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Thursday, March 22, 2018
THE HIGHLANDERS GIFT ~ Eliza Knight ~ Giveaway
Have you Pre-ordered The Highlander’s Gift?
USA Today Bestselling Author Eliza Knight’s The Stolen Bride series continues in this spin-off of our favorite hero and heroine's children.
“Ms. Knight has a gift for writing wonderful characters that pull the reader into the story. For fans of Highlander romance, this series is a must read. I highly recommend it.”
—Night Owls Reviewer, The Stolen Bride Series
Add THE HIGHLANDER’S GIFT to your TBR pile on Goodreads! Then keep reading to get an EXCLUSIVE sneak peek and enter the giveaway for a $50 Amazon Gift Card or an eBook from Eliza!
Title: The Highlander’s Gift
Author: Eliza Knight
Genre: Historical Romance
Release Date: March 27, 2018
Publisher: Knight Media, LLC
Series: The Stolen Bride
Format: Digital & Paperback
ISBN-13: 978-0997377705
Synopsis:
An injured warrior… a lady who won’t let him fail…
Betrothed to a princess until she declares his battle wound has incapacitated him as a man, Sir Niall Oliphant is glad to step aside and let the spoiled royal marry his brother. He’s more than content to fade into the background with his injuries and remain a bachelor forever, until he meets the Earl of Sutherland’s daughter, a lass more beautiful than any other, a lass who makes him want to stand up and fight again.
As daughter of one of the most powerful earls and Highland chieftains in Scotland, Bella Sutherland can marry anyone she wants—but she doesn’t want a husband. When she spies an injured warrior at the Yule festival who has been shunned by the Bruce’s own daughter, she decides a husband in name only might be her best solution.
They both think they’re agreeing to a marriage of convenience, but love and fate has other plans…
Available at:
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An excerpt from THE HIGHLANDER’S GIFT
Copyright © Eliza Knight 2018
Dunrobin Castle, Scottish Highlands
Fall, 1306
“I want to be knight for the day.” A petulant lass with golden locks crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at the line of grubby lads with their wooden swords tucked into the corded belts of their plaids. For the first time in her short life, she had the chance to prove something.
“Ye canna. Ye’re a lass. Go back to the keep and help the maids with their chores.” Several of them snickered and rubbed elbows at that.
Snorting, another added, “Aye, go and milk a cow.”
“Or knead the bread.”
The list of chores typically delegated to females continued on for several minutes. All the while, the young lass’s face grew redder and redder, her fists tighter and tighter, until one particular lad stepped forward.
He opened his mouth to say something, but she didn’t let him get further than that. She tugged her arm back as she’d seen her brothers do, and let her tiny fist fly, landing hard on his chin.
Zounds, that hurt.
Her knuckles were instantly red and stinging. She thought the whole point of hitting a lad would be to hurt him, not herself.
Surprised, the lad stumbled back a few paces, eyes wide. “What the hell did ye go and do that for? I was going to tell these raven-gut idiots to give ye a shot.”
She was immediately contrite, but being as stubborn as she was, and feeling more than mildly embarrassed, she pursed her lips in a frown and refused to say anything at all.
The other lads were laughing, doubled over as they slapped their knees and rolled around on the ground, clearly not taking her seriously.
“Ye’re on your own then, wee chicken,” the lad said, backing away and rubbing his reddened jaw.
“Wait,” she whispered, stepping forward and looking at him nervously. “Ye’ll really let me try?”
He smirked, green eyes flashing with some emotion she couldn’t understand. “I’m not so sure anymore after the way ye just walloped me.”
The lass stiffened her spine, knowing exactly what mocking was when directed at her. “Why’s that? Ye think I fight like a lass?”
“Nay, just the opposite.”
Most of the lads had stopped laughing long enough to listen, surprised perhaps that the older lad had just admitted her blow had hurt.
“What do ye say, lads, are we scared to have her join in our tournament?”
“Scared?” They laughed. “Not on her life.”
“All right then,” the one she’d given a good smack to said. “We’ll let ye join us.”
She’d not planned for them to actually allow her. Och, she had all sorts of plans involving revenge and sneaking in dressed as a lad, but not once had she thought they’d welcome her. “And if I win?”
His smirk widened. “We’ll let ye be knight for the day.”
Thrusting her chin forward, she gave him a righteous smile. The other lads balked, because it wouldn’t be right for a lass to be the knight for the day, given that she was…well, a lass.
The lad, a little taller than his friends, raised his hand for their silence. “But laddies, ye recall what happens to the knight for a day?”
They narrowed their eyes, unsure what to say, for there was an ominous tone to his voice.
The lass wasn’t certain of what he spoke, either. She only wanted to prove she was good enough, show her da she could beat the lads at their own game, that sewing and wearing dresses wasn’t all she was good at. To prove that her brothers weren’t the only ones who could help defend their castle. But…what else happened?
“The knight has to choose his lady. Who will be your lady?” the lad asked her, his grin growing wider.
Well, she wasn’t going to be sucked into whatever trick he was trying to lay on her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked at him confidently. “Why ye of course.”
About Eliza Knight
Eliza Knight is an award-winning and USA Today bestselling author of over fifty sizzling historical, time-travel and contemporary romance novels. Under the name E. Knight, she pens rip-your- heart-out historical fiction. While not reading, writing or researching for her latest book, she chases after her three children. In her spare time (if there is such a thing…) she likes daydreaming, wine-tasting, traveling, hiking, staring at the stars, watching movies, shopping and visiting with family and friends. She lives atop a small mountain with her own knight in shining armor, three princesses and two very naughty puppies.
Saturday, March 17, 2018
DAUGHTER OF THE KING ~ Ashley York ~ Excerpt/Giveaway
A mistaken identity. A gruesome murder. The uniting of two powerful clans.
