A missed opportunity five years ago makes for an unexpected encounter now between two people meant for each other – but who square off in a very public battle of wills in the small town of Love You, Maine, where every day is Valentine’s Day. Can love conquer all in a town steeped in it?
Blurb:
Kell Luview refuses to be a sucker at love again. Five years ago, he left D.C. with his tail between his legs and his heart broken. Fiercely protective of his small town in rural Maine, he’s determined to save the family tree business and avoid his feelings at all costs, no matter how much he longs to solve the mystery of what happened in D.C.
L.A. native Rachel Hart hates being underestimated almost as much as she hates this small town. She has two goals on this trip: get out of the cheesy tourist trap of Love You, Maine with a completed business deal, and avoid running into Kell, her old friend from D.C. who never became an old flame because of a huge misunderstanding.
One that still aches.
When her rental car breaks down on a logging road and Kell comes to her rescue, it’s clear he’s a changed man – and not for the good. Grumpy and reserved, he pushes all her buttons, still stubbornly convinced she betrayed him all those years ago. He’s never forgiven her, and she’s never forgiven herself for carrying a torch for him.
An embarrassing incident gets the town gossip mill going when residents wrongly assume Kell and Rachel are the newest couple to find love in the most romantic place on Earth. But the townsfolk aren’t wrong for long…
As Rachel breaks through his defenses and charms the town, he faces his biggest fear: all those pesky feelings he’s been avoiding.
Because they’re all about Rachel now.
And maybe they always were.
Can Kell and Rachel fight their growing attraction in the one place in the world where you can’t avoid love?
If you’re looking for a fun read about enemies to lovers, forced proximity, heroines who get their comeuppance and sworn bachelors felled by unexpected true love, featuring a hot bearded lumberjack impervious to poison ivy, and a city-slicker, jaded career woman with a penchant for great coffee, set in a small town in New England – then this is your book.
Grab a cup of (properly good) coffee, a can of hot cocoa mix, a jar of Fluff and maybe some calamine lotion (just in case), and get your happymeter ready as you read the very first book in New York Times bestselling romantic comedy author Julia Kent’s Love You, Maine series – where love isn’t just a feeling – it’s a way of life.
Excerpt:
“Kell,” she whispered against his mouth. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For this.” She motioned at the romantic dinner he’d created for the two of them, the wide table in this conference room an ample spread for a…
Ample spread.
“We haven’t even had dinner. Thank me after.”
She batted her eyelashes. “Is that an offer?”
“Rachel,” he said, moving his hand from her waist to cup her ass. “That’s more than an offer.”
He started to kiss her again, but she put her fingers on his lips. “If we don’t eat dinner first, we’ll never eat. And I have a meeting here in this very room, to try to pitch the deal again, in three days. Boundaries, Kell – boundaries. I refuse to have sex on this conference table.”
“The thought never, ever occurred to me,” he lied.
“Liar.”
“Caught.”
With a deep laugh he adored, she reached for the bottle of wine. “How about you uncork this and we start with a lovely glass.”
“Fine. The table is off the table.”
Julia Kent:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.
From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).
She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at julia@jkentauthor.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at @jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor. Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com
How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!
This month I’d like to talk about St Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital located in Memphis, TN. I have always associated St. Jude’s with pediatric cancer, but after a little research found that they treat other catastrophic diseases in children, too. I also recently learned that donations also cover travel, housing, and food—huge costs for families whose children are far from home to receive the specialized care they need.
I know about part of this personally, in that my parents always had to travel a long distance when I was in the Shrine Hospitals. In addition to the trip, staying for any length of time was all extra, and my folks did not have much money. Getting help with travel, food, and housing is a tremendous thing.
In addition to the good work St. Jude’s does, I appreciate the amount of each dollar donated goes to the hospital and its work—82 cents of every dollar. That’s a great percentage of return that has earned it a 4-star rating from Charity Navigator!
I don’t have children, so I can’t begin to imagine what it would be like to have a child in great need. But I have written characters with children, and I hope I’ve imbued some sense of the love between child and parent, especially between single parent Sara Richards and her daughter Paula in Burning Bridges.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the ring of the landline. “Good morning. Beauty by Beaufort.”
“Mom?”
With only one word spoken Sara knew something was wrong. “Good morning, sweetheart. Aren’t you at work?”
“No, I took a sick day.”
