruthless, unforgiving nature—traits he’d expected Miss Blackthorne to share. Yet she was different somehow. She had always been. He was sure of this now. In her, there was modesty, uncertainty, and a kind of yearning. Something he wanted deeply to indulge.

“There’s nowhere to sleep,” Miss Blackthorne said.

Locke mounted the last step and led the way into one of the private balconies. Sooner than he had expected, night had descended. Moonlight spilled in from a nearby window, casting the room in a silvery hue.

“Right here.” Locke slapped a plush, velvet seat.

Miss Blackthorne shuffled past him and leaned over the railing. Weak sunlight streaked through the skylight, illuminating a long stretch of aisle and row upon row of seats. “I’ve never been to a theater this empty.”

“Nor I.” From a bag, Locke pulled out the supplies they had purchased. Kneeling on the carpet, he worked quickly to arrange the blanket, taper candles, and much-needed bread, cheese, and wine.

But as perfect as he thought the spread looked, Miss Blackthorne did not seem to notice any of it. Leaning against the wall, she stared straight ahead, her pale cheeks flickering in the candlelight.

“You must be hungry.” Locke uncorked and handed her a bottle of wine. But she didn‘t drink. Instead, her face crumpled.

“What happened in the cellar, what I did… I’ll never be able to forget it, will I?”

She was speaking of that man’s death. Something that would likely trouble her for months, if not years. Her eyes watered and she bit her lip. He should have been the one to bear it, the one who had killed that man instead.

“You’ll forget soon enough,” Locke lied. His first kill had been just as horrifying. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen and it hadn’t taken much effort. It had almost been an accident. But he’d known the sharks had been in the waters that day. They’d been following his crew’s ship since they’d entered the Pacific. When the man had come at him with a knife, Locke had simply shoved a shoulder into him and he’d fallen overboard right into the circle of sharks. The blossoming of blood had been almost instant.

“I suppose there’s no going back now, is there? If we don’t find the vault—”

“We’ll find it. I’ve never let anything half so valuable escape my grasp and I don’t intend to now.”

“What about Ellsworth? After all this, he might still seek me out.” She tipped the bottle into her mouth and drank.

With an arm resting on his knee, Locke bit heartily into a chunk of bread and thought it over.

“There are plenty of places to go. Rome. Egypt. India…” He pointed his half-eaten bread at her. “You’ve never been to any of them, have you?”

“And you have?” She passed him the bottle.

“I’ve seen ’em all.” And thus, he had paid a price. Aside from Miss Blackthorne and the wretched Ellsworth, he hadn’t a single acquaintance left.

She came closer and, spreading out her skirts, sat down on the blanket beside him. At last.

“One can’t travel forever, you know. With your share, you’ll have to settle down sometime.”

“Perhaps.” He paused to consider it. “Say, what does a respectable man with a fortune do?”

“I suppose he would marry.” She took up a slice of cheese and placed it on the bread. “Attend the opera, throw dinner parties.”

“Dinner parties? As in the one that I attended the second time we met?”

“Similar, yes.”

“I’d rather hang myself.”

She laughed in a breathy, cheerful way. It lifted him.

“You have a bit of that wanderer’s spirit yourself,” he said after a pause.

“When I was younger.” She blushed, as though it were a silly notion. “I remember asking my father over and over to take me to sea. Of course, given that I was no more than a girl, he refused.”

“He was trying to protect you.”

“If only he had wanted the same for William…”

“But it wasn’t the sea that claimed him.”

“Ellsworth…” Locke remembered, his face falling.

Miss Blackthorne rubbed her arm. “It was right when we’d lost everything. Everyone thought he’d gone mad and maybe he had. The sea and whatever tragedy he’d faced out there had done that to him.” She squeezed her fists. “But I refused to let that scare me off from ever leaving home—had I the chance.”

“Good.” Locke gave a single nod. When traveling, or going to any place unfamiliar, really, the first thing one must overcome is fear. Otherwise, it will swallow you up.”

“How did you overcome it?”

“I try not to focus on the dangers. And I never look back.”

“That’s no easy thing,” Mae said. “I’m starting to miss Blackthorne Manor already.”

“The place doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh? And what place does?”

“That, you’ll have to discover for yourself.”

“Tell me.” A glimmer of bold curiosity brightened her eyes. “Tell me about the places you’ve been.”

Glad to have distracted her from her moroseness earlier, Locke worked to come up with the single, most romantic place. “The Tuscan countryside. The wind there isn’t sharp. It’s warm and soft. And saturated with the scent of leather.” He breathed in deep, almost fancying a hint of it.

“And the people. What are they like?”

“I don’t know. I—uh, didn’t stay long. The smugglers I banded with, well, they didn’t last.”

“The law caught on to them?”

“Not quite. More of a coup, and things…turned violent. Didn’t even get my cut. This, after my days at sea. I hadn’t much money then…”

“So what did you do? How did you survive?”

Locke looked down at the wine bottle. He’d been an idiot to bring up Tuscany. He wished he hadn’t.

“I went as far as I could afford. I suppose it will disgust you that I stole from families when I needed to, even the elderly.”

“Why not search for work somewhere else? Become a sailor, perhaps.” Mae fumbled with another slice of cheese.

“I’ve heard enough dark tales to know that’s no easy life, either.”

“So what did you do?” Miss Blackthorne seemed afraid to ask.

