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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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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.

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Hook me!

Thursday, December 17th, 2009

A small note, there will be no excerpts next week, so I’ll be doing back-to-back excerpts, today and tomorrow.

Today for Excerpt Thursday, we have a nice variety. Let’s see if you agree. And if you’d like to read the blurb for any of the three books, click on the cover or the title. Okay, let’s get going, it’s time to read. ;)

~*~*~

foxsbrideFox’s Bride ~ Amy Ruttan
Release Date: December 1, 2009 ~ Cerridwen Press

She turned her back on the man she just threw overboard. She was laughing to herself as she casually cleaned and reloaded her pistol. She put the pistol back into her holster and then faced her captives, the mirth all gone. Her face stern, her cold eyes trained on them. What would those gray eyes look like glazed with passion? Fox shook his head, he couldn’t believe he was thinking these thoughts about a pirate—a pirate who should, for all intents and purposes, hang from the gallows. He had been at sea far too long, he needed a woman, and he needed one soon.
“As you can see, I do not tolerate disobedience. If you all cooperate and remove your valuables I will spare your lives.” She motioned to John and the men stepped forward with bags in their hands.
Fox cursed as he removed his fob watch and his family signet ring. He saw that the pirates who went below decks were ushering passengers and crew upstairs, including his valet who looked visibly shaken and highly affronted.
“I tried to stop them, my lord, but they sacked all your trunks.”
Captain Meg turned to him then, overhearing his valet address him by his rank. She smiled cunningly as she looked him up and down.
“Well, well, a lord of the realm here on this ship.” She bowed with a flourish and several of her crew, including John, laughed. “Maybe I should ransom you to your relatives.”
Fox scoffed. “You could but they’ll never pay. I’m an outcast, my dear.”
She cocked her eyebrow, seemingly intrigued by his response.
“Tsk, tsk. What about your poor wife? I’m sure she would be lost without you.”
“You can try her, she is quite wealthy. Although, you may find her hesitant, she’s never met me.”
“Ha, I find that hard to believe.” Captain Meg unsheathed her rapier and pointed it at his heart. “Her name, my lord, or I will run you through.”
Fox smirked, thoroughly enjoying his repartee with this enchanting vixen.
“Happy to oblige, my dear. My wife is Lady Madeline Foxton of The Coral Reef plantation in Montego Bay.
Captain Meg’s eyes flew open in horror and she quickly turned away. Fox was confused by her response.
“Sorry, did I say something to offend?”
She turned around abruptly, the blunt end of her pistol raised. Why is she angry? was his last thought before everything went black.

~*~*~

all-he-desires-cover200

All He Desires ~ Anthea Lawson
Release Date: November 1, 2009 ~ Kensington

Injured by a fall from her horse, Caroline Huntington is aided by her friend and traveling companion, Maggie, and an older French gentleman who is on Crete for archaeological excavation.