Sara’s brow creased with worry. “Paula, what’s wrong?”
Her daughter’s voice caught. “Mom, I feel so silly but I had to talk to you. I was cleaning up the apartment last night and I found an acceptance letter from Northwestern for Dan.”
“Northwestern? That’s in…uh, it’s in—”
“Chicago.”
“But I thought he was going to attend law school at South Carolina, in Columbia.” Sara took a breath. “Chicago is a very long way. Did Dan say he wanted to go?”
“I didn’t tell him I found the letter, but I know he does.”
“Oh, Paula. How do you feel?”
Paula’s tone tightened as though she held back tears. “I don’t want to go. Mom, he’s had the letter for two or three days I think, and he hasn’t said a word.”
“Maybe he’s thought about it and decided to turn them down.”
“I don’t think so. He talked about it months ago, about how great the Northwestern program is. I got upset that he was looking into a school that far away, and he hasn’t brought it up since. But I know he hasn’t forgotten.”
“So, you’re not certain he’s chosen Northwestern. The law school at Carolina is excellent, too.”
“I know, and so does Dan. But lately he’s been restless. I think he wants a change.” Her voice broke. “I think he wants a change in more than where he attends school.”
Sara couldn’t contain a soft gasp. “Paula! Has he said anything, done anything?”
“No, but for the past few weeks he’s been really quiet. Oh, I don’t mean he acts mad or nasty, he just seems…uncomfortable around me. And the fact remains that he didn’t tell me about the acceptance from Northwestern. I only found it because it fell out of a book when I was dusting.”
“You have to talk to him. Believe me, I know the dangers of not communicating when things don’t seem right.” The bell over the front door rang and Sara stood to see who was entering. She was surprised to see her mother, but a quick glance at her watch showed that the morning was nearly gone. “Do you want to come home this weekend?”
“No, but thanks.” Paula gave a nervous laugh. “I’m half afraid if I leave for any length of time, I’ll come home to find him packed and gone. You know, he hasn’t proposed. He hasn’t even suggested I go with him to Chicago.”
Sara lowered her voice. “Honey, I’m so sorry. But Dan loves you. You need to talk to him, let him know how you feel.”
Her mother entered the office and set a bag from Bay Street Deli on the desk. “Paula?” she mouthed. Sara nodded. “Let me say hello to her.” Her mother held her hand out for the receiver.
“Paula, your grandmother is here and wants to say hi. But call me tonight, will you?”
“Sure. I feel better just telling someone about what’s going on. I love you, Mama.”
Hot tears stung the backs of Sara’s eyes, a reaction she experienced whenever Paula reverted to Mama. “I love you, too, pumpkin.” She handed the phone to her mother.
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Blurb: A fated encounter. A familiar stranger. A storm of passion. Can Ondine release her fear, surrender to Marut’s power, and claim her own?
Marine biologist Ondine Ambrose has always felt at home in the sea. Orphaned at birth and raised by her grandmother on the island of Martha’s Vineyard, she has never really questioned her extraordinary affinity for the watery world.
When she encounters an attractive but arrogant engineer on her private beach, surveying the site for a prospective off-shore wind farm, anger is her first reaction. A casual touch, however, transforms that emotion to incomprehensible, irresistible, terrifying lust.
Ebony-skinned Marut has his own talents—aside from his uncanny ability to swamp Ondine with desire. He can control the winds and summon storms. When he insists that they are both more than human, and that she is his destined mate, Ondine responds with skepticism. She tries to resist the charismatic Haitian, but ultimately she cannot deny the evidence of her senses—and her heart.
Note:This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been revised and re-edited for this release.
Special deal! Get the first book of the Elemental Passions series, Hot Spell, for only 99 cents at all stores… for a limited time!
Excerpt:
“Wind is far less destructive than fossil fuels. You know that.”
The stranger cupped his tea mug in his big hands. Marut, he called himself. His handsome face wore an earnest expression, while his body was wrapped in her old terrycloth robe, the one she planned to donate to Goodwill. Meanwhile, Ondine herself wore a loose T-shirt and sweatpants that effectively hid her curves. No sense tempting fate.
She hadn’t intended to bring him here, but his clothing was soaked and, like her, he had bloody abrasions on his hands and knees from their fierce encounter on the rocks. So she’d led him over the dunes—careful not to touch him—to the weathered clapboard house she’d inherited from her grandmother. After giving him antiseptic and Band Aids, she’d left him alone in the downstairs bathroom to clean himself up and tend to his wounds. She certainly didn’t intend to play nurse to him, that was certain. She had no idea what had possessed her out on the beach, but she didn’t want to experience it again.