He was just as afraid to answer. He wanted the story to encourage her wanderer spirit, not scare her away. “I did what I had to until I could afford a ticket someplace promising. I haven’t lived an easy life.” I should stop now, he thought. All he had seen and experienced—it wasn’t fit for her ears.

“Perhaps if you had tried to make an honest living—”

Locke clenched his teeth. She insisted on marking him dishonest. But what of his privateering days during the American War of 1812? What would she have called him then? A soldier? A good man willing to die for his country, though his acts had been no different?

“You don’t know the truths of this world as I do,” he said, calmer now. “It’s one where honest men starve and dishonest men feast, and sometimes violence is the only choice we’ve got.”

“Good speech. Though I doubt it’ll keep you from hanging.”

“Still mean to turn me in, Miss Blackthorne?”

“Mae, if you please.”

“Friends now, are we?”

“Hardly. The name is just—just too reminiscent of things past…”

“That’s behind you now,” Locke reminded her. “Don’t look back.”

“For that, I am grateful to you. Grateful enough to call us friends.”

Mae, he repeated in his mind, was easier on the ears. Blackthorne held too many dark memories for him too. Mae, he liked much better.

“Do you think I’ll ever return?” Mae asked.

“For your sake, I hope not.”

Mae crossed her arms. “Being a governess wasn’t all bad, I’ll have you know… I still had use of the library. I’ve even read of that Tuscan leather you spoke of.”

“Much to learn from reading, but you’d do better to experience it firsthand. How can books possibly capture the smell of the Indian market? The colors of the sunset over the Mediterranean? The majesty of the ancient pyramids? We all see the world differently, Mae. The point is that you have to see it for yourself.”

In her expression, a bit of that hope-filled wanderer spirit emerged. Renewed and strengthened, he’d like to think. Though only for a moment. Soon after, her face dropped, returning to reality. “We can’t all be fearless pirates.”

“‘Fearless’? I’d sooner be dead. I have fear—just not enough to imprison me.”

“What of men like Ellsworth?”

Locke clucked his tongue. “The world is full of betrayers—no matter where you run.” Except here, he thought. Mae could trust him with her life. For however long it lasted, for this moment at least, they were bound to the same cause: they both sought freedom and soon, they would have it.

“You know…” He offered her another slice of bread. “You need never fear starvation with me. Tuscany was a long time ago and I—”

“How long, exactly?”

“Years. I was younger then, more foolish.”

“Hadn’t you any family? Parents, siblings…”

“To rescue me, you mean? To try to convince me of a better life?”

“Forgive me, I—”

“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. He just wasn’t like her, with a respectable name. Even if that name hid a past as unconventional as his own.

“What about the father you spoke of?”

He was surprised she remembered. The mention of him had been an afterthought. A little fact he hadn’t meant to reveal. Hell, that never happened. He was never this forthcoming.

“There was him,” he admitted. But there were also his original, biological parents.

Mae waited, expectant. There was no evading her questions now. But why not tell her? What harm could it do?

“If you must know, both my parents died long ago, when I was a lad.” His voice dropped to a whisper. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if someone else stood near.

“It’s difficult, isn’t it?”

“Yes. We’re similar in that. We’re both very much alone.”

Mae lifted shoulder. Her dissent, though subtle, seemed outright. He happened to think that they were very similar, and in more ways than one. How did she not see their likeness? With her, these traits were oftentimes hidden, but they were there nonetheless.

“To an extent, we’re similar in that way, yes.”

“‘To an extent’?”

“Well…” Mae swept breadcrumbs from her skirt. “Unlike you, I don’t always wish to be alone.”

“What makes you think I wish to be alone?”

“Your desire for smuggling and travel, of course.”

“Suppose I don’t travel so much anymore… There are downsides. Piracy, for one, is full of enemies.”

“As I would expect.”

“But I despised that bit. Through and through. I’ve come to realize that gold is not worth that price.”

Mae let out a beat of laughter. “All this time, is it not what you’ve been after?” When Mae looked at him with an arched brow, he near snarled.

“It’s not as though I am incapable of feeling…” he whispered. She didn’t understand, but how could he explain things without revealing his aims for the sapphire? He didn’t want to involve her in that mess. Instead, he fought for other words, eager for her to know at least a portion of the truth. He wasn’t the same cold-blooded killer as Alastair. He was certain of that now.

Mae laughed. “The only thing you should care for are gold doubloons.”

Lord, he didn’t know what had possessed him. Perhaps it was his frustrations—but drawing a breath, he took her hand and brought her dainty fingers to his lips.

“You’re wrong,” he said, holding her hand tightly, using all his strength to keep still.

Mae’s eyes, meanwhile, grew wider. She ripped her hand out from his grasp, her eyes skidding over her surroundings, as if noticing for the first time that they were alone. When she backed away, all anticipation drained out of him, replaced by the icy chill of her gaze.

“You don’t still see me as a threat…” He shifted closer.

“Don’t.” Mae’s tone turned as hard and cold as iron, freezing him in his tracks. “I’ve agreed to help you find my fortune—nothing more.”

“As I’m well aware.” Equally insulted, he rose to his feet.

He cursed himself. What the devil was he thinking? Certainly, this was not the place to get what he wanted. Yet he could still see it in her eyes. The look that had yet to fade. Why didn’t she simply give into it already? He growled inwardly, like the savage she thought he was.

What did he have to do? Call her beautiful, write her hourly poems, pay her a thousand more compliments before she might agree to a kiss or more? He hated how much he longed for it. He might have agreed to do anything for it. How she could quite easily make him a fool.

