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Sherry Ewing

~ Historical & Time Travel Romance Author

Sherry Ewing

Tag Archives: #FirstKiss Friday

First Kiss Friday with Rue Allyn

02 Friday Apr 2021

Posted by SherryEwing in First Kiss Friday

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, #ReadARegency, Be My Guest, Historical Romance, Regency Romance, Rue Allyn, Storm & Shelter

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday Blog. Today’s guest is fellow Bluestocking Belle Rue Allyn who has an excerpt from her novella Wait for Me in the Belles’ boxset Storm & Shelter. The set releases April 13th. The paperback is now available and the eBook is currently up for a special preorder price of only $0.99. Grab your copy quick before the price goes up after release date. Enjoy this excerpt from Rue’s novella. Happy reading, my lovelies.

Excerpt:

An unidentifiable racket interrupted, but she could not look away. Then an unseen force pushed her in Gilroy’s direction. His arms closed about her as a storm of activity surrounded them.

“Ooof.”

Eyes wide she tilted her head and stared past his shoulder. At full speed, Hector, the dog from the inn fled out the open church door with a stream of boys trailing after him. She straightened and found herself smiling into Brandon’s face. He smiled back.

She could not have said how the kiss happened, or who broke away first. She found herself with her back against the wall, fingers to her mouth astonished at the sensations the brief meeting of lips caused.

Gilroy seemed equally surprised. He did an about face and fled, moving as if Napoleon’s entire army were on his heels.

What in the world? Her lips still tingled and confusion swirled below her stomach. In front of her, the register stood forgotten. She’d never experienced anything like that. She’d kissed men before but had never wished the activity had gone on for hours.


About Wait for Me:  Esmeralda Crobbin, aka the pirate Irish Red, and Captain, Lord Brandon Gilroy were enemies by nature who first met during a battle at sea. But fate trumps nature when a fierce storm creates a chance encounter and forced proximity. Brandon learns the pirate is a woman of serious honor and responsibility. Esmeralda discovers the captain is more than a uniform stuffed with rules and regulations. Both love the sea with boundless passion, but can they love each other?

About Storm & Shelter: When a storm blows off the North Sea and slams into the village of Fenwick on Sea, the villagers prepare for the inevitable: shipwreck, flood, land slips, and stranded travelers. The Queen’s Barque Inn quickly fills with the injured, the devious, and the lonely—lords, ladies, and simple folk; spies, pirates, and smugglers all trapped together. Intrigue crackles through the village, and passion lights up the hotel. One storm, eight authors, eight heartwarming novellas.

Storm & Shelter is available for Pre-order now for only $0.99 until release day, April 13, 2021 when the price goes up.

About Rue Allyn: 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.

Find Rue Online: 

Website~~https://RueAllyn.com

Blog~~ https://www.rueallyn.com/blog/

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/

Keep up with all the news about Rue Allyn and deals for her books, Sign up for Rue’s News quarterly newsletter here, and receive a free download.

First Kiss Friday with Caroline Warfield

26 Friday Mar 2021

Posted by SherryEwing in First Kiss Friday

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Tags

#BellesInBlue, #FirstKiss Friday, #ReadARegency, Be My Guest, Bluestocking Belles, Caroline Warfield, Historical Romance, Regency Romance, Storm & Shelter

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog! Today’s guest is Caroline Warfield who will be sharing an excerpt from her novella The Tender Flood found in the Bluestocking Belles’ box set Storm & Shelter. The boxset is currently on sale at a special preorder price of only $0.99. Grad your copy before the price increases. Release date is April 13th! Read on and enjoy this excerpt, my lovelies.

In THE TENDER FLOOD a coachman who believes himself beneath an earl’s granddaughter tries to keep his distance. He fails. This is their first kiss.

Excerpt:

“I’ll check the barn one last time. Be ready to go.”

Patience groaned. Her heart fell, forcing her to admit she had hoped for a declaration—of affection of—she refused to think farther than that. She grabbed up the few things she meant to take in a sack, including a jug of milk for Hercules. A sound at the door drew her attention; he had come back and stood holding the door jamb with both hands.

Before she could speak, he crossed the room and pulled her into a crushing embrace, taking her mouth with his until her knees failed and she had only his embrace to rely on.

***

Insanity born of hope. Zach could think of no other explanation for his behavior. When she responded to his kiss with sweet passion, coherent thought eluded him. One dainty hand slid up his neck and into his hair as if to pull him closer. The other clung to his shirt. He pulled his mouth away forcing himself to gentle the kiss, only to nibble the corner of her mouth and kiss his way across her cheek to her ear.

She groaned and followed his lead, the difference in their height, enabling her to kiss his neck just above his collar. An urge to tear his shirt off to give her access shook him, bringing him to his senses. He removed the hand that had somehow migrated to her round little behind and the one around her back anchoring her to him, gripping her by her upper arms instead.

He held her away, but not far, their mouths still inches apart.

“A gentleman would have offered for you first thing this morning, before Banks even arrived. This display of behavior—”

“Are you saying you aren’t a gentleman, Zach?” She wrinkled up her nose, teasing him adorably.

His laugh tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’m no man of leisure, wealth, or title. Isn’t that the definition of a gentleman?”

“If behavior matters, you’re more gentleman than all the social climbing fops who thought to pursue my uncle’s favor by courting me.”

That startled him. It cooled his heated blood like an ice bath. “Is that what happened? Why you aren’t married?”

She nodded shyly, dipping her forehead to his chest. “It was long ago.”

“Fools the lot of them,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Come sit. We need to speak rationally, and I can’t with you this close.”


ABOUT THE TENDER FLOOD

Neither battle nor loss of his leg destroyed Zachery Newell. Working as a coachman, he tries to build a life in spite of his injuries, while he plans for the sort of life he knew in childhood, happy and content above his father’s print shop, but when a woman races out of the storm and into the stable yard of The Queen’s Barque with a wagon full of small boys, puppies, and a bag of books, he is enchanted.

Dismissed by a charity school, Patience Abney struggles on her own to create The Academy for the Formation of Young Gentlemen to give every boy a happy and productive life. Now the roof has caved in. Though she managed to get her boys to the safety of an inn, she has no idea how she will rebuild.

Zach knows Patience, the granddaughter of an earl, is far above the touch of shopkeeper’s son. He tries to keep his distance, but when the two of them make their way across the flooded marsh to her damaged school in search of a missing boy, attraction grows into passion, complicating everything.

ABOUT STORM & SHELTER

Eight Authors, Eight Heartwarming Novellas, One Catastrophic Storm

When a storm blows off the North Sea and slams into the village of Fenwick on Sea, the villagers prepare for the inevitable: shipwreck, flood, land slips, and stranded travelers. The Queen’s Barque Inn quickly fills with the injured, the devious, and the lonely—lords, ladies, and simple folk; spies, pirates, and smugglers all trapped together. Intrigue crackles through the village, and passion lights up the hotel.

BUY LINKS:

Amazon US |  Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Amazon AU |BR |CA |DE |ES |FR |IN |IT |JP |MX |NL |UK

Angus & Robertson

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award winning author of family centered romance set in the Regency and Victorian eras, Caroline Warfield has been many things, and believes she is now in at least her third act. She works in an office surrounded by windows where she lets her characters lead her to adventures in England and the far-flung corners of the British Empire while she nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart. 

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First Kiss Friday with Cerise DeLand

19 Friday Mar 2021

Posted by SherryEwing in First Kiss Friday

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, #ReadARegency, Be My Guest, Bluestocking Belles, Cerise DeLand, Historical Romance, Regency Romance, Storm & Shelter

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog with fellow Bluestocking Belle Cerise DeLand. Today Cerise is sharing an excerpt from her novella LORD STANTON’S SHOCKING SEASIDE HONEYMOON. This marvelous story is found in the Belles’ box set Storm & Shelter that releases on April 13th. It’s currently on a special preorder sale for only $0.99. Be sure to grab yourself a copy at this reduced price. We hope you enjoy this excerpt and happy reading, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

SETTING: March 28, 1815

Townhouse of Russell Downey, the sixth earl of Stanton, the night before his wedding to Miss Josephine Meadows, the daughter of his associate, a merchant with whom he often deals to buy supplies for Wellington’s Army on the Continent.