DAUGHTER OF THE KING
Award Winning Author Ashley York
Series: The Derbfine Series Book 3
Genre: Historical Romance
Publication Date: March 17, 2018
A mistaken identity. A gruesome murder. Was it self-defense? Or Regicide?
Trained as a warrior, Brighit of Clan Cruadhlaoch despises the trappings and demands of womanhood…
Selfish dreams need to be set aside for the good of the clan, but a shocking murder only causes more turmoil. Especially as she stands accused. With no one else to turn to, can Brighit find escape in the arms of her new husband or will he require she reveal her inner most secrets?
Darragh of Clan MacNaughton is expected to follow his father into kingship but has little desire for the coveted title…
His willful wife is another matter. He has great desire for her. Despite her denial, he sees her womanly virtues and it sets him afire to know her, both body and soul. Will she resist his overwhelming need to possess all of her?
PURCHASE LINKS
Excerpt
“That’s the problem with prevarication.”
“Prevarication? When did I ever lie to ye?”
“When ye fluttered yer lashes and begged me not to tell yer father.”
“It works for the other lasses, why not me? They get whatever they want. All the lads begging at their feet, telling them how beautiful they are—” She averted her gaze. “—and they’re not so very beautiful.”
Darragh managed to subdue his grin.
When she finally turned back, her expression had softened. “I do not normally prevaricate.”
He crossed his arms about his chest. “If ye say so.”
“I do say so. Ugh!” She blew an irritated breath. “I canna convince ye when ye won’t believe what I say.”
Brighit’s nose flared in irritation just before she shook her head in a most defeated way. The idea came to him in a flash, and Darragh smiled at his own thought before sharing it.
“A kiss. A kiss will convince me.” He half expected her to slap his face for even suggesting such a thing.
Only she didn’t. Her eyes widened, and she glanced at his lips before wetting her own. She was excited by the idea. Could it be she’d never been kissed before? He’d bet his favorite horse she had not, not with Sean as her father.
“Ye are willing then?” Her look told him she was not only willing but eager. With the slightest movement, he slipped his hands beneath the mantle to graze his open palms up her arms until they rested on her shoulders. Her lips glistened and the vein in her neck throbbed. With a low voice, he asked, “Would ye seal our agreement with a kiss?”
The sharpest tip of her head, barely a nod at all, but Darragh would not quibble. He slid a hand from beneath the heavy material to tunnel it under her thick, silky hair and cup her neck, the skin there still cool from her swim.
She leaned in, meeting him halfway. His mouth slanted across hers, a gentle caress, before he slipped his tongue between her parted lips. She gave as good as she got, deepening the kiss to where he was no longer certain who was doing the kissing. He was glad he hadn’t wagered his horse on her inexperience, though mayhap she was simply an extremely fast learner.
Without warning, she released him and backed out of his hold, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. Her heaving chest matched his own.
He reached for her. “Brighit, I—”
She raised a hand, shaking her head, and put more distance between them. It was a long time before she spoke again. “We will wait the fortnight.”
About Ashley York
Award-winning author Ashley York writes historical romance full of passion and intrigue set in 11th and 12th century Ireland, Scotland, and England where life was wild and survival was never guaranteed.
Whether it's in the mysterious ring forts of Éire, the Scottish Highlands, or the battle fields of Hastings her characters fight hard and play hard. Good or evil, primary or secondary, they all evoke strong emotional responses.
Passionate about history and research, York may tweak some historical facts (like the location of the Baron's Rebellion), but the flavor of the time is undeniable. With heroes and heroines you'll want to read about again and again, her stories are fresh and unpredictable but still finish with a satisfying HEA.
Official website: https://www.ashleyyorkauthor.com
Official blog: http://www.ashleyyorkauthor.com/blog
Join Ashley York's Newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/p0z9z5
Giveaway
WIN $10 GIFT CARD AND MORE
Prizes up for grabs:
1. $10 Amazon Gift Card
2. One set of The Derbfine Series (3 eBooks)
Contest runs from March 17 - 23, 2018.
In partnership with
Friday, February 2, 2018
Thursday, December 7, 2017
Entangled New Release Blog Tour
Lady Evelyn’s Highland Protector by Tara Kingston
About the Book:
A Highlander’s vow...Scottish spy Gerard MacMasters never expected to be playing bodyguard in his mission to catch a killer. Stunning English beauty, Lady Evelyn Hunt, has witnessed a merciless assassin’s escape—now, she’s in danger, and it’s up to him to keep her alive. Yet, he is drawn to the tempting woman. Passion flares, but he knows better than to fall for her. He’s already lost one woman he loved—never again will he put his heart on the line.
She shields her heart...After a crushing betrayal at the altar, Lady Evelyn wants nothing to do with love. Kissing a gorgeous rogue is one thing, but surrendering her heart is another matter. When she stumbles upon a mysterious crime, nothing prepares her for the dashing Scot who charges into her life. The hot-blooded Highlander may be her hero—or her undoing.
Purchase Link:
About the Author:
Award-winning author Tara Kingston writes historical romance laced with intrigue, danger, and adventures of the heart. A Southern-belle-out-of-water in a quaint Pennsylvania town, she lives her own happily-ever-after in a cozy Victorian with her real-life hero and a pair of deceptively innocent-looking kitties. The mother of two sons, Tara’s a former librarian who first discovered her love of the romance genre when she sneaked more than a peek at her mother’s old-school romance paperbacks. When she’s not writing, reading, or burning dinner, Tara enjoys movie nights, traveling, cycling, hiking, DIY projects, quality time with her family, and cheering on her favorite football team.
Book Excerpt:
Inverness, Scotland
June, 1891
Truth be told, Lady Evelyn Hunt rather enjoyed being a fallen woman. While others might well wring their hands over such a dizzying tumble from grace, she’d discovered an unexpected benefit of scandal—the invisible scarlet letter she wore was the key to her independence. After all, with no good name to protect, she had nothing to lose.
As her traveling companions gushed over the wares in a milliner’s cramped and cluttered shop, she debated whether to put that freedom to good use and make her escape. She’d endured the noisy, pungent train ride from London to the Highlands with nary a whisper of complaint. After all, it wasn’t every day one embarks on a journey to stand as a bridesmaid while her dearest friend weds a dashing Scotsman. She would not have missed Sally’s wedding, not for all the quiet chambers in the world. But now, as the walls closed in and her friends’ voices blurred, she eyed the door with a keen longing.
Fanning herself with one hand, she pulled in a gulp of air, deep as her corset allowed. Drat, she should’ve loosened the stays. A fashionable silhouette was desirable, but then again, so was the ability to inhale.
Her pulse hammered a defiant beat against her eardrums. What harm would there be in leaving this little shop, if only for a few minutes? It wasn’t as if she required a chaperone. With her reputation damaged well beyond repair, she was free to explore the city without benefit of an escort. On the other hand, her dignity would suffer a devastating blow if she collapsed in an incoherent heap on the milliner’s floor.
Edging past the hatmaker’s dour-faced assistant, Evelyn slipped out the door. Relief rushed in. Fresh calm filled her. Free of the crush and the relentless chatter, she could once again focus her thoughts. She could breathe.
A shadow fell over her.
Strong, warm hands settled over her shoulders.
She gasped.
A stranger towered over her. A handsome man, dark-haired and broad-shouldered.
“Unhand me, sir.”
His hands fell away. A hint of a smile danced on his full mouth. “Is the devil nippin’ at yer heels, lass?”
Good heavens. In her rush to take her leave of the shop, she’d nearly collided with the fellow, hadn’t she? So much for avoiding damage to her dignity.
She was tall, too long-limbed to fit the feminine ideal, but she had to cock her chin to meet his intent golden-brown eyes. “My apologies.”
“’Tis no harm done.” A lock of dark hair dipped over his forehead, and he shoved it away. “Do take care. The next man ye run into might take advantage of the opportunity to find a lovely lass in his arms.”
The man certainly had cheek, didn’t he? A reply sprang to her lips, hovering there unspoken as his hint of a smile gave way to a ridiculously appealing grin.
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Highland Redemption by Lori Ann Bailey
About the Book:
While spying for Clan Cameron, Brodie Cameron rescues a lass, only to realize it’s Skye—the woman who’d broken his heart. He needs to get her to her uncle as quickly as possible to keep her safe, but every minute he’s distracted from his mission brings the clans that much closer to war. And having beautiful Skye anywhere near him is dangerous, because the price on his head is higher than the one on hers.
Upon being rescued from kidnappers, Skye finds herself staring into the eyes of the man she once loved—Brodie Cameron. She’s grateful to be freed, but has no idea how she’ll resist the lad who has become a braw man. Especially because she’s promised to another, in a political marriage forged to strengthen the Royalist clans against the Covenanters who plot to turn Scotland upside down.
Upon being rescued from kidnappers, Skye finds herself staring into the eyes of the man she once loved—Brodie Cameron. She’s grateful to be freed, but has no idea how she’ll resist the lad who has become a braw man. Especially because she’s promised to another, in a political marriage forged to strengthen the Royalist clans against the Covenanters who plot to turn Scotland upside down.
Purchase Link:
Book Excerpt:
Skye’s heart had clenched at the all-too-familiar thick Highland burr of the man who’d jumped into the back of the wagon.
Nae. It couldn’t be—it was the terror of being abducted by strangers playing tricks on her.
A broad shouldered man leaned closer and she let go of the breath she held, because she didn’t recognize the form. These shoulders were much wider and the girth was almost twice what she remembered from the man of her youth. Hoping to hide, she sank back into the depths of the cart, her entire body stiffening and her heartbeat increasing, pounding in her chest.
But then he reached for her, and a beam of moonlight hit his face. The intruder gave her the smile that had once brought her to her knees, the one she had spent her whole childhood trying to put on his face. Now, the sight only brought her pain.
She had spent the last five years of her life trying to forget that smile, trying to shake the memory of him, trying to become a whole person again. With that one cocksure smirk, he had just shredded all of her efforts, and damn him, she wanted to reach out and feel that he was real, that this was not one of those dreams she would wake from and he’d be gone, leaving her alone yet again.
Many times, he’d visited her at night in her fantasies, saving her from imaginary foes and then professing his undying love, promising to never leave her side again. In the delirious haze of sleep, she always forgave him, but this didn’t feel like a dream.
I’m an imbecile.
She had to remind herself she hated this man. He’d promised her the moon, made her dare to believe they could have the perfect life together. A home, a family, and love.
Then he had taken it all away. He had carelessly tossed her aside and left her with a gaping hole, a void that could never be filled. She had given her heart to him, and he had trampled all over it.
About the Author: Winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award and Holt Medallion for Best First Book and Best Historical, Lori Ann Bailey writes hunky highland heroes and strong-willed independent lasses finding their perfect matches in the Highlands of 17th century Scotland. Writing about the people and places playing in her head helps her live out her dreams and delve into her love of history and romance. When not writing, Lori enjoys time with her real life hero and four kids or spending time walking or drinking wine with her friends. Visit Lori at www.loriannbailey.com. Or, follow her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/Lori.Ann.Bailey.author
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The Maiden’s Defender by E. Elizabeth Watson
About the Book:
Training men to be ruthless soldiers is a skill at which Highlander Teà rlach MacGregor excels. He can kill three men with nothing but a sword and a couple of daggers. After he rescues a ward of the king, the beautiful Lady Madeline Crawford, the fierce warrior begins to yearn for a cottage of his own in the Highlands, with the sweet, delicate Madeline as the mother of his bairns.
Madeline begins to see a side of Teà rlach that nobody else has witnessed. The strong silent Highlander takes her to her first fair, teaches her to read, and bestows upon her a passionate kiss—her very first. But Madeline is informed that she is betrothed to another with the blessing of the king, making her and Teà rlach’s love forbidden.
Teà rlach, the famed fighter, vows to make Madeline his even if that means bringing down her corrupt warden, and Madeline knows that she must defy the king if she hopes to claim her Highlander.
Purchase Link:
Book Excerpt:
Anno Domini 1192. April
The spring insects buzzed peaceably, and the evening sun promised a glowing sunset. Madeline Crawford had watched many sunsets, hoping that the warm rays would heal her broken heart. Aye, her heart was finally healing, because in this moment, she could breathe in and out and appreciate the beauty without the sadness that had plagued her for so long, threatening to kill her simple joy. In this moment, she felt content. The first time she had felt so in many months. She looked down, smiled, and adjusted a blanket, then picked up her book of Aesop’s Fables again and continued reading.
“And so, the wise astrologer walked, gazing upward at the heavens”—how she also enjoyed looking at the night sky and contemplating the patterns of stars—“only to then fall into a well. The townsfolk gathered around him, hearing his calls of distress, only then to scold him. ‘Wise astrologer,’ they said. ‘Whilst you were staring upward at the sky, trying to divinate the meaning of the stars, you failed to see the very things here on earth that surround you…’”
The very earth beneath her began to rumble as she finished the sentence. Madeline paused. The guardsmen on the wall were clattering down the walk, their arms clanking and chain mail jingling. She looked out through the open gates, down the meandering path that led along the valley between the hills.
The beating of horse hooves was growing stronger, as if the army of England were descending upon her simple stone tower to raze her home. She saw two horsemen barreling down the road toward her, both dark haired. The one in the back, as wild as the Highlands from which he had come, wore his MacGregor great kilt proudly. The horseman in front wore a dirty Irish leine, the white of it having seen brighter days, with boots lacing up his legs. His hair was shaggy, longer, his beard unmanaged. Over his shoulder was a haphazardly pleated plaid, the same color as the other man’s tartan.
Madeline snatched up her bundle of blankets, allowing the book to tumble from her hands and splay open in the dirt. Two of her servants, Fingal and the young lass Joselyn, raced for the door of the tower to hustle Madeline within.
Yet a wary tingling was coursing through her blood. She knew the man propelling toward her gate. It didn’t seem real, didn’t seem possible. It couldn’t be him. After all this time. After so many months, after she had finally resigned herself to accept Rabbie MacGregor’s marriage offer. After she had given up hope that this man would ever return. It had to be a marauder, intent on rape and pillage.
It couldn’t be him.
“Madeline!” the man called in a voice with a rich timbre, galloping through the wooden gates and pulling back on the reins of his mount. “Madeline, stop!”
She whirled around in the doorway and finally saw him as he threw himself from the saddle. The sight was a shock. She froze. It was him. It was Teà rlach MacGregor, in the flesh, in an Irish leine and boots, as if he were the fabled Fionn incarnated. His hair had always been shaggy, but he could tie it back now, if he wanted. She remembered so vividly the feel of his curls as her fingers laced through them, combing them in gentle pets as he lay upon her breast by the nighttime campfire surrounded by insect cadences and silence. Her heart ached anew.
About the Author:
I write medieval Scottish and English romance. I'm excited to announce my first two books with Entangled Publishing will be published in July and November, 2017, entitled An Earl for the Archeress, and Maiden's Defender. In 2016, my book, Prince of Lions, was a top 100 download on Amazon in the categories of Scottish and Medieval historical romance. In 2014, my unpublished manuscript entitled Two Brides for Ewan de Buchan received a Second Prize as a quarter-finalist in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest, and currently the book is being pushed towards publication.
I have four sons. Yes. Four. We have a sweet yellow lab, a bobtail cat, a parakeet, and two Californian rabbits, and my family and I enjoy traveling whenever the opportunity and resources allow it. Though explorers at heart, we live on a wooded mountainside in West Virginia and hike whenever possible. We have moved about the United States and even the United Kingdom, where my love of historical romance was born. How could it not?
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The Lady and Mr. Jones by Alyssa Alexander
About the Book:
Born in the rookeries, the hard life is something Jones is all too familiar with. Saved as a young boy, he was trained to be a spy, one of the best--elite, in fact. He now spends his days serving His Majesty in espionage, hunting rogue spies. His latest assignment, though, has him tracking a fellow spy…
Cat Ashdown is a baroness. Nothing is more important than protecting five hundred years of heritage. She knows every detail of every estate that commands the largest income in Britain— yet her father placed her inheritance in trust to her uncle who is forcing her to marry a man she has no desire for. The baroness’s battle against law and convention leads her to Jones and results that are surprising … and possibly unwanted.
Purchase Link:
Book Excerpt:
Spring 1819
Jones rubbed a thumb along the faint line running the length of the pistol’s barrel. He couldn’t remember now the origin of the scratch, but he had never been able to polish it out to his satisfaction.
Nevertheless, he tried. A man took care of his weapons.
There was very little light in the hidden nook of his commander’s office. Curtains blocked the candlelight from the main room, so it fell just shy of the flintlock pistol. But Jones needed no light for this work, as he knew the feel and shape of the weapon, every ridge in the wood, every curve of the iron. Still, bringing out the small, soft linen square he kept in his pocket, he began the meticulous process of rubbing the iron and wood.
And he listened to the conversation occurring beyond the secret alcove he had been assigned to.
“The Flower is no longer yours to command, Lord Wycomb. Nor has she been this last half year.” Sir Charles Flint spoke carefully to the man standing on the other side of his desk. The light was bright near the two of them, from the fire and the windows and the candles. It shone on the broad, barrel chest of Sir Charles and the lean, elegantly clothed agent challenging him. “The Flower is now under my direct command.”
Ah. They were discussing Vivienne La Fleur, the opera dancer who had captivated London between visits to France and breaking into the homes of the ton at Wycomb’s direction. She excelled at thievery, with her quick fingers and elegant grace. She was also damned good at lock-picking, as her new husband, Maximilian Westwood, had become aware.
But Henry Taylor, Lord Wycomb—the bastard—had mistreated her and lost Sir Charles’s good will.
And Jones’s respect.
“I trained her.” Lord Wycomb’s voice was as cool and careful as the spymaster’s behind the desk. “I found her in the rookeries as a child, trained her for espionage, and commanded her assignments for a decade. She is my agent.”
From his hiding place, Jones glanced at Wycomb’s back, at the set of his shoulders and angle of his head. Jones couldn’t see his face from this vantage point, but there did not seem to be any sign of untoward anger.
Jones refolded the linen square and began to polish his pistol anew, focusing on that single scratch he could not smooth out.
“The Flower was your agent. I have reassigned her. Again, I now control her missions,” Sir Charles answered. There was no hint of his anger at Wycomb’s treatment of the Flower—but Jones knew, if Wycomb did not. Jones had seen Sir Charles months ago in this very office, had witnessed the mingled fury and pity. “Why is it that you require her expertise?”
“An assignment that is not under your command, Sir Charles.” Haughtiness. Presumption. Precedence. All echoed in the room.
From his hiding place, Jones narrowed his eyes. A man didn’t disrespect his superior officer, regardless of social titles. Tempted to stand and reveal his presence, Jones flattened his hand over the pistol to steady himself. He had his own assignment, and allowing his irritation free rein was not it.
About the Author: Alyssa Alexander is an award-winning author who survives the cold Michigan winters by penning romance novels that always include a bit of adventure. Her debut release received 4.5 Stars & Top Pick by Romantic Times, was nominated for the RT 2014 Best First Historical and the 2015 Best First Book RITA. She’s been called a “talented newcomer” and “a rising star you won’t want to miss.” Alyssa lives with her own set of heroes, aka an ever-patient husband and a small boy who wears a knight in a shining armor costume for such tasks as scrubbing potatoes.
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Tying the Scot by Jennifer Trethewey
About the book:
At age eleven, Alex Sinclair pledges an oath to the Duke of Chatham promising to serve and protect his illegitimate daughter, Lucy FitzHarris. Nine years later, the duke unexpectedly takes Alex up on his vow, offering the future Laird of Balforss his daughter’s hand in marriage.
Now a man, hotheaded Alex has difficulty convincing Lucy—who would rather starve to death than marry a vulgar Scot—to go through with the arranged marriage. Once Lucy arrives in Scotland, she cannot resist the magic of Balforss or the allure of her handsome Highland warrior. But when Alex seemingly betrays Lucy right before their wedding, she is tricked into running away. Alex must rein in his temper to rescue his lady from unforeseen danger and Lucy must swallow her pride if she hopes to wed the Highlander she has come to love.
Purchase Link:
Book Excerpt:
Without warning, Hercules hopped onto the cook’s lap, causing her to let out a whoop. He tickled her chin with dog kisses. Alex had never heard Mrs. Swenson giggle before.
“Do you want someone to feed you, my wee mannie?” she said, talking to him like he was a baby. She picked up the bowl and hand-fed the bits of meat to Hercules. He chewed and swallowed, all the while gazing adoringly at the cook.
“Looks like you have a new friend,” Alex said.
Mrs. Swenson feigned irritation with him. “Och, take a cake and be gone with you.”
He plucked a small raisin cake from a mound of baked goods, kissed her again, and crammed the entire thing into his mouth. On the way back to the house, he encountered Lucy. She had removed her bonnet and jacket as well as the lacy piece of clothing that covered her shoulders and chest. Some of her curly black locks of hair had come unpinned and bounced around on the swells of her breasts, leaving him spellbound.
“Where's Hercules?” she asked, as though accusing him of losing her dog. “I have been looking all over for him.”
Mouth still filled with cake, he struggled to swallow, but only succeeded in choking. Pointing at the kitchen door, Alex watched Lucy march off in a huff. At last, he swallowed a mass of cake the size of a crabapple, and wiped his mouth. He remained in the middle of the yard, waiting, half expecting to hear Mrs. Swenson and Lucy break into an argument over the dog. To his relief, Lucy exited the kitchen with Hercules and the cook, both women laughing. Mrs. Swenson pointed to the sky and Lucy nodded. Warning Lucy about the hawk?
She crossed the yard, smiling. The smile disappeared, however, when she met his eyes. She swept past him without a word, nose in the air. Some inexplicable force compelled him to follow her.
About the Author: Jennifer Trethewey is an actor-turned-writer who has moved her performances from the stage to the page. In 2013 she traveled to Scotland for the first time, where she instantly fell for the language, humor, intense sense of pride, and breathtaking landscape. Her love for Scotland was translated into her first series of historical romance novels, the Highlanders of Balforss. The sexy, adventurous first book of the series, TYING THE SCOT, is set to be released in November 2017. Trethewey’s primary experience in bringing the imaginary to life was working for one of the oldest women’s theaters in the nation, where she was the co-founder and co-artistic director. Today she continues to act, but writes contemporary and historical fiction full-time. Her other loves include dogs, movies, music and good wine. She lives in Milwaukee with her husband.
Monday, December 4, 2017
CHRISTMAS AT THORNCLIFF MANOR ~ Sophie Barnes ~ Excerpt/Giveaway
Christmas at Thorncliff Manor
Secrets at Thorncliff Manor by Sophie Barnes Publication Date: December 5, 2017Genres: Adult, Historical, Romance
More than love is in the air … Join the Heartly family as they return to Thorncliff Manor for the holiday season where four sisters and four very handsome, very eligible bachelors, are about to enjoy a lively Christmastime filled with laughter and love. But aside from the covert matchmaking undertaken by the eccentric hostess, Lady Duncaster, the thrill of adventure is sweeping through the estate. Soon, all the guests will be entangled in a treasure hunt for a lost heirloom and secrets hidden for decades will rise to the surface as matters of the heart are finally revealed.
Will Fiona ever see the Earl of Chadwick as more than a friend? Will Emily find an unlikely love in the Marquess of Montsmouth? Can Laura recognize the man of her dreams in the Duke of Lamont? And is Viscount Belgrave able to open Rachel’s eyes to romance? The magic of Thorncliff is about to offer the last unmarried Heartly sisters a chance at their own happily-ever-afters. So sit back with a warm mug of cocoa and lose yourself in a Regency Christmas Romance…
England, 1820.
Comfortably seated at a dining room table that seemed to stretch toward infinity, Fiona Heartly considered the people who’d been invited to visit Thorncliff Manor during the holidays. Due to the group’s intimate size, only a fraction of the table had been set for the evening, while most of the chairs remained eerily empty. Pleasantly, however, five large oranges pricked with cloves and strategically placed in the center of the table infused the air with a seasonal fragrance of citrus and spice. The lady of the manor, the Dowager Countess of Duncaster, looked as formidable as ever. Placed at the head of the table, she wore an elaborate wig that had long since gone out of fashion. But she was known to have several eccentric bones in her body, so nobody ever minded. Rather, Fiona suspected she was considered all the more interesting on account of her peculiarities.
To Lady Duncaster’s right sat the Duke of Lamont, a middle-aged gentleman whose demeanor was always perfectly somber. Fiona had yet to see him smile, but then again, she had also to spend more than one minute in conversation with him. A long-time friend of Lady Duncaster’s, the pair had apparently been spending the holidays together for almost six years now. Ever since the duke inherited his title with the sudden passing of both his father and brother.
Leaning forward, Fiona glanced toward the seat at Lady Duncaster’s left. Lamont’s cousin Viscount Belgrave sat there, amicable as usual. He’d always struck her as being exceptionally kind and good natured, though not the sort of man who would ever stir an amorous interest in her. She needed someone more challenging – a scoundrel with a good heart. Not that she had any intention of marrying any time soon. As the youngest of her siblings, she knew she still had a year or two ahead of her before seeking a husband became a necessity. In the meantime, she meant to enjoy what remained of her independence – the final moments of her youth.
That particular thought had her looking directly across the table at one of her favorite people, the Earl of Chadwick. He’d always humored her hoydenish streak, and he never failed to enjoy a bit of mischief as much as she did. He’d been a part of her family for as long as she could remember – ever since her brother Christopher, Viscount Spencer, or Kip as his family called him, had brought the earl home with him for a visit one year during the school holidays. They were all exceedingly fond of Chadwick. His positive outlook on life was so infectious it was impossible to be grumpy while keeping his company.
Meeting Fiona’s gaze, he smiled warmly. A couple of seconds elapsed, and then he suddenly snatched up his napkin and started dressing his fork as if it were a lady putting on an extravagant ball gown. Fiona’s lips quirked, more so when the fork began dancing along the edge of the table.
“Oh,” Lady Duncaster said, “How utterly delightful!”
Had they been anywhere else, his behavior would have been considered incredibly improper. But here nobody minded. Rather, they all appeared quite entranced by Chadwick’s little performance, which now included a softly hummed tune as his knife swept in to partner with the fork in a waltz.
“I suppose it’s no wonder you are so good at charades and other parlor games,” Rachel observed. “Playing pretend comes so naturally to you, I almost envy your ability.” Exceptionally fond of mathematics and science, she rarely found anything amusing since all jokes were usually ruined for her on account of their nonsensical facts. But with Chadwick, she often made an exception. It seemed he had a style that appealed to pretty much everyone.
“Speaking of which,” Lady Duncaster said, taking a sip of her wine, “I would like to discuss our holiday schedule. Montsmouth has yet to arrive of course, but I see no reason why we cannot agree on a few diversions without his presence.”
Fiona instantly frowned. She vaguely recalled seeing the Earl of Montsmouth when she’d last visited Thorncliff during the summer, but he’d always lingered in the background, so she hadn’t paid him much mind. It never would have occurred to her that he might be a good enough friend of Lady Duncaster’s for her to include him in this private holiday gathering. No doubt he’d been delayed on account of the weather.
When she’d arrived that afternoon with her parents and her sisters Emily, Laura, and Rachel, snow had already begun to fall. Her other siblings, Christopher, Chloe, and Richard, had chosen to spend Christmas at their individual estates with their spouses, no doubt so they could have the privacy newly wedded bliss required. Not that Fiona minded since her brothers’ absences, in particular, would allow her to move about Thorncliff more freely and to continue her search for the treasure she still believed to be hidden there.
It hadn’t been found yet, but certain clues had, like a diamond earring linked to her own family, a code book outlining a conspiracy within the aristocracy, and a letter tying her great-aunt to the late Earl of Duncaster’s father and to some sort of strange resistance movement that had been active during the time of the French Revolution.
“Is he the gentleman who lost his snuff box in the conservatory this summer?” Laura asked, still speaking of Montsmouth.
“Yes,” Fiona’s father said.
“I find he’s always standing on the outside of things,” Lady Duncaster added, “and with both parents dead and no siblings to speak of, I thought he might like some company for Christmas.”
“How good of you to take such notice,” Fiona’s mother said, smiling.
Lady Duncaster chuckled. “Oh, I am always taking notice.” She glanced at each of them in turn, her lips curling into a secretive smile that made Fiona suspect they weren’t here by chance but that Lady Duncaster had taken particular care in selecting each of her guests. The lady regarded them each with her piercing blue eyes and then quietly asked, “How about skating for a diversion?”
The question came so suddenly, Laura looked as though she might choke on her wine. “Right now?” A touch of alarm tightened her words.
“Don’t be absurd,” Lady Duncaster admonished. Stabbing at her food, she selected a piece of meat and popped it into her mouth.
Fiona decided to return her attention to her own plate. She didn’t quite manage it, though, before catching a glimpse of Chadwick, who was now making odd expressions with his eyes. Biting her lip, she forced back a laugh and shook her head. His pout only made him look all the more ridiculous. Honestly, he could be such a child sometimes.
“I am simply trying to determine which activities you might enjoy while you’re here,” Lady Duncaster continued. “Since the lake is solidly frozen, it might be fun for all of you to go for a spin on it.”
“I would love to,” Laura said. She’d always been good at skating. Much better than Fiona, at any rate.
Lamont frowned. “I see no need to risk a broken limb.”
“It sounds as though you might have had a bad experience once,” Laura said with compassion. He paused for a moment before saying, “I simply wish to be careful.”
Laura stared at him briefly and then quietly nodded. “I understand.”
This seemed to surprise him. “You do?”
“Of course. I fell from a tree once and broke my ankle. It took forever before I chose to go climbing again.”
“At least a year,” Fiona said. She recalled the incident well enough, since she’d been up in the tree as well when the blasted branch had snapped beneath her sister’s weight.
“That was quick,” Lamont remarked.
Laura shrugged. “I realized watching my brothers and sisters enjoy the activity was worse than any fear I had of falling again.”
“Still,” Lamont murmured, “I think I’d prefer to watch the skating rather than participate in it myself.”
“Have you ever actually tried it?” Laura asked.
A look of discomfort crossed the duke’s face. He sipped his wine and then turned toward Lady Duncaster. “How about a sleigh ride?” he asked, avoiding Laura’s question. “Might that be possible?”
“As long as we get enough snow,” Lady Duncaster said. She smiled openly at everyone. “We should also try to find a yule log soon and make some more decorations. There are pine trees and pinecones out in the woods, and the ladies will probably enjoy shopping for ribbons in the village.”
“If we gather the pine before going to town, we’ll be able to estimate the exact length of ribbon we need for making garlands,” Rachel said. She glanced about the room, her gaze assessing.
“What a practical suggestion,” Belgrave murmured.
“I see no reason not to strive for efficiency when one is able to do so,” Rachel said, arching a brow. The expression made her look more like a critical matron than a marriageable young lady.
Fiona almost groaned. She’d tried to advise her sister many times before on her hair styling, clothing, and social skills, but Rachel refused to let anything but practicality and fact guide her. It made Fiona wonder if her sister knew what it meant to have fun – a thought that saddened her since having fun was so vital to her own existence.
She glanced across at Chadwick once more, unable to stop herself from smiling as she watched him tell Laura a joke. Perhaps the two would develop a tendre for each other during the next couple of weeks and eventually marry. It was something Fiona had considered more than once after noticing how animated her sister became when keeping Chadwick’s company. It would certainly be wonderful to finally make him a definite part of the family.
“So now that your three oldest children are settled, Lady Oakland,” Lady Duncaster said, “one cannot help but wonder who might be heading for the altar next.”
“Not me,” Rachel said with immediate swiftness. She glanced around before explaining, “I’ve more important matters to see to than courtship.”
“All you need is to meet the right gentleman,” Laura told her dreamily. Having embarked on her second romantic novel, she loved the idea of happy endings and forever afters.
“As I’ve pointed out before, statistics have proven it is unlikely he even exists. And if he does, he is undoubtedly so far removed from my little part of the world, meeting him would prove rather improbable.”
“Good lord, Rachel,” Laura huffed. “Matters of the heart cannot be reduced to numbers and equations. You’ll see when love strikes you. It will happen when you least expect it and probably with a man you would never have considered.”
“That is how it happened for your mother and me,” Lord Oakland said. He directed a wink and a smile at his wife.
“I was supposed to marry my husband’s friend through an arranged marriage,” Lady Duncaster put in. “He escorted me back to England from India, though, and we fell in love during the voyage.”
“And look at Spencer, Chloe, and Richard. None of them came here looking for romance,” Lady Oakland pointed out.
“I will admit, Richard has surprised me,” Rachel said. After he had lived in seclusion for five years, nobody had expected him to marry, let alone find an opportunity to meet a wife. And yet, against all odds, his wife, Mary, had captured his heart.
“It only goes to show there is hope for all of you,” their father said. “Even you, Rachel, despite your obvious resistance to the issue.”
“Very well,” she agreed. “Find me a man who will enjoy conducting scientific experiments with his wife and who would be proud of her publishing mathematical theories, and I might consider falling for him.”
“Hear, hear,” Fiona said. She’d decided to support her sister in this, for if there was one thing she truly believed in, it was finding commonality in a relationship. Without it, such a relationship would surely flounder.
Leaning forward a little, Belgrave gave Rachel a curious look. “If I might ask, what sort of experiments are you working on exactly?”
Rachel froze. Her lips parted, and it occurred to Fiona this might be the first time anyone outside the family had bothered to show an interest in her sister’s work. Rachel blinked twice, set down her fork as if doing so would help her regain her composure, and finally said, “Presently, I’m following Sir Humphrey Davy’s instructions on how to make an electric arc.”
The silence that followed was palpable, until Belgrave eventually said, “As I understand it, you will need to build a battery in order to accomplish such a goal.”
“Yes. I am aware,” Rachel said, her focus on the earl more intense now than it had been before. “I’ve purchased most of the items I require, but I am still waiting for the oil of vitriol to arrive. It should have arrived by the time I return home from here.”
“I thought your focus was mainly on,” Lady Oakland waved one hand as if the air would provide the answer, “the movement of slugs, as I recall.”
Fiona groaned and as she did so, she saw Chadwick conceal a smile. He leaned forward, narrowing the space between them as much as possible. “Parents can be so ignorant sometimes when it comes to their children.”
“I wonder what they imagined might have been in all of those boxes Rachel’s been purchasing recently,” Fiona whispered back.
“Slugs, from the sounds of it.”
Doing her best to stop from laughing resulted in a loud, indelicate snort. Fiona pressed her hand over her mouth in time to catch a look of disapproval in her father’s eyes. He frowned and shook his head, silently warning her to behave. She glanced back at Chadwick, whose expression had transformed into one of pure, innocent ignorance.
“I’ll get you later,” she mouthed.
He merely shrugged.
“—something for me to do while away for the summer,” Rachel was saying. “But it’s hardly going to get me a fellowship at the Royal Society.”
“The Royal Society?” Lord Oakland stared at his daughter. “That is quite ambitious of you since I don’t believe they admit women.”
“Someone has to be the first,” Rachel told him, as if the society’s exclusion of the female sex was only a minor inconvenience.
“I completely agree with you there,” Lady Duncaster said, “but you will likely have to make an impressive contribution of your own to even be considered. Copying someone else’s experiment is hardly going to suffice.”
“I know,” Rachel said. She set her napkin beside her plate. “Recreating the arc is only the beginning. What I plan to do is invent an electrical lamp.”
Another moment of silence descended on the room while everyone tried to process this bit of information. Fiona smiled in Rachel’s direction. Her sister might own a rigid personality, but she loved how easily she’d stunned her family and friends this evening.
“Do you think anyone would want to use such a thing?” Emily asked. “It sounds as though you’re making it more complicated for people to get light into their homes, rather than simplifying the issue. Striking a flint is such an easy task, but batteries with oil of vitriol and whatever else might be required…nobody will want to bother with that, surely.”
“Perhaps not,” Rachel said. “The only way to know is to try.”
Fiona glanced around the table and wondered what the rest of the dinner party might be thinking – if they saw how imaginative Rachel truly was. Her ability to envision the need for a new invention and her intention to try and create it were nothing short of impressive. It made Fiona wish she had such a purpose in life, something besides being a proper lady and marrying well. Recalling the Thorncliff treasure, she determined more than ever to find it over the course of the next two weeks. Doing so would be an incredible victory for her family since it would, hopefully, see her great-aunt’s jewelry returned.
“You may adjourn to the library for your after-dinner drinks, if you like,” Lady Duncaster told the gentlemen when they eventually rose from the table. “The ladies and I will take our tea in the music room in case you wish to join us there later.”
Fiona followed the group out into the hallway, her thoughts on her upcoming treasure hunt. She could scarcely wait to retire for the evening so she could set her mind more fully to the task. Perhaps if she...
The touch of a hand against her arm made her flinch, and she instinctively turned to find Chadwick walking beside her. His eyes met hers with a spark of amusement, and the edge of his mouth kicked up to form his signature smile. “I don’t believe I’ve told you how fetching you look this evening, Fiona.”
“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she replied, offering him the typical sort of rejoinder that had set the tone for their relationship over the years.
He linked his arm more fully with hers, bringing them closer until their shoulders touched. “I’ve missed you, you know.”
His voice was warm, his breath even warmer as it brushed along the side of her neck, producing a spark in the pit of her belly – a sudden awareness that had never existed before.
Unnerved by it, she tugged her arm away from his. “Yes.” Good lord. Why on earth did she sound so breathless?
Confused, she crossed her arms, hugging herself as they walked and effectively preventing further physical contact. Hesitantly, she glanced up at him, only to be met by a pair of inquisitive eyes – eyes that seemed to be filled not only with Chadwick’s usual good humor but with something else as well…something she could not quite define.
“We’ve missed you too,” she told him hastily. “A pity Kip and Richard won’t be joining us. I’m sure you would have liked to see them.”
“Of course.” A touch of humor trembled upon his lips, and for some absurd reason, it made her feel more uncomfortable than she’d ever felt before in his company. It was almost as if he knew a secret he’d chosen to keep from her, one that might see her made the subject of some wild and ridiculous joke. “But,” he added in a hushed whisper as he suddenly turned quite serious, “I was actually more interested in seeing you.”
And since they’d arrived at the music room, he did not linger to elaborate on his cryptic comment, but strode off, following the rest of the gentlemen to the library. Fiona stared after him, unable to comprehend the sudden tightening of her stomach or the pattering of her heart. He was like a brother – a dear friend and partner in mischief. Except she felt as though something between them had changed in the last second, and it bothered her to no end that she couldn’t quite figure out what that something might be.
Born in Denmark, Sophie has spent her youth traveling with her parents to wonderful places all around the world. She’s lived in five different countries, on three different continents, and speaks Danish, English, French, Spanish and Romanian. She has studied design in Paris and New York and has a bachelor’s degree from Parson’s School of design, but most impressive of all – she’s been married to the same man three times, in three different countries and in three different dresses. While living in Africa, Sophie turned to her lifelong passion – writing. When she’s not busy, dreaming up her next romance novel, Sophie enjoys spending time with her family, swimming, cooking, gardening, watching romantic comedies and, of course, reading. She currently lives on the East Coast.
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