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” Here, he was in a room alone with her—an accomplishment he might never have deemed possible with such a woman—and he couldn’t even manage to kiss her hand, much less the other things he’d dared to imagine. He hadn’t even the hope of a “good night.”

“It doesn’t matter. There are certain rules men and women are supposed to abide by. We should not be alone like this.” She pushed her hands out.

“I did nothing out of line.” He raked a hand through his hair. “We’ve been alone plenty before and I’ve never… You’re not even a lady any longer.”

Her mouth went slack in a silent gasp.

He was certain she was being unreasonable, but when he saw the flicker of fear in her eyes he understood. She wasn’t truly free. The straight-laced rules she’d been forced to follow had never left her. “Why are you so fixed upon these dictates?” He demanded to know.

“I-I…” she stammered as she pressed back against the wall, letting her eyes drift to the floor. If only he could see what she wanted him to do next and how he might give that to her…But she was impossible to read. Her eyes were mysterious now more than ever.

“I don’t know!” she suddenly screamed. She pounded her fist backward against the wall and spun around, covering her face with her hands.

“It is fear holding you back?” Locke said. “I fought enough battles to know fear when I see it. No matter what kind…even fear of who you are. You’re not just your father’s daughter.”

“I know that.”

“Yet you’ve denied the rest of you for so long.”

“Because it’s only brought me pain.”

“It could bring you peace. If you embraced it, your wanderer spirit, and perhaps…”

She scoffed. “Do what? Travel?”

“Why not? Deep down, that’s what you were meant to do. I’m certain of that.”

When she turned around, he stepped closer. For a second, Mae seemed certain of it too.

“You have no wish to travel in your heart?”

“I always have.” Mae shrugged. “Though I’ve never spoken of it.”

“Ah…” He brushed her chin with his thumb. “I thought so.”

The sensation, the warmth of her skin radiating into his, surprised him. It had been some time since he had been this close to another woman. Years, even. But he was sure it had never felt like this, never so right.

She swallowed.

“You’ll do it, then? Travel with me? When all this is over, of course.”

She nodded, making his pulse throb with excitement. Somehow, she seemed to be agreeing to so much more.

The romantic side of him wanted to be gentle. Have her yield to him without trepidation. But the pirate side of him wanted to take the back of her neck and pull her against him, no matter what the consequence.

Taking in a deep gust of air, he let the pirate side of him win. To his amazement, she didn’t resist.

The Sapphire Heiress (Book 1 in the Silver Order series)
By Ella Leon

A pirate who walks amongst the highest circles of society.

A governess desperate to escape servitude.

“Exciting, dramatic, romantic; infused with magic, danger and mystery, The Sapphire Heiress reinvents the historical romance. Wondering what Historical Romantasy looks like? This is it.”

– New York Times Bestselling Author Amanda Quick

In Victorian England, the Silver Order has kept its supernatural discoveries hidden for centuries. Those who seek its secrets must always pay a price…

Mae Blackthorne, the daughter of an English shipbuilder and a Filipina immigrant, has been taught to ride sidesaddle, embroider pillows, and dance the waltz. So when her brother disappears at sea, she hasn’t a clue what to do when the family’s shipbuilding business falls into bankruptcy.

It isn’t long before Mae is penniless. Or so she believes. Forced to accept a post as governess in the very home she was raised in, Mae takes on the challenge in good spirits. Yet she is restless and yearns for the life of adventure her daredevil father and brother once had. That is, until she meets Ethan Locke, a pirate who offers her an enticing opportunity to recover her secret inheritance.

Unbeknownst to Mae, her family used their shipbuilding business to shroud generations of successful piracy. Locke, who was once partners with her father, has an old score to settle. He claims that her father stole from him an object of great value: a sapphire that can stop its wearer from growing old. As her father’s last surviving heir, Mae is Locke’s only hope of finding this supernatural jewel hidden amidst her family’s secret fortune.

Agreeing to work together and split the fortune amongst themselves, they share an instant spark of attraction. But they’re not alone in their search. The original owners of the sapphire, who operate an elite secret society, are far more powerful than Mae and Locke could have ever imagined. As danger closes in and the supernatural proves real, Mae fears she has much more to lose than just a second chance at a new life.

Summarized best as Pirates of the Caribbean meets Jane Eyre, THE SAPPHIRE HEIRESS is a suspense-filled historical romance perfect for fans of Amanda Quick.

Buy on Amazon for 99c or read for free in Kindle Unlimited.

About the author:

Ella Leon writes historical romantasy full of intrigue and suspense. Her debut historical romantasy series will be released in 2025 with Dragonblade Publishing. During her 9-5 career, she has delved into many different styles of writing: journalism, public relations and marketing. Fiction, however, is where she finds the most freedom to transform the page. Like the Victorians she writes about, she loves all things gothic and supernatural. Unlike the Victorians, she is a feminist who enjoys exploring the precolonial past. When she’s not writing, you can find her spending time with her family or tending to her rose garden. She lives in the Chicago area.

Find all my social media and purchase links for my books here: linktr.ee/ellaleon

Be sure to sign up for my newsletter to get exclusive content: ellaleon.substack.com

Add my books to your TBR on Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/53193883.Ella_Leon

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Published on March 07, 2025 00:00

February 28, 2025

First Kiss Friday with E.L. Johnson

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog. I’m so happy you’ve stopped by. Today’s guest is E.L. Johnson who has an excerpt from her new release Winter’s Poison. We hope you enjoy this first kiss scene. Happy reading, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

“…I don’t have time for boys.”