Not that it hadn’t felt wondrous. Indeed, every time she looked at him, she recalled the overwhelming hunger that had seized her. The memory of their frantic encounter unnerved her. The pleasure had been incredible. The loss of control, though, had been terrifying.
Ondine was no virgin, but she’d always been careful about sex. She was normally the one who chose the time and place. And after her mother’s tragic experience, she was unfailingly vigilant about contraception, all the more so because her body would tolerate neither the pill nor an IUD. As she showered off the grit, sweat and semen, she felt grateful that her interactions with Marut had not involved penetration. She didn’t normally carry condoms on a walk to the beach.
He was a stranger, possibly even an enemy. There was something unnatural about the intimacy they’d shared, so sudden and so potent. She would need to remain on her guard.
Rousing herself from her musings, she sipped her own tea and nibbled at one of her ginger snaps. “Of course. Oil, gas, coal—they’re bad news. But why not build your wind farm on dry land? You’d have a much smaller ecological impact.”
“Nobody wants a ninety meter steel tower in their backyard.”
“So you put it where there’s no one to object!”
“In many cases the winds are stronger and more reliable offshore too.”
“And that justifies the cost to wildlife?”
“Global warming’s a bigger threat to ocean life than any wind farm.” Marut’s abruptness suggested annoyance.
Smug satisfaction warmed her, though she recognized that reaction as childish. As a scientist, she was well aware that the tradeoffs and issues were complex. There was no simple answer to the problems facing humanity. Somehow, though, she couldn’t stop herself from baiting him.
“That’s a research question, I think.”
“Look.” He flashed a conciliatory smile that lit up his strong, even features. “Let’s call a truce. My company is in the preliminary stages of design, just studying feasibility and cost-effectiveness for different locations. The installation might turn out to be totally impractical.”
Aboutthe Author
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!
With all of the bad news in the world, I wanted to select a charity that had a wide-reaching effort. I found Center for Disaster Philanthropy and selected the segment focusing on Ukraine relief. The mission of the CDP is to “Leverage the power of philanthropy to mobilize a full range of resources that strengthen the ability of communities to withstand disasters and recover equitably when they occur.” Their vision is “A world where the impact of disasters is minimized by thoughtful, equitable and responsible recovery for all.” They have a phenomenal rating on Charity Navigator of 96.8% of donations going toward their projects. Please comment and I will donate! Thank you!!
I wrote Naval Maneuvers as a kind of homage to Navy men and women, and in the book I talk about the difficulties placed on families with members in the service. Thanks to all those who serve their country and to those who serve their service member!
Naval Maneuvers
Blurb:
Men and women of the armed forces experience lust and love pretty much like everyone else. Except, well, there is that uniform. And the hard-to-resist attraction of “duty, honor, service” as a man might apply them to a woman’s pleasure. All things considered, romance among the military is a pretty sexy, compelling force for which you’d better be armed, whether weighing anchor and moving forward into desire, dropping anchor and staying put for passion, or in anchor home, setting a course for renewed love. Explore the world of love and the military and see just how hot Naval Maneuvers can be.
Carie made her way around the side of the building and nearly ran into Todd, who lounged against the weathered wood siding. He looked better than good in a pale blue polo shirt and jeans. Top-Sider boat shoes with no socks gave him that naturally casual look that no model could successfully carry out.
“I was hoping you’d come,” he said.
“You were pretty obvious,” she said dryly.
“I knew you were smart enough to catch the hint. I just didn’t know if you’d follow it.”
How could she not? The moment she noticed him she’d remembered the feel of his being deep inside her. But that didn’t change a damn thing. They shouldn’t be here, not together.
She held her head high and tried to look down her nose at him—nearly impossible since he was taller than she, but she had perfected the attitude long before meeting Todd Baxter. Senior Chief Todd Baxter. “I wanted to walk the beach while I was here, that’s all.” Todd grinned and Carie melted inside.
“Lucky for me, I wanted to walk the beach, too,” he said. “Quite a coincidence, huh?”
