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Excerpt Thursday ~ Hook Me!

Thursday, August 26th, 2010

THE SERGEANT’S LADY ended up being a September Top Pick long after Susanna received this day to have her excerpt posted. Do after you finish reading the excerpt, you may also want to check out Danielle’s review.

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Highborn Anna Arrington has been “following the drum,” obeying the wishes of her cold, controlling cavalry officer husband. When he dies, all she wants is to leave life with Wellington’s army in Spain behind her and go home to her family’s castle in Scotland.

Sergeant Will Atkins ran away from home to join the army in a fit of boyish enthusiasm. He is a natural born soldier, popular with officers and men alike, uncommonly brave and chivalrous, and educated and well-read despite his common birth.

As Anna journeys home with a convoy of wounded soldiers, she forms an unlikely friendship with Will. When the convoy is ambushed and their fellow soldiers captured, they become fugitives—together. The attraction between them is strong—but even if they can escape the threat of death at the hands of the French, is love strong enough to bridge the gap between a viscount’s daughter and an innkeeper’s son?

~*~*~

THE SERGEANT’S LADY ~ Susanna Fraser
Release Date: August 23  – Carina Press

In this scene from early in The Sergeant’s Lady, the hero, Will Atkins, and the heroine, Anna Arrington, have just begun to get to know each other and are seated in the shadows just beyond the light of an army campfire where Will’s fellow soldiers are singing and telling stories.

Fiddle and flute took up a new tune, Scottish, fast and infectious. It reminded Anna of her girlhood at Dunmalcolm, of being sixteen and dancing to the skirling music of bagpipes with her cousins and the neighbors’ sons in the castle ballroom. Her toes tapped of their own accord, and she saw that Sergeant Atkins’s did the same.

Impulsively she sprang to her feet and extended her hands. “Dance with me, Sergeant,” she ordered.

“No, ma’am. That wouldn’t be fitting.”

She beckoned again. “No one can see us here. Pretend we’re at your squire’s harvest dance, if you like.”

“But to a song like this, with a lady such as yourself? Not fitting at all.”

“What’s wrong with this song? I’ve never heard one more made for dancing.”

In the faint moonlight, she could just see his raised eyebrows. “You haven’t heard the words.”

She tossed her head. “I don’t care what the words are. I must dance.” Where was the harm? No one but the two of them would ever know. Anna longed for even a brief release from the tense propriety that had ruled her marriage and reigned over her still in widowhood. “Please, Sergeant Atkins,” she implored.

He shook his head again, but rose and took her by the hand. His grip was warm and strong. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With Sebastian she’d learned to separate her body from her mind and heart—to touch and be touched without feeling anything. So the jolt of warmth that shot down her spine at the sergeant’s touch stunned her. Perhaps this was unwise.

No. It felt too wonderful. She wanted to laugh with pure joy. It was only a dance. How dangerous could it be?

At a ball they would have joined a line or square with other couples, barely touched and followed a prescribed set of steps. Outside that framework Anna hardly knew how to follow through on her own mad scheme. Fortunately, once persuaded, her partner took the lead. He caught her about the waist with one hand, clasped her hand with the other and whirled her into a series of quick steps.

The soldiers by the fire began to sing—something about a trooper lad arriving in town weary with riding on a moonlit night. Oh, this was more like it! Her sergeant was a grand dancer. Even in the dark, on unfamiliar ground, dancing in a close hold, she trusted his surefooted guidance.

The singers reached the chorus. Bonny lassie, I’ll lie near you, hey bonny lassie, I’ll lie near you. Anna flushed, but she had expected a bawdy song from Sergeant Atkins’s warnings.

The next verses told how the lassie took the horse to the stable and the trooper to her table and fed them each their dinners. Anna looked up. In the moonlight she could see a twinkle in her partner’s eyes, and he grinned at her. Despite his initial reluctance, he was enjoying this too. She let the music carry her along, feeling as if she were flying. Every time he pressed his fingers against her waist to guide her she shivered. She felt the sergeant’s stripes sewn onto the sleeve of his rough wool jacket and beneath it the strong, lean muscles of his arm.

She went upstairs to make the bed,

And she made it soft and easy.

She’s pulled her petticoats o’er her head,

Crying, soldier, are you ready?

Anna gasped.

Sergeant Atkins laughed. “Told you.”

“You did,” she admitted.

“It gets worse.”

How was that possible? This was scandalous—but she had all but forced it upon him. She could not in justice complain.

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Posted in Carina Press, Excerpt Thursdays | 19 Comments »

Excerpt Thursday ~ Hook Me!

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

So tell me, were you hooked? Leave a comment and double your chances of winning 5 books from Thursday’s selection of The Season One Year Anniversary Giveaway.

.

Ace pilot Jace Vernon is forced to flee his home world after being framed for murder. He seeks justice, but S.I.N. agent Silver Malloy gets in his way. The platinum-haired beauty counters his every move in the quest to clear his name. As he makes it his mission to break down her defenses, he doesn’t count on the personal consequences of success.

Silver refuses to abort her deadly mission even if it means killing the one man Jace needs alive to prove his innocence. Her resolve wavers when Jace’s charms melt the barriers around her heart. Can she help him win his case, even if it means betraying her family and ruining her career?