“Why not?”

“I’m too busy trying to find out who killed de Grecy.”

“You’re wasting your time. You should be baking, not chasing after ghosts. What if you

never find anyone? Why not tell the queen you want someone else take over? There must be men out there who are better at finding a traitor than you.”

She fumed quietly. “Because I am doing this. Why should I back down? A stranger won’t

care for my papa.”

“It’s just… You don’t want people to talk, Bronwyn,” he said.

“People talk as often as they breathe, Al. What do I care?”

“You’ll care when it means the boys don’t want you. They’ll think you’re a bit funny.

Touched in the head. Or worse, that you’re a girl trying to do a man’s job.”

She faced him and put her hands on her hips. “Alfred, I don’t know what to make of you.

Women and men share jobs all the time, so how is this any different?”

“It’s just…”

“First you don’t want me walking about with boys and then you don’t want me to help

my papa, for fear the boys won’t like me. Which is it? My head is spinning from all your talk.”

Even in the darkness, she could sense his face turning red. “I mean, Bronwyn, that you

should beg the queen’s mercy and see if she’ll release you from this silly quest. Ask her to let

you return from working in the castle kitchens. Or better yet, see if she’ll let you help your ma in

the bakery. She needs the help. And you need to stop running around to the castle.”

“You make it sound like I’m having a lark. If I don’t do this, no one will find out who

killed de Grecy and my papa might as well be dead.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “The rulers won’t let that happen. They’re just. They’ll look

after you. Your family won’t starve.”

“Oh, really,” she said hotly, “and you’re so close to them, you can speak for the king and

queen? What are you, their personal servant? Funny, I didn’t see you there when they imprisoned my papa for something he didn’t do.”

They stood in the shadows and torchlight from houses and shops shut for the night, but

she could still see Alfred’s face in the flickering lights. Bronwyn glared up at him, cursing that

she was mere average height for a woman, and shorter than him. It gave Alfred the advantage to look down his nose at her.

His eyes burned brightly and reflected the torchlights in the darkness from the homes and

shops. “One of these days, Bronwyn, you’ll say too much, and that tongue of yours will get you

into trouble.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Alfred, I’m getting pretty sick of you telling me

what to do. You’re not my papa or my mama. You sound like a gossipy, old woman.”

He laughed, and she turned her back on him.

“Would a gossipy, old woman do this?” He pulled her arm back to face him and planted a

kiss on her lips.

She stopped, stunned. My first kiss.

He held his lips against her as if he expected a reaction. When she didn’t respond, he

grasped her shoulders and pulled her closer, kissing her again.

Bronwyn pushed his hands away and stepped out of his embrace. She glared at him, her

cheeks warm.

He smiled. “There. That ought to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Shut you up for a minute. You need reminding that you’re a woman.” He looked so

pleased with himself, he grinned from ear to ear.

Bronwyn stepped on his foot. Hard.

“Oi, what was that for?” he asked, hopping on one foot.

“I don’t need reminding. And I never asked you to kiss me.” Her feet felt shaky.

“You never have to ask.” He grinned. “I’ll do it again if you like.”

Winter’s Poison: The Winter Murders
By E.L. Johnson

Bronwyn Blakenhale’s world is about to turn upside down. A young baker who wants a bit of independence from her simple life in twelfth-century Lincoln, she gets involved in courtly politics when an expensive order for bread rolls leaves one man dead at the king’s table, and all fingers point at her and her father.

With her father imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, Bronwyn is tasked by the queen to find out who poisoned the rolls and likely meant to kill the royal family. But with her father surrounded by men loyal to the opposing empress, spies afoot in the castle, and a poisoner on the loose, Bronwyn’s time is short. Now, if only she didn’t have young men like the squire Rupert to distract her.

Rupert Bothwell, the squire of a knight, has a friendly smile for everyone, including a beautiful lady at court who admires him, but he insists on walking Bronwyn home at night. Is he just being chivalrous or is there something more? But Bronwyn has more to deal with, as a childhood friend steps in to help her family’s bakery and makes it clear he doesn’t want her friendship, but her heart.

From feuding factions and turncoat knights at court to castle prisons and an invading army on the horizon, Bronwyn must find the killer and prove her father’s innocence—or lose all that she holds dear. In a world dominated by intrigue and murder, Bronwyn might just surprise everyone and prove that she is no ordinary baker.

Purchase for $0.99 or read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited.

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Winters-Poison-Medieval-Historical-Mystery-ebook/dp/B0DTWVCYT5?ref_=ast_author_mpb

Author bio

E.L.Johnson is an ex-pat from Concord, Mass, now living in the UK. She is currently an author with Dragonblade Publishing and recently finished a five-book historical mystery series set in Georgian-era England. Last year one of her short stories was nominated for Best of the Net anthology, and she was a guest speaker for the Writer’s Workout first annual writing conference. For the second year in a row, she was a volunteer reader for the Orwell Youth Prize for the longlist and shortlisted entries. Johnson is a member of the Hertford Writers’ Circle and runs the London Seasonal Book Club, a monthly book club with over 3500 members.