She snorted in disbelief and slipped off her sandals. Brushing by him, she was glad he didn’t try to kiss her or hold her. But then she frowned. Why didn’t he try to kiss her? She’d wanted to jump his bones right there in that Norfolk hallway. They had to maintain propriety then, but here, no one would see them. What held him back? She knew an unfamiliar sense of self-doubt. Had she mistaken his feelings before?
Nonsense. Carie knew what they’d had was more than mere lust. It had been lust of stupendous proportions, far beyond a few days of burning out. Then what held him back? Knowing the military regulations preventing officers and enlisted personnel from having a relationship, you idiot.
Damn. She finally found someone she clicked with, and he had to be an enlisted man in the Navy.
The sand felt good between her toes, cool and squishy. Gulls screeched overhead and on the sand, where they snatched up sand crabs and poked around for scraps sunbathers might have left. Surf pounded to the shore and then surged forward, the sharp white of its foam sharp against the dark, wet sand before the water was absorbed. The sun beat down, making her wish she’d worn her bathing suit under her jeans and tank top so she could take a quick dip, and remembered to bring a floppy hat to shield her face.
Suddenly, something was plopped on her head. She dragged it off to look at it. SFC Baxter was stamped on the inside of a white sailor hat, brim folded down.
“I kept it for sentimental purposes when I made chief,” Todd said. When she raised her brows, he continued. “I brought it in case you came without a cover. I remember you were sensitive to the sun when we went to pick up your clothes.” He smiled. “And I know you’re quick to freckle. Not that I don’t like your freckles a great deal. Ma’am.”
She cringed at his use of “Ma’am,” though it was the proper term for him to use when a superior officer was a woman. But she smiled inside that he’d remembered such a small thing like the sensitivity to the sun suffered by all redheads. Chagrined, she put the hat on and pulled it forward, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“After all that time in North Carolina, how in hell did we never mention what we did for a living?” She couldn’t believe her stupidity. Martha had nothing on her for not asking the right questions.
“In Carolina we had lots of other things on our minds. I knew you’re a lawyer. When I thought of you, I never wondered how you spent your time at work. I just thought of how you spent your time with me.”
“That’s pretty shallow.”
Todd laughed. “Not to a man.”
Stupid answer. But it had been his very maleness that captivated her. Well, and orgasms. Who’s shallow now?
“Look,” he said, his hand out in a request for understanding. “It isn’t as though I didn’t want to get to know you better. I did. I do. But when we’re together I can’t keep my hands off you. I can’t stop thinking how I want to touch you, kiss you, do other things to–”
“When were you going to tell me you were in the Navy?” she asked.
He sighed loud enough that she heard it over the sound of the waves. “I don’t know. I guess when we slowed down enough to talk. There wasn’t much time.”
There hadn’t been. In Asheville, if they hadn’t been eating or sleeping, they busy in other ways. And there hadn’t been much eating or sleeping going on.
“I think they should put a plaque on the outside of that room for the fewest number of times the occupants left in four days. I couldn’t get enough of you.” Carrying his shoes in his left hand, he stuck his right hand in his pocket and strolled along beside her, barefoot. “I still can’t.”
“You didn’t exactly write and tell me that.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to assume too much, not knowing if you wanted me again as much as I wanted you. Call me shy.” He grinned, and she burst into laughter. “Besides,” he continued, “you’re the one who left saying, ‘It’s been fun.'”
She dipped her head, acknowledging the fact. “And you agreed.”
“Carie, I was scared.”
He sounded sincere, but really? He stopped and stared out across the breakers. She stared along with him, wondering what he saw out there. “I’m pretty set in my ways,” he said, and she had to strain to hear him, he spoke so low. “I’ll be honest, I haven’t been a monk, but sex with you was different. You made me think of things I’d never considered before.” He studied her face. “Do you understand?”
“I think so,” she said softly. “I wanted you more than anything. I’ve never had time or energy for a relationship. I’ve given all I have to my career. But I think I want more now.”
Todd reached to cup her cheek but then dropped his hand. “Like I said, I’m not a monk but there’s been no one since you.”
She wanted him. More, she needed him. “Nor for me. It wouldn’t have been the same. Nothing before you was ever that intense. Nothing else has ever touched me.” Pain struck her heart. “I want to kiss you so damn much.”
Before he could say anything, she turned and began walking again, sticking her hand in her pocket so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach for his hand. She’d had to hold herself back from stepping into his arms in the hallway on base. Here, on a near-empty beach, she had to exert even more will power. “That was then, and this is now. Vacation and real life seldom mix.”
