PROMO: On Highland Time by Lexi Post

About the Book:

 

For fans of sexy Scottish Highlanders who know how to treat a woman like a lady.

When someone changes history, affecting the future, Diana Montgomery, the most experienced agent of Time Weavers, Inc., travels back to 1306 Scotland to change it back. Her mission, to find the culprit and ensure a minor clan chief dies in battle as he originally had.

Diana is well-prepared to infiltrate the small MacPherson clan. What she’s not prepared for is Torr MacPherson, the ruggedly handsome warrior with a kind heart and a steadfast loyalty—the Laird she’s supposed to ensure dies.

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Excerpt #2:

Torr took her reaction in stride and began a tender assault on her neck.

She pushed against him, and he allowed her a little space.

She was grateful because despite her training,

she doubted she could do much to take down such a huge man,

especially if she didn’t want to hurt him. But he kept his arms about her waist.

“What is it, lass?”

It was everything. She wanted to cry and laugh at the

impossible situation she found herself in, even as her

body shivered with a growing need. She simply shook

her head and tried to step back, but he held her with gentle strength.

Didn’t he understand? She needed to put more space

between them, in so many ways. Her breaths came

quickly, her body flushed from the desire he’d ignited.

A desire she never remembered experiencing before.

She closed her eyes and tried to think of the rolling

mountains beyond the castle walls, but they faded

quickly and instead she envisioned Torr, cupping her breasts.

She snapped open her eyes to find him

staring at her, a crooked grin on his face.

“I want ye, Diana. Ye have a fire in ye that

calls me like the spring sun to the seedling.”

Oh, Shakespeare, now he was a poet, too? She couldn’t do this.

He was due to die… She had to find the Disruptor… She had to—

His deep voice soothed her. “I understand. Life here

at Gealach is new and strange, and I have possibly

presumed too much, too soon. “Ye miss yer clan, do ye not?”

She didn’t say anything. His kindness causing a

lump to form in her throat. His warm, big body so

close to hers with the scent of leather and the clean smell

from his bath was so primitively male,

he had her feeling safe, protected.

He pulled her body against his again. Instead of

feeling physical attraction, she wanted to simply

snuggle in. Hesitantly, she let her head fall against his shoulder.

As they stood there, his chest rising and falling in

steady rhythm beneath her cheek, memories of her

dad doing the same calmed her. When she’d done

poorly on a test, not made the volleyball team,

or when she was dumped by her first boyfriend

in ninth grade, dad had held her just like this. Torr

would make a good father…except he was destined to die.

She stiffened. Did Torr have any children after the

Disruptor saved him? He deserved children.

He reacted to her body language and stroked her back.

“I know it is hard. I too have lost many of my family.”

She pulled back to look at his face,

anxious to hear what he’d reveal.

“Unlike ye, I didn’t know my mother. She died

shortly after Kerr was born. Five sons took too much

out of her. But my brothers and my father made a family.”

She put her hand on his chest, feeling the sadness

behind his words. This man deserved comfort

more than she did. He had endured

so much, and yet still offered more to others.

He covered her hand with his and sighed.

“The war has taken all but Kerr from me. Him

and the few left in our wee clan. I’m glad ye joined us.

I hope ye will eventually feel this is yer home.”

His inner sadness called to her in a different way from

his persuasive sexual advances. In that moment, he touched her heart.

“I’m sure I will. It is the only home I have now.”

She grimaced inside at such a bald-faced lie.

Meet the Author:

Lexi Post is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author of romance inspired by the classics. She spent years in higher education taking and teaching courses about the classical literature she loved. From Edgar Allan Poe's short story “The Masque of the Red Death” to Tolstoy’s War and Peace, she's read, studied, and taught wonderful classics. But Lexi's first love is romance novels. In an effort to marry her two first loves, she started writing romance inspired by the classics and found she loved it. From hot paranormals to sizzling cowboys to hunks from out of this world, Lexi provides a sensuous experience with a “whole lotta story.” Lexi is living her own happily ever after with her husband and her cat in Florida. She makes her own ice cream every weekend, loves bright colors, and you will never see her without a hat.