Learn more about E.L. Johnson here:

Twitter: @ELJohnson888 or https://twitter.com/ELJohnson888

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/theELJohnson/

Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/eljohnson_writes/?hl=en

Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@alecto99

Follow her on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/E.L.-Johnson/author/B019M4GDU0?ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18090432.E_L_Johnson

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/e-l-johnson

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Published on February 28, 2025 00:00

February 21, 2025

First Kiss Friday with Ruth A. Casie

Hello and welcome back to my First Kiss Friday blog! I’m always thrilled to share a new release from my friend Ruth A. Casie who is here to share an excerpt from her book A Marriage for the Marquess. We hope you enjoy this first kiss scene. Happy reading, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

What began as a practical arrangement soon became something far more dangerous. His inheritance would be secure, and her family would be free of debt—but neither had anticipated how admiration would turn to longing. Near kisses burned with unspoken desire, each moment drawing them closer. Love was never part of the bargain until…

Miss Hayward,

Consider this a friendly warning. The debts of the past have a way of reaching into the present. It would be a shame if the beauty of Fairmont were marred by misfortune. The consequences unbearable if actions are not taken. I trust you’ll find a way to settle accounts before matters take an unfortunate turn.

A Concerned Observer

“No one threatens you without facing my retribution.” Ewan’s firm determination was evident in the set of his jaw, a silent pledge of his protection.

Juliet’s breath caught as the air between them became charged with a tension that was both thrilling and terrifying. She heard his declaration spoken with purpose and sincerity.

“I cannot let you be drawn into my family problems.” She shook her head and took a step back. But he took her by the shoulders. She could not turn away.

“You have no say in what I allow myself to be drawn into,” Ewan said, his voice low and unwavering. “I refuse to stand idly by when I can help.”

He drew her in closer, close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him. Juliet’s earlier decision melted under the intensity of his gaze. She knew she should maintain a distance and protect both their hearts from the potential pain of a future denied. Yet, as she looked up at him, all thoughts of caution vanished.

“Ewan,” she whispered. “You mustn’t—”

But her protest was silenced as he leaned down. His lips captured hers in a gentle kiss. The kiss spoke of support, shared burdens, and a growing affection that refused to be ignored.

Juliet’s hands found their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his coat as she returned his kiss, her mind a frenzy of emotion. She felt a surge of hope, a daring belief that perhaps they could face the future together, no matter the obstacles.

Their kiss deepened, and little by little, the excuses Juliet used to protect her heart began to crumble. Ewan’s touch was tender, his kiss a comfort to the silent fears that had haunted her. In his embrace, she found strength and a sense of safety she hadn’t known she craved. The world outside, with its expectations and judgments, faded into insignificance. In this moment, there was only Ewan, his kiss, and the promise of a love that might conquer all.

As the intensity of their embrace waned, Ewan became acutely aware of the propriety they challenged. With great reluctance, he eased back, his hands sliding from her back to grasp her hands gently. “I should leave,” he whispered, his words heavy with unspoken longing.

He led her by the hand to the drawing room door. When they finally parted, breathless and wanting more, Juliet looked up into Ewan’s eyes, seeing not just the marquess but the man who was kind and brave.

His gaze held a silent vow that this was only the beginning. He released her hands as if letting go of a treasured possession and stepped back toward the threshold. “I must go. ‘Till it be morrow,” he murmured, a tender echo of their farewell at Covent Garden.

And with that, he turned and stepped through the doorway, leaving her with a heart full of hope and a drawing room full of flowers.

A Marriage for the Marquess – Book One of Barrington’s Brigade
By Ruth A. Casie

In a world of secrets, love, and ticking clocks,
their alliance of convenience may just become a marriage of the heart.

Marquess Ewan Glenraven has five weeks to marry or lose everything. Summoned by his former commanding officer, Lord Barrington, he’s tasked with dismantling a deadly gambling scheme and uncovering the truth behind mysterious deaths, all linked to the clandestine Order of Shadows.

In Cavendish Square, Lady Juliet Hayward teeters on the brink of destitution, burdened by her late brother Bradley’s crushing debts. Determined to confront the man holding her brother’s vowels, she crosses paths with Ewan, each unaware that they share a common enemy.

Their solution: a marriage of convenience to meet their urgent needs. But as they delve deeper into London’s underworld, they unearth a conspiracy orchestrated by the elusive Order of Shadows, manipulating events from behind the scenes. A single kiss ignites unexpected emotions, threatening to unravel their carefully laid plans.

Time is running out. Can they trust each other with their secrets, and their hearts, while battling a hidden enemy?

5 Star Review – “A fun, fast-paced romance with quick and clever characters, a circuitous plot, and a delightful love story that keeps you entertained from start to finish.” ~ Amazon Review

Read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon Purchase Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DR3C66BP

About the Author:

Ruth A Casie writes historical adventures from the shores of medieval Scotland to the cobblestone streets of Regency London. Her stories embrace strong woman and the men who deserve them. Within the pages you’ll discover ‘edge-of-your-seat suspense, mind boggling drama, and heart melting emotions. Grab your favorite cup of tea, or an ale if you prefer, and join her heroes and heroines as they race across the pages to find their happily ever after. Ruth hopes her stories are your next favorite adventures!

Send Ruth a note at Ruth@RuthACasie.com

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Published on February 21, 2025 00:00

February 14, 2025

First Kiss Friday with A Second Chance at Love & a Giveaway

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog and happy Valentine’s Day! Today I’m going to share with you the first kiss scene from my novella A Second Chance at Love. This little story first appeared in the Bluestocking Belles’ boxset Fire & Frost that centered around the common theme of the 1814 Frost Faire. I hope you enjoy this look back at two of my favorite characters and love the cover with my daughter on it as much as I do! Happy reading, my lovelies, and be sure to read to the end to learn about my giveaway!