“Funny,” he said. “Given the chance, I’d mix vacation and real life in a New York minute”
“Me, too,” she admitted. “But we can’t now. You’ve ruined everything.”
She felt him stiffen beside her. Idiot! You make a living saying the right thing to sway people’s opinion and you screw up like that?
“This is my fault how?” he asked quietly. She hadn’t seen him angry, but she had an idea this quiet voice was the prelude.
“You’re in the Navy but you’re not an officer.” It might sound petty, but regs were regs. “Why aren’t you an officer?” Okay, and that sounded whiny. But damn it, she felt whiny. “That attorney friend of yours said you were a mechanical engineer. Weren’t you offered OCS?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. After I received my BS and again after I earned my Masters. I didn’t accept because I didn’t want to be an officer.”
“Why not?” She spun to face him, the arm holding her sandals outstretched in confusion. She’d never met anyone who would turn down the chance to make more money and have more prestige.
“I like working, using my hands, being with my men—on the job and off.”
She started walking again. “Well, too bad you like sleeping with me. Or you seemed to. God knows, I loved being with you. And now it’s all over.”
“I’m surprised at you, counselor. The regulation obviously was written for two people who work together. It’s to keep one from having undue power over the other. We don’t work together.”
“It’s military regulations. You don’t mess with them. I don’t mess with them. I work to uphold them, not bend them to suit my desires.”
“I love your desires.” He pulled her hand from her pocket. Linking their fingers, he stepped closer and they continued their stroll across the sand as though the world hadn’t just turned on its axis. “Right here, right now, it feels like we never left Asheville. The view is different but we’re the same.”
Carie opened her mouth for air, suddenly needing more than she had a moment ago. But she couldn’t gather the strength needed to take back her hand. “The view isn’t the only thing different.”
He frowned. “Was I the friend you had planned to surprise this weekend?”
“Yes.” She sighed.
He laughed out loud. “You succeeded wildly.”
Author Dee S. Knight:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.
After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.
She’s the billionaire. He’s the virgin. Still, he knows how to make her melt.
When Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she has a single objective —a deal to incorporate his AI software into her company’s popular virtual world. She finds Theo to be arrogant, sensitive and socially awkward, but his aura of power speaks to her carefully-hidden submissive side. Confused and aroused, she falls under his geeky spell.
Theo Moore can’t be bought. His past battles with poverty make him deeply suspicious of the billionaire CEO, though Rachel’s voluptuous curves and brilliant mind embody his ultimate fantasy. Too bad his knowledge about sex derives from extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience.
Rachel may be Theo’s first lover, but Theo is her first true Master. One word from him, one touch, and she surrenders to bliss. It seems that love and complementary desire may harmonize their differing values, until Rachel’s unwitting violation of Theo’s trust tears them apart.
Newly edited edition! Includes a steamy bonus Valentine’s story featuring Rachel and Theo!
Buy Links (Ebook):
Special Valentine’s Price: Ebook only 99 cents until the end of February!https://amzn.to/3LvN80p
I decide to drive myself, and choose the BMW for its aura of unobtrusive luxury. One look at my red Lamborghini, I suspect, and Theo Moore would run away screaming. Cruising up to his attractive but unremarkable building at exactly six, I pull into one of the parking spots labeled “Visitors”. My pulse, I’m annoyed to notice, is elevated, and my cheeks feel hot. Do I look as flustered as I feel?
A quick check in the rear-view mirror reassures me. My understated make-up enlarges my eyes and shrinks my rather prominent nose. Gold-plated combs sweep my unruly curls away from my temples into a semi-elegant cascade. Matching gold earrings dangle from my earlobes almost to my bare shoulders. My strapless gown of teal satin hugs my bust and hips like it was made for me—which of course it was. I practice a confident but non-threatening smile. Goodevening,Theo.I’msogladyoudecidedtocome.
The minutes tick by, but there’s no sign of him. Should I climb up to his door and ring? Or wait for him to work up the courage to come out by himself? Does he realize I’ve arrived? Is he watching out his window? Or cowering in his room?
I get more annoyed by the second. I am considering honking the horn, which I know will embarrass him, when he appears on the second floor landing. I recognize him by his height and bulk. Otherwise, he’s transformed.