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PROMO: A Mistress for Penndrake by Tammy L. Bailey

About the Book:

The Marquess of Wesley is out for blood. For a year, Lord Wesley has tried to undo the devastation his father left to Penndrake, their ancestral home, only to discover the man gambled it away right before his death. Now Wesley is being blackmailed by the new owner into marrying a woman he’s never met in order to get it back. But his intentions are less than honorable…

At one and twenty, Miss Kate Holden intends to become a governess, having sworn off all men years ago. However, her plans are halted when she receives a daunting letter from her cousin about a Lord Wesley. Ignorant of the name, and the devilish marquess that wears it all too well, she nearly ends up compromised. Refusing to fall prey to Wesley’s skillful seduction, Kate decides to turn things around on the rake. But the high-stakes game between them soon leads to her losing the last thing she expected…her heart.

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Excerpt #5

Time had barely passed before she was torn awake by another dream. She screamed and then felt a masculine hand pressed hard over her mouth. Panic knotted her stomach and caused her heart to slam into her chest. She grasped the man’s fingers and writhed her body against a half-naked form when the familiar voice of Lord Wesley caused her to freeze in place.

“Be still, Miss Holden,” he warned. “I’m fairly certain you do not wish to wake up as my wife.”

Unsure how he came to be in her room or why, she clamped her teeth into his calloused flesh. He yanked his hand away and swallowed a few curse words, squinting into the dimness to examine the damage.

“By God, woman!” he hissed.

“Kate, are you all right in there? I heard a scream.”

Kate opened her mouth to answer when Lord Wesley clasped her bare arms to bring her close enough to hear him. “Tell your young cousin you’re fine. That…you just saw a mouse.”

Despite the dizzying circumstances, Kate leaned forward and whispered against his throat, “But I’m not afraid of mice.”

The door handle rattled, and she drew up against him. Did she think her petite form could block his muscular one?

“I’m fine, Lilly. I just…saw a mouse,” Kate croaked.

“But you aren’t afraid of mice.”

Kate clicked her tongue and then sent him a sidelong glance. “It was a very…large mouse.”

“Oh,” came the quiet voice on the other side of the door. “Well, as long as you’re all right.”

They waited a moment before hearing soft footfalls move away from the door.

“Now, you will tell me, Miss Holden, why you felt compelled to scream my name?”

Kate straightened, balking at his words. “I did no such thing,” she said. Inches away, his gaze, molten and reflective, slid across her barely clad form. Fire swirled from her belly to her face as a chilled wisp of air rubbed against her veiled breast.

“Why are you here?” she asked, reaching for a blanket to cover herself.

He sat up and bent his head toward the floor, using the quiet moment to rake the hand she’d injured down the length of his face. He exhaled and then turned back to her, his features chiseled into impatient lines.

She let out a quick breath at his nearness and the way the light from a nearby candle licked over the corded muscles of his chest and abdomen.

“Do you deny calling my name, Miss Holden?”

She shook her head. “What? Why on earth would I do such a thing?”

“Exactly, and yet I was thrust awake to my name on your lips. Not once, but twice.”

Kate started to deny his words when the vivid images of her dream broke through her memory. She saw Arthur laughing and Lord Wesley watching as she tried to save herself from two fire-breathing dragons. In the middle of the battle she knew she couldn’t win, she tried to yell, only to hear nothing but silence. She waited for someone to help her, waiting until she propelled herself up and awake.

“Miss Holden?”

Kate winced, more so from the episode she’d caused than his emphatic tone. “I had…a bad dream, that is all.”

“I thought you were hurt…or dying,” he said, his tone angry and void of empathy, as if the whole reason she was at Penndrake was her fault.