Excerpt:

Constance waited in the foyer while a servant went to fetch her pelisse. Her aunt had stayed behind in the meeting room to finish up a few details, and Constance hoped this would give her some additional time alone with Digby. Her heart leapt when she saw him leaving the front parlor. She could barely contain her breathing as he came ever nearer to her side. How she loved this man.

“Your aunt—” he started to say, bowing over her hand.

“—is momentarily delayed,” she finished with a smile.

He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Come with me,” he urged, while gently taking her elbow.

She gave a quick glance around and nodded. None of the other people gathering in the foyer paid any attention to them. They were too preoccupied with their own conversations or going on about the details of the event to follow next month.

Constance and Digby did not go far and she was thankful he escorted her into an open room with no door, thus ensuring her reputation remained intact. A nook not visible from the hallway gave them a semblance of privacy and she could only wonder what this man who owned her heart would do next. She did not have long to wait.

“You may think this is too forward of me, Lady Constance,” he began.

She let a light laugh escaped her. “We have known one another far too long to be so formal, my lord, at least when we are alone together.”

He brightened her day with his smile and brought her closer. “Constance… you do me a great honor.”

“The honor is mine, Digby,” she breathed in a soft whisper, resting her hands lightly on his forearms.

“During my time away, a day did not go by that I did not think of you. The hurt I caused you at our parting has weighed heavily on my mind for two long years.”

“I have already forgiven you for all that, Digby.”

“Yes, I know, and I am most grateful you can forget my foolishness. This may be too fast, since we have only just reunited, but I wanted you to know I still care for you, Constance.”

She reached up to cup his cheek. “Digby, surely you must know you still own my heart?”

“You give me hope for a future together,” he said in a husky tone.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

She thought she was prepared for when Digby bent down to place his lips upon her own. The kiss was gentle at first, a testament to what they truly felt for one another. But as she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, everything changed. Digby pulled her into his arms and every fiber of her being burst in sheer joy. He deepened their kiss, and she was more than willing to follow his lead. Tingling sensations stole down her spine and Constance knew in this very instant that she had not lost his love. Surely, if Digby could kiss her like this then he would certainly wish for them to wed at some point in their future.

A low moan of desire escaped her and she felt his arms tighten around her waist.

A Second Chance At Love: A Frost Fair Regency Romance
By Sherry Ewing

Can the bittersweet frost of lost love be rekindled into a burning flame?

Viscount Digby Osgood returns to London after a two-year absence, planning to avoid the woman he courted and then left. Surely she has moved on with her life; even married by now. A bit of encouragement from a friend, however, pushes him to seek the lady out. Can she ever forgiven him and give them a second chance at love?

Lady Constance Whittles has only cared for one man in her life. Even after he broke her heart, it remains fixed on him. Another man tries to replace him, but she soon learns she can never feel for him a shadow of what she still feels for Digby. One brief encounter with Digby confirms it; she is more than willing to forgive him. Can they truly take up where they left off?

Charity projects and a Frost Fair on the Thames bring them together, but another stands in their way. Will he tear them apart?

Learn more right here on my website including a book trailer: https://sherryewing.com/regency-books/a-second-chance-at-love/

Buy Links:

Amazon US | Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Books2Read

Giveaway Opportunity ~

To be in the running for an Amazon $5 gift card, tell me what your favorite dessert is or what you might have with your significant other tonight. I’ll leave this giveaway open until sometime on Sunday when I’ll generate a random winner from the comments. Good luck, everyone, and have a lovely Valentine’s Day!

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Published on February 14, 2025 00:00

February 7, 2025

First Kiss Friday with Katherine Lyons

Welcome to another First Kiss Friday and my blog! Today I have a new author to me. Please welcome Katherine Lyons who has an excerpt from her story Rules for a Fake Fiancé. I just love this cover and its title. So many possibilities! We hope you enjoy this first kiss scene. Happy reading, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

WHAT WAS HE doing? The question spun through Trevor’s brain. He’d seen how pretty she looked in the moonlight, how her hair curled so perfectly by her ear, and how her lips were moist and inviting. So he’d taken the invitation without thought to the consequences. And now he was immersed in her glorious kiss.

It started in the usual way. The lady gasped in surprise, and that naturally allowed him entrance. He deepened the kiss automatically, thrusting inside and pulling her closer. Her head had to tip back, which gave him the superior position as he dominated her head and body. He tasted, he toyed, and he took from her before she had the wherewithal to refuse. It was the way a future duke kissed, and he was well practiced.

Except, apparently, she was practiced as well. She closed her mouth—a little, just enough to threaten his tongue. His blood surged at the threat, and his fingers tightened, holding her to his will. She fought him for a moment, her hands hard where they clutched his shoulders. Then she surrendered completely.

He thrust into her mouth, she arched into his body, dropping her head back. In that small movement, she gave him dominion, and he set out to plunder her with a different mindset. Where before he had taken, now he set to a skillful dance of advance and retreat. In and out, he played, easily besting her until he found himself burning with a fire wholly unexpected. His heart pounded in his ears, his hands shifted to support her so he could take her to the floor, and most damning of all, his organ was hot and hard where he rubbed himself against her skirts.

The speed of this inferno stunned him, and in shock, he broke from her before he lost himself to her fire.

He stepped back harshly, his breath coming in great gasps. She was clutching him, so she followed, though she didn’t pursue the kiss. She, too, was breathing heavily, and that was the only sound in the room. Two people gasping in the most erotic of rasps he had ever heard.