In the custom tailored tuxedo, he’s distinguished and elegant. The sleek black trousers cling to what are obviously powerful, muscular legs. The jacket highlights his broad shoulders and trim waist. Not fat, oh no! He moves with unexpected grace, as if the formal clothing bestowed a sort of gravitas to subdue his usual gawkiness. With his dark hair slicked back from his forehead, he looks like some international man of mystery. The spectacles just heighten the impression of intelligence and sophistication.
Holding the rail of the gallery that runs along the second floor, he scans the parking area.
“Over here, Theo,” I call out of the open window.
He jumps at the sound of my voice. I think he’s about to bolt, to flee back into his condo and slam the door. I can practically see the struggle going on in his body. I hold my breath, waiting for the outcome. Finally he raises his hand in a feeble wave, and fumbles his way down the stairs. The strong, self-assured man of a few moments earlier has vanished. But I remember him. That’s the Theo Moore I need to cultivate.
He makes it to the car. I press the auto-release and the door swings open. “Hi, Theo. Come on, get in. We’re running somewhat late.”
He ducks his head, folds his long limbs and maneuvers his massive body onto the leather upholstery. After fastening his seat belt, he focuses his attention on the blinking, teak-inlaid instrument panel. He neither greets me nor apologizes.
With a shrug, I trigger the ignition and back out onto the road. “You look fantastic, by the way.”
“I feel ridiculous. Like some performer in a circus. Or maybe a trained seal.”
“I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable.” I swing the car out of his complex onto El Camino Real. “In a way, I guess this is a kind of performance. The tux really looks great on you, though. You’re going to impress the donors. And that’s what’s important, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so.” He slumps into the bucket seat, sulking.
With a sigh, I address myself to the task of driving. It’s not far from Palo Alto to Mountain View, but the Saturday evening traffic is insane. Is it any wonder I prefer Santa Cruz? If Theo doesn’t feel like making conversation, that’s fine. I won’t be distracted.
A traffic light turns red just as I’m about to slide through. “Oh, damn!” I glance over at my passenger, embarrassed by my lack of patience. “Sorry. But I wanted to get there early enough to greet the first guests.”
I’m surprised to discover that Theo’s staring at me.
“You look beautiful,” he says, his voice low and earnest.
“Um—what?” I gun the engine as the light flashes green, bolting ahead of the other vehicles.
“Your hair. Your dress. The color suits you. It makes your skin look like polished ivory.”
Huh? “Ah—thank you, Theo. I guess we’ll make an attractive couple. Never hurts when you’re pitching to the beautiful people, right?” I force out a chuckle.
He does not respond. Theo Moore really doesn’t really understand the dynamics of polite conversation.
Review quotes:
“…sweet and romantic but steamy and sexy at the same time. …. I adored it!”
~ CrazieBettie,AmazonUS
“This book is one of the top five hottest books I have read. These were two of my most favorite lovers. I was wrung out when I finished it but what a delight!” ~ Sheila,AmazonUS
“I was completely drawn into this relationship, and the relationship IS the story. The connection Rachel and Theo build between them is vividly portrayed, beautiful and well-written, poignant in some ways and hot enough to melt the pages in others. Which is exactly what I want in erotic novels.” ~LolaWhite,Goodreads
“Do I recommend this one? Oh hell yeah. Realistic D/s with hot as hell kinky sex? Yes, please!” ~ Kayla Lords, http://kaylalords.com/2016/02/the-gazillionaire-and-the-virgin-lisabetsarai/
Accolades for Lisabet Sarai:
“Lisabet Sarai writes the most beautiful erotic prose. Her stories tease at the senses and transport you to a world of sexual pleasure.” ~ Desiree Holt, queen of BDSM erotic romance and author of ForwardPass
“I’ve always been a fan—Lisabet Sarai’s erotic fiction is certain to captivate, dominate, and leave readers begging for more.” ~ Alison Tyler, best-selling author of erotic BDSM memoirs Dark Secret Love and Even Deeper.
More about Lisabet:
LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Most of her novels include some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse. Her personal experience has taught her the joy to be found in a Master’s bonds. She tries to make that joy real for her readers.
Blurb: Brenna left Asgard with a curse on her name and a broken heart. A Valkyrie now free and independent, for millennia her life had been great. Just great. Then a bleeding Elf knocks at her door holding a baby.
Alexander Reed left the Marines and lost the wheel of his life. A soldier without a worthy fight, he became everything he despised. Until he ends up in the wrong backyard at the wrong time.
