Posts Tagged ‘historical romance’

Cover Reveal: Meet Me At The Castle

Saturday, April 19th, 2014

Behold what came in my mailbox today! The final rendition of the cover for Meet Me At The Castle, a historical/paranormal novella which releases May 12. I’ll have the blurb for you tomorrow or Monday but in the meantime enjoy this lush cover and dream away!

 

Meet Me At The Castle Release Date May 12

Meet Me At The Castle
Release Date May 12

Gorgeous Covers Day!

Friday, April 18th, 2014

Okay, this is the blog authors put up when they are lazy! I’m feeling Friday lazy. Many of you have already seen some of my gorgeous covers, but there are some covers that I just absolutely think are wonderful and I thought today I’d share just a few. Enjoy.

ForaRomansHeart72LG

 One of my all time favorite covers ever belongs to my Roman Britain historical romance, For A Roman’s Heart.

BeforetheDawn72LG

A stunning more “traditional” looking historical romance cover for Before The Dawn.

lovefromtheashesLg

Another delicious cover for my 1906 historical Love From The Ashes.

DarkDeadlyLove72web

Dark, Deadly Love has the proper scary feel for a historical set during the 1888 Jack The Ripper murders!

majorpleasure_msr

Many ladies really like this cover from Major Pleasure!

Those are just a fraction of my covers, but some of the big stand outs for me in conveying the tone of the book and also having visually stunning work.

With that I bid you a happy day and talk to you again soon. :)

 

Shadows Wait 99 cent sale ongoing until November 19

Friday, November 15th, 2013

Hey everyone. This week has been a learning curve. Shadows Wait (the first story in my Asylum Trilogy) is on sale at Amazon under the Kindle Select Program for 99 cents. This means it is a special promotion and that price is available in the U.S. only. If I was doing a special promo for a self published book that is not on the Kindle Select it looks like I could have a 99 cent sale across the board in other countries as well. I didn’t realize the difference in these sales before I started advertising. My bad. :) Live and learn yes? :) With that in mind, I will have another promo probably at the end of the month or in December of a different book. So keep your eyes peeled.

In the meantime, if you’re in the U.S. and you’d love a paranormal historical romance set in a spooky asylum, stop by and grab your copy of Shadows Wait here. For all of you who’ve already picked up a copy, thank you so much!

Shadows Wait on Sale November 13 for 99 cents!

Tuesday, November 12th, 2013

A1cover

Morning everyone! I hope you’re having an excellent week. I’ve got a present for you. :) Shadows Wait, the first book in my Asylum Trilogy, is on sale November 13 to November 19 for 99 cents. That’s a huge discount. The book is full length…this isn’t a short story or a novella. Original price was $4.99. But this sale doesn’t last forever. So if you like historical romance laced with a generous amount of scary/paranormal, I hope you’ll enjoy Shadows Wait. You can find an excerpt here. Shadows Wait is only on Amazon at this time, so stop by here to get your copy!

What is Shadows Wait about?

Asylum I: Shadows Wait

(Paranormal Historical Romance)

1908, Simple, Colorado

Lilly Luna’s mother gave birth to her in an asylum for the mad. Growing up in an insane asylum exposed her to horrors few could imagine, and yet her compassion and ability to heal frightens the broken and the healthy alike. The town fears her. The sane shun her. Her only wish is to exact revenge on the man she blames for her mother’s death.

Morgan Healy’s father runs the creepy and rumor-maligned asylum. Morgan’s lineage is filled with insanity, regularly peppered with the occasionally rational. Morgan holds together his crumbling family, hoping to escape his father’s legacy and the terrible secret it holds. When Lilly is hired as companion for Morgan’s sister, Morgan and Lilly form a reluctant alliance to corral the evil that seeps from Tranquil View and threatens not only the town, but also their growing love.

* *

Last but not least, here’s the trailer! Enjoy.

 

Asylum I: Shadows Wait Upcoming 81% Discount!