Rules for a Fake Fiancé
By Katherine Lyons

A delightful Regency romance perfect for fans of Julia Quinn and Tessa Dare!

Melinda Smithson needs a husband – preferably one who appreciates her scientific mind. Trevor Anaedsley, future Duke of Timby, needs a temporary fiancé to secure his inheritance. Their fake engagement seems like the perfect solution…until real feelings start to complicate their clever scheme.

Between meddling families, dramatic duels, and a surprisingly combative turkey, Melinda and Trevor discover that matters of the heart can’t be approached with scientific precision.

As London’s high society watches their every move, can these two brilliant minds find the formula for true love?

Buy Link: https://bit.ly/FakeFiance

Author Bio:

  Flirty, dirty and fun! That’s how Katherine Lyons likes her love stories. One would think that would lead her to contemporary romance, but she’s always loved the witty dialogue and hot, sexy humor of regency romance. She’s a big fan of The Bridgertons, Big Bang Theory (even though it’s over), and her favorite movie is The Avengers because she loves the MCU.

Social Media Links:

Newsletter: https://katherine-lyons.com/about-katherine-lyons/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61559504131915

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorkatherinelyons/

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Published on February 07, 2025 00:00

January 31, 2025

First Kiss Friday with Jude Knight

Thank you so much for stopping by my First Kiss Friday blog! I’m also so happy to welcome back my dear friend Jude Knight who has a first kiss scene from her story The Widow’s Christmas Rogue. Isn’t the cover stunning? Happy reading and enjoy, my lovelies! Take it away, Jude!

This excerpt is from The Widow’s Christmas Rogue. My hero is trapped in a cottage with a widow. Jessica Lady Colyton (yes, Aldridge’s half sister Jessica, who appears in Melting Matilda), despite her undeserved reputation, has not experienced pleasure in the marital bed and has no other experience. This excerpt starts just after she seeks the help of Martin Viscount Tavistock to remedy the lack (some of you might recognise him as Chloe’s brother, from Desperate Daughters).

Excerpt:

Martin’s trousers had felt tight a couple of times already this morning, but they filled even more in reaction to that hesitant embarrassed statement. Still, he had to be certain. “Jessica, are you inviting me to make love to you, and to bed you if you like the results?”

He could no longer see her face. Only the crown of her head. He had never before been aroused by the neat centre part of a woman’s hair. He yearned to put it in disarray, to pull out the pins that fastened the snood at the base of her neck and release the rest of her hair from the confines of the net bag. How long was it? The snood was large and full—he would wager her hair reached her waist, at least.

The nod she gave in reply to his question was miniscule, and the noise she made not much more than a high-pitched hum. “Hmmm.”

Her obvious nervousness helped him wrestle back control of his appetite. She needed him to be calm. “I am honoured,” he told her. “Shall we discuss the particulars as we break our fast?”

Her head came up at that and he found himself gazing into hazel eyes wide with—what? Fear? Anxiety? Uncertainty? “Breakfast? Now? I thought…”

“We have plenty of time,” he told her. “Let us eat, play another game of chess, perhaps kiss a little, and see how things develop. And Jessica? Just to be clear, you can stop me at any time. At any time at all.” A thought occurred to him—a set of words she could use to make her feel more comfortable. “You can say stop, or slow down, or wait, or no. And I will listen. I promise.”

Some of the small lines around her eyes relaxed and smoothed away. “Stop. Slow down. Wait. No.” She repeated the words in an undertone, as if memorising them. Then, in a sudden transformation, she said, “Breakfast. Martin, I made griddle cakes.” She was in motion again, all crisp housewife, as she picked up a jug containing a smooth cream batter. We can eat them with bacon and eggs, if you wish, or with butter and jam. Also, I have mashed some of the vegetables left from last night. I can fry the mash, if you choose the savoury option.

“Bacon, eggs, and fried mash,” he agreed. “Do you want ale or tea, Jessica?” And he cupped her cheek and bent to press a tender kiss to her lips. Closed-mouthed, short, and gentle, but his head reeled as he straightened again.

It was because she was so vulnerable. How could their first kiss not be important, innocent though it had been? She gazed up at him, her eyes wide again, this time with wonder, unless he was much mistaken.

He could not resist a second kiss, this time slightly less innocent, since he swiped his tongue along her lips. “Mmm,” he said. “Sweet.”

She blushed again. “I had a spoonful of the jam, just to be sure it was tasty. Raspberry.”

“Raspberry and Jessica,” he commented, and risked a wink. “Yum.”

Her blush deepened, but he saw her lips curve in a smile as she turned back to the stove, saying, “Rogue.”

“Did you like it, though?” he asked, and waited anxiously for her answer.

Her smile reassured when she glanced at him over her shoulder. “You must know you kiss very well,” she said, her voice sharp but her eyes soft and warm.

“That was barely anything,” he told her. “There is more. Much more.”

The Widow’s Christmas Rogue
By Jude Knight

Jessica Lady Colyton has no intention of being a wicked widow and no time for rogues. Her father, her brothers and her husband were rogues enough for a lifetime. However, she has joined the Wicked Widow’s League, seeking help after her husband’s will proves to be just one more blow from a controlling and manipulative man.

It has been a difficult year. When her new friends organize a holiday in a country cottage for her, she blesses them—right up until she finds a naked rogue in her bed.

Martin Lord Tavistock is no rogue, unlike his father before him. The man’s early death in sordid circumstances brought him a title and a barrow-load of responsibilities. His uncle’s strict upbringing has given him little taste for pleasure and no skill in making friends.