Fljóða, Queen of the Light Elves and last of her lineage, is an infant with a death sentence on her head. Hunted by the Night Elves, her survival brings Brenna and Reed together for the ultimate mission: take the little Queen to safety in the Vanaheim Realm, deep in the Roots of Yggdrasil.
Not simple, but straightforward. Or so it seemed. Between flaming giants, demons, and an army of Half Breed determined to kill the Queen and conquer all the Elvin Realms, Brenna and Reed will have to face their inner monsters. Monsters appearing in the form of feelings neither want but cannot control.
NA: Brenna, welcome! We’re anxious to know more about you.
Where were you born? Where do you live now? What do you like and dislike about it?
Brenna: Technically, I was created in Asgard, never born. Now I live In Montana. I love what Reed and I are doing there. Shoveling snow sucks, though.
NA: If I searched your name online, what would it say?
Brenna: That it means Sword, which is exactly why I picked it.
NA: Do you have any bad habits?
Brenna: Oh, Reed would have a field day answering this question. I’d say, not listening to (his) advice on combat moves and general fighting would be the biggest. It got me into some trouble, that’s for sure. I also leave dirty cups in the sink.
NA: Which dead person would you most want to meet? Why?
Brenna: I met so, so many famous people, the kind that changed history’s course, that I can be satisfied. If I had a chance, I’d like to meet Reed’s mom and dad. I’ve never had that. They must have been great, because they raised a great man.
NA: Who do you trust the most? Who do you not trust?
Brenna: I started out trusting the circle made of my closest “family”. Got burned badly, so didn’t trust anyone after that. Enter Reed. I trust him.
NA: Do you have a pet? If yes, what is it? Is it a rescue or breeder?
Brenna: We sort of have this dog. His name is Dog. Because, you know, he’s one. So he appeared one morning, everything was covered in snow and freezing, and this guy looked at us, just looked. So now we have a dog. I’ve never had a pet. I like it.
NA: Have you ever eaten food straight from the ground or from the tree? What was it?
Brenna: You should really read our story. Then things we ate…
NA: If someone told you a secret, are you likely to keep it?
Brenna: Definitely.
NA: When you met the other main character, what did you like about them? What did you dislike about them?
Brenna: He was an exceptional fighter, and that was the reason why I proposed him the mission. I didn’t like how he asked all these questions about me. I wasn’t sure about the answer back then, and it got me mad.
NA: What will the reader like about you right away?
Brenna: That I’m a badass with a very interesting sword, and not afraid to use it.
Viviana bio and links: Beach bum and country music addicted, Viviana lives in a small Floridian town with her die-hard fans and personal cheer squad: her husband, her son, and her daughter. She spends her days between typing on her beloved keyboard, playing in the pool with her babies, and eating whatever her husband puts on her plate (the guy is that good, and she really loves eating). Besides beaching, she enjoys long walks, horse-riding, hiking, and pretty much whatever she can do outside with her family.
WOW! What a book! Here’s info about Privilegeand the first book in the series, Target. See my review at the end.
Privilege
The Valesky Crime Family Book 2
by Tina Donahue
Genre: Dark Mafia Romance
She’ll destroy the mobsters who murdered her brother… unless they kill her first.
District cop Lia Blosky warned her twin brother not to get involved with the Valesky Crime Family. He didn’t listen. Now, he’s dead, tortured horribly before mobsters murdered him. Out for blood, she’ll do anything to see these monsters dead.
FBI Special Agent Adrian Kalin is connected to the Valesky Family in a way he loathes and doesn’t want. His stepfather rules the syndicate and is tired of Lia threatening to kill him and others responsible for her brother’s death. To shut her up for good, he orders Adrian to murder her. Who better than an FBI agent who has no connection to her and knows how to hide evidence?
Adrian resists, but if it comes down to saving Lia or his brothers and mother from Dimitri’s rage, he’ll have to choose family.
In a deadly game between each other and the mob, Lia and Adrian fight to survive… while also surrendering to their undeniable attraction to each other.
This is book two in the Valesky Crime Family series, can be enjoyed independently and has an HEA.
Publisher’s Note: This contemporary dark mafia romance contains elements of mystery, suspense, action, adventure, adult themes, and possible triggers for some readers.
A Russian kingpin wants her dead… the only one who can stop it is the man sent to murder her.