~*~*~

SILVER SERENADE ~ Nancy Cohen
Release Date: July 16 2010 – Wild Rose Press

Despite the coolness of the woods, sweat dribbled down the back of Silver Malloy’s neck. Her muscles ached from hours spent in a crouched position, but stealth mattered more than comfort. She’d waited for this opportunity for months—no, make that years—and wasn’t about to lose it due to a lapse in technique.

This first kill might be her last, but at least she’d complete her revenge.

Using her rifle scope, she scanned the dusty street that stretched below her hillside vantage point. The few scruffy inhabitants who trudged between the ramshackle buildings didn’t interest her.

A lucky tip had brought her to Al’ron, a watering hole for space travelers. Those who visited here were not often welcome elsewhere. They came to buy arms, men, and equipment to carry out lawless raids against innocent victims, and Tyrone Bluth had earned the reputation as the cruelest bandit of all.

Silver couldn’t wait to end his reign of terror.

Raucous bird cries and the drone of insects rang in her ears, augmented by the auditory sensors in her gold drop earrings. She ignored them─her concentration centered on the only saloon in town.

Squinting, she watched the set of double swinging doors, eager for the slightest hint of movement. The spicy scent of tangleberries tickled her nose. She stifled a sneeze, unwilling to lose focus, even for a moment.

Someone staggered from the saloon. Her pulse accelerated as she recognized Bluth, the leader of Tyrone’s Marauders. He sported a wide-brimmed black hat, militia-style clothes, and a weapons belt bristling with armaments. A hostile scowl creased his ugly face, a face that had haunted her dreams forever.

Shutting one eye, she took careful aim through the targeting sight of her TechVix LD-6 Sharpshooter Special.

Her gut clenched, and she steeled herself to fire. Just as her finger twitched on the trigger, a shadowy figure dove into her. The impact knocked her to the ground. She dropped the rifle, but not before it discharged a wild shot.

A heavy weight toppled across her body, forcing her spine down against the packed earth. Tiny pebbles dug into the small of her back. Brittle pine needles pierced her skin. So much for the protective jumpsuit she’d worn.

“Let me up.” She shoved at the bulk immobilizing her. Unable to break free, she aimed a string of expletives toward the man whose furious green eyes glared down at her.

“Who the devil are you?” he demanded, his thick dark brows inched together in an angry scowl.

“I could ask you the same.” Silver’s hand scrabbled in the dirt, searching for her fallen weapon. “Are you one of Bluth’s men?”

“No.” His thighs pressed her firmly to the ground.

“Then get off me so I can finish what I started.”

“Only after you tell me why you’re here.”

Panic seized her as she faced the possibility of failure.  “All I need is one clear shot, then we’ll talk.” She thrust at his broad chest, but he wouldn’t budge.

“If you’re worried about Bluth getting away, it’s too late.”

“What?” Silver lifted her head to peer over the crest of the hill. Sure enough, Tyrone Bluth was nowhere in sight.

The villain had torn apart everything meaningful in her life, and now she’d lost her chance to even the score.

Rage clouded her vision. “I don’t know who you are, but you’ve no right to interfere.”

His lip curled. “Is that so?” His attention shifted to a spot beyond the ridge, then he lowered his face close enough for her to see the brown flecks in his irises. “Be quiet. Bluth’s patrol is searching the area.”

Gritting her teeth, she gave him an appraising glance. Taut angles highlighted his bone structure, emphasizing a patrician nose and a jaw set at an arrogant pitch. Jet black hair swept in tousled waves to his nape. Slicked back from a wide forehead, its style proclaimed he was a man who couldn’t be swayed from his purpose.

With her smaller frame, she doubted the defensive tactics she’d learned during training would be effective. He looked like a guy who could counter her every move.

Minutes ticked by while he pressed against her in a manner that made unwanted awareness flood through her.

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Posted in Anniversary Giveaway, Excerpt Thursdays, Giveaways | 57 Comments »

Excerpt Thursday ~ Hook Me!

Thursday, August 12th, 2010

So let me know if you’re hooked!

CHASING THE TRUTH

As an assistant on a powerful racing team, Emma-Lee Dalton wants to prove herself in the thrill-a-minute NASCAR world—and impress Holt Forrester, the man she can’t stop thinking about.

But when she gives Holt the inside track, unaware of his real agenda, she falls hard and fast for him. Now she needs her billionaire boyfriend to admit the truth about everything—including how he feels about her.

.


~*~*~

WHAT HE DIDN’T SAY ~ Chasing the Truth – Carol Stephenson
Release Date: August 1, 2010 – Harlequin NASCAR

He’d been lying to himself, Holt Forrester conceded as he dodged three men chest-bumping in the graveled parking area by the New Gorge River.  Minutes earlier the trio had parachuted together to a flawless bull’s-eye landing.  “Congratulations,” Holt called out without stopping.

Had he really thought he could handle the crush of people in attendance today?  Managing his investments based on cold, hard data was one thing.  Directing a tired mother with a wailing toddler to a port-a-potty was totally outside his comfort zone.  Still…

Pausing, he glanced up to the gleaming span of bridge eight hundred and seventy-six feet above.  Another jumper yelled a battle cry as he somersaulted off the platform.  Moments later a white parachute popped open against the blue sky.  Holt smiled.

Unbelievable.  He’d actually done it.  He’d pulled off the fund-raising event for breast cancer without a hitch.  All the months of convincing everyone in the West Virginia government from the governor to the Division of Highways to allow this special day of BASE —bridge, antennae, spans or earth— jumping had paid off.