He wants only to go home to Yorkshire, shunning the Christmas house party to which his matchmaking sister has invited him, and the beauties she has undoubtedly lined up to tempt him. When he wakes up in a strange lady’s bed, naked, tied down, and clueless as to how he arrived at her cottage, he wants no part in whatever plot is underway.

Trapped by a snowstorm, he and his furious hostess must form a reluctant alliance to survive, and that will be the end of their acquaintance. Won’t it?

Buy Links:

https://books2read.com/u/m26zvd
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CRQ5CTT4
https://books.apple.com/book/the-widows-christmas-rogue/id6475911189
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-widows-christmas-rogue-jude-knight/1144608404
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-widow-s-christmas-rogue

Meet Jude

Jude always wanted to be a novelist. She started in her teens, but life kept getting in the way. Years passed, and with them dozens of unfinished manuscripts. The fear grew. What if she tried, failed, and lost the dream forever? The years since 2014 have brought 17 novels, 16 novella, 6 volumes of short stories, a number of awards, and hundreds of positive reviews. The dream is alive.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

Subscribe to newsletter: http://judeknightauthor.com/newsletter/

Jude’s bookstore: https://judeknight.selz.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JudeKnightAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JudeKnightBooks

Pinterest: https://nz.pinterest.com/jknight1033/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/jude-knight

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Published on January 31, 2025 00:00

January 28, 2025

Happy Release Day ~ Caroline Warfield!

Today I’m giving an extra shout out to Caroline Warfield as she celebrates her new release Snowed by the Wallflower. We just know you’re going to love this new book by Caroline. Read on to learn more and enjoy, my lovelies, and congratulations Caroline on your latest book baby. May your sales soar!

Snowed by the WallFlower
By Caroline Warfield
Available now!

Belinda Westcott doesn’t want to injure the Earl of Ridgemont. She merely wants to humiliate him. After all, one good prank deserves a payback. How could she anticipate that it would go so terribly wrong, or that he would turn out to be nothing like she expected?

Skilled in both chemistry and cooking, Belinda happily hides in her aunt’s kitchen rather than risk embarrassment at the ongoing house party. The unexpected appearance of the earl and a skating party present the perfect opportunity to embarrass him in front of some snooty society miss. Unfortunately, his partner is Belinda’s own cousin, and even worse, the cousin drinks the hot chocolate—laced with emitics—meant for the earl.

As plain Major John Conlyn, John had sunk into a morose of dissipation when first released from the army. Neither his actions nor his companions make him proud. The death of a beloved cousin shocked him back to sense. It also made him an earl and the heir to his grandfather, a duke. He’s been ordered to find a wife and settle down. He wouldn’t mind, but now he’s surrounded by flighty debutantes and their grasping mothers. The one woman who interests him avoids him. She acts as if she despises him. Is it possible he did something when out of control that he ought to apologize for, something he can’t recall?

Buy link: https://books2read.com/snowedbywallflower

About the Author:

Award winning author Caroline Warfield has been many things: traveler, librarian, poet, raiser of children, bird watcher, Internet and Web services manager, conference speaker, indexer, tech writer, genealogist—even a nun. She reckons she is on at least her third act, happily working in an office surrounded by windows where she lets her characters lead her to adventures in England and the far-flung corners of the British Empire. She nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart, because love is worth the risk.

Learn more about Caroline and her work here:

https://www.carolinewarfield.com/
https://www.facebook.com/groups/WarfieldFellowTravelers
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/caroline-warfield

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Published on January 28, 2025 00:00

January 24, 2025

First Kiss Friday with Caroline Warfield

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog. I’m always thrilled whenever my dear friend Caroline Warfield is celebrating an upcoming release. Today she has an excerpt from Snowed by the Wallflower that releases on January 28th. We hope you enjoy this first kiss scene! Happy reading, my lovelies.

Excerpt:

John didn’t hesitate. He prowled in her direction with two hands full of snow. She started to break into a run, but wasn’t fast enough. Icy cold hit the back of her neck and dripped under her cloak. The other handful went down her chin. She scrambled to pick up another handful, but he reached her quickly with more.

The two of them wrestled with each other, laughing like fools, painting one another with snow, until Bel slipped on her cloak and fell over pulling John with her. They lay tangled, Bel on her back, John over her.

While they stared at each other, Bel surreptitiously scooped a handful of snow at her side.

No fool, he clamped his hand on her wrist forcing her to drop it. “Clever tactic, Miss Westcott. Wellington would admire it.” He kissed her lightly. “Unsuccessful though,” he murmured kissing her again.”

“Was it?” she asked, kissing him back. “That depends on my intention, don’t you think.”

He kissed her again, sliding his tongue along her mouth, seeking entrance. When she gave it, all coherent thought fled. He kissed his way along her chin to the spot below her ear, and Bel’s body felt as if it burst into flames. She ran her fingers through his thick hair, pulling him close until his mouth returned to hers and his clever hands began to explore her beneath the cloak.

When John started to move away, she groaned and tried to pull him back. “Why Miss Westcott, delightful as this is, I best stop while I still have some claim to the name gentleman.”

Startled back to reality, Bel started to protest, but good sense suggested better. She let him help her to her feet, not meeting his eyes. She patted and shook her cloak to remove the snow.

“You know, Miss Westcott, I do believe you have snowed me completely,” John laughed, knocking the melting stuff from his clothing.