Crete, March 1848

Maggie led Caroline to where a rustic vehicle waited. “I would not think a village of this size boasted a doctor. How fortunate that help is so near.”
The Frenchman smiled, though there was something cautious in his expression. “We shall see. Come.”
The cart rolled forward over the rough track, and it did not take long for Caroline to fall into a hazy, pain-filled daze. The night sky, the flaring torches, the jolting ride wove together into a disjointed tapestry. She did not realize they had halted in front of a cottage until Maggie coaxed her upright and helped her from the cart.
Monsieur Legault went to the door. He pounded, and pounded again until at last it was opened by a figure who remained in the shadows. Caroline blinked, her vision still blurred. A tall man, she thought.
“What do you want?” His voice was gruff.
“Mr. Trentham, we require your help.” The Frenchman waved to where Caroline stood, supported by Maggie. “The mademoiselle is injured.”
The man shook his head. “I cannot help you.” He began to close the door, but Monsieur Legault set his foot in the jamb.
“I ask you not to be stubborn. She is hurt—she must be seen.”
The shadow moved closer to the light. He was tall, his hair the color of night. The torchlight painted hollows under his cheekbones and cast his uncompromising nose in sharp relief. He did not look like a doctor, not with his creased clothing and untamed hair, a scowl making his face even more forbidding. When his gaze moved to her, Caroline felt it, a nearly physical sensation, like standing under a storm cloud just before the fury of wind and rain lashed down. She shivered.
He regarded her for several moments, measured by the rapid beat of her heart. His eyes seemed black in the flickering light. That intent gaze moved down to her dusty boots, then returned to her face.
At last he turned to the Frenchman. “The woman is on her feet. She looks well enough. Take her to Rethymno.” He stepped back and made to close his door again.
“You must help us,” Monsieur Legault said, a pleading note in his voice. “Rethymno is too far, and you know how little talent the doctor there has.”
“Enough to care for an injured arm. Good night.”
“Wait!” Maggie stepped forward, bringing Caroline with her. “You cannot refuse—you are English!”
“Oh?” He paused with one hand on the door frame, his lips twisted as though he had tasted something bitter. “I don’t see that it signifies.”
“Of course it does. This is Miss Caroline Huntington, the niece of the Earl of Twickenham. How can you consider yourself a gentleman if you turn her away?”
“Who says I consider myself a gentleman?”

~*~*~

kismet_blogKismet ~ Monica Burns
Release Date: January 5, 2010 ~ Berkley Trade

“Do you like bananas, monsieur?” She reached out and slid her fingers over the length of one particularly thick stalk of fruit. With a quick snap, she broke off the banana while she allowed her breath to catch in her throat before she released it as a soft gasp of pleasure.
“Not particularly.”
Her gaze didn’t leave his face as she snapped the stem of the fruit to break open the peel. With delicate moves, she pulled back the yellow skin of the banana to expose the fleshy white meat of the fruit. His expression was unreadable, but he betrayed his rapt attention in other ways. The way he held himself rigid, and the tic flexing in his face. Then there was the fire darkening his intense brown eyes.
Tipping her head back in a slow, elegant manner, she parted her lips and swirled her tongue around the tip of the fruit. Eyes closed, she sighed with pleasure and slowly drew the banana into her mouth. The sharp hiss of his breath filled her ears and she quickly pulled the fruit from her mouth to eye him with innocent concern.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. He swallowed hard, and simply shook his head. Smiling, she sighed. “I hope you don’t mind me indulging myself. I adore bananas. They’ve such an…erotic quality.”
Not waiting for his answer, she closed her eyes then tipped her head back again to demonstrate the skill she’d learned years ago. Slowly, she slid the firm flesh of the fruit in and out of her mouth. With each leisurely stroke, she took more of the banana into her mouth until he rewarded her efforts with the choked sound of a man struggling not to cry out.
Certain of his undivided attention, she gently bit down on the fruit to free it completely from its peel. In the next instant, she swallowed it whole. The dark growl he made vibrated across her skin, and she smiled with triumph.
Lightly, she touched her fingers to first one corner of her mouth then the other as if to wipe away any lingering residue from her lips. The jubilant taste of victory flooded her mouth. The man had just experienced the illusion of Allegra Synnford, courtesan extraordinaire. Her gaze shifted downward to where his erection created a natural tent inside his sherwals, and she returned her gaze to his face.
Aware that she needed to retreat before his ardor subsided, she stepped to one side of him, her shoulder pressed into his. She turned her head and noted the taut white lines of tension at the corner of his mouth. He knew he’d lost their wager and he wasn’t happy about it. She needed to tread carefully.
“Forgive me, monsieur, but I must return to the reception before I’m missed,” she said softly. Extending her hand, she brushed it over his erection. His jerked at the touch and dragged in a sharp hiss of air. “Thank you for a most…stimulating tour of the gardens.”

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Hook me!

