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Sherry Ewing

~ Historical & Time Travel Romance Author

Sherry Ewing

Category Archives: First Kiss Friday

First Kiss Friday with Emily Royal

16 Friday Oct 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, #ReadARegency, Be My Guest, Historical Romance

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog. Today I’d like to welcome a new author to me, Emily Royal, who has an excerpt from What the Hart Wants (Headstrong Harts #1). Isn’t the cover just gorgeous? We hope you enjoy this first kiss scene. Happy reading, my lovelies!

Fraser, the hero, has just arrived in London from the Highlands, to take up his newly-inherited dukedom, and he’s stumbled across a woman trespassing in his dilapidated London residence. Delilah, an opinionated, argumentative feminist with a loathing for the aristocracy—and Fraser’s ancestors in particular—has been visiting the house for years, until she’s disturbed by its owner…

Excerpt:

“I’m alone, lass,” he said, “if that’s what you fear.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

He moved toward her and caught the faint aroma of French lavender.

“Perhaps, ye’re more afraid of yourself,” he said.

She tipped her head up to meet his gaze.

She might, to the untrained eye, be described as unremarkable, with hair the color of peat. She had a heart-shaped face and an upturned nose with a determined little mouth which spoke of an interior forged from steel. But her most arresting quality was her almond-shaped eyes, which were the color of whisky.

And whether she knew it or not, they glittered with arousal.

“If you really are the duke,” she said, “then you’re the criminal for letting this house fall to ruin.”

“Bricks and mortar,” he said. “Is that all you care about?”

A spark of anger flashed in her eyes. “Of course not!” she said. “I care nothing for mausoleums. It’s the living souls which depend upon an idle aristocrat that I care for!”

“Such as?”

“The birds trapped in the aviary,” she said, gesturing toward the window. “Nobody has tended to them for four years! Should they be left to rot as consequence for the misfortune of being in the power of your cursed family?”

“Birds?” he said. “Is that all?”

“Men like you live to shoot them out of the sky!” she snorted. “And what about the servants and tenants who rely on you for a living? Four years is plenty of time for dismissed servants without a reference to sink into the gutter and die.”

“So you’re laying deaths at my door, now?” he asked.

“Your hand might has well have dealt the blow which killed them,” she said. “But you’ll continue to hide behind your title and abuse the underprivileged.”

“Why in the name of the devil would I do that?”

“Because it’s in your blood! The Molineux line is rotten to the core.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Then you’re madwoman.”

She raised her hand and he caught her wrists and drew her hard against his chest.

“Take your hands off me!”

“Ye gods, lass, you’re like a terrier!” he laughed. “All teeth and claws, yapping at a man’s ankles. You need taking in hand!”

He circled an arm round her waist and she drew in a sharp breath as her body molded against his as if it belonged there. A spark of desire flared in her eyes and her cheeks bloomed that delicious pink which a woman in need could never conceal. He dipped his head until their mouths almost met. She grew still and her breath caressed his skin. He lowered his gaze to the smooth, porcelain skin of her neck, where a faint pulse rippled at the base of her throat.

His mouth watered in anticipation. The men of his ancestry would mark such fresh, virgin skin as their own, to lay claim to their women.

There was something to be said for the old ways.

He flicked his tongue out and ran it along the seam of her lips. She let out a soft sigh, and he caught the faint taste of warm honey. He withdrew his tongue and a whimper escaped her throat. She tilted her head, almost imperceptibly, to bring their mouths closer again, an involuntary act driven by need.

“Tell me what ye want, lass…”

Face flushed, she parted her lips and he slipped his tongue inside her warm, welcoming mouth. She curled her fingers round his arms and held him close. A groan reverberated through her body as he took ownership of her mouth, devouring her, savoring the sweet taste of fire and honey.

He broke the kiss and she pressed herself against him, a low groan bubbling in her throat. Face flushed, lips swollen, she looked like a lass in need of pleasuring. She pressed her lips against his mouth, and the tip of her tongue grew insistent as she sought entrance. But he withdrew and a frown crossed her forehead.

Clearly, this was a lass who was used to getting what she wanted, a lass who had no use for words when it came to conveying such a raw need. He placed his lips against the corner of her mouth, then peppered her chin with a line of feather-light kisses, teasing her mouth with his tongue. She parted her lips again and let out a frustrated little mewl when he did not oblige her demand.

He brushed his hand across her breast and little hidden nub hardened beneath the soft fabric. Her breath hitched in her throat and a low groan rumbled in her throat.

He smiled against her lips. “I’ll wager you want my hands on ye now, lass, now ye’ve have a taste of pleasure.”

She stiffened. Her hands, which had clung to him, urging him on, now pushed him away.

He blinked to clear his vision and saw a blur in the corner of his eye before a sharp sting exploded on his face.

“How dare you!” she cried. Hair disheveled, she still bore the look of a woman in need, though she fought to hide it.

“Ye want me, lass,” he said. “I know when a woman’s ready for coupling.”

The indignation at his crude language rippled through her expression, but not before a wild longing glittered in her eyes. What would it be like to bed her properly — to take her against the hard granite of the highlands, among the heather!

She wrenched herself from his grasp.

“You crude creature!”

“You weren’t unwilling, lass.”

“You’re worse than your predecessor. His only desire was to add to his long list of conquests. But I shall not be added to yours. I aspire to better things, and have no time for the baser needs of the savage.”

“Oh, a savage am I?” he said, suppressing the laugh at the struggle so evident in her expression between indignation and need. “Why deny yourself pleasure when you’ve been fashioned for it?”

“There’s more to life than pleasure.”

“That’s not what you were telling me earlier, lass.”

“I said no such thing!”

“Not with your words…” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “…but with your body ye were begging, were ye not?”

She flushed and looked away, instinctively crossing her arms to conceal the twin peaks which had been poking at the muslin of her gown.

“I’ll not dignify that question with an answer.”

He let out a laugh. “You have no need to, lass. I’ve already discovered how to turn that sharp little bark into a purr of pleasure.”

“I see no point in continuing this conversation,” she said. “Rest assured I’ll never darken the doors of this house again, now I’ve had the misfortune of meeting its owner.”

She turned her back and retreated through the door.

“Farewell, my sweet little terrier!”

She increased the pace, uttering a curse as she disappeared through the main doors.

A soon as he established himself in lodgings he’d make enquiries as to the identity of the hellion. The quality of her gown indicated she had money, but her manner was not that of a lady.

A courtesan, perhaps? And one with an intellect beyond that of the usual predatory female.

With such a quarry to be had, perhaps living in London wouldn’t be a hardship after all.


Blurb:

Five lessons in pleasure. One lesson in love.

Fraser MacGregor, thirteenth Duke Molineux, seizes the opportunity to use the title he unexpectedly inherited, to further his whisky business. He leaves his Highland home and heads for London where he’s accosted by a feisty lass, who smashes a vase over his head.

Delilah Hart should be relishing her first London season. But she’d rather be a writer than a bland society wife. Her secret occupation of writing anonymous, inflammatory articles about the notorious Molineux family, is the first step to realizing her dream.

But when the new duke makes her an offer she can’t refuse—to learn about her cause for social justice in exchange for five lessons in the art of pleasure—she begins to question her beliefs and desires. Before long, Delilah realizes that her heart, as well as her career, is at stake.

Buy Link (Amazon/KU):

http://www.mybook.to/WhatTheHartWants

Author Bio:

Emily Royal grew up in Sussex, England, and has devoured romantic novels for as long as she can remember. A mathematician at heart, Emily has worked in financial services for over twenty years. She indulged in her love of writing after she moved to Scotland, where she lives with her husband, teenage daughters and menagerie of rescue pets including Twinkle, an attention-seeking boa constrictor.

She has a passion for both reading and writing romance with a weakness for Regency rakes, Highland heroes, and Medieval knights. Persuasion is one of her all-time favorite novels which she reads several times each year and she is fortunate enough to live within sight of a Medieval palace.

When not writing, Emily enjoys playing the piano, hiking, and painting landscapes, particularly the Highlands. One of her ambitions is to paint, as well as climb, every mountain in Scotland.