Stantontook her hand. “Come. I’ve something to show you.” 

Josephine could have sworn his bright blue eyes danced, declaring enticing things.

Up the grand main staircase he led her to the second floor, down the long hall, to stand before a set of double doors.

He opened both wide. “Your suite. Or rather, soon to be.”

She gazed upon a sitting room, big as her bedroom in St. James’s Square. And nearly empty.

“Furnishings are spare. The two Hepplewhite chairs you may change, of course. The floor needs rugs. Come in here.” He led her into the chamber with a door ajar to a smaller room, most likely her boudoir. Here before her stood only a gigantic clothes press and smaller French lingerie chest. But there was no bed.

She swung, her mouth open to ask why not.

“I ordered my housekeeper and butler to prepare a list of items the room needed for you. They did, but I must say I failed to choose anything.”

“You’re busy,” she said in quick excuse for him.

“That’s not it at all.”

“No?” Dare she hope he intended to take her to his bed? Tomorrow night? And all the nights thereafter?

He threw out his arms in frustration. “I did not know what to get for you. What you’d like.”

I’d like to sleep with you.

“I want you to have everything you desire.”

The lump in her throat grew large.

“I want you to choose. You have excellent taste.”

“Do I?” she asked, wistful, charmed and so unaware he had ever noticed any details about her person.

That gave him pause. “I know you do. From the green gowns you favor that turn your eyes to emerald and the pinks that accentuate the blush in your cheeks. You are quite stunning.”

No one had ever called her stunning. “Thank you.”

He looked at a loss, this man who had commanded hundreds, fought his opponents to the death and who now ran the logistics of supplies that would either make or break the Duke of Wellington’s forces against the little Frenchman who would not stay in exile.

She got her wits about her. “I didn’t expect you to go to such expense for me.”

“Money has no place in marriage. Not in anyone’s. Not in ours.”

“I agree. And for this, I am delighted to do it.” She smiled and spun, arms out, in full circle to welcome the joys of her marriage. Then she went with her impulse and took two steps toward him, and on her tip-toes, reached up to kiss his lips. Briefly. Too briefly.

He clutched her upper arms and as she stepped away, cleared his throat. “I want you to be comfortable. And happy, Josephine.”

“As I will work to make you happy, Stanton.”

“You’ll make me delirious if you use my given name.”

She tipped her head to and fro. “I must practice.”

“Say it now, then.”

“Russell.”

He cocked his right brow. “Russ.”

She let her eyes dance. “Russ.”

“I want this for you, my dear. A completely new start. I owe it to you and to myself. Changing whatever relics of the past that now do not apply to our future.”

“I wish to be your loving helpmate.” 

Once more, he reached out to her and this time, stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “As I will be yours. I am determined to be a good and willing partner, Josephine. Tomorrow I repeat words made by man, meant for God and others. To many who say them, hear them, they are useless. A sign, merely, of lawful commingling. A seal of financial union. I swear to you my words bear none of that. None.”

“Nor will mine.” Ever since I first set eyes on you, I have wanted you for my own. Sans title, money, land. 

His sky blue eyes grew stormy with new happiness and old pain. “Hear me, Josephine. Please, as this revelation is new for me. But I will tell you. I do not wish to belabor you with old sorrows but I will have you know this about me. This, which few have ever learned from my lips.” He seized a breath. “My first marriage was no union of like minds or pleasures.”

He had never spoken of his first wife to her and she doubted to her father, either. While the gossip about the late Countess of Stanton was sparse, the lack of information irritated Josephine especially now that she had accepted his proposal of marriage. A woman who valued an abundance of facts in her work, she knew the past would be vital to understand…and just as vital to avoid duplicating. 

He stared at her. “I married my first wife out of duty. Friendship among our families and land that marched beside each other’s led to an expectation that she and I marry to seal the union of affections. From childhood, I never questioned it. Neither did Henrietta.”

Torment sluiced over his brows and he dropped her hands as if they burned him. Josephine swayed toward him, the magnet of his touch, the hurt of his rejection had always drawn her toward him no matter where he strode.

He took up a stance near the mantel, an Adam’s creation of stark white. His severe black dinner attire created a pillar of harsh contrast to the alabaster. His hand to his lips, the swipe of his fingers across his mouth gave her notice that he meant to continue in this dark vein of remembrance. 

“Growing up together we thought we knew each other. Certainly we valued the same things, didn’t we? The same friends. The Berber horses our fathers raised. The hunt. Poetry.” His pause sent a chill up her back and the hair on her arms lifted. “She wanted to marry young and quickly. Her father had died and her older brother had married. She wished to set up her own house. I agreed to that, to everything. I was free. A carefree lad. Randy, actually. And I had the money. Why should I not marry and indulge us both, eh?

“But I did not see that my agreements were one-sided. I wanted the city. She wanted the country. I wanted the work of Parliament and my friends who worked at Whitehall. She wanted the solitude of her dogs and her roses. When I heard the call of the cavalry and the need to defend my country, she did not approve of my decision to join the Hussars. She demanded I return home and give her babies, days of idling in gardens and reading and pulling deadheads from rosebuds.”

He ran a hand through his hair. The thick mass rumpled wildly around his aquiline features. “She ordered me not to join, not to leave her alone in the country. I refused. For the next few months, she ran hither and yon about the country. Without word of her whereabouts, she kept me guessing. She also kept the ton in ripe gossip. She led me a merry chase. When I learned finally that she had returned home to the Hall, I went there and confronted her. She was wild. She bargained with me. She’d stay in one place if I quit the service and came home to her. She required a constant attendance I could not give her. When I refused, she turned…ugly and took an andiron to me. I bear the scar.”

Josephine’s mouth fell open. She’d never asked how he’d acquired it, assuming it was a battle scar. “Oh, my dear.” 

He swung toward her, the horrified look upon his face warning her off. “I left her that night and never returned. I went off to Portugal and Spain, and learned first-hand the delicate art of supplying thousands of men and animals on the march in a foreign land. A year later while I was there, she died of catarrh. I had her buried in her family’s crypt. Six years ago, when I returned home to England, I had the Hall in Bury St. Edmonds stripped of all she’d put into it. Since then, I’ve had a few essential rooms redecorated. That house, too, awaits your kind touch.”

He’d told her last week that he’d written to tell staff there that they would arrive at a future date for a wedding holiday and that she would attend to the renovations.

He threw her a wan smile. “When I married her, I was twenty years old. She was eighteen. I thought I knew her. She said we were…cut from the same cloth. Ah, but what does one know at eighteen?”

I knew I loved you. That first afternoon, when my father brought me into his offices and introduced his friend, the dashing creature who ensured soldiers had uniforms to clothe them, blankets to warm them, beef to sustain them, shot and rifles and cannon and boots.

“I am sixteen years older now, Josephine, and I do hope much wiser. I see in you, my dear, much that resembles my own temperament. You love people and your work, your father and young brother. You see joy in living and cultivate it. I want to make a good husband to you, Josephine, and I promise to give you the best of me.”

No declaration of love, but she would take it. “Thank you, Russ. I do not marry you lightly. I’ve had suitors.”

His face broke into a rueful smile. “I know you have. Many, I would say.”

She took his good humor and wished to build on it. “I refused them all.”

“Good prospects they were, my darling.”

At his use of that endearment, she noted progress in his regard of her. “You knew, did you?”

He grinned. “Your father and I are very good friends.”

She flowed nearer to him, her hands flat to the silk of his waistcoat. “I was never attracted to any of them.”

“I often wondered why. They were young. James Caffrey of Hammond Lane was only twenty-five when he asked for your hand three years ago. And what’s-his-name English? Thomas English is rich as Midas. Clothier to His Majesty’s Army makes him a good catch.”

She toyed with a button on his waistcoat. “Youth and money have their charms but I was not enchanted.”

“Your father was astonished you refused.”

Years ago, he was. Not lately. “Many times, he asked me why. I’m shocked he told you about their proposals.”

Russ reached for her, his large sure hands cupping her cheeks. “Your papa sprinkled details like lures to a treasure. In truth, I heard more from my friends, tidbits of gossip that you would not have any of them. And I rejoiced.”

Her heart pounded with his admission. “I wish I’d known.”

“Do you?” He hooted, hugged her close and kissed her forehead. “Minx! With every man you refused, I could not keep up with the parade.”

“Surely, sir, you can count to five.” 

He guffawed. “Your father counted eight.”

“That many? How complimentary!” She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew back to admire the man who would be hers at last. Here in this noble, honorable, hard-working creature was all she had ever desired of love. “I wanted only you.”


LORD STANTON’S SHOCKING SEASIDE HONEYMOON,
in Storm & Shelter: A Bluestocking Belles Collection with Friends
By Cerise DeLand

She is so wrong for him.

Miss Josephine Meadows is so young. In love with life. His accountant in his work for Whitehall. Her father’s heir to his trading company—and his espionage network.

Lord Stanton cannot resist marrying her. But to ensure Wellington defeats Napoleon, they must save one of Josephine’s agents.

Far from home, amid a horrific storm, Stanton discovers that his new bride loves him dearly.

Can he truly be so right for her?

And she for him?

STORM & SHELTER, Box set, $0.99 cents on pre-order! 800 pages of delight!

Buy Link: Books2Read: https://books2read.com/u/b5k2pO

About the Author:

 Cerise counts more than 50 published novels to her credit, most of them historical romances. She’s won awards, earned fabulous reviews but she treasures most the readers who have celebrated her work since she was first published in 1991. Her days are filled with the characters she imagines come to her home for tea and dinner to discuss their love lives. Those guests have always made for intriguing conversation on her morning walks or during her morning swims. Is she addicted to writing? Of course, she is. And she declares there is no happier way to live!

Follow Cerise on 

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First Kiss Friday with Jude Knight

12 Friday Mar 2021

Posted by SherryEwing in 2021, First Kiss Friday

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

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

It’s always a pleasure to have my friend Jude Knight back on my First Kiss Friday blog. Today Jude is sharing an excerpt from her novel To Mend The Broken Hearted. Enjoy and happy reading, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

Had she not been equally frustrated, Ruth might have been amused at Val’s valiant attempts to hide his dissatisfaction with the additions to their company. She had planned to allow him the kiss she hoped he wished to steal.

Her spirits soared, however, when they came through the gate into the enclosed space. It was larger than she expected, larger even than her mother’s garden. It was also very overgrown, so that one path could not be seen from another. And Jeyhun and Zyba had been courting in decorous fashion for some time. 

She bided her time, allowing Val to conduct the tour of the main features of the garden. Despite his constant refrain of, “Of course, it used to be much more beautiful,” enough remained to charm and delight. The former Lady Ashbury had selected for scent and form, as well as for plants whose blooms were open at night, and all the blooms were white, glowing luminescent in the light of the moon, as did much of the foliage.

At last Ruth suggested sitting for a while on a bench near the central fountain. As she expected, her captain and her companion quickly became restless. They had been comparing eastern gardens with the ones they had seen since their arrival in England, and Zyba was certain that a tree they had passed near the entrance to the enclosure was similar to one that bloomed in a garden they had visited in Istanbul. Jeyhun was equally sure she was mistaken.

“Why do you not go and take another look?” Ruth asked.

Jeyhun opened his mouth to argue about leaving her alone with their host, but Zyba took his arm and led him away. Val looked at Ruth with what she was certain, even in her innocence, was desire, but he stayed sitting on the rim of the fountain.

“There is plenty of room beside me,” she said, her cheeks heating at her own boldness. 

He leapt up and closed the space between them in two long strides, then sat just far enough away that he touched no part of her, except for the heated gaze that swept from her brow to her shoulders, bared by the fashionable gown, and lower.

She returned the gaze, tracing his face, his shoulders, his torso, with her eyes, and when he leaned towards her, she met him partway. Only their lips touched, brushing once, twice, a third time. He straightened, so that his face drew away a few inches. “Ruth?”

She answered what she hoped he was asking. “Yes.” She leaned towards him again, and he shifted so that they were thigh to thigh. He slid his hands—flesh on one side and carved wood on the other—across her arms and around her back, pulling her chest to chest. This time, when their mouths connected, they clung.

She was vaguely aware of the texture of his jacket under her palms, but most of her attention was on the touch of his lips on hers, of his teeth nipping her lower lip, of his tongue surging inside her mouth when she gasped at that gentle nibble. 

She turned her face to give him better access. She had always wondered whether noses interfered with kissing, but apparently her body knew how to prevent that from happening. Someone moaned, and she rather thought it was her. Without her willing it, her body moulded itself to his, but she could not get close enough. She edged up onto his thigh, and it was his turn to moan as her leg slipped down between his and pressed up against something rigid and unyielding.

“Ruth…” he said her name on a groan, then again, this time more sharply, turning his head as her mouth followed his and tried to reconnect. “Ruth. Sweetness. We have to stop.”

Yes. Yes, they did. Heavens! Jeyhun and Zyba were somewhere nearby, perhaps just around the corner, and she was draped over the Earl of Ashbury like a tavern slattern. She jerked away from him, the heat rising in her face. Whatever did he think?

“I beg your pardon,” she murmured.

“I am the one that should apologise, but I find it hard to be sorry. That kiss…!” Val’s voice still sounded strained, as if he were in pain. Her doctor’s mind registered a point from her reading: extreme tumescence could be painful, and when she had been on his lap, she had felt his… If her face got any hotter, it would melt.

She opened her mouth to make some sort of an excuse for her behaviour, or to change the subject to something innocuous. But what came out just added to her embarrassment. “I have never been kissed before. Was it…?” She wasn’t sure what she was asking. Was it exceptional? Was it meaningful to you? Was it something we could do again?Perhaps all of them.

Val, who had dropped his arms when she shifted away, lifted his good hand to cup her cheek and move her face so he could gaze into her eyes. “I have never had a kiss like that in my life. Ruth, you are an exceptional woman, and make me wish with all my heart I was a better man.”

She leaned into his hand. “You are a good man, Valentine Monforte.”

A burst of dialogue came from just beyond the hedge that shielded them. Jeyhun and Zyba were returning.

Val caressed her lips with his thumb before standing, allowing his fingers to trail over her cheek as he dropped his hand and stepped away. He was just in time. Jeyhun and Zyba rounded the turn in the path, and their stolen moment together was over.


To Mend the Broken Hearted

Ruth is a healer, not a social gadfly. She’s glad to leave the foreign world of the ton to run an errand for her sister-in-law. She doesn’t expect to be caught up in a smallpox epidemic, nor to meet the man of her dreams.

Ruth Winderfield is miserable in London’s ballrooms, where her family’s wealth and questions over her birth make her a target for the unscrupulous and a pariah to the high-sticklers. Trained as a healer, she is happiest in a sickroom. When a smallpox epidemic traps her at the remote manor of a reclusive lord, the last thing she expects is to find her heart’s desire.

War and betrayal have wounded Val beyond bearing. The woman who arrives at his retreat with patients who need shelter says she’s a healer. But he is beyond healing. Isn’t he?

Valentine, Earl of Ashbury, was carried home from war three years ago, unconscious, a broken man. He woke to find his family in ruins, his faithless wife and treacherous brother dead, his family’s two girl children exiled to school. He becomes a near recluse while he spends his days trying to restore the estate, or at least prevent further crumbling.

When an impertinent, bossy female turns up with several sick children, including the two girls, he reluctantly gives them shelter. Unable to stand by and watch the suffering, he begins to help with the nursing, while he falls irrevocably for both girls and the lovely Ruth.

The path to happiness passes through danger and scandal 

The epidemic over, Ruth and Val part ways, each reluctant to share how they feel without a sign from the other. Ruth returns to her family and the ton. Val begins to build a new life centred on his girls. But danger to Ruth is a clarion call Val cannot ignore. If they can stop the villains determined to destroy them, perhaps the hermit and the healer can mend one another’s hearts.

Buy link: https://books2read.com/b/3GANrd

About Jude Knight

Have you ever wanted something so much you were afraid to even try? That was Jude ten years ago.

For as long as she can remember, she’s wanted to be a novelist. She even started dozens of stories, over the years. 

But life kept getting in the way. A seriously ill child who required years of therapy; a rising mortgage that led to a full-time job; six children, her own chronic illness… the writing took a back seat.

As the years passed, the fear grew. If she didn’t put her stories out there in the market, she wouldn’t risk making a fool of herself. She could keep the dream alive if she never put it to the test.

Then her mother died. That great lady had waited her whole life to read a novel of Jude’s, and now it would never happen.

So Jude faced her fear and changed it–told everyone she knew she was writing a novel. Now she’d make a fool of herself for certain if she didn’t finish.

Her first book came out to excellent reviews in December 2014, and the rest is history. Many books, lots of positive reviews, and a few awards later, she plans to keep publishing until she runs out of years.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

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First Kiss Friday with Mary Morgan & a Giveaway!

05 Friday Mar 2021

Posted by SherryEwing in 2021, First Kiss Friday

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, Be My Guest, Historical Romance, Mary Morgan, Medieval Romance, Paranormal

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog! You’ve seen my friend Mary Morgan here before and I’m always thrilled to have her and her characters as my guest. We hope you enjoy this excerpt from Quest of a Warrior. which is currently on sale. Be sure to grab a copy while you can at the reduced price and don’t forget to leave her a comment here on my blog to be in the running for her giveaway. Happy reading and enjoy, my lovelies.

Excerpt

“Intoxication can unleash the beast within a Fae.” ~Chronicles of the Fae

Conn fought the bolt of desire spearing a path throughout his body. Her touch spoke volumes—an invitation to taste. Never had he longed to kiss a human like this wee lass. His heart beat loudly, and he found himself unable to move. She was a Goddess of the moonlight. It danced off her face and hair, and he trembled before her. Ivy’s fingers traced a path down his cheek and across his lips. He was helpless to contain the growl that escaped from his mouth. 

The rush of passion overtook him, and Conn slammed the door on his mind. Grasping Ivy around the waist, he hoisted her up on top of the bridge. Her lips parted on a sigh, and he lowered his mouth to feast on something he dared not take. The first brush of her soft lips against his own ignited a hunger he could no longer contain. Taking her moan deep into him, Conn glorified in the sensation of her mouth—one filled with a honeyed sweetness. 

The Fae warrior became just a man for the first time. Something primal burst within him. Emotions he had never felt left him dizzy, spiraling to a physical plane. He craved them all. His lips seared a path down her neck, to her throat, and then recaptured the velvet warmth of her mouth. 

Ivy wrapped her arms around his neck, and he deepened the kiss. When her legs went around his waist, he was the one to moan. His body burned to delve inside her—give her all that he had by spilling his seed deep within her. He wanted to claim her for his own. Show her the moon and the stars with every kiss—every touch.


QUEST OF A WARRIOR, Legends of the Fenian Warriors, Book 1
By Mary Morgan
On sale for 99¢ from 3/12 – 3/26

“You met them in the Order of the Dragon Knights. Now, journey to the realm of the Fae and witness their legends!”

Fenian Warrior, Conn MacRoich has traveled the earth for thousands of years, guarding the realm between mortal and Fae. His deeds are legendary. Yet, one mistake will force him on a journey to fix a broken timeline. However, on Conn’s quest, he must face a human female who will eventually bring this ancient warrior to his knees. 

When Ivy O’Callaghan inherits her uncle’s estate, she never imagines there will be more secrets to unravel, including the one she hides from the world. With the help of a mysterious stranger, she learns to trust and step out of the shadows. However, nothing prepares Ivy when she learns Conn’s true identity. 

As the loom of fate weaves a thread around the lovers from two different worlds, will the sacrifices they make lead them to love? Or will their secrets destroy and separate them forever?

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Quest-Warrior-Legends-Fenian-Warriors-ebook/dp/B072HPBMDM/

Barnes & Noble:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/quest-of-a-warrior-mary-morgan/1126404360/

Apple Books: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/quest-of-a-warrior/id1231868317?mt=11

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 here:

Website/Blog:  https://www.marymorganauthor.com/

Amazon Author:  http://www.amazon.com/Mary-Morgan/e/B00KPE3NWI/

Facebook: 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: https://www.audible.com/author/Mary-Morgan/B00KPE3NWI

GIVEAWAY: To be in the running for Mary’s giveaway of one digital copy of Quest of a Warrior and a $5 Amazon gift card, be sure to leave her a comment on this post! She’ll choose a winner on Sunday morning.

First Kiss Friday with Veronica Crowe

26 Friday Feb 2021

Posted by SherryEwing in 2021, First Kiss Friday

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Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, Be My Guest, Historical Romance

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog. Last week I introduced you to my dear friend Veronica Crowe and her new release The Wrong Prince. Today, she’s returning to share a first kiss excerpt with you… you may wish to have a fan ready! Please be sure to show some love to Veronica by leaving a comment. Happy reading and enjoy, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

“I don’t even know your name,” Richard whispered in her ear. “I’d like to see you again, princess, if you will let me.”

Cassandra snapped her head up, alarm rising in her throat. She had almost forgotten. They might have spoken to each other at Almack’s, but she had never given him her name! He did not know who she truly was, nor did any of the guests in this house. Both of them were just nameless painted faces in a sea of kings and queens, princes and princesses, and a number of costumed others. 

Could it be possible for her to be with him for just one night, shrouded under the protection of anonymity? To delight in his embrace; to lose herself in his kiss for just a few stolen moments before he was gone? Could she have Richard, at least once, before he was taken away from her forever?

Cassandra’s heart lurched in earnest at the thought. He could never be hers—what else was there for her to lose? Life was too short to spend wondering about what could have been. What difference would it make if she took her chances with him now? One night was all she needed; to share an embrace and a few kisses—a treasured moment in time where the two of them belonged to no one but each other.

“Meet me by the fountain in the garden,” she said with a slight tremor in her voice as the waltz ended. Then, she slid from his arms and disappeared into the festive throng of colorfully dressed guests, her back straight and heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation at her brazenness.

A few minutes later, she emerged from the veranda and made her way into the dimly lit gardens below. Lanterns lined the path and flickered from the trees as she wandered deeper into the hedges. Around her, concealed from view, she could hear the giggles and murmurs of couples out on a rendezvous. 

She wrinkled her eyebrows as she came upon a centerpiece with the statue of Aphrodite on a pedestal, turning her head to the left and then to the right in confusion. From where she stood, the pathway divided into three lanes. She wondered where the blasted fountain could be, before deciding that the most practical way would be to take the middle. However, as she neared the end of the trail, she heard the gush of water not just from the path up ahead, but also from either side of the tall hedges separating the pathways.

She paused in her tracks, uncertain of what to do as she realized there was more than one fountain. The garden in this part of the property was the farthest from the house and it was very dark, save for an occasional flickering lantern spaced a good distance apart from each one than those nearer to the residence. Only the silken light of the moon served as the other form of illumination that washed over the landscape, turning everything it touched into a somber shade of silver and gray, crowning the ebony shadows swaying in the slight breeze. Everything in the landscape appeared grotesque and mysterious, even somewhat sinister, inciting a spurt of uncertainty and apprehensiveness in her bosom. An eerie silence pervaded the unfamiliar surroundings, and she had the unnerving feeling that unseen creatures hiding in the shrubbery were watching her every move.

Cassandra hugged herself, rubbing her arms, and wondered if she should just give up and turn around. At the unexpected echo of strange noises and rustling coming from the trees, she whipped around this way and that, peering into the darkness, straining her eyes to see what lies beyond. Maybe this was a mistake. Perhaps she should return to Mama and Allayne.

She began to back away and retrace her steps, but then, from the corner of her eye, she caught a distinct movement to her right. Spinning in that direction, she caught a glimpse of the prince of her dreams to the fore, resplendent in his magnificent royalty costume. 

Richard.

He had his back turned, facing the enormous fountain—waiting for her.

A renewed determination shot through her veins. Her heart began to pound rapidly in her chest. She could do this. She would not miss it for anything. Sweat broke upon her brow and she wiped hands that had suddenly turned clammy on her skirt. Fairly trembling with anxiety and anticipation, she sneaked up to him until he was just a breath away. But then, a crackle broke the stillness as she stepped on a dried leaf, and he turned swiftly at the sound to face her. On impulse, she swiftly rose on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss before she completely lost her nerve.

And dear God, did he match her passion with his own! Despite her inexperience, she took his lead, mirroring his movements, receiving him wholeheartedly without hesitation. 

Their tongues twined and he explored her mouth with such skill it made her moan and melt in his arms. He was a wonderful kisser, just the way she had imagined him to be.

The kiss went on and on until she felt his hand slide up to cup her breast and squeeze it gently. She gasped as his thumb rolled her nipple over the thin silk of her dress. Then, he plundered her mouth some more in a demanding kiss that swept the air from her lungs.

Cassandra’s knees turned to jelly at the intensity of the rapture they shared. She leaned heavily against him, lost in her own slice of heaven on earth. His arms tightened and fastened her possessively against him, crushing her breasts into his hard, muscled chest. Her mind deserted her when suddenly, his mouth left hers and skimmed over her throat, gliding downwards in a lazy course until his tongue found the cleft between her breasts and dipped inside with wet, slow strokes. 

A surge of warmth flooded the triangle between her thighs, and she closed her eyes at the overwhelming desire she felt, allowing him to feast on her bosom. When she couldn’t stand the sensation he aroused any longer, she clutched his hair to bring his mouth back to hers. Good God, but she wanted to keep on kissing him forever! She wanted to remember his taste, his scent, the feel of his mouth and hands on her. She wanted to imprint his whole person in her memory so that when this dream ended, she could play it in her mind over and over again whenever the wretchedness of missing him overtook her.

A small protest escaped her lips when he pulled abruptly away, breaking their fervent kiss, and yanking her unceremoniously out of her magical fantasy.

“I see you’ve been practicing,” he drawled in that unmistakable voice Cassandra would recognize even on her deathbed.

“Oh!” She gasped in shock and sprang away from him like a frightened rabbit, still panting from the heat of his bold advances. A feeling of horror slowly stemmed in her gut and snaked up to her flaming cheeks. 

“J-Jeremy?” she managed to say in a small voice.

“Who the devil did you think it was?” He pulled off his mask and gave her that heart-stopping crooked smile of his. “Prince bloody Charming?”

The Wrong Prince
Book #1 in the Heirs of Cornwall Series

By Veronica Crowe

Will her childhood knight come charging in on a white horse and rescue her?

Richard Christopher Radcliffe, the Marquess of Sunderland, the man Miss Cassandra Carlyle has loved since she was a little girl, has returned—with his betrothed in hand. Lady Desiree was the picture of grace, beauty and perfection, everything that the naive, unsophisticated, young Cassandra was not.

Dejected and brokenhearted, Cassandra asked her family to take her to London for her first season. With the aid of her friend, Jeremiah Devlin Huntington, Marquess of Waterford, she soon found herself touted as the darling of the ton.
Cassandra could not be more pleased with her success, newfound popularity, and impressive list of eligible suitors.

Will Richard take notice and come charging in on a white horse? Or will she find love where she least expects it—but is too blind with her childhood infatuation to notice all along?

Buy Link or Read FREE in Kindle Unlimited: http://bit.ly/TheWrongPrince

About the Author:

Veronica Crowe is the author of the Heirs of Cornwall series for Dragonblade Publishing. If you like laugh-out-loud Regency romance full of romantic entanglements, hilarious misadventures, profound, heartfelt moments, and grand happy endings, this series is for you!

Heirs of Cornwall Books:
The Wrong Prince
The Viscount’s Heir
My Only Earl

Social Media: https://www.facebook.com/Veronica-Crowe-107641207752085

First Kiss Friday with Sophia Nye

19 Friday Feb 2021

Posted by SherryEwing in 2021, First Kiss Friday

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, Be My Guest, First Kiss Friday, Historical Romance, Medieval Romance, Sophia Nye

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog! I’m so happy you’ve stopped by and if you’ve been joining in on our Medieval Monday blog you’ll have seen posts from author Sophia Nye. Sophia is joining us today with a fist kiss scene from her story A Wild Winter. We hope you enjoy this excerpt. Happy reading, my lovelies!

Scene Set-Up: Gemma and Aidan are being pursued by English knights intent on taking custody of Gemma. Gemma decided that Aidan was being foolish, so she left him to hide on her own. But, as she’ll soon realize, her relentless rescuer doesn’t give up quite so easily…

Excerpt:

At the bottom of the ravine, Gemma found precisely what she’d hoped. A deep overhang, and with it the promise of protection from anyone looking down from the road above. Such low areas of the forest held water, which made them the most densely foliated places, even in winter. Piles of leaves and six foot high stands of bramble safely hid her from the dangers lurking nearby. She wagered there was enough cover to hide even a horse for a short time.

The knights had come upon Gemma early that afternoon while patrolling the forest and recognized her. Concerned over her state of disarray after traveling on foot through the Kingswood for the better part of the night, they were insistent on accompanying her home. Had she been left to her own devices, Gemma knew she could have convinced them to leave her be. Then the Highland trio had turned up, done battle with the king’s men, and generally mucked up the situation.

The sound of shuffling leaves drew Gemma’s attention sharply from her thoughts. Something was approaching the ravine from the bottom, directly in front of her. In the dark, ‘twas difficult to see until Aidan was so close she could almost grab him. He hadn’t spotted her yet.

Conflict wracked Gemma. Her instincts told her to pull him into the safety of her hiding spot. Her mind observed that this was the perfect opportunity to be free of him and continue alone toward freedom. She could reach Banesberie and shelter there until she decided what to do next. And there wouldn’t be a Highlander to interfere.

Aidan led his horse along on foot, clearly searching for her. White moonlight bounced off his wild head of dark waves. Then he turned so that she could clearly see the expression on his face. He was worried. His narrowed eyes scoured the bottom of the ravine, a deep frown etched into his face. 

Gemma relented, filled with pity for this man trapped in unexpected peril, tracking down a woman he hardly knew to make good on a promise to a friend. Though she still had every intention of abandoning him as soon as possible, her heart ached at the look on his handsome face. He was worried about her.

Quick enough that she couldn’t change her mind, Gemma reached out of her hiding spot to grab him. Taking the reins from him yet again, she settled his horse into the bramble, tying it to a fallen log. When she looked up, Gemma realized that Aidan’s head was sticking out of the top of the bramble. Nothing was ever easy with him. She gave his arms a good yank to pull him lower.

He didn’t budge. The look of shock at his quick change of scenery gave way to anger.

“Are you mad, woman?” he hissed much too loudly. “You could have been killed!”

Gemma couldn’t care less about his tirade. She needed to get him sitting down or they’d be caught in minutes. Though she continued pulling his arms down at his elbows, a motion she thought should be perfectly clear, he persisted in his monologue.

“They might have found you before me! Gemma, are you even listening?” he paused a breath as though he might let her get a word in, but then he kept speaking. 

During the brief moment of quiet, Gemma heard hoof beats approaching on the road atop the ravine. She was running out of time.

“And we are going to have words about you stealing my horse, lass,” he began.

Out of ideas and unable to talk over of him, Gemma placed her hand on his lips. 

Instantly, he grew silent.

Gemma leaned closer to him, knowing the English would be nearly above them by now. “You must lower yourself,” she whispered in his ear, keeping her hand over his lips until she knew he understood. “They’ll see you.” She looked upward without moving her head, indicating the road just above them.

Aidan’s eyes followed hers, and she could see the understanding in them. He knelt before her, now only several inches taller than her instead of half a person. His piercing blue eyes held her gaze. A change came over his face, a look she had not seen before in those eyes. A look so unfamiliar it took her several seconds to place it. Desire.

Gemma’s heart thundered louder than the horses overhead. She realized with surprise that she liked it when he looked at her that way. She also realized that her fingers were still on his lips. Her hands slid down to his chest, resting there on the rough linen of his shirt. Their breath mingled in wisps of steam in the cold night air. Before she gathered the courage to look into his eyes again, his lips were on hers.

The searing kiss melted away any lingering chill in the frosty winter night. All of the tension, all of the fear, all of the frustration of the last day evaporated. Only this kiss remained. Aidan’s hands gripped her waist, bringing her up against him with an urgency that thrilled her.

Gemma grabbed the edges of his heavy woolen cloak, pulling it around the two of them like a blanket. She matched his passion with her own. As icy moonlight poured over their stolen kiss, deep within Gemma a fire ignited.

Aidan broke the kiss at the sound of voices from above. He checked to be sure they were safe before looking at Gemma again. Then he swallowed hard, his eyes straying over every inch of her as she stood before him.

When Cadwal had looked at her in her cottage, Gemma felt as though she would empty the contents of her stomach. As Aidan’s eyes roved her, a fluttery feeling erupted within her, and she thought she herself might be able to fly.

Gemma’s fingers traced the chiseled lines of his square jaw, working from one side to the other as she studied his masculine beauty.

“You’re going to be the death of me, lass,” he whispered.


A Wild Winter
By Sophia Nye

A Highland rescuer, a runaway princess, and their journey to escape a royal problem…

Aidan MacMaster has never felt at home in his Highland clan. Always on the lookout for excuses to leave his family in search of adventure, Aidan gets more than he bargained for when he agrees to go off in search of a missing woman.

Gemma FitzRoy, illegitimate daughter of King Henry and a Welsh princess, finds herself standing face to face with her worst nightmare: an arranged marriage to a monster of a man. After an unpleasant encounter with her would-be betrothed, Gemma takes off into the wilderness in search of a new future.

Swept away together on a journey of discovery and intrigue, Gemma and Aidan must decide between the pasts they left behind and the future they imagine together. Will one wild winter together free them from the past or freeze their hearts forever?

Buy link for book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WC78772

About the author:

A historian and archaeologist turned writer, Sophia has been making up stories since she could talk. When she isn’t working on her next novel, you can find her in the garden. Sophia lives in Indiana with her husband, two children, and their menagerie of pets.

Website: https://sophianyewrites.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SophiaNyeWrites
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SophiaNyeWrites
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sophianyewrites/

First Kiss Friday with Jessica Cale & a Giveaway!

05 Friday Feb 2021

Posted by SherryEwing in 2021, First Kiss Friday

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

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

Hello, my lovelies, and welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog. Today’s guest is my friend Jessica Cale who has a new story out in The Nightingale and the Lark, featured in the Regency in Color anthology. Isn’t this cover just heavenly? Read on for Jessica’s excerpt and be sure to read all the way to the end for her giveaway. Happy reading and good luck on her giveaway!

Excerpt:

“You look so panic-stricken.” Frank smiled at her in the moonlight. “I knew you were a lady the moment you walked in the door.” 

Oddly, that didn’t calm her a single bit. “You did?” 

He stopped hiding his laughter. “Obviously. How many fishwives do you think look like you?” 

Andie folded her arms. “What do you mean by that?”

Frank snorted. “Beautiful. Elegant. Queenly.” He rolled a hand as if making a bow to a monarch. “Your borrowed clothes aren’t fooling anyone. I’ve known opera singers my whole life, and not one of them brought the light with her when she walked into a room like you do.” 

Her breath caught. “You think I’m pretty?”

This was usually the part when tonnish lords fell all over themselves to quote sonnets and praise her with flowery, impersonal cliches. 

“Pretty?” Frank emitted an ungentlemanly snort. “No, darling. I’m saying you’re the goddamned sun.” 

Andie didn’t know what to say. No man had ever said anything like that to her and meant it. She’d gotten her fair share of awful poetry over the years—as it happened, nothing rhymed with Archambault—but none of it meant half as much as knowing that Frank Creighton saw her like that.

“You just swore,” she said dumbly, kicking herself as soon as it was out. 

“I blame the rum.” He stubbed out his cigar. “I blame the rum for this too.” Frank stood abruptly and crossed to the other doorway. He opened it a crack, and music from the theater spilled out into the night. He grabbed the bucket beside the door and brought it back to where Andie was sitting. “How do you feel about birds?”

Andie sat back, bewildered. She’d thought he might kiss her, and now he was talking about birds. “I beg your pardon?”

Frank finished his rum in a single gulp. “Sunflower seeds.” He tipped the bucket in her direction so she could see the contents. It was indeed filled to the brim. “Take a handful. I want to show you something.” 

She looked at him with suspicion. What was wrong with this man? “All right…” She reached into the bucket and filled her hand with seeds. 

Satisfied, Frank took two great fistfuls for himself. “Hold your hand a little loose and shake them so they rattle. Are you ready?” 

Andie wasn’t at all sure about this, but at the joyful urgency in his eyes, she acquiesced. “Ready.” 

She followed his lead as he shook the seeds for about five seconds, then they both tossed them toward the edge of the roof. 

Within seconds, they were surrounded by a whirlwind of black feathers. It was so sudden and overwhelming that Andie screamed. Dozens and dozens of crows swooped around them in circles until they settled on the seeds, seizing them from the floor and picking them out of the thatch. 

Andie doubled over in fits of laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath. “I thought you were joking!” 

Frank chuckled at her response, looking a little too natural surrounded by a hundred crows under the full moon. “I never joke about crows.” 

Andie playfully swatted his shoulder, and Frank caught her hand and held it to his chest. When she didn’t pull away but stepped closer, he wound an arm around the small of her back and led her around the roof in a sort of improvised waltz to the music coming from inside. Her cheeks ached from smiling as he spun her under the moon, crows fluttering away to avoid her feet. As he caught her in his arms, she met his gaze and she knew. 

She curled her fingers into his crisp white shirt and whispered, “You are quite mad, Frank Creighton.” 

His eyebrows drew together, and she was treated to a slow, crooked smile. “You have no idea.” 

Grasping his collar in her hands, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. 

It was a bad idea, the worst idea—she couldn’t have explained why she did it other than that she had to. He was the most exhilarating, infuriating, impossible man, and every nerve in her body was screaming at her to kiss his ridiculous face. 

Frank didn’t seem to mind. Gathering her up in his arms, he returned the favor with interest. His kiss was like his music—instinctive, passionate, and casually skilled. Though Andie had very little experience with men—and certainly no one like Frank—kissing him felt as easy and essential as breathing. 

The chill of the night seemed to disappear as she pressed herself against the heat of his chest, burying her fingers into the unruly waves of his hair. He tasted of salt and rum, the heady scent of good tobacco still hanging in the air. 

In the back of her mind, she was acutely aware that this was expressly forbidden; ladies of her class had been compelled to marry for less. If anyone caught them up here, her reputation would be ruined along with her sister’s marriage prospects. Worse, if things went wrong, her career could be over before it truly started. 

She knew. She knew, but for now, just for this moment, none of it mattered. 

After a lifetime of sacrificing her own wants for the comfort and convenience of others, kissing Frank Creighton felt like a radical act, the first and only time she had not only expressed what she wanted but had outright taken it. 

The heavens opened, moonlight spilling over them. She heard the sound of angels’ wings—or perhaps that was still the crows—followed by the sudden end to the music and a deafening roar of applause. 

It was the applause that finally pulled Frank away. He held her gaze, the dreaminess in his eyes giving way to mortified horror. “Oh, shit.” 

With one last lightning-fast kiss, Frank took off running. Andie had never seen someone move so fast. He flew down the staircase, jumping over the last several steps, and thundered to the central staircase. Andie followed at a rather more sedate pace, reaching the top balcony just in time to see him skid to a stop on the stage below. 

Frank straightened his shirt, pulled a brace back up on his shoulder, and ran a hand through the mess of his hair. “The Spider Dance, everyone!” 

Clearly knowing exactly what he’d been up to, the cheer that closed the show was at least half whistles and raucous laughter. Frank made a face and laughed at himself, spreading his arms wide and taking a bow. He looked up and met her gaze, and Andie could see his face was red. 

She didn’t think it was possible, but she’d managed to fluster Frank Creighton. 


The Nightingale and the Lark, by Jessica Cale
featured in the Regency in Color anthology

Andromeda Archambault has it all. An heiress and daughter of a French marquis, London is her oyster, but to pursue her dream to sing professionally—and free of her family’s influence—she’ll have to leave the West End for the bright lights of…Shoreditch? 

The Crow’s Nest is a crumbling Elizabethan behemoth owned and operated by the eccentric Frank Creighton, a director with more than one skeleton in his closet. He knows Andie’s talent when he sees it, but if his Phantasmagoria doesn’t scare her away, his reputation and his relatives surely will. 

Will Andie make a name for herself before her mother figures out where she is? Has Frank finally met a woman more interesting than his piano? And crucially, will they be able to get their act together before the re-enactment of the Battle of Waterloo at Vauxhall Gardens? Find out in The Nightingale and the Lark  

Link:

Regency in Color is available on Amazon and via Kindle Unlimited: https://www.amazon.com/Regency-Color-Collection-Gabrielle-Carr-ebook/dp/B08NSYMBY8

About the author:

Jessica Cale is a romance author, editor, and historian based in North Carolina. Originally from Minnesota, she lived in Wales for several years where she earned a BA in History and an MFA in Creative Writing while climbing castles and photographing mines for history magazines. She is the editor of Dirty, Sexy History, and you can visit her at http://www.dirtysexyhistory.com.

Social Media 

Website: www.dirtysexyhistory.com

Facebook: facebook.com/authorjessicacale

Instagram: @caleisafourletterword and @dirtysexyhistory

Giveaway! Comment for a chance to win an e-book copy of Sleeping Evie, a Victorian reimagining of Sleeping Beauty set in the Pre-Raphaelite art scene of 1870s London. You can also find it on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited here: https://www.amazon.com/Sleeping-Evie-Lady-Gooseburys-Tales-ebook/dp/B085DD9J4V

First Kiss Friday with Jo-Ann Power

22 Friday Jan 2021

Posted by SherryEwing in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, Be My Guest, Historical Romance

Welcome to my First Kiss Friday blog. Today’s guest is my friend Jo-Ann Powers who has an excerpt from Heroic Measures. Isn’t the cover just lovely? Happy reading and enjoy, my lovelies.

Setting the scene: We are in France, 1918, on the American front lines and Captain Adam Fairleigh, British Army officer, has come to take Nurse Gwen Spencer to lunch. The little cafe is in walking distance from the mobile hospital where Nurse Spencer is stationed and she has a few hours to spare. She has met Captain Fairleigh, who is attached to British Headquarters, previously when he was ill. This is the second time they have met, but the first since he danced with her at a reception given by General Pershing.

Excerpt:

“The gentleman’s name is Armand and he’s a very good cook,” she told Adam as he pulled out a chair for her to take the seat in the tiny cafe. No other patrons graced the place.

“What do you suggest?”

“Jambon et fromage. Vin rouge. Salade verte. Du pain, glorious et crispy.” She shivered. Lovely du pain.”

“Ha! Remind me to feed you often. You look glorious in raptures.”

She wiggled her brows. “On occasion, he has offered cuisses, but I have not gotten the courage to try them.”

“Frogs legs? You should. They are as tender as chicken.”

“The idea that Armand might have recently caught them in his garden—” she made a face, “—disturbs me. Though my aunt raises chickens and I’ve had to kill and pluck and gut them. I shouldn’t be so finicky.”

Beneath the table, he reached for her hand and tucked it in his lap. His affection was addictive. “Be what you are, Gwen. If you don’t want frog’s legs, you don’t have to eat them.”

“Have you done many things you didn’t care to do?” she asked, thinking of his venture into No Man’s Land. What kind of dedication did it take to do that? What kind of cunning? “I’m sorry. That was ridiculous to ask. We all do things we don’t want to do.”

“I like my position with Pershing’s staff. Even that jaunt across the barbed wire,” he offered with a faraway look, “was exciting. I have been known to test the limits. That excites me. Does that make me a daredevil? Do you prefer men who are more ordinary?”

“I’ve never thought about who I prefer. I only know who I like.”

He seemed not to breathe for a long while as his gaze traveled her lips and her eyes. “Like me.” His words sounded like a plea.

“Can you doubt it?”

“I never want to.”

His words were balm to an open wound she had not bothered to tend. If she let him do that for her now, would she be foolish? Or couldn’t she permit herself to be charmed? Just for one small moment in her life. “You are doing very well. Shall I tell you if you ever disenchant me?”

“Do I enchant you now?”

“I’m afraid you do,” she whispered.

“Don’t be afraid. I’d never hurt you.”

She had the urge to fling her arms around him, kiss his lips and tell him she trusted him. “I don’t trust our circumstances. If we were home… But then, you live in England and I live thousands of miles away and…and this is not appropriate for me to even talk this way.” She covered her hot cheek with one hand.

Armand appeared and bid them Bonjour.

“Forget I said all that,” she told Adam when the proprietor had disappeared into his little shop with their wine order.

“I can’t. Look at me. We both know what we face. The possibilities. But I don’t care. If you’ll have me, I want to come back. Take you to lunch and buy you vin rouge and jambon et fromage. Anything you want. As long as you smile at me as you do now and blush and tell me with those extraordinary violet eyes that I am the finest man you’ve ever met.”

Choked with emotion, her throat burning with tears of delight, she could only nod at him.

“Shall I drive over and see you again?” he asked as minutes later, they stood before her barracks once more and their interlude was done.

“Yes. Soon.”

He raised her hand, turned it palm up and placed a tender kiss in the center. “Keep that for me, will you?”

Dissolved into a puddle of girlish need, she summoned a reply. “Will you want it back?”

He pressed her closed fist to her heart. “Many times over.”


Blurb:

For Gwen Spencer, fighting battles is nothing new. An orphan sent to live with a vengeful aunt, Gwen picked coal and scrubbed floors to earn her keep. But when she decides to become a nurse, she steps outside the boundaries of her aunt’s demands…and into a world of her own making.

But that world has gone to war.

Volunteering for the Army Nurse Corps, Gwen promises to serve until the end of the conflict, no matter how long that is. She leaves her small hometown with her friends and sails away in the dead of night, chased by German U-boats. Ashore she discovers her new world is dangerous and demanding, helping doctors heal thousands of sick and injured Doughboys in primitive conditions.

She’s determined to overcome the heartbreaks and the challenges. Becoming an expert at anesthesia, she volunteers to go to the front lines with an acute care team. Braving bombings and the madness of men crazed by pain and despair, she surprises herself when she falls in love with a man she admires—and should not want.

Amid the chaos, she learns the measure of her own bravery to bear any burden, pay any price and claim the one man she adores as she becomes all that she desires.

Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/bzgaKn

About the Author:

Jo-Ann Power, an award-winning author of more than 40 novels, serves as the curator of the United States World War One Centennial Commission for the Army Nurse Corps. Researching the lives of those 22,000 valiant women who volunteered to save wounded Doughboys, Jo-Ann has spent weeks in dusty archives and years traveling throughout the United States and Europe to discover the facts of these nurses’ daily lives. 

In HEROIC MEASURES, she weaves a tale of a group of friends who decide to do the extraordinary and leave the safety of their garden gates to travel thousands of miles to the chaos of war to do the work they know will save lives.

Jo-Ann likes to tell others about these courageous women and speaks often about them to civilian and veterans’ groups. To learn more, please read her posts on her blog at: http://theyalsofought.blogspot.com and sign up for her informative newsletter on the Home page of her website: http://www.jo-annpower.com 

First Kiss Friday with One Last Kiss

25 Friday Dec 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, Historical Romance, Holiday Reads, Medieval Romance, Sherry Ewing, Time Travel

Although this is obviously my First Kiss Friday Blog, today I’m giving you Chapter Ten from One Last Kiss. This is a pivotal scene in my Christmas novella where Jade experiences her first Christmas in medieval England and realizes she is beginning to have feelings for Thomas. I hope you enjoy this excerpt from One Last Kiss and everyone has a very Merry Christmas!

Excerpt:

Jade listened to those assembled in the chapel. They all voiced a reverent amen. Earlier, she shouldn’t have been surprised when she was ushered to sit in the row of benches reserved for the lord and lady of Berwyck’s family. She could only be made to feel that she was in a place of honor. Yet all this gallantry and my lady business took some getting used to. At least she had seen enough movies or read enough romance novels to understand the fundamentals of twelfth-century living. But will it be enough to pass among them for any length of time? Maybe, the questions she should ask herself were how in the world was she going to get herself home, or did she wish to stay?

She had been thankful when Thomas had been allowed to sit next to her, and he seemed happy to also have her near. It wasn’t as though she had never been in a church before. No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was she couldn’t understand a word the priest was saying. The entire Mass had been said in Latin. She tried not to think about the fact that this was a daily ritual with the people of this time. She was unsure how she would survive what she would consider an ordeal.

Sitting on the bench or kneeling on the cold stone floor for what seemed like hours had taken a toll on her body, and Jade was slow to rise. Her knees wobbled, and Thomas was quick to rush to her aid. His arm snaked securely around her waist, leaving Jade no choice but to take hold of his tunic for additional support.

Green eyes met blue-gray as air rushed into her lungs when she came into contact with his extremely muscular chest. The sound of someone clearing his throat had them turning their attention to the priest. Father Donovan wasn’t pleased, and they quickly drew apart with a hasty apology.

Thomas began escorting Jade from the chapel but turned to pull up the hood of her cloak before opening the door. The air was crisp as a blast of wind snapped at her face. The newly fallen snow sparkled like diamonds but was also blinding, causing Jade to shield her eyes. She stood amazed at the view. The castle keep towered at least four stories high, and she could hear the sound of the ocean in the distance. She really had traveled through time because there was no way this was San Francisco!

“This is a lot to take in,” she said quietly to Thomas, who took her about the waist and gently guided her over an icy patch on the ground.

“You are handling this whole experience well, Jade,” he replied. “You do not mind that I call you by your given name, do you?”

She gave a short laugh. “Actually, I prefer it. It’s certainly way more personal than all this my lady stuff, although a woman could get used to that if she’s not careful.”

Entering the keep, the delicious aroma of roasted meat caused Jade’s mouth to water. Apparently, she was hungrier than she thought. Watching in fascination, her eyes traveled to the numerous servants who scurried about with platters filled to capacity as the occupants of the hall began to enter. Once she was seated, she stared in wonder at the bounty before her, while Thomas heaped food onto their trencher until it almost overflowed.

“You must be really hungry,” she teased him.

“You are not?” he asked before he dismissed a servant and took over the task of pouring wine into her chalice.

“Well, I am, but there’s enough food here for several meals. I’m not used to eating so much meat.”

“We have been fasting for nigh unto a month.”

Advent, she thought, remembering Thomas’s earlier words. Before she could answer him, the sound of trumpets blared into the room. A huge platter was carried in with much ceremony.

Her eyes widened. “Is that a pig’s head?”

“Boar. ’Tis very good. You must needs try it.”

She gulped, looking at the charred thing set before Lord Dristan and his lady who appeared pleased with the offering before them. “I think, I’ll pass.”

He shrugged. “As you wish, but you must eat your fill. I will not have a lady in my care wasting away because she forgot to break her fast,” he said, pointing to the food before them as he began eating with the gusto of a starving man.

She picked at the food, finding most of the meat quite tasty. The vegetables were too overcooked for her liking, and she would have preferred a nice salad. Since that wasn’t an option set before her, she continued to nibble at the food until she was full. Still, Thomas consumed most of what was left on the trencher. Jade sipped her wine, finding it far more intoxicating than what she had previously tasted, or perhaps, it was the man next to her that made her feel lightheaded.

She watched the room in curiosity. Christmas was far more understated than what she was used to as she attempted to remind herself where she really was. There was no tree with bulbs or tinsel with presents underneath, waiting to be unwrapped or any other decorations she expected from modern times. No bright twinkling lights, no red poinsettias, just an everyday hall in the twelfth century without any form of commercialism. This is actually kind of refreshing, Jade thought when she realized how the true meaning of the holiday tended to get lost in her world.

“Is something wrong?” Thomas leaned over.

Her heart flipped at the heavenly scent coming from this gorgeous medieval knight. The hint of warm spices seemed to surround him, giving Jade goosebumps, and she did everything in her power not to put her face into his hair just so she could smell him to her heart’s content. Good Lord, what was this man unintentionally doing to her?

She took a deep breath in a shallow attempt to calm her nerves that became scattered in a good way whenever she was near Thomas.

“No, nothing is wrong. In fact, everything is so right, it scares me,” she stated.

One corner of his mouth turned up, and his eyes sparkled in delight. “Then you are pleased to be here,” he said, waiting for her answer before taking a sip from his chalice.

Pleased, yes. Scared out of my wits? Yes. Wanting to return home? Possibly, Jade pondered in confusion. But really, what was there for her to return to back in Michigan? A couple of friends but no one who would truly miss her. Certainly, there wasn’t any family waiting for her with open arms since she had been lost in the foster care system until she became an adult and had been forced to make her own way in the world.

“Jade—”

She shook her head from the memories she’d rather leave buried in the past and returned her attention to the knight who now gazed upon her with worried eyes. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“’Tis not of import,” Thomas replied, attempting to relax in his chair, but he was failing miserably.

A slight frown marred his features, and Jade had the sudden urge to see him smile instead. Just as swiftly as that thought popped into her head, another one entered her mind. He had spent far too many years burdened with the actions of his youth. The image of a young Thomas flinging the same ring now stuck on her finger off into the woods replayed inside her head. She wondered if what she thought was a mere hallucination from jet lag was actually true.

She placed her hand upon his arm, and her thumb rubbed the fabric of his tunic in a soothing motion.

“I think whatever you have on your mind is very important. Please tell me what you’re thinking,” she urged in a soft plea to hear the thoughts of this medieval man. She could almost hear the musings going on inside his head. He’s just as confused as I am with everything that is happening between us at such an alarming speed.

He took a deep breath and then another sip of his wine before placing the goblet back down upon the table. “I was asking if you are pleased to be here.”

In that moment, Jade knew she wanted to see where all this could go between them or even if it were possible for her to stay here in the past.

She took up his chalice and placed her lips to the spot where his mouth had just touched it. His eyes widened before a grin split his face.

She returned his smile. “Yes, Thomas. I believe I am…” Her words trailed off to be lost with the sounds of the busy hall.

If she had looked down upon her hand, she would have seen the ring giving off a low, golden glow.Let their journey begin.


Sometimes it takes a miracle to find your heart’s desire…

Scotland, 1182: Banished from his homeland, Thomas of Clan Kincaid lives among distant relatives, reluctantly accepting he may never return home… Until an encounter with the castle’s healer tells him of a woman traveling across time—for him.

Dare he believe the impossible?

Present Day, Michigan: Jade Calloway is used to being alone, and as Christmas approaches, she’s skeptical when told she’ll embark on an extraordinary journey. How could a trip to San Francisco be anything but ordinary? But when a ring magically appears, and she sees a ghostly man in her dreams…

Dare she believe in the possible?

Thrust back in time, Jade encounters Thomas—her fantasy ghost. Talk about extraordinary. But as time works against them, they must learn to trust in miracles.

Can they accept impossible love before time interferes?

Buy Links:

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And just in case you’re looking for more holiday reads, check out this video or my book tab above. From my family to yours and no matter how you celebrate this time of year, I wish you all a very happy holiday season and a prosperous New Year! Thank you for all your support throughout the past year. Hugs, Sherry

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