Thursday, December 3rd, 2009

Today, I have an extra special reason to want to hook you. In case you didn’t notice, I put my debut, Sinful Surrender up on the hooking block. How did this come about? I had only one excerpt scheduled for today and I needed at least one more. Who else could I ask but myself, right? Well I did and I said yes, so I’ll be joining Angela in trying to hook you into buying our books (you can pre-order mine :) ).

vowofseduction_blog

Vow of Seduction ~ Angela Johnson
Release Date: October 1, 2009 ~ Kensington

Westminster Palace
England 1276

Kat surged up off her back to a sitting position, gasping for air and blinking water from her eyes.  Aye, water, not a tear, never a tear would she shed for her despicable husband.

“Jenny, hand me my soap.”

A short pause, then Jenny replied, “`Tis on the stool beside ye, milady.”

“Aye, of course, I knew that,” Kat muttered under her breath.  All afternoon she had drifted on an invisible current, treading murky water, too afraid to delve below the surface to the inherent danger hidden beneath, just waiting to suck her under and drown her in misery.

“What shall ye be wearing to dinner, milady?”

“I care not.  Any old tunic will do.”

Silence greeted her.  Then Jenny poked her head around the screen, her red braids bright in the fire glow.  “Ye do not want to look your best this eve and show up that wicked woman?  I thought ye had more pride than that.”

Kat grunted at the well-aimed volley.  She lifted her leg out of the water and propped her foot on the tub’s edge.  Not immediately answering, she glared at the delicate arch of her long narrow foot.  She wanted to plant it up—.

“You may lay out my garnet tunic.  Oh . . . and the garnet brooch and my jeweled rings.  There, does that please you?”

Jenny chuckled, her green eyes mischievous.  “Aye, if you are pleased, I am pleased.”  Then Jenny marched into the adjacent bedchamber and began rummaging through Kat’s chest.

Kat grumbled under her breath.  Although she hated Alex for humiliating her, for making her believe even for a short while that he might care for her, she would not let that witch get the better of her.  She was not taking care with her dress to impress the lying bastard to whom she was shackled, for the nonce.

Lathering her cloth, she caught a subtle whiff of her jasmine, amber and musk scented-soap.  She skimmed the cloth down her leg and then proceeded to do the same with the other one.  She finished the rest of her ablutions as quickly as possible, except for her back.

“Jenny, will you scrub my back?” she hollered.

Heat caressed her ear as a familiar, corded bronze hand plucked the soap from her hand.  “Here, allow me.”

Kat yelped and spun around.  It was a mistake, for Alex was kneeling behind her.  Their lips brushed—shivery heat raced down her neck and she jerked back in surprise.  Alex dropped his gaze.  A carnal smile curved his lips and his eyes glittered with desire.  She looked down, too, and saw that her nipples, hard as pebbles, jutted above the water lapping at her breasts.

Kat turned around and plunged forward, pressing her chest to her knees.  Water splashed over the sides.  Unfortunately her back was exposed now.  “How dare you intrude on my bath?  You have no right.  I want you out of here, now!”

Alex chuckled without humor.  “I, no more than you, heed well commands.  What a grand couple we shall make.  What marvelous children we shall conceive and bring forth into this world.”

~*~*~

sinfulsurrender240Sinful Surrender ~ Beverley Kendall
Release Date: January 5, 2010 ~ Kensington

James climbed the stairs to his chamber in the early hours of the morning after the last of the guests had clambered into their cold carriages spent and weary. He saw no sign of Missy. The relief that washed over him was both humbling and maddening.

The kiss had had him tied up in knots for the remainder of the evening. It was bad enough he had given in to her juvenile game, not only had he failed, but he’d relived those heated moments repeatedly in his mind while watching as she became the success equivalent of Wellington at Waterloo. To Armstrong’s satisfaction, Granville had led the way as gentlemen of every age and rank had vied for a dance, conversation, whatever little attention she had deigned fit to scatter their way. The whole thing had been quite discomfiting to watch. Painful, even. Disturbing.