Links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/eroyalauthor
Amazon author link: https://www.amazon.com/Emily-Royal/e/B07NCBKJZ4
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/emily-royal
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14834886.Emily_Royal
Website: http://www.emroyal.com/
Newsletter sign-up: https://mailchi.mp/e5806720bfe0/emilyroyalauthor

First Kiss Friday with Jennae Vale

25 Friday Sep 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

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Tags

#FIrstKissFriday, Be My Guest, Historical Romance, Scottish Romance, Time Travel

Please welcome returning guest Jennae Vale to my First Kiss Friday Blog. Today Jennae has an excerpt from her time travel Wounded. We hope you’ll enjoy this first kiss scene. Happy reading, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

“Thank you for letting me come with you.” Her voice seemed brighter now as she held her face up towards the sun, seemingly drinking in its warmth.

“I’m happy to be of service.” He meant it. He would do anything for her if it was within his power.

She was so busy looking up at Payton that she almost walked into a tree. He placed his hands on her shoulders so that she avoided it. Crystal leaned into him, as she lost her balance momentarily. “Thank you. I guess I wasn’t paying attention. You can let go now. I’ll be more careful, I promise. I can’t seem to stay on my feet around you.” She had a teasing glint in her eyes as she gazed at him.

Payton drew in a deep breath. The jolt he received when he touched her went straight to his gut. It was an uncomfortably pleasant feeling. One he shouldn’t be having. Not with this woman, but still his hands lingered for a moment longer. He let her go and then watched as she hurried ahead of him.

“This is my favorite spot,” she called back to him.

He knew exactly what she meant. It was his as well. The view from this spot on the trail was spectacular. The mountains of the Sierra Nevada stood tall, towering over all else around them.

“Do you mind if we sit for a minute?” she asked.

“No’ at all,” he replied, joining her as she sat on a fallen tree trunk which served as a bench to any hiker who needed a moment to take in the view.

“This is what I needed,” she said. “This place rejuvenates me every time.”

Crystal leaned towards him for a better view, resting on his arm. That same feeling overtook him once again, but more powerfully. He was frozen in place not wanting to move. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the touch of a woman. He wondered would it be the same if it were any other woman? He thought not. There was something about Crystal that captivated him. Try as he might to ignore it, it overtook him. Everything about her touched him in that place that belonged to Jenny. At the thought of his wife, he jumped to his feet.

“Are you okay?” Crystal asked, standing in front of him. When he didn’t answer, she placed a hand on his arm. “Payton?”

The sight of her face tipped up towards his, the feel of her hand on his arm, the heat of their bodies drawing him closer made it impossible for him to think of anything but Crystal. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she closed what little distance there was between them. He had decided to be her friend, but his hands moved on their own going to her face, as his lips found hers wanting so much more than her friendship. Lost as he was in the rapturous feeling of her lips on his he almost didn’t hear the sound of rustling from the trees behind them. He reluctantly let her go and turned to see a bear lumbering their way.

“Hey, bear,” Crystal said in a calm, soothing tone. She began to sing a song he’d not heard before, while holding onto Payton’s waist and walking backwards away from the bear.

“He means us no harm,” Payton said.

“I know. We’ll be fine if we just keep moving away.”

“Slow and steady, lass.”
He pulled the bear spray from the spot where it hung on his belt. Ready if the bear charged. He was happy Crystal was behind him. “If he charges us, I’ll spray him. Ye keep walking.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” she said, repeating the same thing she’d said last night in the car.

He would have insisted, but the bear made a detour into some bushes to forage for berries.

“I think we’re fine. Let’s go.”

They picked up their pace and as soon as the bear was out of their line of vision, they turned and made their way back to the trailhead.

“That was close,” Crystal said as they reached the car.

All the way down the trail, Payton thought about the kiss he’d just shared with Crystal and chastised himself for betraying Jenny. It hadn’t been his plan, but he somehow couldn’t stop himself. His emotions were all over the place. He was angry at himself for his actions, sad because he’d disappointed himself and guilty because Crystal had just told him about her husband and he felt he’d taken advantage of her vulnerability.

“Crystal, my apologies. I should no’ have kissed ye.”

“Why not?” she asked in that straightforward way of hers.

“’Twas wrong of me,” there was a note of surprise in his voice. Why would she ask that? Wasn’t it obvious?

“Not in my mind,” she said. “Didn’t you like kissing me?”

“I did, verra much, but it can no’ happen again.” His discomfort was overwhelming him, and the firmness of his statement should have left no argument, but he was learning Crystal was quite outspoken.

“Okay. Again, why not? You’re an adult and I’m an adult and I liked it. I liked it a lot. If you wanted to kiss me again right now, I’d be more than okay with it.” She stood facing him, her hands on her hips, almost daring him to kiss her again. And oh how he wanted to.

“I can no’ explain it.”

“Try.” Was her curt reply.

“Yer husband… I can no’ take advantage of ye that way.”

“I think I should be the one to decide whether you’re taking advantage of me, don’t you think?” Her face went from confused to irritated with a scrunching of her eyebrows and narrowing of her eyes. She turned and opened her car door. “Get in.”

He did and she immediately started the engine and drove off towards the ranch.

Wounded Book 3 of
The Delight Series
By Jennae Vale

Small town romance meets time travel in California’s Sierra Nevada.

Payton Fletcher is a grieving widower who has lost his wife and child in eighteenth-century Scotland. Time traveling to present day Delight, California hasn’t helped him move past his grief. He spends his days and nights working to avoid the painful memories that he can’t seem to keep at bay. His only escape is hiking the rugged trails that surround his new home. The solitude of the hikes brings him relief from the good intentions of his brothers and the people of Delight, but keeps him locked in the prison of emotions he seems unable to escape.

Crystal Stone has had a loss of her own. After her husband’s death, she and her daughter move back to Delight to live with her mother. Crystal is a psychic and believes there is someone nearby who needs her help. She thinks it might be Payton, but there is a very real possibility it could be someone or something else that is calling to her for help.

Crystal has an almost immediate attraction to Payton, but he has vowed to love only one woman and he will not betray his vows. Will Payton and Crystal be able to abandon their grief, or will they remain tethered to their pasts? If the people of Delight have their way, anything could be possible.

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B086R5Q5PT

About the Author:

Jennae Vale is a best selling author of romance with a touch of magic.  As a history buff from an early age, Jennae often found herself day-dreaming in history class and wondering what it would be like to live in the places and time periods she was learning about.  Writing time travel romance has given her an opportunity to take those daydreams and turn them into stories to share with readers everywhere.

Originally from the Boston area, Jennae now lives in the San Francisco Bay area, where some of her characters also reside.  When Jennae isn’t writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and her pets, and daydreaming, of course.

www.jennaevaleauthor.com

www.facebook.com/jennaevaleauthor

www.twitter.com/jennaevale

www.instagram.com/jennaevale

www.bookbub.com/authors/jennae-vale

 

First Kiss Friday with Rue Allyn

18 Friday Sep 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

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Tags

#FIrstKissFriday, Be My Guest, Historical Romance, Rue Allyn, Western Romance

Welcome to another First Kiss Friday. Today’s guest is fellow Bluestocking Belle Rue Allyn who has an excerpt from her upcoming novel that’s currently up for preorder. Happy reading, my lovelies, and take it away Rue!

Sherry, thank you for this opportunity to reveal The Legend of Skinner Robelard to your readers. The time is 1875. The setting is a fictional Wyoming camptown. This story’s two main characters, Boyd and Elise met briefly five years ago. He’s never forgotten her, nor she him. So, when they are reunited, of course the sparks fly.

Excerpt:

Poised on his lap for a long two seconds, she grabbed her hat then slid downwards, pushing herself off his legs onto the stairs. Once she stopped moving, she put her hat on her head and looked back at him.

A sheepish grin spread across her face.”

What the hell does she have to smile about? Boyd glared all the harder.

Elise grasped her middle and subsided into a fit of giggles.

He lunged for her before she could tumble down the steps, slapped his hand across her mouth, and anchored her against the stairs with his body. “Will you be quiet, or do you want to bring Miz Riper and the other boarders down on us,” he hissed.

Against his hand, laughter still burbled. Against his body, hers wriggled as the laughing fit shook her, and he went instantly hard. Damn, this had to stop or he’d take her right there, Miz Riper and disguises be damned. He had to shut Elise up. He refused to use force; striking a woman was just wrong. So, he used the only other part of his body he was certain would do the job.

He covered her mouth with his. The giggles faded into a hum. Her arms went around his neck and hot damn if she didn’t kiss him back. Enthusiastically, to the delight of his least responsible organ. Inexpertly, to his surprise. She’d been an innocent when he first met her. He’d assumed she’d have learned a few things in the past five years, but her kiss told another story. He lifted his head. Kissing a drunk woman was almost as wrong as hitting one, but how else was he supposed to keep her quiet.

She stilled instantly, but she didn’t pull away. How could she, with him plastering her to the stairs? She had to be uncomfortable. He started to ease away. But her hands grabbed his neck and pulled him back. She attacked his mouth, thrust her hands into his hair, and gentled her kiss to tiny nips on his lower lip.

She wanted kisses? Well, they’d do it right or not at all. He opened his mouth over hers. It took her a moment, but she opened in return, and her tongue tangled with his, her mastery of the basic mechanics growing as she copied every move he made. Boyd’s head spun. We can’t do this on the stairs. He rolled over. Elise clung and rolled with him, ending with their positions reversed.

He felt the stair treads press into his spine and his shoulders, but more, he felt the firing of every nerve as she stroked his arms, throat and chest. Chest? When did my buttons come undone?

“Elise, stop.”

“No.” She’d left off kissing his lips to nuzzle the fine hairs of his torso. Her hands raced downward.

He caught her wrist before she could unbuckle his belt.

“You don’t know what you’re doing?”

“Do, too.” She slipped from his grip and aimed for his trouser buttons.

“No.” He lifted her bodily away and sat her beside him. “You don’t. You’re drunk.”

Her expression would have done a mule proud. “I know how to handle my liquor.”

“Maybe.”

She added a glare to the mulish set of her jaw.

“Probably.”

Her mouth twisted, and she folded her arms before her.

“All right, definitely. You definitely know how to handle your liquor, but I don’t know how to handle you.”

The Legend of Skinner Robelard
By Rue Allyn

Pampered and privileged then betrayed and disowned, Elise Van Demer hides in plain sight and plots her revenge on the men who destroyed her life. With her goal in sight, she encounters a lawman from her past. Boyd Alvarez could ruin everything, and the last thing she needs is wanting some man who only wants to protect her.

His family dead and without a home, Boyd Alvarez rides the range and hunts bounties for a living. When he stumbles on Elise Van Demer his only thought is to keep her safe. He can outgun just about every man, but can he protect her from her own plans of revenge? Can he teach her that loving a man is a better dream than destroying her enemies?

Excerpt: Find another excerpt from The Legend of Skinner Robelard at https://www.rueallyn.com/the-legend-of-skinner-robelard/

Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/mVKJDJ The Legend of Skinner Robelard is currently available for pre-order only. Release day is Nov. 16, 2020.

Author Bio: Award winning author, Rue Allyn, learned story telling at her grandfather’s knee. (Well it was really more like on his knee—I was two.) She’s been weaving her own tales ever since. She has worked as an instructor, mother, sailor, clerk, sales associate, and painter, along with a variety of other types of employment. She has lived and traveled in places all over the globe from Keflavik Iceland (I did not care much for the long nights of winter.) and Fairbanks Alaska to Panama City and the streets of London England to a large number of places in between. Now that her two sons have left the nest, Rue and her husband of more than four decades (Try living with the same person for more than forty years—that’s a true adventure.) have retired and moved south.  When not writing, enjoying the nearby beach or working jigsaw puzzles, Rue travels the world and surfs the internet in search of background material and inspiration for her next heart melting romance.. She loves to hear from readers, and you may contact her at Rue@RueAllyn.com.  She can’t wait to hear from you.

Social Media Links:

Website~~https://RueAllyn.com

Facebook~~https://www.facebook.com/RueAllynAuthor

Twitter~~https://twitter.com/RueAllyn

Amazon~~https://www.amazon.com/Rue-Allyn/e/B00AUBF3NI/

Goodreads~~https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5031290.Rue_Allyn

Pinterest~~https://www.pinterest.com/RueAllyn/

 

First Kiss Friday with Kate Moore

11 Friday Sep 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

#FIrstKissFriday, Be My Guest, Historical Romance

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog! Today’s guest is my friend Kate Moore who is giving us a wonderful first kiss scene from her novel Winterburn’s Bride. We hope you enjoy this scene. Happy reading, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

Leigh woke to a throbbing head and knew he must not open his eyes. He concentrated on the sharp beat of pain, learning its rhythm, waiting for a lull. Somewhere, far from the hammering in his head, his body lay cold and still. Then he felt a warm, light touch on his right hand. He opened his eyes and for one confused moment saw Rosalind Merrifield bending over him, her eyes closed as if in prayer, her bright hair framing her face. He had a fleeting recollection of the rose and the light and the wheel, then his lids fell, and the pain mastered him.

An indefinite stretch of time passed before he opened his eyes a second time. The ache was now a dull constant, permitting his wits to work. A fine ceiling stretched high above him. A fire hissed and snapped nearby. A cold floor pressed against his back.

“Where am I?” he asked.

Her eyes opened, and she smiled at him. “At Merrifield. Jeremy Braithe brought you.”

Her hand started to slip away from his, and he caught it in a firmer grip.

The curve of her cheek blossomed with extraordinary pink delicacy. “What happened?” she asked in a strained voice.

“Awdry’s wagon was stuck in a ditch.”

“You went into a ditch to help?”

He would have laughed at her surprise, but his head would not allow it. “My boots must be muddying your floor.” The words made him conscious of his feet, bare and warm, his body’s nakedness. There was a wet cloth on his forehead, and he released her hand and brushed the cloth away.

She pressed her hands together in her lap, staring at them. “Jeremy Braithe removed your clothes,” she said. “I fear they’re ruined.”

“How long have I been here?” He could feel his bare chest, his damp drawers clinging to his loins. He was naked on his back with Rosalind Merrifield. Heaven certainly mocked his pretensions to be a man of the cloth. “Braithe brought me here?”

She nodded. “Nan and I covered you.”

“Observed the proprieties, did you?”

He’d made her uneasy, and her gaze shifted away from him. “We were trying to bring you round.”

“You were waiting again, Miss Merrifield.” He liked the way she stiffened, offended at his tone. He wanted to kiss her in spite of his aching head. “You did not think to wake me with a kiss?”

She took a quick breath. “You heard.”

It was a slip, not the full admission he wanted. He turned his head carefully to the right. “You thought about it.”

“No.” Her mouth was a firm, tight line of denial, but her eyes betrayed her.

His chin was just below her knee. It was an odd position for a man considering a seduction, even a minor one. Her skirts smelled of crushed grass and lavender. “Think about it now.”

Her glance, wary and fascinated, flickered over him once.

“There’s no need now. You are awake.”

“There’s more need now.” He struggled to raise himself on one elbow and stopped, dizzied by the effort.

She lifted her hand and gently pushed him down, a sturdy competent hand, brown from the sun, the palm lightly calloused from work. His heart beat madly in answer to the touch. “A mistake, Miss Merrifield,” he whispered.

She knew it. Her eyes grew big with the knowledge. Her fingers curled against his chest. She was tempted, so tempted. He spoke before she could gather the strength to break away. “You could find out what more there is to want.”

Rosalind withdrew her hand from his chest. It was unbearable not to know. He made it unbearable. He offered a mysterious knowledge beyond all the knowing of her familiar world, an understanding of the deepest mystery of herself.

“Why you?”

“Why not a sensible choice?” He guessed her thought. “Why not Vernon, who takes his duties seriously?”

A wry smile crossed her face. “Well, not Mr. Vernon.” She lowered her gaze briefly and raised it again. “There was a naval captain once, and a young duke who invited my parents to explore his ruins,” she confessed.

“Why not one of them?” His throat felt tight. He did not want to answer the question as it had been answered for him in his father’s favorite brothel years before. Because love is an illusion. Because we are base creatures ruled by lust.

A moment passed. He ought to warn her, but she was simply looking at him with open curiosity.

“It makes me so impatient not to know. Does it make you impatient?”

“You have no idea.”

Rosalind leaned forward. He lay dark and unyielding, his face marked by lines of mockery, his gaze heated. Her senses played tricks on her. She thought she saw generosity in his mouth, veiled hope in the depths of his eyes.

She touched with permission now. The smallest details of his person required her attention. A hollow under his lower lip invited the tip of her finger. The smooth gleam of his cheekbone and the rough, dark edge of his jaw drew her palm. As she studied him, she grew self-aware, conscious of a tight pull in her breasts, the heated surface of her skin, a dizzying plummet somewhere deep in her person.

She braced her hands on the cold marble tiles, bent lower, and pressed her mouth to his. His pent breath, released, mingled with hers, a recognition of wanting. His lips parted and hers opened in response. He pushed up, compelling her acceptance of their openness to one another with all its lack of reserve, its danger and exhilaration. It led her on. She moved with him, following his lead, finding the fit between them. His hand came up and slid into her hair, binding her to him, ensuring the union of their mouths.

Then his tongue touched hers, a taste of undreamed intimacy, wicked knowledge. She would have drawn back, but his hand at her nape held her to him. At her faint hesitation he made a low, aching sound in his throat and withdrew his tongue. She regained her courage. His warm mouth on hers stirred the consuming impatience to know more. His hand slipped from her neck down her shoulder to cup her breast, his thumb brushing the peak, sending aching spirals of longing through her. A tiny gasp escaped her. As if in answer, he reached up and pulled her down to him so that she lay along his length.

His hands trailed down her back and locked around her waist, while he raised tiny kisses to her brows, her eyes, her chin. Her limbs melted against his without resistance, and he claimed her mouth again. Then some realization seemed to take him, and he slid from under her, releasing her. She pushed herself up, conscious of the disorder of her senses and her person.

Winterburn’s Bride
By Kate Moore

Kate Moore, award-winning author of twenty novels and novellas, brings readers the first e-book version of Winterburn’s Bride. Set in the lush English countryside and brilliant salons of London in the last days of the Napoleonic Wars, Winterburn’s Bride is the story of Rosalind Merrifield’s desperate efforts to hold onto her home as her brother games away his fortune and Leigh Nash’s efforts to resist his family’s demands that he marry for wealth and power. If you’re a fan of the Poldark stories or of angsty heroes like Sydney Chambers from Grantchester, you’ll root for wounded veteran Leigh to outwit his scheming relatives and Rosalind to save her home even if it means staging her own bride sale.

Buy Link: Amazon

About the Author:

A native Californian, Kate studied English Lit near Boston and returned to California to teach generations of high school students, who are now her Facebook friends, while she not-so-secretly penned Romances. In Kate’s stories honorable, edgy loners meet warm, practical women who draw them into a circle of love whether in Regency London or contemporary California. A Golden Heart, Golden Crown, and Book Buyers Best winner and three-time RITA finalist, Kate lives north of San Francisco with her surfer husband, their yellow Lab, a Pack ‘n Play for visiting grandbabies, and miles of crowded bookshelves.

Website: www.katemoore.com

Facebook Author Page: www.facebook.com/KateMooreAuthor

Twitter: www.twitter.com/MooreKate0

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Kate-Moore/e/B000APE8YE/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1

First Kiss Friday with Pamela Gibson

04 Friday Sep 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

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#FirstKiss Friday, #ReadARegency, Be My Guest, Historical Romance, Regency Romance

I’d like to welcome back to my First Kiss Friday blog my dear friend Pamela Gibson. Pamela will be sharing a first kiss scene from her latest release Scandal’s Promise. Isn’t the cover just lovely? Happy reading and enjoy!

Excerpt:

After a few minutes, he swept her near the open terrace door, barely cracked because of the cold. A few couples had bravely escaped the stuffy ballroom. He led her outside into the darkness and took up the dance position again.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you not like dancing in the dark on a cold night?”

Drawing her closer, he danced her into the far corner, out of the light from the windows. Stopping, he lowered his head and whispered in her ear. “Emily, I need to kiss you.”

Her breath caught as he gave her time to push him away. When she didn’t, he pulled her into his arms and pressed her against his warm body. She closed her eyes, wanting to feel every inch of him against her, to somehow ease the longing tightening her breasts and pulsing between her thighs.

Drew, how could you have left me for her.

His mouth closed over hers, sending tingles of pleasure to her core. When he deepened the kiss, she sighed and let delicious heat swamp her senses. His tongue slipped in as he lowered his hands and pressed her bottom against a hard ridge. She touched him, tasted him, her body begging for more. He broke the kiss and nuzzled her neck. “God, you feel so good and you taste even better. But this is not the place or the time, is it?”

“No.”

A laugh she knew all too well trilled from somewhere nearby. Had Lydia followed them out? Mortified, she stepped back and took his arm. “I believe it is too chilly to be dancing out of doors, my lord.”

“Indeed. It is also too public.”

They strolled back toward the ballroom and entered together, aware tongues would wag once again as those who remembered their old scandal shared it with others who didn’t know their story.

She’d taken a dangerous step into the past, but it was not an irrevocable one. She would only briefly have to put up with those who would scorn her as a pathetic spinster, tied to one man, a man who had betrayed her with another woman.

Papa was on the mend. Aunt Lily was satisfied he would recover. Their return to the country was already planned.

Out of sight, out of mind?

Never.

Scandal’s Promise
By Pamela Gibson

Haunted by questions and her own insecurities, Lady Emily Sinclair longs to discover why her betrothed abandoned her and married another. Seven years have passed, but the pain of his betrayal still lingers, buried beneath layers of humiliation and mistrust. When he returns after the Napoleonic Wars, she vows to avoid him. If only her foolish heart felt the same.

Broken and addicted to his medication, widower Andrew Quimby, Lord Cardmore, rattles around his ancient manor, oblivious to his deteriorating health and state of mind. When he learns the woman he was forced to abandon remains unmarried, he vows to try to win her back, even if it means returning to a society he despises.

But Andrew soon discovers he has a secret enemy. Threatening notes appear and sinister accidents put those in his inner circle in danger. Can he overcome his demons in time to keep them safe or will everyone and everything he loves disappear forever.

Buy Link for Scandal’s Promise: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08F2LVR5B/

 

About the author:

Author of eight books on California history and fifteen romance novels, Pamela Gibson is a former City Manager who now lives in the Nevada desert. She has a bachelor’s degree in history and a master’s degree in public administration, but her passion is and always has been writing.

Having spent three years messing about in boats, a hobby that included a five-thousand-mile trip in a 32-foot Nordic Tug, she now spends most of her time indoors happily reading, writing, cooking and keeping up with the antics of Ralph, her Siamese rescue cat.

If you want to learn more about her activities go to https://www.pamelagibsonwrites.com and sign up for her quarterly newsletter. Or stalk her in these places:

Bookbub: www.bookbub.com/profile/pamela-gibson

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Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Pamela-Gibson/e/B00MKVB4XE

First Kiss Friday with Julie Johnstone

28 Friday Aug 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

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#FirstKiss Friday, #ReadARegency, Be My Guest, Historical Romance

Thanks for joining me this week for another First Kiss Friday. Today’s guest is Julie Johnstone who is a new author to me. Julie has a first kiss scene from Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue. Isn’t the cover gorgeous? Happy reading and enjoy, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

“Lord Charolton, release me!” she yelped, but instead, his lips crushed over hers.

The shock of the unwanted contact stilled her for one breath, but before she could react, he broke the contact. She staggered backward with a gasp as Asher jerked Lord Charolton away from her and then sent his fist into the man’s nose. It connected with a crunch, and Lord Charolton howled, doubling over.

Asher turned toward her, his face a mask of cold, hard fury. “Are ye unharmed?”

Was she? Her heart beat so hard it hurt her ears. She brought trembling fingertips to her bruised, throbbing lips. This was the second time in her life a man had kissed her without asking permission, but at least Kilgore’s kiss, though unwanted, had been gentle.

Asher’s gaze softened to one of concern as he looked between her and the still doubled over Lord Charolton. “Guin?” he said in little more than a whisper. “Are ye all right?”

“You mustn’t call me Guin,” she replied, her voice trembling as terribly as her hands were. She wrapped her arms around her waist and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m unharmed. Ash—Your Grace”—she caught herself barely in time—“I fear someone may be coming.”

“Ye have nothing to fear, my lady,” he replied before taking Lord Charolton by his collar to yank the man upright. “I redirected the two gossiping ladies headed in this direction before I arrived here.”

The relief that filled her at his words was dampened by her roiling stomach. She never had been one for the sight of blood.

“You have broken my nose,” Lord Charolton whined to Asher as if on cue with her thoughts of his predicament.

“I’ll break a great deal more than that if ye do not leave this ball immediately. And,” Asher continued, his face and tone growing threatening, “if ye ever even look Lady Guinevere’s way again, I’ll see ye over the barrel of my pistol. Do ye understand me?”

Lord Charolton, a rather peacock of a man, turned green but managed to nod. As he started for the library door, Guinevere said, “And if you ever try to ruin another lady again, the duke will also meet you with his pistol.”

Asher looked at her in surprise, and she shrugged helplessly. She could have sworn he smiled faintly, but he turned his attention to Lord Charolton once more as the man, in his haste to quit the room, knocked into the same table that had trapped her. A few grunts later, Lord Charolton was gone.

Asher, before she even realized what he intended, stepped to the library door and clicked the lock into place.

Her pulse quickened. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she had been nearly accosted moments earlier, and her nerves, which he naturally jumbled up anyway, were tight as knots. When he turned to her, aching concern showed on his face, and to her utter horror, unexpected tears filled her eyes.

“What’s this?” He closed the distance between them and brought his fingers to her cheeks to wipe away her tears.

His touch was so gentle, so tender that she forgot their past for a moment and blurted how she truly felt. “I do not care to feel so helpless,” she admitted, then bit her lip before she blabbed any more of her secrets, such as the fact that Asher’s kisses were the only ones she’d ever received that she had actually wanted. Not that wanting his kisses had done her a farthing of good, but at least she’d been a willing participant.

“I imagine ye don’t.” His thumb stroked the slope of her cheekbone so deliciously that her belly clenched and gooseflesh rose on her arms. Did he realize he was fondling her cheek?

She should tell him to stop, except it felt so wonderful, and hadn’t she imagined just this very thing too many times to recall?

“I can help ye feel better,” he said, his voice sliding over her like velvet.

Had he swayed closer? He must have. She was suddenly awash in heat. His warm breath fanned her face, making her inhale greedily and sigh. He smelled of leather, grass, and oak—so divine that her thoughts felt slippery, save for one. “How can you help me feel better?”

A slow, utterly seductive smile tugged the corners of his lips upward. “Kiss me.”

She smiled. Good heavens! She should not be smiling—or rather, it felt like she was smirking. She should push him away, remind him how improper he was being, and storm out of the room. Except she had lain awake so many nights wondering if she’d imagined how wonderful his kisses had been. His kisses had tormented her. She was quite sure the made-up memory of how perfect they were was the main reason she could not seem to gather any interest for another man. Perhaps if she kissed him now, she could finally set him out of her mind.

Guinevere’s lips started to tingle in expectation, and her heart beat at a dizzying, knee-weakening rate. She had to set her hands to his muscular shoulders so as not to drop into an embarrassing puddle of desire.

“Is that an invitation?” he asked, sounding every bit as devilish as he looked. If ever a man could lead a woman to be improper, it was him.

She couldn’t speak, her thoughts spun so quickly, but her fingers curled in silent entreaty, and the sensation in her lips moved slowly down to the pit of her stomach. She was going to expire if he didn’t kiss her.

“I need ye to show me ye wish me to kiss ye, Guin.” His voice sounded tight, as if he were just barely restraining himself. The thought that she could possibly unhinge this man filled her with a wild sort of exaltation.

“Do not be a blind fool,” she whispered, her heart jolting at the shock of her hoydenish behavior.

Something intense flared in his eyes as his hands cupped her face and his lips descended to meet hers. Whatever indifference to him she had managed to persuade herself she possessed shattered with the heat and the hunger of his strong lips on hers. He demanded a response with the slide of his tongue along the crease of her mouth, and she opened willingly, eagerly moving to her tiptoes with a desperate desire to get closer to him.

He groaned, moving one hand from her cheek to circle his arm around her back, and suddenly, she was no longer standing but pressed hard against his chest, her feet just above the ground. His mouth ravished hers, and his kiss overwhelmed her senses. His heart pounded through his clothing, and hers seemed to burst through the very chambers of her own heart. A million delicious sensations swirled through her as she returned his drugging kiss with reckless abandon. His mouth did not become softer as he kissed her; it was as if he could not get enough, which was exactly how she felt. She delved her hands into his thick hair, allowing her nails to graze his scalp, and he released a guttural sound.

Propriety was gone. The past was gone. Her anger was gone. In this moment, it was just here and now, simply Guinevere and Asher.

A knocking at the door hurtled her back to reality as hard as if she’d been dropped from the clouds to the earth. She released her breath in a whoosh as Asher broke the kiss—and all contact—and stared down at her, looking every bit as shocked as she felt.

“Guinevere, are you in there?” came Lilias’s frantic voice.

Guinevere swallowed with difficulty. Her heart felt as if it were lodged in her throat. What had she done? What had she allowed him to do? Why did her senses disappear every time this man was near?

“Guinevere?” The door rattled.

Asher opened his mouth as if to answer Lilias, and Guinevere quickly pressed a finger to his lips, her shock at her scandalous, dangerous behavior loosening its grip on her just enough so she could speak.

“I’m here,” she said, clearing her throat, which sounded entirely too husky, entirely too much like she had just been kissed senseless.

“Whatever have you been doing?” her best friend asked.

Asher’s warm brown eyes danced with wicked amusement, the unrepentant rogue! Heat flamed her cheeks and crawled its way down her neck to her chest. Egads, she wished she had a fan.

Before she could gather herself to answer, Lilias spoke again in a rush of words. “Your mother is beside herself looking for you!”

Guinevere rolled her eyes. It was most unfortunate that her mother had noted her absence from the ballroom. Usually she did not pay Guinevere much heed once they’d arrived at whatever affair they were attending, since it was Mama’s companion Miss Prichard’s job to chaperone her and her sisters, but Miss Prichard was home ill.

“I was beset with a megrim,” Guinevere said, sounding unconvincing to her own ears.

Another prick of guilt pinched her, but this one was for lying to Lilias. She never withheld secrets from her best friend, but how could she admit that she’d allowed the man who had callously thrown her over once before to take liberties again. And in a library in the middle of a ball no less! It was the very behavior ruinous scandals were made of.

“Did the megrim attack you before or after you rescued Lady Constantine?”

Asher arched his eyebrows in raffish perfection. Why did he have to be so devastatingly handsome and make her act so untoward?

“After,” she responded, giving her throat, which was still too husky, another good clearing.

“Guinnie, I think you are getting a cold.”

Lilias was such a true friend, and Guinevere felt horrid about lying. She bit her lip as Asher pushed her hand away from his lips and grinned at her, making her belly flutter.

Blast him, blast him.

“Possibly,” she squeaked. “Did you see Lady Constantine?”

“Yes, but not Lord Charolton. How did you stop his plan for Lady Constantine?”

Asher wiggled his eyebrows at her while making a pretend pistol with his fingers. The man was beyond the pale. Didn’t he comprehend that their behavior of moments before had put them a hairsbreadth from ruination?

“You know I can be very persuasive when I try,” Guinevere said.

Lilias snorted at that. “Where is he?”

“I assume he departed as I suggested.”

“Excellent. By the by, I have not seen the odious Carrington.”

Oh, dear heavens!

Guinevere cringed. Lilias was calling Asher odious as a loyal friend would, but her timing for a strong show of allegiance was most unfortunate.

All the lightheartedness disappeared from Asher’s face, and his gaze narrowed upon her. What did he expect, that he could publicly stomp on her heart five years ago and she would praise his nonexistent virtues?

“Perhaps he left, as well,” Lilias continued, unaware that the man in question was listening to her every word. Guinevere wanted to expire on the spot. “Oh, and I forgot to mention that Kilgore approached me and asked, none too subtlety, after your whereabouts. He seemed most concerned that you keep your promise to dance the last set with him.”

Asher’s stare turned positively brutal and unfriendly. She did not fool herself that if he was jealous, it was no more than him wanting her attention because she was giving it to Kilgore.

“Should you not depart and tell my mother I’ll be straight to the ballroom?” Guinevere asked weakly.

“Of course, of course,” Lilias replied, “but I think you should consider Kilgore if he is truly pursuing you this time.”

“Lilias!” Guinevere hissed, aghast.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go soothe your mother, but the subject of you and Kilgore is not finished. He may be a rogue, but I have always said—” Guinevere squeezed her eyes shut, praying Lilias would not finish the sentence “—reformed rogues make the best husbands.”

Guinevere opened her eyes with a sigh to find Asher staring at her as if she had leprosy. Lilias’s departing footsteps echoed against the hardwoods for one moment before uncomfortable silence descended. She didn’t know what to say, but it occurred to her that she did have a question.

Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue
Scottish Scoundrels: Ensnared Hearts Book 1
By Julie Johnstone

Five years ago he humiliated her. Five years ago she betrayed him. And when fate forces them together once more, they’ll discover what burns hotter- vengeance or desire.

USA Today Bestselling author Julie Johnstone has a new release today, and it’s full of sizzle, sass, and suspense! Grab a fan before you start reading!

Buy Link:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/31VwvqK

About the Author:

Julie Johnstone is a USA Today and #1 Amazon bestselling author. Scottish historical romance, Regency historical romance, and historical time travel romance featuring highlanders, aristocrats, and modern-day bad billionaire bad boys are her love, and she enjoys creating both with a hefty dose of twists, plenty of heartstring tugs, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Her books have been dubbed “fabulously entertaining and engaging,” making readers cry, laugh, and swoon. Johnstone lives in Alabama with her very own lowlander husband, her two children – the heir and the spare, her snobby cat, and her perpetually happy dog.

In her spare time she enjoys way too much coffee balanced by hot yoga, reading, and traveling.

From the bestselling author of the Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts series comes a new, richly drawn Scottish historical romance saga! The Renegade Scots series sweeps you into medieval Scotland and England and transports you into dangerous deceptions and daring feats with swoon-worthy heroes and fiery romances!

http://www.juliejohnstoneauthor.com
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First Kiss Friday with Cerise DeLand

21 Friday Aug 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

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#FirstKiss Friday, #ReadARegency, Be My Guest, Historical Romance, Regency Romance

It’s another First Kiss Friday and my guest today is the lovely Cerise DeLand. Cerise has an excerpt from her novel Miss Harvey’s Horribly Loveable Fiancé. Happy reading, my lovelies, and enjoy!

Excerpt:

By their fourth meeting—another ball—Northington had been introduced to Esme by a mutual friend. As he took her hand to lead her in a quadrille, he revealed that he’d come only because he’d learned she would attend.

“I’m complimented,” she said, as a challenge to cover her admission of delight.

“Good. Shall I ask you to call me by my given name?”

“You could.”

“Giles. Will you use it?”

“When it’s suitable.”

“You are careful.” He grinned. “I like that about you.”

“Evidently not careful enough. When we met, you found me alone in a most unsuitable place.”

“As you found me.”

She could not help the appeal of his charming mouth. “Did she find you?”

“He did.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“You should believe me.”

Time to admit the truth. “I want to.”

He inhaled, frustration ripe on his brow. “Let me talk to you in the hall.”

“Why?”

“Esme—I hope I may address you that way. The hall, behind the marble statue of our host, affords more privacy than here.”

Hope of being naughty with him made her tingle. “My lord, why would we need privacy?”

“Because Esme, I’d like to kiss you.”

She licked her lips.

“I see that idea appeals to you.”

“Are you always so bold with women?”

“Only you.”

Caution was a practice she rarely employed. With him, she should apply it. “I think we’ll wait.”

“Not long, Esme. Not too damn long,” he whispered as he devoted himself to perfection in the rest of the dance.

That evening, she’d learned from her friends that in the past two years, he’d had two lovers, both wealthy widows. Now he was free of both.

So when he returned to sit beside her, he murmured, “Esme, darling, look at me.”

She’d given in. With such endearments, who could deny him?

His hazel eyes faceted into shades of desire. “I want to become friends.”

“We are.”

“More than friends, Esme.”

She shook her head. She mustn’t lose it. “You’re a marquess.”

“True.”

“Not considered appropriate for me, a viscount’s daughter.” Furthermore, his father was an old roué. That man, it was said aloud and in gossip sheets, wanted a glorious match for his only son. Specifically, ‘glorious’ translated into rich as Midas. That criteria she fit.

“Will you count me out of your life because of my status?” He joked, appearing amused as well as seriously dismayed.

“You’re twenty-nine,” she said in accusation.

“I am. You are six years younger. Is there a problem?”

“You’ve waited rather a long time to—” Well, why not say the obvious? “A long time to look for a bride.”

“I’ve had other occupations.”

She harrumphed. Yes, she knew two of them, too. “Aren’t you getting long in the tooth?”

He chuckled, looked about and leaned closer. “Do you think me so doddering that I might be incapable of begetting—?”

“No!” She burned with the power of her blush. “No. I do not.”

He laughed whole-heartedly. “I am in want of a wife. And I have looked for one for many years.”

“With any results?”

“None. Until lately.”

So by their fifth meeting (at Lady Elsworth’s tea), they were jovial friends who appeared to one and all to sit and discuss the cartoonist Rowlandson’s ability to portray the ironies of the Royals.

“May I call on you, Miss Harvey?” he had asked her when those in the room finally left them alone in their cozy corner.

“Why?” she’d been bold enough to inquire.

“I find I need your company.”

She stared at him and dared not believe it. The way he made her breath hitch just by gazing at her told her that if he pressed his magnificent mouth to hers, if he touched her arm or (please, God) her breast or (yesss) her quivering thigh, she could dissolve into little puddles of goo. And that was no way to maintain one’s reputation, especially if one liked to ride out at dawn or drink three glasses of champagne without comment or censure.

“Have dull friends, do you, sir?” She challenged him. Had to.

“Too many.”

“What of the lady you met in the small salon at Lady Wimple’s?” She had to know from his lips if he was engaged in a new affair with anyone. She wouldn’t stand for him having mistresses. She couldn’t bear the competition. She was no Diamond, no Incomparable. But she had her assets. Good hair. A straight nose. Abundant breasts. So she’d brook no competition. Never. If he wished to marry her, he had to be hers, all hers…or not at all.

“Esme, listen to me.” In that crowded drawing room with dozens of the ton chatting on and noting every eye that drifted to every heaving bosom, he put a hand to hers and held it tightly. “That was no lady.”

Oh, how she wished to believe him.

“May I call?” he asked once more, his face full of earnest hope.

“Yes.” She wanted him, as she’d wanted no other. “Tomorrow.”

And so he had.

For three days in succession.

By the fourth day, her Mama (reading the air, Esme supposed) left them alone on some flimsy excuse.

He moved to Esme’s side on the settee and took her hands. Into both palms, he’d placed hot little kisses. Her nipples had beaded. Her belly had swelled. And her head had swum as he threaded his fingers into her coiffure and placed his firm lips on her own. And oh, he felt like heaven.

“Darling, I want to marry you,” he whispered. His mouth traveled her cheek and he bit her earlobe.

She sank her fingers into his thick soft curls and kissed him back with an ardor that (afterward) frankly shocked her.

“That’s yes,” he stated with finality. “I know it is.” He stood up so fast she thought he’d been shot. He left her there, aching to have his hands on her everywhere. But to his credit, he went in search of a footman and asked for her father. Straight away, he asked Papa who gave his immediate approval.

And then, quick as you please, Northington had disappeared.

The man who had rushed her into courtship, who had teased and bantered and lured her to fantasies of lying abed with him naked, had simply vanished.

Then two weeks ago, he had reappeared at Courtland Hall with a special license in hand. He apologized for his absence, but gave no explanations. Then he had promptly taken her out into her mother’s parterre and had kissed her senseless.

“May second, I want us to wed, darling.”

Not a question. A statement.

And she—twenty-three and aglow from head to heart to breasts to quivering belly—was  in lust with him. She marveled, for she was no twit. No foolish woman whose daydreams ruled her life. No. She’d entertained numerous swains over the years. After all, she was a wealthy catch. She’d refused six gentlemen in marriage. She hadn’t found any of those fellows—titled, well-healed and accomplished in their own rights— interesting or even vaguely exciting.

But this man, this Northington, mesmerized her.

Truth be bald and bold, she pulsed to feel him wholly devoted to her. And soon, all things to her, dear and vital, tender and lusty, sacred and nakedly profane.

That, she concluded, or she was going to run off with him without benefit of marriage and allow him all sorts of liberties.

But that was two weeks ago.

And this morning as she looked out upon the rolling meadow, rosy in the rays of a rising sun, she questioned if her unmaidenly ardor to have him was enough to bind him to her for the next thirty or forty years.

Or did she need much more?


Miss Harvey’s Horribly Loveable Fiancé
Four Weddings and a Frolic, Book 3
By Cerise DeLand

Theirs was to be The Wedding of the Season!
Until the bride ran away and…
The groom chased after her.
Then she tried to shoot him…
And thankfully aimed poorly.
How can this escapade end, if she’s marrying him for his titles?
And he’s marrying her for her money?
Yet their affair appears to be the Romance of the Year?

Amazon: KU $0.99 August 10-Sept. 2 https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08FF5LFQV

About the Author:

Cerise DeLand loves to cook, hates to dust, lives to travel, read and write! She pens #1 Bestselling Regencies known for their spice, historical accuracy and their eloquence! With awards on her shelves for more than 60 romances, she’s also written for Pocket, St. Martin’s and Kensington. She likes wine at 5 p.m. and tries desperately to persuade herbs and veggies to grow in her south Texas garden!

Find Cerise:

Cerise DeLand’s Website:  http://www.cerisedeland.com

Cerise DeLand’s Delicious Doings Blog: http://cerisedeland.blogspot.com

Cerise DeLand’s Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0089DS2N2

Like her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeriseDeLandAuthor/

Follow her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeriseDeLand

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Cerise’s Treasures on Pinterest! https://www.pinterest.com/frenchcherryred/

Cerise DeLand’s Delicious Newsletter!  http://www.cerisedeland.com

 

First Kiss Friday with Alina K. Field

14 Friday Aug 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, #ReadARegency, Be My Guest, Historical Romance, Regency Romance

It’s another First Kiss Friday and today I’d like to welcome Alina K. Field to my blog. Alina is sharing the first kiss scene from her novel The Duke She Despised. Happy reading and enjoy, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

The way she was chewing her lip, he knew Mrs. Marlowe was hiding something.

“And how did Mr. Marlowe know the duke?” he asked.

She clucked her tongue. “He didn’t. He’d merely heard in the course of his work about…about the duke’s difficult demeanor.”

Andrew MacDonal had been the topic of conversation among the clergy. How odd. This was a woman with secrets.

Her gaze shifted away and then back, and the spark of defiance there stirred an urge to laugh.

Marlowe was the widow of a man of the cloth, not much used to prevaricating. The vicar’s widow was being wicked. She was lying.

A sheen of moisture appeared on her cheeks and her lips pressed together, suppressing a tremble.

She was delicious. He took a step closer and watched her eyes widen.

“Sir.”

He left her plenty of room to retreat. She held her position.

A potent mix of curiosity, amusement, and desire brewed in him. “Your husband, the gossiping vicar, what, pray tell, caused his demise?”

“He suffered an apoplexy.”

“An apoplexy? He was elderly?”

She huffed. “He was…he had just turned one and sixty. Really, Mr. Andrews, this is—”

“None of my business? You don’t think the duke will want to know that his housekeeper’s late husband spread slander about him?”

She gasped. “That is not—”

“He values loyalty.”

“Loyalty?” She scoffed. “Hmm. And he shall have mine. Am I not trying to see to his comforts? Is it disloyalty for a servant to want to know what irritates her master and what pleases him?”

*****

His head dipped closer and her pulse jumped as strong hands curved around her forearms.

A choking breath brought a woodsy male scent sparking shivers all the way to the soles of her half boots. Ack. He’d startled her into clumsy lies.

And she should not have mentioned that notion of pleasing. Their gazes locked.

His mouth parted. He blinked, his eyes catching the gleam of the lamp.

“Are you…are you quite all right, Mr. Andrews?”

When he drew closer, her heart took off in a wild gallop. Might he…would he…

His lips touched hers, briefly, sweetly, and then he lifted his head away, still watching her.

Warmth unfurled in her, misting her eyes. The few kisses she’d shared with her long-ago suitor had never been so gentle or caring. His look of wonder, of frank admiration heated her as much as the kiss had.

She went up on her toes, freeing her hands to thread through the wild hair at his nape, and when he hooked a hand at her waist and slanted his mouth over hers, she parted her lips for a wholehearted kiss. Desire burst inside her like the pent-up waters of a damn breaking, and the moments stretched on and on.

When he moved her head to his shoulder, his heart pounded in time with her own.

That had been a real kiss.

“I suppose that was quite improper.” The whispered breath tickled her ear. “You must think me a villain.”

He stepped back, his hands sliding along her arms as he released her.

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she blinked away tears. The kiss had been astonishing, and far too brief.

The Duke She Despised
By Alina K. Field

The new Duke of Kinmarty has lost everyone who mattered and gained naught but a title, and debt, and an old pile of a castle. When a fetching new housekeeper appears on his doorstep frantic to ready the place for the Yuletide, he seizes the chance for a respite from grieving and pretends to be the new duke’s estate factor.

With her cousin’s children due to arrive from India, a vicar’s widow hides her identity and takes a position as housekeeper to their dreadful uncle, the man who years ago sabotaged her own chance for happiness. Overwhelmed by a castle understaffed and in disarray, she forges a bond with the new duke’s charming but not very competent factor, not knowing that he’s hiding something as well.

When allies become lovers, each senses the truth may rip them apart. Can their love survive when she discovers he’s the duke she despised?

Universal Book Link: https://books2read.com/u/38Z7YV

Author Bio:

Award-winning and USA Today bestselling author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but she prefers the much happier world of romance fiction. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California and hasn’t looked back. She is the author of several Regency romances, including the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring. She is hard at work on her next series of historical romances, but loves to hear from readers!

Author Links: 

https://alinakfield.com/

https://www.facebook.com/alinakfield

https://twitter.com/AlinaKField

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7173518.Alina_K_Field

https://www.pinterest.com/alinakf/

https://www.instagram.com/alinak.field/

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/alina-k-field

Newsletter signup:  https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/z6q6e3

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Alina-K.-Field/e/B00DZHWOKY

 

First Kiss Friday with Mary Morgan

07 Friday Aug 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, Be My Guest, Historical Romance

It’s another First Kiss Friday and it’s always a pleasure to have the fabulous Mary Morgan on my blog! Today Mary has an excerpt from her upcoming release Magnar. We hope you enjoy this first kiss scene. Happy reading and enjoy, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

Her face softened as she moved slowly toward Magnar. “Therefore this marriage is in name only for Erik’s protection, aye?”

Annoyed with the direction of his thoughts, he looked away. How Magnar longed to tell the lie on the tip of his tongue. The word ached to be released. He turned and stared into her jeweled eyes in an attempt to offer her any hope of what she wanted to hear.

When she placed a hand on his arm, she whispered, “Tell me honestly, Magnar.”

He swallowed and removed her hand from his arm. Placing it securely over his heart, he stated, “Our marriage will be binding in all ways, Elspeth—in name and body. You may worship your God and I shall do so with mine, but ken this, you will be mine completely.”

The battle of emotions splayed across her face. She stepped closer and pulled her hand free from his. “Then you understand this, Magnar MacAlpin, you can have my body on my terms. The time of my choosing. I am tired of having men telling me what to do. Will you accept my terms?”

By the hounds! Her words sparked his lust further. Magnar concluded he did not want a simpering wife by his side. For the first time, he yearned to have one challenging him—in mind and body.

Grasping her around the waist, he ignored her gasp and cupped her chin. Her eyes widened as he slowly lowered his head. “Agreed.” He breathed the word against her cheek.

When he drew back, Magnar was the one perplexed. Lust shimmered back at him from those emerald eyes. Her full lips parted, and he required no invitation.

Instantly, he took fiery possession of her mouth, devouring its softness. The kiss shattered his senses and tossed him into a stormy sea of pleasure. Her lips were warm and moist, and when she moaned, Magnar thrust his tongue into the velvet warmth of her mouth. Unable to be gentle, his kiss became demanding—burning with need. Especially when Elspeth wrapped her arms around his neck, urging him onward.

Skimming his hand upward from her waist, he found her breast and squeezed the taut pebble through her gown. The roar of desire to strip the material from her body and feast on her honeyed rose-scented skin sent him spiraling. She whimpered as he trailed a path with his tongue from the soft spot below her ear to along her neck. He pressed his lips to her throat and felt the wild beat of her pulse.

“Magnar, Magnar.”

His lips recaptured hers, more demanding this time. The tempest of desire swirled around them.

Finally, a small whisper in the back of his mind clawed at him to stop this madness, or he’d strip her gown from her body and take her maidenhood here on the ground.

Withdrawing from her luscious mouth, he stared at her. Her gaze—both hungry and confused—tore him apart. Never had a woman stirred such a passion so violently in him. Her lips were already swollen from his kisses.

Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. “Remember our deal, Magnar.” Turning quickly, she darted away through the trees.

In that quiet moment as the air cooled around him, Magnar had left out one declaration to share with Elspeth—the wolf within him. And the beast gnashed his teeth.

The thought soured inside his gut.

“You will never come to my bed willingly, Elspeth.”

MAGNAR,
The Wolves of Clan Sutherland, Book 1
By Mary Morgan
Release date: August 26, 2020

The wolf surrenders to no one, but will the man relinquish his heart?

Known as the Barbarian, Magnar MacAlpin is a fierce ruler for those under his command. As leader of the Wolves of Clan Sutherland, his loyalty and obedience lies with Scotland. However, the king’s last demand is not something Magnar will tolerate.

After Elspeth Gunn’s brother the Chieftain of Castle Steinn is murdered, she flees with her nephew, and finds safety amongst a band of men who are rumored to be part wolf. When the king forces her to wed a heathen Northman, she fears losing her heart and soul not only to the man, but the beast as well.

In order to restore peace to a shattered clan, Magnar and Elspeth travel a treacherous path that challenges their beliefs. When evil seeks to destroy ancient traditions, will Magnar be compelled to restrain his wolf or allow him free to protect those he loves?

Preorder Sale! Purchase your copy before the release date at a discounted price!

Buy Links: 
Amazon:https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08DCDYT4S/

Barne & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/magnar-mary-morgan/1137387079
Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/magnar/id1525101008

 Author Bio

Award-winning Celtic paranormal and fantasy romance author, Mary Morgan resides in Northern California with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these countries and vows to return. 
Mary’s passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. Inspired by her love for history and ancient Celtic mythology, her tales are filled with powerful warriors, brave women, magic, and romance. It wasn’t until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling by writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stories.

If you enjoy history, tortured heroes, and a wee bit of magic, then time-travel within the pages of her books.

Connect with Mary at these places:

WEBSITE/BLOG:  https://www.marymorganauthor.com/

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:  http://www.amazon.com/Mary-Morgan/e/B00KPE3NWI/

FACEBOOK AUTHOR PAGE: https://www.facebook.com/MaryMorganAuthor/

TWITTER:  http://twitter.com/m_morganauthor

GOODREADS:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8271002.Mary_Morgan

PINTEREST:  www.pinterest.com/marymorgan50/

INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/marymorgan2/

BOOKBUB: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mary-morgan

AUDIBLE AUTHOR PAGE: https://www.audible.com/author/Mary-Morgan/B00KPE3NWI

First Kiss Friday with Rue Allyn

31 Friday Jul 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, Be My Guest, Historical Romance, Rue Allyn

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog. Today’s guest is my friend Rue Allyn who has an excerpt from One Moment’s Pleasure. Enjoy this first kiss scene!

Excerpt:

All sense fled before Edith’s fury. At the same time she wanted to hit him and kiss him.

Kiss him? Where had that thought come from? Massively uncomfortable, hot, nerves itching, overwrought with confused emotions, and uncaring of the consequences, she had to show him who was in charge. She marched up to him, stood toe to toe then stretched toward his frown and pressed her mouth to his.

The softness of his lips shocked her. Who would believe such a hard expression could feel so good? She inhaled. The scents of mint, leather, and the faint odor of chocolate swirled in her head, anger drowned in a flood of desire. After a moment, his mouth responded, moving ever so slightly back and forth across her own. This was even better. Tiny lightning bolts struck her skin. The itching hadn’t stopped, in fact the tingling sensation increased. It felt wonderful, and Edith wanted more.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and let her body fall against his until they were pressed together from shoulder to knee. A thousand new sensations overwhelmed her, and she tried to get closer. His arms tightened around her in a most gratifying manner.

Inwardly Edith crowed, and the knot of tension in her belly loosened. She’d kissed him, and he’d returned her kiss. She’d shown him that she was in charge. Her desires would take precedence.

One Moment’s Pleasure
Wildfire Love Book 1
By Rue Allyn

Love will build a future on the ashes of the past.

One Moment’s Pleasure will become a lifetime’s passion when spinster, Edith Alden, embarks on a search for her missing sister. Pretending to be a rich bored woman looking for an interlude with an anonymous male Edith enters the San Francisco bordello where her sister was last seen. She escapes the bordello almost too easily, but she can’t escape the passion ignited by a stranger’s kiss.

Born and raised in the brothels of the California gold rush, Dutch Trahern worked for years to erase a childhood spent committing petty crimes and worse in order to survive. That past comes back to haunt him in the form of a woman he rescues from prostitution. Now his hard won respectability is threatened by an irresistible desire for a woman he shouldn’t want.

Universal Buy Link:  https://books2read.com/u/mKDW5v

Author Bio:

Award winning author, Rue Allyn, learned story telling at her grandfather’s knee. (Well it was really more like on his knee—I was two.) She’s been weaving her own tales ever since. She has worked as an instructor, mother, sailor, clerk, sales associate, and painter, along with a variety of other types of employment. She has lived and traveled in places all over the globe from Keflavik Iceland (I did not care much for the long nights of winter.) and Fairbanks Alaska to Panama City and the streets of London England to a large number of places in between. Now that her two sons have left the nest, Rue and her husband of more than four decades (Try living with the same person for more than forty years—that’s a true adventure.) have retired and moved south.  When not writing, enjoying the nearby beach or working jigsaw puzzles, Rue travels the world and surfs the internet in search of background material and inspiration for her next heart melting romance. She loves to hear from readers, and you may contact her at Rue@RueAllyn.com.  She can’t wait to hear from you.

Social Media Links:

Website~~https://RueAllyn.com

Facebook~~https://www.facebook.com/RueAllynAuthor

Twitter~~https://twitter.com/RueAllyn

Amazon~~https://www.amazon.com/Rue-Allyn/e/B00AUBF3NI/

Goodreads~~https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5031290.Rue_Allyn

Pinterest~~https://www.pinterest.com/RueAllyn/

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