Kate didn’t know what to think. He’d shown himself to her room to save her from an unknown death and appeared out of sorts that he’d found her well.

“If it makes you feel any better, I was crushed by two fierce creatures, much like the ones on the crest in your study. I suppose out of desperation, I may have attempted to call your name.”

He cocked one dark eyebrow at her. “At last, a confession,” he murmured. “So, did I rescue you again, Miss Holden, this time from fire instead of rain?”

She shrugged. “No. While I awaited my death, you stood there, devouring some piece of forbidden fruit like a ravished street urchin.”

He chuckled. “How brave you must have been.”

She didn’t answer him for a long moment, contented to have them affable toward each other.

“I suppose, then, I am more gallant in real life than in

your dreams?” he teased her.

She shook her head. “How is it that you have found a way to wreak havoc when I’m both asleep and awake?” she asked.

He smiled and tugged the blanket higher to her chin. He leaned closer, and she held her breath, waiting for him to kiss her, to pull the blanket away and caress every place the air touched.

Instead, he bent his mouth to her ear. “Miss Holden,” he said, his voice deep and husky, “you do not realize what truth you speak, for the both of us.” But before she could ask him to explain what he meant, he stood and glanced down at her.

“You can’t possibly know the restraint I have shown regarding you,” he breathed, ragged and hoarse. “Soon,” he added and turned toward the door.

Meet the Author:

Tammy began writing when the shows and movies she watched didn't end the way she wanted them to end. Whether it's historical or contemporary, for her, there must always be a happy ending. When she's not writing, she's spending time with her husband and two boys near Cleveland, Ohio. Without their sacrifice and understanding, she believes she would have never been able to pursue her passion for writing or her accomplishment of becoming a published author.

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PROMO: Lock 'N' Load by Tee O'Fallon

 

About the Book:

 

Crack CIA analyst Trista Gold is a whiz with the computer, but not so much with people. She hides behind her job, analyzing Top Secret code and making recommendations on national security. She doesn’t need a man in her life. But she will, very soon...

CIA K-9 officer Sgt. Matt Connors suspects that beneath Trista’s uptight appearance, there’s a sexy woman itching to cut loose. But he doesn’t dare act on his attraction. He’s a loner and always will be. Keeping away from Trista is a must-do directive. Until he doesn’t have a choice...

During a routine assignment, Trista stumbles across a cryptic exchange. She doesn’t think much of it...until someone tries to murder her—twice. Both times, Matt had been there to save her. But now she has to hide. And her new bodyguard, Matt, and his K-9 are the only hope she has against the powerful forces that want her dead.

 

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 Excerpt #1

“Are you all right?”

Trista jerked her head around to find Sgt. Connors crouching on the floor beside her, his face only inches from hers, his incredibly broad shoulders blocking out all else. Big brown eyes pinned her and she couldn’t tear her gaze away. No, his eyes were more like cocoa, coffee and caramel all rolled into one. Yummy.

The look he continued to give her was intense. His dark brows drew together as he searched her face, as if looking for injuries.

“Are you all right?” he repeated, frowning. Actually, it was more of a scowl.

Yes, she wanted to say. But her throat was clogged again, and no matter how much she tried, her lips wouldn’t move.

She took a deep breath, praying it would kick her brain into gear. It didn’t. The only thing it did, was send his sexy, way-too-appealing aftershave directly to her lungs and her brain.

Say something, stupid.

“I—” She swallowed. Lord, she’d thought he was good looking before, but this close …OMG. She might not be able to speak to certain men, but that didn’t mean her libido was dead. For a man, he was utterly stunning. In a tough, rugged kind of way.

“Do you think you can get up?” Sgt. Connors held out an enormously large, incredibly strong-looking hand. “Let me help you.”

Now staring stupidly into his eyes, she placed her hand in his, noting several thick scars on his hands and forearms. As he began pulling her to her feet, an inhuman snort ruffled her hair.