The adrenaline buzz of his own jump still pumped through Holt along with pride and satisfaction.

He had known those adventurers who thrilled to parachute free falls wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of a legal jump off the second highest bridge in the United States.  All in the name of a good cause, the ‘Amanda Forrester Jump for Cancer’.

An event to honor his mother.  He’d been only twelve when she had lost her battle to breast cancer, but the memories of her efforts to maintain a normal life for him and his father despite her pain remained seared in his soul.

The latest jumper splashed into the river.  Volunteers gunned motorized inflatable rafts and raced toward the man to pluck him from the water.

Holt released a sigh of relief.  So far the event had gone without any major injury to any of the participants.  Only a cut here, a bruise there.

The only other thing that would make this day perfect would be to meet the woman with the smoky-warm voice who had called him from Double S Racing.  Emma-Lee Dalton.

He looked around for his assistant.  Ted would know if she had registered.  He might not be able to find her in this crowd, but surely she would be at the auction following the jumps.  Double S Racing had been more than generous in its donation of NASCAR racing memorabilia, and Holt suspected that the very enthusiastic Ms. Dalton was largely responsible.  He wanted the opportunity to thank her in person…and see if the woman matched the voice, he admitted.

“Hey, Holt!”  Stan Preston hurried toward him.  “Did you see all NASCAR bumper stickers in the lot?”

“Yes, I did.”

Stan huffed to a stop.  The older, heavier set man wore carefully-creased khaki’s, a blue oxford-collared shirt and navy windbreaker.  He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and mopped his brow.

“Wasn’t I right about NASCAR?  The fan loyalty is incredible.  Once I got the word out that the organization had donated items for the auction, the fans hotfooted here.”

“You were right, Stan.”  Not only had Holt been impressed with the man’s contacts at NASCAR, but he’d been amazed by the surge of registrations after the auction announcement.

The man beamed.  “You understand now why a NASCAR sponsorship would be a smart business move for your launch of the new software line?”

“I’d be a fool not to.”  Holt had met the insurance magnate when Stan had consulted with him about developing computer programs.  When Stan had gotten it in his head that he wanted to start his own NASCAR team, Holt had been one of the first he’d hit up for sponsorships.  A sponsorship seemed to be good business, but Stan’s new team might not be a good fit.

Holt never jumped into a deal, which is how he made his millions.  He needed more data before he made his decision.  He hadn’t even divulged to Stan the true nature of his latest computer venture.  Although the Internet was alive with rumors, he was keeping the game under wraps for now.

“Holt.”  Stan looked concerned.  “When I was checking out the auction, I noticed several items from Double S Racing.  The owner Gil Sizemore isn’t wooing you as a sponsor, is he?”

No point mentioning to Stan that he had found himself flirting with the Double S’s representative.

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Posted in Excerpt Thursdays, Harlequin | 11 Comments »

Excerpt Friday ~ Hook Me!

Friday, August 6th, 2010

Read and let me know if you were hooked? I definitely was and I love the cover!

~*~*~

Turn of the century novelist Lilly Westbrook learns that being faithful to her calling means more than just putting pen to paper.

It’s the summer of 1899 in Newport, Rhode Island, and Lilly Westbrook is struggling to conceal her career from family and friends because of the stigma attached to dime novels. Lilly feels good about her secret—after all, she’s enlightening working class girls with her books and honoring God by using her talents to His glory.

But her secret is threatened when Jackson Grail, a former suitor, becomes Lilly’s new publisher. He’s determined to revive his floundering publishing house by maximizing their most promising–and most secretive–author. His plan? Find “Fannie Cole” and convince her to go public.

When a gossip columnist discovers Lilly’s true identity, she finds that being faithful to her calling involves more than just putting pen to paper. It requires that she stand up for her faith and for herself, no matter the consequences.

LOVE ON A DIME ~ Cara Lynn James
Release Date: June 8, 2010 ~ Thomas Nelson

Excerpt

Lilly rushed up the carpeted staircase, anxious to vanish into the sanctuary of her bedroom. Her heart tumbled end over end. She stopped before she reached the landing and forced air into and out of her lungs as rhythmically as she could manage. Still, her bosom heaved as if she ’d run several miles in a tightly laced corset.

After six years, she never expected to see Jackson Grail again.

What nerve to show up on her doorstep when he surely must know his appearance would upset her. Her heart burned at the memory of him declaring his love and then casting her aside with only a lame explanation.

“You left so suddenly.” Jack’s deep voice startled her. She turned her head and spotted him at the foot of the stairs. “Did I say something to offend you, Lilly?”

She clutched the stair rail. “Not at all,” she fibbed. Why was he following her? The item in Talk of the Town coupled with Jack’s sudden appearance stripped her of every ounce of composure. She needed solitude to think and absorb all the bad news of the day.

“Then I’m sorry for my mistake. I thought you seemed distressed.” Jack inclined his head, but he didn’t turn to leave.

Lilly hesitated, and then regained her manners. “I’m afraid I haven’t been particularly welcoming, and I apologize for my behavior. Will you forgive me?”

“Yes, of course. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, but thank you for your concern.” She waited for him to bow and depart, but he continued to stare at her, his eyes brimming with—what? Embarrassment? Regret? She couldn’t tell.

He nodded as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Would you mind stepping outside for a few moments? I have something to tell you I should have said long ago.”

Lilly shook her head, but felt her resolve weakening. “No, I’m sorry. I do have letters to write . . .”

She wasn’t ready for any more revelations today. Was he about to apologize for his departure or offer an explanation for why he failed to maintain any sort of relationship since then? Later, when she prepared herself to accept his account calmly and without bitterness,

she’d listen. But not yet.

“Can’t your correspondence wait? I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”

Curiosity overcame her better judgment. Slowly she descended the stairs, clutching the rail for support. When she reached Jack, she refused to slip her hand into the crook of his arm. He raised his brows, but she ignored his questioning look. Her knees shook as they passed through the veranda and out onto the lush back lawn.

“Shall we walk to the beach?” he suggested.

Lilly nodded and pointed to a small sandy cove hollowed out between mounds of granite that jutted into the surf.

They strolled silently across the lawn and stopped where the grass edged a narrow strip of wet, silvery sand. Wisps of downy clouds floated across an azure sky which touched the royal blue ocean. A breeze shook the leafy skirt of a nearby elm tree and stirred the wild red roses blooming all along the shore. Their perfume blended with fresh, salty air, heavy and humid. With her hand shielding her eyes from the glare of the noonday sun, Lilly lifted her gaze to Jack.

Her heart fluttered, just as it always had when she looked at him. The years faded away and she saw the same broad-shouldered man who towered above her and moved with an athletic agility. A lock of his raven hair blew across his forehead. He pushed it back unsuccessfully, obviously unaware of his boyish appeal mixed with a strong, masculine allure. He’d grown more handsome now that he was approaching thirty, though age had crinkled the laugh lines around his dark brown eyes. Instinctively, Lilly knew to guard her heart.

“What did you want to tell me, Jack?”

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Excerpt Thursday: Hook Me!

Thursday, July 22nd, 2010

Were you hooked? Let me know what you think. You can click the cover to purchase Surrender the Heart.

~*~*~

Surrender the Heart ~ MaryLu Tyndall
Release Date: August 1, 2010 ~ Publisher: Barbour

A pair of wide brown eyes, streaked with terror, stared up at Noah. He shook his head. The woman amazed him. The last place he would have expected to find Miss Denton was hiding in his sleeping cabin. And for the life of him, he could find no reason for it, save one, which would be an impossibility.

“Pardon me, Noah. I seem to have gotten lost.” The fear fled her eyes, replaced by her usual lofty manner as she attempted to brush past him.

“A condition you seem to be making a habit of aboard my ship.” He moved to block her. A chuckled erupted from his throat.

She planted her hands on her waist. “I fail to see what is so amusing.”

Seafoam jumped onto Noah’s bed and plopped down, eyeing them both.

Noah set the lantern down and leaned on the door frame. A grin overtook his lips as he realized he could have some fun with this awkward situation. “On the contrary, finding you so close to my bed in the middle of the night is quite amusing, or should I say, rather pleasing.” He winked.

Her chest heaved. Her gaze flitted about the tiny room, avoiding him entirely. A red hue crept up her neck onto her face like a rising tide.

She lifted a hand as if she were going to push him, but when her eyes met his bare chest, she seemed to think better of it. “If you please, Noah, I need some air.”

He stepped aside before she swooned. Then grabbing the lantern, he followed her out into his cabin and placed it atop his desk. He faced her, searching his memory of his conversation with Mr. Heaton for anything the lady should not have overheard.

“Good night, Noah.” She kept her head lowered and headed for the door, but he darted in front of her. “Not just yet, Miss Denton.”

She backed away. “I am tired and wish to retire now.” The scent of her lavender soap swirled around him

“Then why are you in my cabin?” Noah lowered his head to peer into her face, but she kept her gaze upon the deck.

“If you insist on keeping me here, would you at least do me the honor of donning your shirt?”

He chuckled. That she was an innocent did not surprise him. That his unclad chest affected her, he found oddly pleasing.

“Are you quite sure, Miss Denton?” He quirked a brow.

She raised her chin, her face twisting in disdain as another flood of crimson blossomed over it. “How dare you?”

“Perhaps you cannot wait for our wedding night?”

Her brown eyes simmered. “Why you insufferable cad” She raised her hand to slap him.

He caught it and lifted it to his lips for a kiss, eyeing her with delight.

She studied him then released a sigh. “You tease me, sir.” Snatching her hand from his, she stepped back. “But what would I expect from you?”

Moving to the chair he grabbed his shirt and slipped it over his head. His glance fanned over his desk where his chart had been and he spun around. “You. You ruined my chart.”

She averted her gaze and began twisting her ring. “Why would I do that?”
Brown curls swayed in disarray around a fresh bandage devoid of blood. Her lips pressed in their usual petulant manner, and her petite nose pinked as it always did when she was distraught.

“To force me to return to Baltimore, perhaps?” He took a step toward her. She retreated.

Then squaring her shoulders, she placed her hands atop her rounded hips. “Who is Priscilla?”

Noah couldn’t help but grin. So she had heard their conversation. Shame settled over him, but he shrugged it off. He had done nothing wrong. “A friend.”

“How dare you toss your affections to another when you are engaged to me.”

“I can assure you, miss. I never toss my affections anywhere.”

***

Marianne studied him. A word of truth at last, for she doubted the man cared for anyone but himself. Then why was she behaving the jealous shrew? His thick chest peeked out from within his open shirt. The sight of it befuddled her mind. How could she think clearly with his firm muscles staring her in the face?

Yet something else caused unease to clamp over her nerves. Why wasn’t Noah furious with her for ruining his map? Instead of chastising her and tossing her from his cabin, he seemed to find the incident amusing.

Which only further infuriated her.

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Excerpt Thursday ~ Hook Me!

Thursday, June 24th, 2010

Were you hooked? Let me know what you think. You can click the cover to purchase Captive Spirit.

Sonoran Desert. Dawn of the sixteenth century.

Aiyana isn’t like the other girls of the White Ant Clan. Instead of keeping house, she longs to compete on the Ball Court with her best friend Honovi and the other boys. Instead of marriage, she daydreams of traveling beyond the mountains that surround her small village. Only Honovi knows and shares her forbidden wish, though Aiyana doesn’t realize her friend has a secret wish of his own…

When Aiyana’s father arranges her marriage to a man she hardly knows, she takes the advice of a tribal elder: run! In fleeing, she falls into the hands of Spanish raiders and finds herself being taken over the mountains against her will. Now Aiyana’s on a quest to return to the very place she once dreamed of escaping. And she’ll do whatever it takes to survive and find her way back to the people she loves.

Captive Spirit ~ Liz Fichera
Release Date: June 28, 2010 ~ Carina Press

Never seen before Excerpt from CAPTIVE SPIRIT:

The Apache crept to the edge of our campsite, each step as light as a bird’s feather. It was as if they walked and breathed as one man instead of ten.

When they got close, they surrounded us in a half-circle. More light crept into the sky and through the trees. Their bows quickly lowered when they saw us, cold, bleeding, and dirty. We were hardly a threat. Their eyes, unfortunately, rested mostly on me while mine spoke to theirs, pleading for their help.

Despite the early chill, they were bare-chested. They wore grey deerskin pants and skins around their feet that reached their knees and laced near the top. A dark, wide skin wrapped around their foreheads. Three of the men wore brownish-yellow feathers against their foreheads. Their hair was black and hung loose past their shoulders; their skin was brown, although their faces were flatter, less oval, and their noses longer.

The Apache who stood in the center of the men recognized Diego. He had two feathers tucked inside his headband while the others only had one. Diego mumbled a greeting and the Apache repeated the same words back to him. I did not understand their words as easily as I understood Diego. Their words were nothing like mine.

“Isdzán,” the Apache said, nodding at me from the center of their semi-circle. His eyes traveled down my body. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms across my chest, mostly to keep my dress closed.

Diego turned, looked at me once before turning “Yes,” Diego said. “A woman.” He paused and then extended his arms. “A gift.”

My eyes widened.

My surprise did not go unnoticed by the man with two feathers. Even so, I sucked back a breath and watched for Honovi in my periphery. He tried to stand by my side but his knees wobbled. I reached out to steady him but he shook his head. Finally, his knees buckled and he sank to the ground.

Carefully, the Apache with the two feathers stepped away from the circle and approached me. He was just as tall as Diego but even broader across the shoulders. Long scars sliced across his chest. On my other side, Lobo started to growl as the man approached. The Apache stopped, eying Lobo warily. I was afraid he’d draw back his bow and kill him.

My voice shook. “Quiet,” I whispered to Lobo. I patted the top of his head with my free hand, clutching my deerskin with the other, eyes still locked on the Apache.

The Apache tilted his head curiously and looked from Lobo and then back to me. He turned to the other men standing behind him and said something that made the whole line chuckle, including Diego, but Diego’s laugh sounded forced.

Another step and the Apache stood directly in front of me. My nostrils flared as I raised my eyes but not my head. He studied me strangely, his dark eyes narrowing, his brow furrowing, like he’d never seen a girl before.

The Apache’s eyes were as black as Honovi’s but there were more crinkles in the corners. I could see my reflection in his eyes and I looked terrified. Finally he stepped closer so that our noses almost touched.

My neck pulled back. The Apache was so close that I could feel his warm breath on my face.

His eyes widened; his head tilted with curiosity. He pointed to my eyes.

I blinked, confused. What did he want?

“Ya’ài,” he said. “Ya’ài.”

I turned to Diego, pleading for a translation.

Diego was on the ground, cross-legged, his hand pressed against his neck. He was still glaring at Honovi. I wondered if he’d help me.

He surprised me.

“The sun,” Diego said, pausing a moment to turn his attention away from Honovi. His voice was flat. “He believes your eyes hold the sun.”

I turned back to the Apache and shook my head, confused. I wanted to tell them that they were simply green, like my grandmother’s and the grandmother before her. Nothing more, nothing less.

But then Diego said, “He’s never seen anyone with green eyes before, Aiyana.”

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Posted in Carina Press, Excerpt Thursdays | 16 Comments »

Excerpt Thursday ~ Hook Me!

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

Were you hooked? Let me know what you think. You can click the cover to purchase Not Quite a Lady.

~*~*~

Not Quite A Lady ~ Erica Anderson
Release Date: April 14, 2010 ~ Ellora’s Cave

“I’m quite harmless, I assure you,” she said.

“Your assurances are completely unnecessary, madam.” Dare made a slow perusal of the room before continuing. “I see no traveling companions. If, in fact, you have any.” His tone left no doubt of his opinion on that issue. “Under the circumstances it would be improper to share the parlor. Despite your kind offer.” The final phrase was loaded with condescension. Really, had the woman been raised by wolves?

She appeared to be immune to his tone, only widening her eyes slightly as though she’d heard something that surprised her. Her eyes were brown, and he was reminded of the color of the moor when the autumn sun hung low in the sky. She was not pretty. Not exactly. Dare had experience with beauty in all its feminine forms, and this woman defied classification. Her nose was a bit too large, her chin too well defined. There was nothing soft and pliable here. Except…

She was still staring at him, as though she were stripping away the layers of politesse he cultivated in order to reveal whatever lay beneath his scowling features.

“As you wish,” she said simply and turned back to her book.

Dare ground his teeth. He did not care to return to the taproom where drunken wedding guests rubbed arms with unwashed plowmen. Perhaps this woman, whoever she was, at least had enough sense not to chatter. “I must beg your pardon,” he said gruffly.

She pressed a finger to the page to mark her position and looked up. “Oh?”

“I have been unconscionably rude.” He gave her the merest hint of a bow.

“I own that my own manners are quite shocking,” she said. “You are still welcome. If you wish.” Her voice curled around the words, lending them an undertone that he usually associated with sexual satisfaction.

He raised his eyebrows and let his eyes wander, quite deliberately, over her body. “Surely you have a reputation to preserve. A maid or companion, perhaps.” Or not. She was wearing a red dress, for God’s sake. It complemented her coloring, but still—red?

“Ah, yes. My maid.” She gave a little flick of her wrist. “She became ill and I was forced to leave her behind.”

Though her eyes were guileless, Dare knew, without a doubt, that she was dissembling. Rather than put him off, the realization only whetted his curiosity. “I see,” he said. He turned and made a show of removing his gloves, pulling the skintight leather from each finger. He tried again to place her. Perhaps she was a member of the demimonde. It was a sorority with which Dare was familiar, but she had none of the blowsy excess he associated with such women.

This train of thought reminded him of how long it had been since he had enjoyed a woman. It was regrettable that the dashing Mrs. Finley had become demanding of late.

Dare tossed his hat and gloves onto the sideboard and returned his attention to the mannerless creature across the room. She spoke the English of the upper classes, but with an odd, lilting rhythm.

Perhaps she was an expatriate from the continent. The accent, however, represented no language with which he was familiar.

Vexed, he strode across the room to the hearth where he stoked the fire, though the room was pleasantly warm. Her shoes lay, discarded, beneath the table. He straightened and realized that her eyes had followed him. He merely lifted his brows, the expression acknowledging her overt scrutiny and communicating his distaste for it.

“May I offer you a glass of wine?” she asked. “I have tried to drink the tea, but it is too awful.” Without waiting for his reply, she reached for a glass.

Her hands were slender, but her skin had been darkened by the sun, as though she spent most of her time outdoors. Definitely not a whore, then. Not a lady, either.

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Excerpt Thursday ~ Hook Me!

Thursday, June 10th, 2010

We’re back on track with Excerpt Thursdays. Let me know if you’ve been hooked or not. Click the cover to purchase Wanton Venture.

~*~*~

Wanton Venture ~ Elaine Lowe
Release Date: June 2, 2010 ~ Resplendence Publishing

“Thank you, Rigby. That will be all.” The butler took one last look at him then left, closing the door softly behind him.

Raymond bowed slightly, his eyes studying this mysterious woman.

She stood and inclined her head. “Greetings, Mr. Talbury. My name is Helena Gracechurch. I am happy to make your acquaintance.”

Good, Alan said nothing about the damned title.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Gracechurch. How may I help you?”

She indicated the seat across the desk and they both sat. She shuffled papers on the desk, and he took the time to really look at her. At first glance, she looked like a governess or an old auntie, with a high necked serviceable gown in a light shade of gray. Her dark red hair was up in a severe style, without any attempt to highlight her features. She wore spectacles as well, highly unfashionable. And he thought, given the lack of squinting lines around her eyes, very possibly unnecessary.

But all that could not hide the sprinkling of freckles across the line of her nose, proving that despite her rosy pale skin, she occasionally let the sun shine down on her face without a proper bonnet. The warm amber of her eyes could not be dulled but glimmered with intelligence. Her dress might be severe, but it could not hide an impressive bosom or her light and pleasing frame.

Most of all, the tight bun she wore had let a single red curl fall against her neck, and his gaze was immediately drawn to it. Regardless of his respect for women or his attempts to think of this as a business meeting, for a long moment, all he could think about was getting that hair loose and getting his hands into it.

“So, Mr. Talbury, Mr. Saksville has told me that you have considerable—if unconventional—experience in the Navy during the war.”

Raymond smiled. Unconventional was a very politic way of putting it, Alan.

“Yes, Miss Gracechurch, I’ve commanded my share of ships during the recent conflicts.”

She paused for a moment and a smile almost touched her lips. There was something in her eyes that he could not quite identify, though for a moment it reminded him of passion. “Yes, well…have you had any experience with cargo vessels rather than military ships?”

He thought of the months he’d acted as a common sailor in the French-controlled Spanish navy, hauling cargo on supply ships, and acting as crew on captured merchant vessels. “Yes, I have worked on cargo vessels, though not in a command capacity.” Unless the cargo was black powder meant to blow up a bridge over the river Coa. On that tiny boat, he’d definitely been in command.

She nodded and made a note on the page she held in front of her. He wondered how many men she had evaluated for this position, or if he was the first. Noting the very slight tremor in her hand, he thought it was highly probably he was the first.

Had she ever been kissed? What man would be lucky enough to caress those pink lips with his own? To taste her tongue, or taste her other lips, to open the virgin fruit of her loins and savor her intoxicating innocence. Raymond shifted uncomfortably and tried to focus on listening to her words rather than his imaginings.

“You also are half-Spanish, correct?”

He repressed the urge to groan. Why were the English so bloody narrow-minded? His mother would be most interested in an account of this conversation when he returned to their Bristol lodgings, the Rose and Sail Inn. She had insisted on accompanying him, having no desire to be left at the gargantuan Belforth House in London, all alone with disreputable servants and the threat of creditors at the door.

“Yes, my mother is Spanish. Doña Maria Katrina Escobar de Santos.” A smile broke out over Miss Gracechurch’s features, setting her eyes alight.

“Excellent!”

Rarely had anyone been pleased about his lineage It had practically caused his grandfather to disown his father, and only sheer laziness to bother with the legal details meant that Raymond himself was now the Earl. “Might I ask why this is such a pleasing prospect, Miss Gracechurch?”

She blushed, a rosy bloom that crept up her neck and stained her cheeks in the most becoming manner. Raymond swallowed, thinking how lovely she would look in the throes of passion, her bright eyes filled with desire and her cheeks stained with the evidence of her passion.

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Name that Book

Thursday, January 14th, 2010

I have a problem that I’d like you to help me solve. I need a title for the second book in my Reformed Rakes Series (Yes, I recently decided it needed a name as my next series has one). The current title of my second book is THE GAUNTLET. I have a terrible fondness for this title. It just fits the plot of the book. However, THE GAUNTLET is not the least romantic sounding or sexy is it? Well that’s what I’m looking for, something that’s fits either of those categories and of course fits the book.

I decided to have some fun with this title naming exercise. I’m going to give you the blurb for Book 2 and an excerpt, and from that hopefully someone, anyone, will be able to come up with a title I can take to my editor. The person who supplies me with that title will win a current release (max retail $7.99). Now if we end up using the title, you’ll also receive a $25 Amazon Gift Certificate and of course, a copy of the book when it comes out next year. So is everyone game? Perfect, let’s begin with the blurb.

~*~*~

Thomas Armstrong vows only the loss of his faculties could ever convince him to take Amelia Bertram under his care during her father’s absence from England. Sadly, that loss does occur… the moment Lady Amelia publicly states that rumors of his exalted sexual prowess are more fable than fact. Responding like any man with an ounce of pride would, he picks up the gauntlet she throws down on the ballroom floor.

When Amelia’s last failed elopement attempt has her sharing a roof with the very man who took her place in her father’s affections, she is determined to escape her prison to marry a man of her choosing. But, what she discovers in the seclusion of the viscount’s country estate is the ton’s ‘golden Greek god’ is more than the sum of rumor and innuendo, and under their mutual acrimony rages a fire not even a deluge from the Thames can extinguish.

But letting go of the past is difficult. Can Thomas and Amelia bury old jealousies and grievances for the promise of a love powerful enough to surmount his pride and crumble the walls surrounding her heart?

~*~*~

As you can see, my hero and heroine have that whole oil and water thing going for them. Now let’s look at one of their, er, um, exchanges. In this scene Amelia has been summoned by her father to his study. It’s clear she should take more care opening doors. And perhaps, Thomas, our hero, should watch how closely he stands to said doors.

Upon reaching the study, she blithely thrust open the door, only to make jarring contact with a body standing on the other side.
She heard the thwack and a low masculine grunt—the sound a mixture of surprise and pain. Instinctively, she took a quick step back, her hand still clutching the knob. Lord, what was her father doing—
Before she could complete the thought, Lord Armstrong’s imposing form stepped into view, tapered fingers rubbing a spot near his right temple. He observed her through narrowed eyes, apple green and ponderously lashed, pinning her with the type of look meant solely to make a person squirm.
Squirming was not in her nature, but her heart performed an odd lurch and her pulse quickened at the sight of her father’s protégé. She was once again unsettled to discover that with each meeting, the golden-haired viscount could elicit such a response in her. But then—her gaze swept the length of his body—he did exude an elegance and raw masculinity she grudgingly conceded might appeal to a less discerning woman—which thankfully, she was not.
“Pardon me.” Amelia kept her tone level and polite. Easing the door open wide enough to allow for the sheer volume of two layers of stiff petticoats beneath her pink, flounced skirt, she entered the room. She immediately blinked against the glare of the sun pouring through large paned windows dominating the eastward facing walls.
She caught the clean, subtle whiff of bergamot and rosemary. His scent. She’d recognize it blindfolded and spun around. How she’d grown to thoroughly dislike that scent. She loathed the man whom she’d forever associate with it even more. Inhaling a breath deep and slow, she took up a spot on the area rug, a comfortable distance from both men.
“I didn’t expect someone would place themselves so near a closed door,” she added in case he’d misconstrued her statement as an apology.
Her father’s face seized up as if in the midst of an apoplexy. Lord Armstrong’s mouth flattened, his regard narrowing to a squint. Amelia returned his stare placidly. He could stare—or glare, as it were—at her all he wanted. She didn’t give a whit, ignoring her heart knocking a frantic beat beneath her breastbone.
“It is also customary to knock before opening a closed door,” came the viscount’s glib reply.
“Might I remind you, my lord, it is I who resides in this house.” The gall of the man, trying to chastise her. Who told him he should situate himself thus? Hinges on doors were not meant as frivolous ornaments; they did have a purpose.
“Amelia is regrettably sorry,” her father hastily interjected.

~~~

Like hell she is. The bloody woman had probably parked herself outside waiting for the opportunity to bash his head in. Thomas wouldn’t put anything past her.
Tamping down his growing irritation, he replied smoothly, “Yes, Harry, I am quite certain she is.”
“I hope I’m not preventing you from leaving. You were on your way out, were you not?” she asked in dulcet tones, a smile curving her lips.
If it had been any other woman, Thomas could have envisioned many other uses for such a mouth; plump lips the deep pink of a man’s erotic dreams. And if one were dealing purely in aesthetics, who could fail to appreciate the dark-haired beauty’s jaw-dropping figure shown to its best advantage in a gown the exact sapphire blue of her eyes, the fitted corsage allowing for the glorious display of creamy skin. But as stunning as she was, he wouldn’t have her if she begged him. Not that he would mind the begging part. That he would enjoy most heartily if only to have the pleasure of refusing her.
“Er…Thomas, thank you for calling. I expect I shall see you again before my departure.”
Thomas issued Harry a curt nod. “Yes, I expect you will.” He returned his attention to her. “And as always, Lady Amelia, it was a pleasure,” he said, managing to remain quite straight-faced, for surely Judas could not have told a grander lie.
For a brief moment, something sparked in her blue eyes, breathing life into the flawless, glacial beauty of her countenance and hinting at a slumbering fire. If he gave a damn—which he most assuredly did not—it’d give him cold satisfaction to see her icy hauteur reduced to a puddle on the floor.

So what do you think? What is the perfect title for this book?


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Hook Me!

Friday, December 18th, 2009

Yep, two days of excerpts. Let’s call today, Excerpt Friday. Today up, debut authors Chloe Harris and Maggie Dove. To read the blurbs, click on the cover or the title. Comment and/or vote to let me know what you think.

~*~*~

secretsofsin_blog

Secrets of Sin ~ Chloe Harris
Release Date: January 26, 2010 ~ Kensington/Aphrodisia

“As I told you, Monsieur Barhydt.” Emiline thrust her chin up to make her point clear. “I rule Bougainvilla and I surely do not take your commands. But you are right about one thing, Sir. We will continue this discussion tomorrow.”

Turning away and marching toward the door, the breath flew from her lungs as Reinier came up behind her. His muscular arm gripped her small waist when he crushed her tightly against his body. She felt him aroused and straining against his breeches through the silk of her dress. Once again, a deep blush moved from her cheeks to the tightening tips of her breasts.

His breath was hot and demanding against her throat. “You may very well rule Bougainvilla, madam,” he purred, passion and promise all rolled into one.“But before I leave here again, I will rule you. And rest assured, wife, you will beg me to do it.”

Emiline’s whole body stiffened in resistance. As suddenly as he’d captured her, he let her go.

She wasn’t sure if it was his words or the definite twinge of excitement she felt that scared her most. This man she now considered barely more than a stranger, somehow saw into the farthest part of her mind—a part that she only even admitted to herself in the darkest of dark and lonely nights.

~*~*~

Angel_of_Windword_600dpi_ebook[1]Angel of Windword ~ Maggie Dove
Release Date: October 7, 2009 ~ Eternal Press

His thunderous expression softened.  “Come closer.”

His eyes swept over her face as he caressed her cheek with the knuckle of his forehand. “I did not see her slap you, but your cheeks look burning hot. Answer something for me, Angelique” he ordered gruffly. “Has that woman ever hit you before?”

Angelique drank in the comfort of his nearness. His touch was soft and soothing. “Never,” she lied. “Victoria has never slapped me or hurt me. My lord, it was really my fault…I provoked her.”

He definitely will have his way with me and my place will be in his bed!

Mon Dieu! A guttural sound escaped her lips when she recalled her own words. She was not certain whether she was more distressed at having thrown those awful words at her stepmother or the dreadful possibility that Nicholas had actually overheard them.

Attempting to sound nonchalant, she stammered Victoria’s original question to him, “H-how long had you been standing there, monsieur? Did you…did you hear anything?” she asked in a faint whisper, her voice cracking with embarrassment.

“Hear what, my love?’ he asked innocuously.

“Monsieur, how long had you been standing there?” she repeated with mounting dread. Then gazing at him, she suddenly wished she had not asked. His dark blue eyes sparkled with complete understanding as he stood casually against the doorjamb, strong arms folded across his chest, a devil of a smile beginning to form on his face.

“How long, monsieur…?”

Nicholas did not wait for her to finish. Without another word, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard on the lips. Then, just as suddenly, he let go of her, allowing her to fall back against the doorpost.

“Long enough to know I’m going to enjoy those willful ways of yours. Not to mention putting you in that bed of mine.”

Her heart pounding fast against her heaving chest, Angelique watched in stunned silence as Nicholas turned on his heel and made his exit.  She could still feel his warm lips against hers as his deep, masculine chuckles echoed in the hallway.

Are you hooked?

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