Sunday, November 10th, 2013

Howdy all,

Hope you’re having a great day. I wanted to let you know that from November 13 to 19 I’m having a huge discount sale on the first book in my Asylum Trilogy, Shadows Wait. The book is currently at Amazon only and you can find it here. You can find a blurb and excerpt here. Original price for the book is $4.99. Sale price will be 99 cents! How amazing is that? I’ll be promoting the book here on the blog when the sale starts, so I hope you pick up your copy during the sale. :) Thank you.

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Serial Short Story: Awakenings

Thursday, July 11th, 2013

Morning everyone. Here’s your next installment of Awakenings. Hope you enjoy!

Tranquil View Asylum

Simple, Colorado

June, 1912

His bushy white eyebrows went up, and he stroked his mustache in a nervous gesture he’d performed since she was knee high to a toad.

“Evil?” His voice was tainted with doubt. “Well, I suppose it could be. It’s filled with insane people.”

She wanted to roll her eyes, but decided against making a face. Instead she tilted her head down far enough that the huge brim of her hat shaded her true expression. “Most insane people are not evil, Grandfather.”

He glanced at his pocket watch. He grunted and gestured toward the towering front door. “Let’s go then. Mr. Moynahan is waiting.” He tucked the watch back into his vest pocket. “We’re already late.”

She slipped her gloved hand through the crook of his elbow and allowed him to help her up the steps. After they went through the heavy wooden doors, they stopped in the towering two-story rotunda entry. She glanced upward, entranced by the combination of coldness and beauty. Before she could absorb more of the building’s atmosphere, footsteps echoed from in front of them.

Impressions flew at Edie as a man came toward them from offices in the back. He was a rough-looking man, and over six feet tall. He wore a conventional dark suit, but it couldn’t hide the breadth of his shoulders and his physical strength. She got a sense of raw power and determined personality. Unruly black hair fell in waves around his face and curled around his collar. A short-trimmed mustache and beard didn’t obscure his handsome, even features. He was about thirty years old, perhaps a bit younger. Sharp attraction speared her, and it threw Edie off guard. She’d always maintained a distance from men, and in her twenty-four years hadn’t allowed them to throw off her equilibrium.

“Mr. Jones, Miss Jones?” The man’s voice rumbled deep, a husky, warm sound that sent tingles through her.

Before she could speak, her grandfather stepped forward. “Mr. Moynahan, I’m Benedict Jones. This is my granddaughter, Edie Jones.”

“Very pleased to meet you both.” Cullen Moynahan shook hands with her grandfather, and then with her. His grip on her hand was firm, but not too firm, and a sharp sensation of comfort filled her. She usually shielded herself from other’s emotions, but his cut through her like a blade. Inside him she sensed desperation, concern and—oh.

An instant attraction for her flickered in his eyes, in the way he looked at her. Shocked, she snatched her hand back quickly. Even with gloved hands, she had sensed his heat.

A smile touched his mouth. “I’m pleased you could make it. I can’t thank you enough for coming here to help me.”

Grandfather cleared his throat. “There are some rules Mr. Moynahan.”

“Please, call me Cullen.” Cullen looked at her rather than Grandfather. “I’ll follow whatever rules Miss Jones specifies.”

She liked his attitude and appreciated that he spoke as much to her as to Grandfather.

Grandfather cleared his throat yet again, a nervous habit he’d always had. “My granddaughter won’t be exposed to the … insane. It would be dangerous for her. I’m not even sure why you wanted her here in the first place.”

Cullen shifted on his feet and planted his hands on his hips. Discomfort entered his dark eyes. “My sister once lived here.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “She was institutionalized by my mother and father from the time she was ten until the doctors declared her sane a year ago.” He winced as if in physical pain. “She was on the Titanic when it sank last month.”

“Oh, my heavens,” she said. “Was she alone?”

“No. With a man.”

On impulse, she clasped Cullen’s forearm. An impression flew at her, then another and another, pictures that moved so quickly she almost couldn’t keep them in her thoughts long enough for an impression.

**

Next Installment: Thursday, July 18

Guest Author: Lynne Connolly

Tuesday, July 2nd, 2013

Another interview with a wonderful historical romance writer! Please welcome Lynne Connolly!

Welcome to my blog Lynne! It’s a delight to have you here. Let’s start with that question every author is asked in an interview. When did you first start writing?

I’ve always had characters running around in my head, and so I’ve always written. That is, from the age of seven. Our teacher at school read us the first part of the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. She stopped when Sir Gawain reached the walls of the castle and told us to finish it ourselves! I was dying to know what happened, so I wrote my own version!

Have you always known you wanted to write as a career?

Not as a career. I wrote for years, for my own amusement. Really, to keep myself sane.

Do you see yourself as a plotter or a pantser or something in between?

Yes. I don’t know if plotters and pantsers are that different. Just that pantsers do longer outlines! I do an outline, and I will send that to my editor, if I think they’ll be interested. However, the story can change a great deal between that and the finished story. As I learn the characters, sometimes the aims and methods change, and I’d far rather go with character than with plot.

How do your ideas for plots or characters come to you?

Everywhere. Music, the news, my travels—everywhere. Very often it’s snippets. A passing mention, a little information about something. Recently, on a visit to Washington, it was a brief mention by the tour guide of the 6th Avenue Lobbyists. Without my intending it, the story part of my brain started clicking, and now I have a proposal for a three-part STORM series set in Washington in with my editor!

Your historicals feature different time periods and places than we often see in today’s historical romances.  You have a large set of different series all in the Georgian era, Regency time period and so many more! You also writing a huge variety of contemporary, erotic and paranormal romance. What drives you to write in so many different arenas when most other writers write in one or two subgenres of romance?

I write about issues and people, so when I want to explore something in more detail, the setting names itself. It’s hard to describe, really. But I think I’d go stale if I wrote in just one subgenre.

Have you ever encountered a point in your writing career where you just wanted to chuck it all in the bin and do something else?

Every week. Writing doesn’t pay well, and it’s very hard work. I’ve stopped a few times. But I always get the itch to write, and I can’t not do it.

What’s the hardest thing about writing for you?

The promotion. I find it hard to trumpet “buy my book.” But the writing process—overwhelmingly it’s the beginning. My beginnings rarely make it to the printed page. I will delete them, or alter them drastically, like telling the same scene from a different point of view. I’ve learned to just write, and then go back to it later, otherwise I’d never finish.

What’s coming up next in your writing world?

There are four more books in the Nightstar series to come out. Three are written, and in with my editor. The next is “Fascinating Rhythm,” about the Swedish drummer with the band, and his reconnection with the girl he left behind. There’s also a standalone STORM book, “Last Enchantment,” which was one of those books that had to be written.

I have two proposals in to my editors at two publishing houses. Both are paranormal. One is a STORM trilogy set in Washington, DC, where people are aware that paranormals like vampires and shape-shifters exist, and one is a new venture, set in the Department 57 world, where people are unaware that paranormal beings are living amongst them. Each setting has its own problems and rewards.

I have also written the first of a new historical series set in Georgian Britain. This is about a family whose parents called them after Roman emperors and empresses. They’re a powerful family, but they have an unseen enemy, a rival family who want to destroy them. This is a realistic concept in the era of the “oligarchy,” when great families ruled the country. The first book only hints at the identity of the other family. It’s being shopped around right now.

I’ve been overwhelmed by the popularity of my backlist Regency romances, “Laura,” “Vanessa” and “Noblesse Oblige” now I’ve republished them. Because of that, I’ve written a new Regency, which is going straight to self-pub, something I never saw myself doing a few years ago. I don’t have a title for it yet, but it’s about a Regency widow who turns out not to be a widow after all! It’s being edited now, so I’m hoping it will be available soon!

Thanks so much for stopping by to talk with us today, and I hope to see you back very soon.

 

 

Asylum II: Shadows Rise

Monday, December 3rd, 2012

Hey there! As always, good to have you here. Below is an excerpt from Asylum II: Shadows Rise. Hope you enjoy it!

(Paranormal Historical Romance)

1918, Simple, Colorado

A time of war, disease and supernatural threat tests the fabric of one woman and one man…

Annabelle Dorrenti is ravaged by her experiences in World War I, her body marked by wounds, and her psyche damaged by guilt. To save herself, she becomes a nurse at the asylum and discovers the haunting is just beginning. Perhaps she’s imagining the shadows that flicker nearby, waiting. A creeping dread presses in upon her, and she sees signs everywhere that something just isn’t right at the asylum. She doesn’t want to admit it anymore than she wants to acknowledge her building attraction to a handsome soldier as broken as she is. A man who blames her for his sister’s death.

Army Captain Cade Hale suffers from shell shock and the terrible fear that the dead haunt his every step. He knows that danger terrorizes the earth, but he also feels Tranquil View could cure him of addiction and grief over his sister’s death. He’s determined to lay the blame for her death where it belongs, directly at Annabelle Dorrenti’s feet. Drawn down to his soul to Annabelle, he hates their attraction and struggles against it. Yet he knows the asylum harbors evil, and his fear for Annabelle demands he protect her, no matter what the risk, no matter what she’s done in the past. When evil and illness manifest, Cade and Annabelle step up to challenge a horror far more insidious than insanity.

**

That night Annabelle dreamed. She stared into blackness. Not the absence of light, not darkness, but the pit of a cold hell. Her breath seized as she took a step forward. She couldn’t tell if the door yawned open; blackness swallowed everything in its jaws. She couldn’t breath knowing if she took one more step forward, the basement would claim her and never let her go.

Bolting upright, Annabelle sucked in labored breaths. She couldn’t see a thing except for a thin strip of light under her door. She listened, waiting. She felt that someone lurked outside. How she knew she could be certain. She threw back the covers and turned on her lamp. She inhaled slowly and deeply. Annabelle slipped her feet into her slippers and left the bed. Unlocking the door came easy, but opening it was harder. She threw it open to confront whomever–whatever–lurked outside.

Cade leaned against the far wall. He peered at her, his eyes haunted by darkness and curiosity. Her breath caught. She stepped out far enough to glance down the hallway. No one but him occupied the area. Two lights at either end of the corridor assured shadows would be revealed as humans and not horrors. Yet the dimness added to their mystery rather than banished them. His dark gaze traveled over her, and missed nothing in between. She felt that searing attention all the way to her toes. Annabelle realized she hadn’t put on a robe. He wore his day clothes.

“You shouldn’t be here.”‘ Another thought battered her. “Why are you here?”

“Because I’m walking off a bad dream.”

“That can’t be the only reason you’re here.”

“No. I’ll admit it isn’t. I wanted to apologize for trying so hard to get you to share your bad dreams when I haven’t shared mine.” He didn’t move, his lopsided smile filled with equal quantities of insolence and amusement.

Skepticism led her to cross her arms and say, “You needed to come here to tell me this? In the middle of the night?”

His low, husky laugh made her breath catch. “This ward is full of bad dreams. It’s thick here.”

“Thick?”

“I know you don’t believe in ghosts Annabelle.”

She hadn’t given him permission to use her first name, but it sounded wonderful in his rich tones. Annabelle leaned against the door jam. “No.”

“You’re practical. A woman with her mind on a goal. Her heart set on fixing every broken soldier.”

Disconcerted, she said, “It’s my job.”

He shook his head. “Oh, no. It’s far more than your job. It’s your obsession.”

Floored by his insight, she rallied against his probing accuracy. “Obsessions are for the weak.”

He snorted. “Really.” He took one step forward. Then another. “Do you think a sculptor is obsessed? Or an author? Do you think an artist paints because he’s mad?”

Not understanding exactly where he planned to go with this, but compelled to continue the conversation, she said, “Depends entirely on the artist.”

“Obsession can be the one thing that keeps that artist going when all else fails.”

Drawn to his words and to the resonance it made within her, she watched with a strange fascination of her own as his chest rose and fell. “Are you … are you an artist?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t humor that created the curve of his mouth. “Before the war I painted. Now I can’t paint a damned thing.”

“Oh.” For a second it was all she could think to say as she ruminated on what he’d revealed. “Your inspiration is gone?”

He took a slow and deliberate step toward her. “My inspiration is to paint things no decent human wants to see. No one wants a painting like mine hanging in the dining room in their house.”

She swallowed hard, her breath coming shorter. This conversation reminded her of a dream she’d once had. She hadn’t been able to run in the dream, feet stuck to the ground while a trench had crumbled around her. She’d had no control, and didn’t know which way to go.

“What do you paint?” she asked.

“I used to paint sunsets. Landscapes mostly.” This time his smile was genuine. “And sometimes a beautiful woman.”

“I never would have guessed.”

“That I’d paint beautiful women?”

“That you’d paint at all.”

“Because I don’t fit your idea of an artist?”

She decided to admit her own prejudice. “No.”

“Hmm. Then you’ve got a lot to learn about people, don’t you?”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Captain Hale.” She made a disgusted sounded. “I know more about people than I want to.”

“Is that why you’re working in a mad house? When you left the war, why did you come to a place as dark as an asylum? Were you trying to work off the guilt in your soul?”

Oh, God. Yes. Yes, she wanted to. And to escape. If only she could escape guilt. If only.

“Do you have nightmares at night?” he asked before she could respond to his question.

“Everyone does once in a while.”

He shook his head. “No. Not everyone has these nightmares. Not the ones you had while you were in France. Not the ones you still have.”

She swallowed hard as a panic rose within. Corralling her fear and the memories, was a full time job. She shoved back the sweaty fear that threatened, and replaced it with defiance. “You are far off the point. None of this explains why I should believe in ghosts, and why you’re here where you shouldn’t be.”

“I was drawn here. Drawn to where you are. I don’t want to be here, but I can’t seem to stay away from you.”

A tingle of apprehension threaded its way into her thoughts. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t call for help.”

“Because you’re curious. You have a hell of a lot going for you. Except for your refusal to believe in ghosts. You aren’t the type of woman given to wild fancies.”

“Why did you ask me if I believe in ghosts then?”

“Because I think this place is haunted. I hoped you’d be open enough to confirm it for me. I wanted the truth from a relatively sane individual.”

She stood straighter and barked a soft laugh. She glanced down the hallway, still half expecting to see a nurse or patient coming toward them. “Then if you believe that, you belong here.”

“Never said I didn’t.” He uncrossed his arms, but he looked no less powerful. “I checked myself in here, remember?”

“Believing in ghosts is poppycock.” She had to say it once again, in case he didn’t understand how adamant she was. “And you wouldn’t have come to this particular asylum if I hadn’t been here.”

“Who you trying to convince, Dorrenti? Me or you?”

His switch to her last name made her feel like one of his soldiers, and it also angered her into action. She took one step forward. “Perhaps you should continue to address me as Nurse Dorrenti.”

She’d half expected humor–a glint in his eye. Instead she saw guarded respect. This man meant what he said and said what he meant. Cade’s gaze caught hers, and she sucked in a breath. Within the fire of his eyes, she found an inner heat that hadn’t existed within her before in quite this way. Men in the war, those she’d encountered both wounded and well, had rarely stirred her senses, her anger, or her sensual needs. He did all three with disturbing ease. The knowledge frightened her. He burned with a fire she didn’t understand and feared. Yet excitement smoldered low, igniting a yearning.

He took a step forward and then another until he stood far too close–no more than six inches away. She gasped and one hand went to the door jam, clasping the wood. “What are you doing?”

Slowly his fingers tilted her chin upward. Her eyelids fluttered, almost closed. He leaned in and his cheek was close to hers as he drew in a breath. Cade’s scent teased her nose, a soft musk and delicious masculinity she thought of only as his. Heat off his body touched her flimsily clad body as he eased nearer.

“Answer my question,” she barely whispered the words. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re real.”

“Is that laudanum speaking?”

“Perhaps.”

 

 

 

Asylum I: Shadows Wait Excerpt

Wednesday, November 28th, 2012

Hey all, I can’t recall if you ever saw this excerpt of Shadows Wait, the first book in my Asylum Trilogy. So here goes!

Lilly Luna’s mother gave birth to her in an asylum for the mad. Growing up in an insane asylum exposed her to horrors few could imagine, and yet her compassion and ability to heal frightens the broken and the healthy alike. The town fears her. The sane shun her. Morgan Healy’s father runs the creepy and rumor-maligned asylum. Morgan’s lineage is filled with insanity. Morgan holds together his crumbling family, hoping to escape his father’s legacy and the terrible secret it holds. When Lilly is hired as companion for Morgan’s sister, Morgan and Lilly form a reluctant alliance to corral the evil that seeps from Tranquil View and threatens not only the town, but also their growing love.

* *

Someone was screaming. At first Lilly thought it was Patricia, but immediately realized her own raw voice crying out, high-pitched with terrible fear. And the crushing knowledge her dear friend was dead.

A few seconds later, her doorknob rattled and held. “Lilly!” She stayed frozen to the spot. Pounding rattled the door.  “Lilly! Lilly open this door!”

Morgan. She raced to the door without thinking, unlocked it, and flung it open. Bare-chested, barefooted and wearing only trousers, he looked like a wild man. His hair was mussed as if he’d just crawled from bed. His chest heaved up and down.

He stepped into the room, forcing her backward. “What the hell is going on? Are you all right?” She tried to speak, but nothing came out. He reached for her, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. He cupped her shoulders. “Lilly.”

“I have to leave. I have to go to the asylum.”

“Why?”

“It’s Nurse Franklin. Something terrible has happened to her. I had a vision.”

His nose wrinkled up. “A vision.”

He wouldn’t believe her, and she should have kept silent. “She was just here. Her head was ….” She swallowed hard and through a blur of tears, she said, “Oleta Franklin is dead. She was here in the room with me. I saw the blood—”

She stopped, aware that her hands splayed across his broad chest, her fingers feeling the heat, the hair on his chest, the solidness of muscle. His stomach muscles, delineated and strong, rippled slightly when he moved. He was power and prowess, a strong male. She’d never seen a chest like this before in all her days, and it struck her dumb for one second.

He shook her lightly. “Damn it, Lilly. What foolishness is this? I heard you scream like you were being murdered.”

“What the devil is going on?” Dr. Healy’s voice came from the other side of the landing as he left his bedroom in a dressing gown and his wife followed behind him.

Morgan released Lilly. “Lilly had a nightmare.”

“No it wasn’t a nightmare.”

Patricia came up the stairs, her eyes filled with teasing and guile. “I thought I heard a scream. What’s going on? Is Morgan trying to break into Lilly’s room?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Morgan planted his hands on his hips and stepped away. His glance remained on Lilly, burning her deep.

“Morgan, must you be so harsh?” Constance said as she came to stand by her husband. “Are you all right Lilly?”

Tears still hovered in her eyes, but she swallowed them with effort and lifted her chin. “I am fine. I’m sorry to have disturbed you all.”

Dr. Healy’s dubious expression said he didn’t believe her. “I thought I heard you say something about Oleta Franklin.”

Dr. Healy walked toward Lilly and Morgan with a stern expression. Lilly’s apprehension heightened. She sensed the older man’s disapproval, and knew consequences would come.

“She just had a bad dream,” Morgan said again. Lilly wanted to yell at them all that she’d been wide awake.

“A dream?” Dr. Healy’s disgust sounded in is voice and his face. “About Oleta? What was it about?”

It seemed a strange question, but she answered it. “She was ….” Lilly glanced at Morgan, then at Patricia and Constance. They all waited patiently, but she could hardly get the words passed her lips. “Oleta was in a terrible accident and she’s dead.”

“Oh, my goodness.” Constance put a hand to her mouth. “How awful.”

Lilly glanced at Dr. Healy and thought she saw a flicker of discomfort. His mouth tightened.

“Distasteful.” Patricia’s voice seeped with sugar and lemon.

“Patricia, must you be so contrary?” her mother asked.

Dr. Healy found his voice. “This is all poppycock. Anyone with an ounce of sense knows dreams are balderdash.”

“Freud didn’t think so,” Patricia said as she twirled in a circle. Her filmy nightgown whirled out from her body in a frothy cloud.

Dr. Healy glared at his daughter, but then turned on his heel and stalked back to his room. He slammed the door.

“My dear,” Constance said just as her husband slammed his bedroom door. “Are you certain you’re fine?”

Lilly didn’t want any more prying questions. She couldn’t answer honestly. “Yes.” She gave a weak smile. “Yes.”

“Then let us go back to our rooms and prepare for the day, shall we?” Constance’s smile was brittle, a vein of disapproval heavy in her voice. “And Morgan, do put a shirt on.”

Constance returned to her bedroom and closed the door much more softly than Dr. Healy had.

Patricia watched them with a half smile. “Were you in Lilly’s room, brother?”

Morgan made a scoffing noise. “Of course not. Go back to bed Patricia or do whatever you do in the morning.”

“I was reading in the library. I couldn’t sleep.” The young woman’s cocky smile widened, but she didn’t argue as she went back down the stairs in her dressing gown.

That left Lilly standing in the hallway with a half-naked Morgan. She licked her lips when she scanned across his powerful form once more. His biceps rippled as he crossed his arms.

Before he could register the same disapproval the other’s had, she jumped ahead. “Do you think it was a bad dream?”

“What else would it be?”

“I need to go to the asylum this morning.” Tears returned with a vengeance, and this time she couldn’t stop them. She wiped at them with her fingers as the ache in her throat wound tight. “I need to make certain Oleta is safe.”

“Lilly.” He moved forward, and before she knew it, his body cradled hers. “I’m sorry.”

Shocked, she stiffened in his arms. But his grip tightened, one hand smoothing over her back, the other cupping the back of her head. She found her head pressed to his shoulder. Thought she wasn’t petite, he was over six feet tall. His arms enveloped her in warmth and protection and a comfort she’d never expected. Her palms moved over his chest and rasped over his nipples. He sucked in a breath.

She looked up and those deep eyes captured hers and held. Fire bloomed there and transferred straight to every untutored and tender part of her body. Something feral and amazing grew between them until it pulsed between her legs and in her belly. It felt primitive—as untamed as a lion in the wild. She wanted to seize the feeling and embrace it until it enclosed her in an everlasting sweetness. He smelled like leather and musk. Her senses whirled. What could she do but enjoy his touch, the comfort he offered, no matter how inappropriate? No, if she didn’t escape his unseemly embrace now and his father or mother saw them, who knew what would happen. The danger in this didn’t elude her, and she pushed gently at his chest. With obvious reluctance he released her. Her tears had dried the moment she realized their compromising position.

 

Goodreads Giveaway!

Saturday, November 10th, 2012

Okay dudes and dudettes, I’ve got two paperback copies of Before The Dawn that I’m giving away at Goodreads. So if you’re a Goodreads Member run over there and put your name in for it. You can find it here Goodreads Giveaway

Enjoy!