Toni Flores loved her dream job working for a respected US senator until he raped her. She’s determined to bring him to justice, no matter the cost.
For years, Dimitri Valesky, head of a Russian crime family in America, has bought off those in government. Just like the senator responsible for Toni’s assault. When she won’t keep quiet about it and risks Dimitri’s business, he orders his stepson Michael to kill her.
Michael’s a lobbyist not a mafia enforcer. He refuses the insane demand, but Dimitri insists. The power he holds over Michael and his brothers is absolute… or so he believes.
Rather than murder Toni, Michael intends to romance her. Once he convinces her to keep quiet about the Senator, she won’t be a target any longer and Dimitri will back off on the hit. The plan falls apart and now they are dodging mafia enforcers, bullets, and Dimitri’s outrage.
Michael and Toni fight to stay alive and save those dearest to them as they also fall hopelessly in love.
This is book one in the Valesky Crime Family series and has an HEA.
Publisher’s Note: This contemporary dark mafia romance contains elements of mystery, suspense, action, adventure, adult themes, and possible triggers for some readers.
Tina’s an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes passionate romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly,Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. She’s won Readers’ Choice Awards, was named a finalist in the EPIC competition, received a Book of the Year award, The Golden Nib Award, awards of merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competitions, and second place in the NEC RWA contests. She’s featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.
On a less serious note: she’s an admitted and unrepentant chocoholic, brakes for Mexican restaurants, and has been known to moan like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally while wolfing down tostadas. She’s flown a single-engine airplane (freaking scary), rewired an old house using an ‘electricity for dummies’ book, and is horribly shy despite the hot romances she writes.
Law or crime? That’s the dilemma faced by anyone near to the Valeskys
Lia Blosky is a police officer—a good, honest, smart cop. But she’ll never get ahead for those very reasons. She thinks she knows what’s going on in the precinct but proving it is a different matter. What she does know is that her little brother ignored her advice of staying away from the Valesky crime family. He didn’t. Now Lia is making no secret that she is out to get everyone who had anything to do with his death. That’s a dangerous claim to make if the very people you count on to back you up in the field have allegiances elsewhere.
Adrian Kalin is a special agent with the FBI but he’s also Dimitri Valesky’s stepson. Thank God no one knows! He hates being involved in any way with Valesky, but the man is devious as well as dangerous and he has found a way to weave his mafia web around each of his stepsons to make them do things they despise. The web? Keep them close to do Valesky’s bidding—inside information, tracking people, making deals—all to benefit the organization. The bait Valesky uses to keep everyone in line? Their mother, and the threat that Valesky will hurt one of the other brothers.
When Adrian is ordered to find and murder a pesky cop making noise about killing Dimitri, Valesky has finally crossed the line with Adrian…unless she’s so willful he has no choice but to kill her. She’s beautiful and talented and a real handful. But if it comes down to her or his mother or one of his brothers, she’s a goner.
I hadn’t read Target, so I wondered if I’d get lost in details about the family and characters in Privilege. Tina’s excellent writing made sure that didn’t happen. The books are truly stand alone. I found Privilege to be exciting without lots of shoot-‘em-up scenes or bodies littered everywhere. These characters used their brains first and brawn second, which made the book more thrilling. Of course, Lia and Adrian light up the night with their attraction and the book is steamy—something I like. The suspense is tangible, the characters compelling. I’m going back to read Target, and an author can’t get a better endorsement that that. I recommend Privilege!
Nineteen year old Kyle sees visions of disasters, visions that tear his world apart. Everyone assumes that he is schizophrenic, but Rob, the cop who picks him up off the street, knows better.
Rob’s own experience has taught him that psychic powers are real, and potentially devastating. Since his telepathic sister’s brutal murder, Rob wants nothing to do with “gifted” individuals like Kyle. Yet he can’t deny his attraction to the beautiful, tortured young man – an attraction that appears to be mutual.
When a brilliant, sadistic practitioner of the black arts lures Kyle into his clutches, Rob faces the possibility that once again he may lose the person he loves most to the forces of darkness.
Note: This novel was previously published by Totally Bound under the title Necessary Madness. It has been revised and reformatted for this edition.
Near the center of Massachusetts, the huge, butterfly-shaped Quabbin Reservoir practically divides the state in two. Constructed in the nineteen thirties to satisfy the thirst of the Boston metropolitan area, