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Sherry Ewing

~ Historical & Time Travel Romance Author

Sherry Ewing

Tag Archives: #ReadARegency

First Kiss Friday with Alina K. Field

18 Friday Dec 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

#FirstKiss Friday, #ReadARegency, Alina K. Field, Be My Guest, First Kiss Friday, Historical Romance, Regency Romance

It’s always a pleasure when I can welcome back author Alina K. Field to my First Kiss Friday blog. With a new release right around the corner, Alina has an excerpt from Fated Hearts. Take it away Alina, and happy reading, my lovelies!

Thank you, Sherry, for having me as a guest! I’m sharing the first kiss scene from Fated Hearts, a Love After All Retelling of the Scottish Play, available for pre-order for the December 20th release. 

Fated Hearts is based on the story of Macbeth and his lady, retold as a Regency-set romance. After a failed attempt to gain his cousin’s earldom, Finnley Macbeth divorced his wife Greer and went off to war. Twenty years later, they encounter each other in London during a chaotic and eventful week in British history. In this excerpt, Macbeth is recovering from wounds received when he was beaten on the street in the midst of the Corn Riots, and Greer is caring for him. 

Excerpt: 

Framed in the candlelight, there was no lovelier vision then this woman he’d loved all his grown life. Even when he’d hated her, he’d done so with a passion, and a sorrow, and a grief that could only have been born in and sustained by love. He’d been such a fool. He would make this right.

“Mo chridhe,” he whispered. “Greer.” His throat thickened, and he cleared it. “Lay with me tonight. We need do no more than sleep.” 

She raised an eyebrow and scoffed. 

He laughed, glad she had lightened the mood. 

“Go then. Change into your nightclothes and decide what ye wish. I am here behind a locked door and with a footman guarding it outside. I’m your captive, and ye may do with me as ye desire.” 

“And the key is on your side, and the young man an easy match for a warrior, even an injured one.” 

“Aye. Yet I’ll be here. And I’m feeling much better.” The next move must be hers. Except…

He tugged her close, captured her neck, and stole a quick kiss. Then he threw back the covers, bare-arsed as the day he was born. 

Greer froze to the spot, only her hands twisting together beneath her beautiful bosom. 

Biting his lip against the soreness in his bruised body, he hoisted himself to the side of the bed and stood before her in all his glorious nakedness. 

She blinked. Her mouth opened, and closed, and then opened again. “Ye’ll rest and recover,” she said. “Ye’re not leaving. I’ll hide your coats.” 

Lightheaded he might be, but the breathlessness in her voice roused that part of him that promised to carry on. If she would let him.

She needed to choose, and she needed a few moments of time for that. After all, it had been twenty years. 

He found the discarded banyan, struggled into it, and sat down at the table near the fire. Tears welled in his eyes, and he wiped at them, cursing his surge of unmanliness. What a damned foolish, blockheaded Scotsman he’d been. 

He wanted Greer, he wanted her to be his, for the rest of his life, no matter how short or how sorry it might be. 

He must go about it the right way, though. She must see him as he was, with all his wounds, and she must decide. 

As the fire dimmed, and the moments ticked on, he waited. No noise came through the stout dressing room door. 

She wasn’t coming. Heart sinking, he pushed to his feet. 

The latch rattled and a draft of cool lavender wafted his way, drawing him around. He gripped the back of the chair as time melted away and carried him back two decades.

The dress—and, praise God—the corset, were gone. She stood in a lacy transparent shift, her dressing gown loose and untied, her feet bare, and her hair… her hair was unbound, rich tendrils reaching to tease the peaks of her breasts. 

Blood pounded into his arms and his legs and his loins, screaming Take her.

He breathed, struggling for control. Consequences, Macbeth. ’Twas a discipline he’d pressed into his men, sometimes with the lash when nothing else would restore self-restraint. A woman, any woman deserved better than to be taken unwillingly. And Greer…Greer was much, much more than any woman. 

“Greer,” he said, searching for breath. “Tha thu brèagha mo ghaol.” 

Tha thu brèagha mo ghaol.

Greer’s hands tightened at her waist, her emotions a jumble. You are beautiful, my love, he’d said. 

And but look at him, stretching the shoulders of the generously sized dressing gown, his hair in those wild flaming tangles of waves she remembered, falling all the way to his broad, muscled shoulders. In the light of the table lamp, she could see also his whiskers coming in, glistening like the hair on his muscled chest visible in the vee of the gaping banyan. 

And his eyes…his eyes glowed a dark, compelling bronze. Heat leapt in her, unfurling long-repressed needs. 

“Mo ghaol,” she said, her heart beating wildly, sudden shyness holding her back. 

Finnley had ever been eager. Why didn’t he come to her now?

Her gaze traveled over him, and she spotted his hands, gripping the chair back, the knuckles white and crisscrossed with scars. He loosened one hand and reached out to her. 

“I am here,” he said.

I am here. Simply that. He expected her to capitulate even more, and come to him. 

Or…he was tempting her fiercely and letting her choose. 

“For how long?” 

He blinked. “How long do ye wish me to stay?” 

The hand beckoning her was steady and strong, the pull of desire, his and her own, even stronger. She would have him tonight, him, the only man she’d ever made love to. The only man she’d ever loved.

“Ye must stay tonight, certainly,” she said briskly, “and perhaps tomorrow night as well if the surgeon requires it.” 

The slow smile, the intense gaze, reached through her and squeezed her heart. “Greer,” he said. 

Heart pounding, she went to him and slipped under his arm. “Let me help ye back into bed.” 

In a flash, he scooped her up and juggled her, grunting. “Mo ghaol,” he said, nuzzling her cheek. “Ye smell like springtime.” 

She smoothed a hand down his bristly cheek, unable to speak. He smelled of the lemony soap Lady Fiona kept for the washstand, and the faint manly musk that was his alone. 

His breath rasped carrying her, and then her bottom touched the mattress, and her dressing gown disappeared, along with his banyan. 

“Greer.” 

He knelt before her, his big hands cupping her shoulders, moving down her arms, touching, measuring, and inflaming, moving up again, bracketing her chest under her armpits and then sliding down, his thumbs tracing the sides of her breasts, gliding along her belly, down her hips, and along her legs all the way to her feet. 

He cradled one foot and dropped a kiss on the top of it, and then repeated the move with the other.

Eyes squeezed shut, she held back the desire threatening to burst her apart. 

She lifted his chin and brought her lips to his, touching, nibbling, and then angling her head for an open-mouthed kiss. 


Fated Hearts
by Alina K. Field 

A Scottish Baron returning from two decades at war meets the daughter he denied was his, and the wife he divorced, only to learn that everything he’d believed to be true was a lie. What he can’t deny is that she’s the only woman he’s ever loved. They’re not the young lovers they once were, but when passion flares, it burns more hotly than ever it did in their youth.

They soon discover, it wasn’t fate that drove them apart, but a jealous enemy, who played on his youthful arrogance and her vulnerability. Now that old enemy has resurfaced, more treacherous than ever. When his lady falls into a trap, can he reach her in time to rescue this love that never died? 

Available 12/29/20, pre-order today! Universal link:  https://books2read.com/u/bQdyPP

About the Author: 

Award winning and USA Today bestselling author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but 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, where she shares a midcentury home with her husband and a spunky, blond rescued terrier. She is the author of several Regency romances, including the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring. Though hard at work on her next series of romantic adventures, she loves to hear from readers!

Website: https://alinakfield.com/ 

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

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First Kiss Friday with Chasity Bowlin

11 Friday Dec 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

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

Welcome to another wonderful First Kiss Friday. Today’s guest is Chasity Bowlin who has an excerpt from What Happens in Piccadilly and is part of her Hellion Club series. We hope you enjoy this excerpt. Happy reading, my lovelies!

Excerpt:

Winn had never been so angry in his life. In fact, he’d never known another person who had the ability to make him as angry as Miss St. James, his employee,  just had. Where in the devil had that come from? He was torn between wanting to throttle her and wanting to— He stopped the thought. He knew precisely what it was he wished to do with Miss St. James and he also knew that even considering it was nothing more than the path to ruination. Kissing Calliope St. James would surely bring about nothing less than his doom. Yet he could think of nothing else. 

Perhaps it was the fact that through the course of their angry and heated exchange they had somehow closed the distance that separated them until they were facing off toe to toe. He wanted to step back. There was no question that he should step back. But he didn’t. Instead, he inched forward until he could see her pupils dilate, until he could hear the soft hitch in her breathing and feel the rush of it as she finally exhaled. But she didn’t back away either. And as her head tipped back, her face lifting toward his, her lashes drifted lower. He was lost. Even knowing it was a mistake, he was unable to resist. 

He leaned in, touched his lips to hers. It was only a whisper of a kiss, but it felled him as surely as a volley from a cannon. Against every urge that gripped him, he didn’t take her into his arms. He didn’t deepen the kiss. Instead, he simply settled his lips more firmly upon hers and committed the texture of them, the taste of them and the lightning bolt sensations they stirred in him, to memory. Because even as he kissed her, he knew it was an error that could never be repeated but would often be remembered. 

It lasted only seconds, although it altered him forever. Some things, once done, could never be undone. And having tasted her lips once, it would now haunt him for all his days. He acknowledged that, acknowledged that he’d made a terrible error in judgement, and that he regretted it not in the least. Then he simply drew back from her and stared down into her upturned face and confused gaze. 

She stared up at him for a moment, one hand drawn up to her plump, rosy lips. “Why did you do that?”  

Winn shrugged. “I cannot say.” 

“You don’t know why you kissed me?” she demanded, as if that was somehow more offensive than the liberties he had just taken.  

A heavy sigh escaped him and he looked away from her for just a moment, long enough to get his bearings. Then he answered, “I know why I kissed you, Miss St. James. And I know why I would very much like to kiss you again. But those explanations are even more inappropriate than my behavior has been. So, no, Miss St. James, I cannot say.” 


What Happen in Piccadilly:
 The Hellion Club Book 3

By Chasity Bowlin

There’s no such thing as just a kiss…

Book 3 in the bestselling series The Hellion Club has arrived for your reading pleasure! Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!

Chaos! That is what greets Miss Calliope St. James when she enters the household of her prospective employer, Lord Winn Hamilton, the Earl of Montgomery. The newly appointed guardian for his nieces and nephew, he’s clearly a man who has no idea what to do with children… and they are children who clearly know when the adults in charge haven’t a clue what they’re doing. But he is handsome. Terribly, temptingly handsome even when he’s maddening.  
Winn thought it was bad enough when his home was overrun with children hell-bent on driving him insane. Then their new governess arrived… and she looks like no governess he’s ever seen. Distractingly beautiful, maddeningly forthright, frustratingly capable—he’s equal parts attracted to her and infuriated by her. 

And then he sees the portrait… the portrait that changes everything. Because Calliope St. James isn’t just the abandoned and unwanted child of unknown parents as she’s always been led to believe. If Calliope is who he thinks she is, she’s very, very wealthy and there are powerful people in the highest reaches of society who want her very, very dead. 

To keep her safe, he’ll have to keep her close, and that presents them both with an entirely different sort of danger.

Buy Link: Amazon

About the author: 

USA Today Best Seller, Winner of the 2019 Romance Through the Ages Award for Georgian/Regency Romance, and 2020 RONE Award winner, Chasity Bowlin is the author multiple bestselling historical romance novels, both independently and with Dragonblade Publishing. She lives in central Kentucky with her husband, their son, and their menagerie of animals. She loves writing, loves traveling and enjoys incorporating tidbits of her actual vacations into her books. She is an avid Anglophile, loving all things British, but specifically all things Regency. 

Growing up in Tennessee, spending as much time as possible with her doting grandparents, soap operas were a part of her daily existence, followed by back to back episodes of Scooby Doo. Her path to becoming a romance novelist was set when, rather than simply have her Barbie dolls cruise around in a pink convertible, they time traveled, hosted lavish dinner parties and one even had an evil twin locked in the attic. 

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New Release ~ Holiday Escapes

15 Sunday Nov 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, New Release

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#ReadARegency, Bluestocking Belles, Historical Romance, Holiday, Holiday Escapes, Regency Romance, Sherry Ewing

One day, not too many weeks ago, I got a bee in my bonnet and asked the Bluestocking Belles if we should re-release the novellas from Mistletoe, Marriage & Mayhem which was no longer available. I ran with it and got the boxset up in record time. So today, we’re celebrating four of the original novellas (plus two new short stories) that are now in Holiday Escapes! We hope our readers will love having all these stories available again in one box set… just in time for your holiday reading pleasure.

Holidays, relatives, pressure to marry—sometimes it is all too much. Is it any wonder a woman may need to escape? The heroines in this collection of stories aren’t afraid to take matters into their own hands when they’ve had enough.

The Ultimate Escape, by Susana Ellis – On the eve of her wedding, Julia needs to take a moment to consider what she is doing, and where better than 100 years in the past? Unfortunately, Oliver finds a way to chase her through time.

Under the Mistletoe, by Sherry Ewing – Margaret Templeton will settle for Captain Morledge’s hand in marriage, until she sees the man she once loved at her second-best bridegroom’s Christmas party.

Gingerbread Bride, by Jude Knight – Travelling with her father’s fleet has not prepared Mary Pritchard for London. When she strikes out on her own, she finds adventure, trouble, and her girlhood hero, riding once more to her rescue.

A Dangerous Nativity, by Caroline Warfield – With Christmas coming, can the Earl of Chadbourn repair his widowed sister’s damaged estate, and far more damaged family? Dare he hope for love in the bargain? 

These stories are republished here at 20% of the cost of collecting them all from each individual author.

Two bonus short stories round out the collection.

Buy Links:

Amazon US | Apple Books |  Barnes & Noble| Kobo

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

Angus & Robertson

First Kiss Friday with Jude Knight

06 Friday Nov 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

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

Welcome to another First Kiss Friday! It’s always a pleasure when I can welcome back my dear friend Jude Knight. Today Jude has an excerpt from her novella A Dream Come True that will be found in Storm & Shelter. Enjoy this excerpt and take it away, Jude!

In this excerpt from A Dream Come True, a novella in the Bluestocking Belles’ box set Storm & Shelter, Barney finally does what he has been yearning to do for weeks. You’ll have to read the book to find out more. Storm & Shelter is our first collection ‘With Friends’ — four of the Belles have been joined in this book by Grace Burrowes, Mary Lancaster, Cerise DeLand and Alina K. Field. Eight wonderful novellas, all set in the village of Fenwick on Sea during a stormy February.

Excerpt:

Behave, Barney told himself, as Theo landed so close that her thigh brushed his. Her delectable mouth, open in surprise, was within kissing distance, if he just leaned a little sideways and bent his head.

He could see her collect herself. She closed her mouth, swallowed, and looked down at her hand, still trapped in his. “I have overstepped,” she admitted. “I should have sent Daniel to ask you.”

“No!” He reached for her other hand and captured it. “You did exactly right. Theo, darling Theo, don’t you know how we feel about you? Daniel has adopted you as his aunt. Annie prefers you even to Daniel when she has a bruise or is tired. And I love you.”

Theo looked up at that. “You love me?”

His heart sank at the note of surprise, but he carried on. She needed to know how little he had to offer. “I am not much of a bargain. I am only my father’s curate, with a very poor income, and, once my father finds out that I have taken in my sister’s children, I am likely to lose even that. I will have to find another position, perhaps tutoring, or secretarial work, or assisting a physician. Will you wait for me until I have an income to support a wife? Will you be the children’s aunt in truth?”

Theo was silent, tears welling in her eyes and trickling disregarded down her cheeks.

Barney’s heart landed in his boots and kept falling. “My turn to overstep.” He let go of her hands and shifted a few inches away from her along the sofa. “I am sorry I upset you. I thought you… Never mind. We shall pretend all of that unsaid, shall we?”

A smile was spreading across Theo’s beloved face, and she retrieved Barney’s hands. “Foolish man,” she scolded, fondly. “Don’t you know that I love you, too? I am just surprised because I never believed that dreams could come true.” With that, she moved closer and tilted her head for a kiss, and brought into reality one of his most cherished dreams of the weeks since he’d met her.

How long the kiss, or perhaps the kisses, lasted, Barney could not have said. The bang of the front door followed by thudding of feet in the hall gave them a second’s warning to spring apart, though anyone with eyes would have known exactly what they were doing. They had only to look at Theo’s swollen lips, mussed hair and disarranged clothing. Barney assumed he looked no more reputable.

Daniel flung open the door and burst into the room. He was breathing hard. “Auntie Theo; Uncle Barney, we’ve got trouble.”


A Dream Come True

The tempest that batters Barnaby Somerville’s village is the latest but not the least of his challenges.

Vicar to a remote parish, he stretches his tiny stipend to adopt his orphaned niece and nephew and his time to offer medical care as well as spiritual. A wife is a dream he cannot afford.

But the storm sweeps into his life a surprising temptation—a charming young woman who lavishes her gentle care upon his wards—and him.

God knows, he will forever be richer for having known her, even if he must let her go.

For more about Storm & Shelter, including preorder links, see: https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/storm-shelter/

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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New Release from Anna St. Claire

20 Tuesday Oct 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, New Release

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#ReadARegency, Historical Romance, New Release, Regency Romance

Today I’d like to introduce you to author Anna St. Claire who has a new release for your reading pleasure! Enjoy this excerpt from Lyon’s Prey.

Excerpt:

What is taking the miserable doctor so long? Evan Prescott, the fifth Earl of Clarendon, poured another measure of brandy and took a long sip. The heartbreaking screaming coming from upstairs had gone on for hours. Rogue tears slid down his face as he stared at the open door to his study, and he brushed them aside. He wanted it to be over for her. 

Evan had sent for her family and his, but the weather was making it difficult for anyone to get there. He only hoped the doctor would make it soon. The frosted glass of the large windows drew him, conflicting with the warmth of the room and the brandy. He rubbed some frost away with the side of the hand holding the brandy to peer outside. The pristine beauty of the snow and full moon offered a sharp contrast to the terror he felt inside. Heavy snow covered everything, leaving an almost fairy tale quality to the grounds glimmering beneath the moonlight. It had been snowing all day and showed no signs of letting up.

A throat cleared behind him, and he turned to see his butler, Bernard, standing near him. 

“My lord, the doctor has arrived. His carriage got stuck in a snowdrift, and he had to leave it and walk the rest of the way. He is about the size of your father, so I ordered some dry clothes for him. Do you wish to speak with him before he goes upstairs?”

“Thank God! Thank you for getting him some warm clothes. My needs are all upstairs. Please send him to my wife at once.”

A piercing scream rent the air, causing both men to jump. 

“Immediately, please. She needs him now.” 

“Right away, my lord.” The older man scrambled to move quickly but knew only one speed. 

Unable to control his growing frustration, Evan walked to the door and stuck his head into the hall. “Good God, man. Hurry.” He immediately regretted his action, even though the sound of footsteps almost running away from his door felt more satisfying. Taking a deep breath, he walked to the fireplace and leaned against it, staring as the flames licked wood and ricocheted off the back of the chimney and into the night sky. Evan pressed the now warm glass of brandy to his forehead to dispatch a pounding headache, feeling a weakness he had never known before. 

“God, please pull her through this,” he said aloud to himself. While he was not deeply religious, Amelia was. “I promise to be a better man; please do not take my wife away.” He swiped at the tears that ran down his face. 

Thoughts flooded his mind. Amelia had pronounced the house ready for Christmastide, having been on her feet against his wishes, supervising the footmen and maids as they assembled boughs throughout the house. “It is snowing, and you know how I love it. Will you take me on a sleigh ride?” Amelia had pleaded. She wanted fresh air, tired from the bedrest of the past four months. They even joked about how they may not get another sleigh ride like this for a while after the baby came. 

Rather than disappoint her, he ordered the sleigh and horses brought around, and the two took a ride into the village and purchased trinkets for the baby. 

His wife wanted a little boy that looked like him, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. Evan wanted a girl, one that had rosy cheeks, blue eyes, and curly blonde hair like her mother. A son could come later, if that was what happened. He could cherish a house full of girls that all resembled their mother. His own mother was pushing for a son to carry on the family name, constantly reminding him of their duty to produce an heir. Amelia would gently respond that she would do her best. His wife understood his mother, something he struggled to comprehend, yet was always grateful for. 

Memories clawed at him. The two of them had had the road to themselves that afternoon, laughing and kissing as they rode with the snow swirling around them. The clop-clop of the horses’ hooves rhythmically hitting the earth created a romantic, memorable moment. 

“This is the most wonderful day, Evan,” Amelia enthused, snuggling closer under the blanket. “Tell me again that you will be all right if this turns out to be a girl instead of a boy.” 

Evan lightly touched her pert red nose with his forefinger. “Yes, darling. I love this child, whatever it may be. I mean that.” He kissed her nose, basking in her smile.

They spent the afternoon discussing names again, cuddling together under the thick cover as the driver took them on roads, some with perfectly shaped canopies covered in fluffy snow crystals. It had been a day full of beauty and only the hundredth time they had discussed names in a fortnight. They both liked the name Jason, after his father. However, she liked Edward, saying it was a potent name, and as his second name, it was her favored choice. They decided if it was a girl, the baby would take Amelia’s mother’s name. By the time they returned, he realized that they had still made no decision on the boy’s name, but it mattered not. They would meet the babe first. 

Stark quiet invaded his thoughts. How long has Dr. Pembroke been up there? It is too quiet. Unable to wait another minute, Evan threw his drink into the fire and hurried from his office, taking the steps two at a time, praying. The thirsty wail of a baby caused him to stop and look up. There are no voices. He reached his wife’s room in a trice and flung open the door. 

Amelia’s lifeless body lay on sheets still pooled with blood. 

“My lord, she . . .” Her maid’s tear-stained face saw him approaching, and she hurried away from the body to stand near the wall.

 “No!” he howled, moving Amelia’s hands to his shoulders and pulling her up to him as he cried into her damp blonde hair. 

Dr. Pembroke put a hand on his shoulder, and he pushed it away. There was no comfort. He could have no life without Amelia. 

A weak cry sounded behind him, and he tried to turn from Amelia to see the baby. 

“My lord, you have a son,” the midwife whispered brokenly, offering the small child to him.

Swiping at his face, he looked down at the bundle of wrinkled pink skin. Carefully laying his wife back down, he reached for the baby. Blue eyes framed by tiny wisps of blond hair looked into his face, and a small hand grabbed his finger and held on. 

“Edward. You are Edward.” He smoothed back the baby’s hair as the door opened.

His sister had arrived. Through swollen eyes, he watched her glance first at Amelia, then at Edward before rushing to his side.

“She is gone. My Amelia is gone,” he cried hoarsely, thrusting the baby into her arms. “I need air,” he croaked, looking down once more at the bed and noticing the rattle and cloth doll he and Amelia had purchased just that day. “Please understand.”

I am broken. 

Enter the world of the most notorious gambling den in London, where matches are made… unusually. Welcome to the world of THE LYON’S DEN: The Black Widow of Whitehall Connected World, where the underground of Regency London thrives… and loves.

Haunted by his wife’s death, he vowed to never marry again…until he meets her!

Evan Prescott, the fifth Earl of Clarendon lost his wife during the birth of their child. Broken, Evan seeks solace in the Lyon’s Den, a world of drink, cards, and excess—where wins and losses are easier to navigate than responsibilities. Overconfident and in his cups, he makes a bet that will change his life. 

Still mourning the loss of her father and elder brother…

Lady Charlotte Grisham saves her young brother from the path of a speeding carriage. In a fit of pique, she throws propriety to the wind and storms up the steps of the owner’s London townhouse—and meets the man that upends her world.

The stars align when his high stakes bet and her lapse in judgement give the Black Widow of Whitehall the perfect opportunity to spin her web of hearts, while untold danger lurks a step behind. 

Can a marriage of convenience give rise to love in time to avoid deadly disaster?

(Note: This is an introductory novella to the Rakes of Mayhem Series -The Earl of Excess, Book One, coming soon!)

Buy Link: https://amzn.to/33FlSZG

About Anna St. Claire

Anna St.Claire is a big believer that nothing is impossible if you believe in yourself. She sprinkles her stories with laughter, romance, mystery and lots of possibilities, adhering to the belief that goodness, love, dark chocolate and popcorn will win the day. 

Anna is both an avid reader author of American and British historical romance. She and her husband live in Charlotte, North Carolina with their two dogs and often, their two beautiful granddaughters, who live nearby. Daughter, sister, wife, mother, and Mimi–all life roles that Anna St. Claire relishes and feels blessed to still enjoy. And she loves her pets – dogs and cats alike. 

Anna relocated from New York to the Carolinas as a child. Her mother, a retired English, and History teacher, always encouraged Anna’s interest in writing, after discovering short stories she would write in her spare time. 

As a child, she loved mysteries and checked out every Encyclopedia Brown story that came into the school library. Before too long, her fascination with history and reading led her to her first historical romance–Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With The Wind, now a treasured, but weathered book from being read multiple times. The day she discovered Kathleen Woodiwiss,’ books, Shanna and Ashes In The Wind, Anna became hooked. She read every historical romance that came her way and dreams of writing her own historical romances took seed.

Today, her focus is primarily on the Regency and Civil War eras, although Anna enjoys almost any period in American and British history. She would love to connect with any of her readers at these social media outlets:

Website: www.annastclaire.com
email–annastclaireauthor@gmail.com
BookBub – www.bookbub.com/profile/anna-st-claire
Twitter – @1AnnaStClaire
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/authorannastclaire/
Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Anna-St-Claire/e/B078WMRHHF?ref=

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 Pamela Gibson

04 Friday Sep 2020

Posted by SherryEwing in 2020, First Kiss Friday

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

#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

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Pamela-Gibson/1557080444511057

Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/pamgibsonwrites

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/pamgibsonwrites

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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Tags

#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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newsletter: http://bit.ly/33RCRFf
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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

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2940404.Cerise_DeLand

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/cerise-deland

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

 

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