He lit the candle by the bed once he entered the darkened chamber. The dim lighting was all he required. Quickly he began divesting himself of his formal attire: jacket, waistcoat, and shirt were tossed wearily over a newly upholstered brocade chair. Despite the fire still burning on the grate, the air in the chamber held the distinct chill of winter’s indifference. As he reached to release the clasp of his trousers, an acute awareness prickled the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. The sensation of being watched was tangible. His head snapped and he scoured the dimly lit room.

Then he saw her standing ever so still and quiet in the shadowed corner.

He watched in dazed bewilderment as she stepped forward, her chestnut mane streaming loose and unpinned to the middle of her back. James swallowed. She could have been an angel dressed in the flimsy white nightdress, but he knew better. To him, she was a temptress in disguise.

His desire rose swiftly and violently, clamoring inside him like a volcano on the verge of eruption. Despite the coolness of the air, he was suddenly hot, his nerves protesting the unforgiving confines of his skin.

“Get out,” he said, his voice deceptively soft, deceptively low. The air around him had grown so dense he could cleave it with a knife.

Instead of heeding his demand, Missy took several steps forward. The glow from the solitary tallow candle suffused her in a warm light. James swallowed again, his breathing an audible rasp in the quiet of the night.

“I know you felt something when you kissed me tonight,” she said softly.

James nearly groaned aloud, convinced his worst enemy had sent her to test him, torture him.

“Yes, and I believe you felt it too,” he replied, his voice harsh.

She displayed no shock or surprise at his crude reference to just how hard he’d been pressed up against her down in the study. In fact her eyes, appearing more gray than blue at present, grew smoky, her lids weighed down by desire. Her gaze dropped to his chest and then to the unmistakable distention in the front of his trousers.

James had nowhere to go. He stood exposed and trapped, caged like a hungry lion with a voracious appetite who’d just come upon his next meal.

“You’re very beautiful and I’m a normal male. It’s lust, plain and simple. Don’t make more of it than that. As I’ve told you before, any desirable female would elicit the same response.”

Again, she said nothing but took another step forward, the light now illuminating the full glorious length of her slim figure, her nipples jutting out impudently from the soft cloth of her nightdress.

He throbbed. His whole body throbbed.

“Go back to your chamber,” he said, his voice strained and barely recognizable.

She took another step closer, bringing her within inches of his tightly wound form.

“It’s more than lust.”

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Hook me

Thursday, November 19th, 2009

Today on Excerpts Thursdays, we have two books I’m greatly anticipating. And just look, aren’t the covers for both absolutely GORGEOUS covers? Talk about the love of the cover gods. I don’t know about you guys, but I was completely hooked by both excerpts. These books will definitely jump to the top of my TBR pile. :)

Remember, The Season website now has Free Reads, which is a wonderful way to sample an author.

~*~*~

allnightwitharogueAll Night With A Rogue ~ Alexandra Hawkins
Release Date: February 2, 2010 ~ St. Martin’s Press

Juliana bit her lips to suppress her soft groan.  Her legs instinctively tightened around the trunk of the hazel tree, pressing the hard roughened surface against her feminine core.  In spite of the coolness of the evening, she felt hot and light-headed.  If she did not calm her rattled nerves, she was going to do something to give herself away like fainting and falling out of the cursed tree!

In an agitated gesture, she dragged her hand from her hair, causing the unexpected to happen.  One of the tiny white plumes tucked into her upswept tresses slipped free.  Without thinking, Juliana reached out to grasp the errant two-inch curl of fluff that was destined to be her downfall.  The lissome plume evaded her fingers, dancing on the breeze created by her frantic motion.  It silently drifted down to the couple.

Juliana brought her fist to her mouth and silently prayed.  Both Lady Lettlecott and Sin were distracted for the moment.  Perhaps the tiny feather would remain unnoticed.  The husky moans and disconcertingly wet smacking noises coming from below heartened Juliana.

Until the fragile white plume landed on the top of the countess’s dark tresses.  Even in the moonlight, it was a stark beacon.  Juliana held her breath.  She mentally willed the plume to catch another breeze and disappear into the inky blackness of the ground.