A large brown and black muzzle thrust its way into her peripheral vision. Trista gasped and scrambled in the opposite direction—straight into Sgt. Connors’ hard chest.

Her pulse pounded. Her body trembled a she took in quick breaths. The dog stared at her steadily from amber-gold eyes, a shade lighter than Sgt. Connors’.

She tried pushing herself farther from the dog, but not only weren’t her sensible shoes gaining traction on the shiny granite floor, but Sgt. Connors’ body was an immovable mountain of muscle.

Still holding her hand, he hugged her tighter against his body, wrapping his other arm around her waist. “It’s okay...” His deep voice rumbled in her ear. “Sedni.” In response to his command, the dog sat. “Sheba won’t hurt you. She’s here to protect you.”

“I d-doubt that.” Cynophobia—fear of dogs—was something she’d lived with since she was six years old.

He gave a slight tug and pulled her to her feet. Blood rushed to her head and she wavered, instinctively putting out a hand for balance. Her fingers contacted the center of his chest. His shirt felt odd, and it occurred to her that he was wearing a protective vest under his uniform. That, and he smelled really, really good. Like cedar, leather, and dark rum all rolled into one intoxicating scent.

Meet the Author:

Tee O'Fallon has been a federal agent for twenty-two years, giving her hands-on experience in the field of law enforcement that she combines with her love of romantic suspense. Tee's job affords her the unique opportunity to work with the heroic and sexy men in law enforcement on a daily basis. For Tee, research is the easy part! Besides reading and writing, Tee loves cooking, gardening, chocolate, lychee martinis, and her Belgian sheepdog.

   

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Second Star to the Right by Windy Gold

Wendy Gold is stopping by to celebrate the release of SECOND STAR TO THE RIGHT! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today!

Title: SECOND START TO THE RIGHT

Author: Wendy Gold

Genre: Contemporary Romance

About Second Star to the Right:

Peter Michaels, Hollywood stuntman and sword fight choreographer, harbors a secret—he’s the real Peter Pan, the boy who in fact grew up. Far from Neverland and forced to hide his secret, he distances himself from others for fear of being rejected for who he truly is. That is, until he meets Vivien Kelly.   Viv, A-list Hollywood royalty, is determined to branch out into directing, but her steampunk version of Peter Pan is doomed. If bratty kids and demanding studio executives weren’t bad enough, and Peter’s generous nature and easygoing attitude is distracting her from her work.   Soon Peter starts to melt her heart and Viv fantasizes about a fairy tale ending of her own. But will Peter’s secret tear them apart? Will he leave her for a world of fairies and pixie dust when Peter knows that saying goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting each other forever?

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Exclusive Excerpt:

“Jack, I’ll clean up here. Why don’t you head out early for the night? Go take your girlfriend out somewhere nice. It’s a Friday night.” Peter’s voice boomed around the studio as he walked out of the supply closet, his scabbard buckled back into place. He walked past Viv, his stare focused on his office door where Jack emerged. He hadn’t seen her. “You sure?” Jack’s voice echoed back. “Yeah, I’ll meet you on set Monday. And bring your cup. Erin’s a sadistic little brat. She’d take a hard poke at your balls and call it an accident.” Viv bit her cheek, trying not to laugh. The little girl would do something exactly like that. And with her big, blue eyes, everyone would believe it really was just an accident. Jack laughed. “All right, man. See you Monday. Have a good weekend,” he said as he walked out of the studio, the door closing behind him. Peter watched Jack shut the door before he slipped a longsword from a scabbard mounted along the wall, the silver metal gleaming opal in the light. This was no pirate swashbuckler sword. This was one of hard medieval lines, belonging to a knight or a king. The tip of the sword rose above Peter’s head, the hilt trapped between his strong hands. He wielded it with such grace and ease. Silent. Powerful. Each swish and thrust into the open air part of a deadly dance. His movements flowed, like water ran through his veins. These movements were different from his sword fight with Jack. These were slow, almost delicate. The blade sliced in perfect precision, as if Peter battled an invisible ghost. Viv’s heart thudded in her chest, the only sound she heard besides the whooshing of Peter’s weapon. She stepped forward, mesmerized by the sword’s dance. “I was wondering when you’d come out of hiding.” Peter’s voice broke the spell. His sword continued to split the air around him, his gaze focused on the blade rather than her. Viv jerked back to reality. In her trance, she’d stepped onto the mat, a dozen feet away from Peter. Her blush pricked at the back of her neck, disappearing somewhere below her ponytail. “Sorry, I was just leaving.” “No, you weren’t. Pick up the sword over there.” Peter pointed somewhere across the room, his eyes still focused on his invisible opponent. Viv walked around the mat and saw another sword, similar in fashion but with different details. Long. Thin. Her hand wrapped around the hilt and lifted it. Heavy. She grasped the hilt with both hands and struggled to raise the metal sword upright. How did he wield this like it was as light a feather? “Now come out onto the mat.” He lowered his blade and turned to watch her, their gazes locking as Viv moved. Her arm muscles cried out in protest as the weight of the sword wobbled from one hand to the other. “You make it look easy.” She let the weight of the sword tug her arm down, the tip thumping against the foam mat as it hung useless in her hand. “Hold on.” Peter held out his hand to take her sword. “I have a better idea.” Viv offered the sword to him, the tip still on the ground. He picked the sword up from her grip and held both longswords in one hand, raising them and resting the dulled edges on his shoulders before smirking and walking back to the storage room. “Showoff,” she said, her voice bouncing around her. Peter’s laugh echoed like deep chamber music. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the tiny room. A minute later, he returned with two long fencing rapiers. “These should be easier.” He tossed one to her. She caught the edge of the handle, but it bounced off her hand and clattered onto the mat beside her. She blushed again as she lifted the sword by the hilt. Thin. Flexible. And much more lightweight. She lifted it with ease, raising it in front of her. Peter circled around her, his own sword in hand. Her body honed in on his every movement. Every shift of his feet. Every tilt of the sword. Every flicker of his eyes. His gaze burned into her, stripping her bare as she stood rooted to the floor. She couldn’t move if she wanted to. His piercing stare locked her in place. Her heart thumped hard in her chest and she wondered if he could hear it too. Butterflies yawned and woke in her belly, tickling her from the inside. “You’re ready for me,” he smirked, stopping in front of her before taking two steps back. He raised his sword, the thin blade blazing orange in the setting sunlight. Viv raised the blade to match his. She lunged. He struck her blade with his, moving it out of the way with no effort. His smile twitched into a wicked smirk. He lunged for her. Viv flung her sword upward, the blades catching on one another. The light caught in the middle of the swords, a large metal X locking over them. Peter stepped closer, pressing more of his strength into the blade. Viv’s grip slipped a bit, but she pushed her arms forward to keep the blades pressed together. “Clever girl,” Peter growled before his sword sliced through the air and cut his words. He stepped back, eyeing her. Waiting for her next move. Viv slid to the side, but Peter’s sword blocked her blow with ease, his smile teasing her. She knew this was child’s play for him. She wanted to make it a bit more difficult. “Don’t go so easy on me,” she panted. Her lungs burned from the exertion and her muscles hummed like a bow playing over violin strings. “Darling, I’m only just getting started on you.”

About Wendy Gold:

Wendy writes the three “S”s: Smart, Sassy, and Sexy. Her sensual stories leave readers with fluttering hearts and wet panties. When she’s not home enjoying a Ménage à Trois (the wine not the act), Wendy likes long walks through her gritty neighborhood in the heart of Philly or blasting heavy rock music in her house. Her readers love her, but her neighbors do not.

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