Fly!

Any hope she harbored was dashed when Sin’s fingers moved from his lover’s shoulder to the lady’s hair.  To the traitorous plume.  His shoulders stiffened as he held up the feather, rubbing the light down between his fingers as he wordlessly contemplated its origins.  Then without warning, Sin tipped his head back and stared directly into Juliana’s troubled gaze.

Alexius Lothar Braverton, Marquess of Sinclair, or simply Sin to his friends, had made the most of his five and twenty years.  His privileged existence was filled with excessive indulgences, the forbidden, and oftentimes the perilous.  Very few things in life surprised him.  That was, until he looked up into the branches of hazel tree and saw the pale, frightened face of a young woman.

The air in his lungs burst from his lips.

Abby, naturally, thought her skillful tongue and measure of his cock was the reason for his lapse of control.  Alexius was content to let her believe he was enthralled.  The countess’s soft tongue curling and lapping the full length of him was pleasurable, even if his interest had drifted decidedly upward.  Besides, if he exposed the little interloper, he would never learn why she was watching them from the tree.

And, yes, he was . . . intrigued.

From his vantage point, her appealing looks caught his jaded eye.  Long blond corkscrew curls were draped chaotically around her oval face, hanging like the golden catkins of the hazel tree.  A pair of languid almond-shaped eyes balanced the delicate slope of her nose, and the rounded curve of her chin made his fingers itch to inspect each line.  Her skin was pale, luminous, like the moon overhead.  Whether it was natural or from fear he could only guess.  Her full lips parted, as if she struggled to draw air into her chest.

Who the devil was she?

~*~*~

Knight of Pleasure_blogKnight of Pleasure ~ Margaret Mallory
Release Date: November 24, 2009 ~ Grand Central

Caen Castle
Normandy
1417

Whish! Whish! Whish!

The sound interrupted Sir Stephen Carleton’s thoughts as he passed the storeroom.  Drawing his sword, he eased the door of the storeroom open to take a look.

“Lady Hume!”  She looked as surprised as he was to catch her alone in a storeroom attacking a sack of grain with a sword.

“Close the door!” she hissed. “I cannot be seen here.”

And what a sight she was, with her cheeks flushed and strands of dark hair sticking to her face and neck. . God preserve him. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“I meant for you to remain outside when you closed it.”

Though she took a step back as she spoke, she kept a firm hand on her sword. As she should.

“That sack cannot provide much of a challenge,” he said, trying to put her at ease.

“You make fun of me.” There was resentment in her tone, but he was pleased to see her shoulders relax.

“Now, do you want to continue playing at sword fighting?” he asked, deliberately baiting her. “Or do you want to learn how to protect yourself from someone who intends you harm?”

Green eyes sparking with fire, she raised her sword and said, “Teach me.”

Oh, what he would love to teach her!

“You should carry a short blade, as well,” he instructed as he fended off her attack.

“Why? You think you can knock my sword from my hand?”

“I can, but I will not have to. You will drop it.”

He forced her to step back, and back, and back again. Once more, and her heel caught on an empty sack. She threw her hands up, sending the sword clattering against the wall as she tumbled backward. The next moment, she was lying back on her elbows, her hair loose about her shoulders, skirts askew, chest heaving.

Stephen could not move, could not even breathe.

“I’m afraid you have the advantage of me,” she said, her eyes dancing. She reached her hand up for him to help her to her feet.

He took it and sank to his knees beside her.  “Not true, Isobel,” he said in a harsh whisper. “’Tis I who am at your mercy.”

His eyes fixed on her lips, full and parted, and he gave in to the inexorable pull toward them. The moment their lips touched, fire seared through him. … He let himself sink down further and groaned aloud as his swollen shaft pressed against her hip.

But he froze the instant he felt the prick of cold steel against his neck.

“You are right,” she said so close to his ear that he could feel her breath, “ ’tis wise to carry a short blade.”

~*~*~

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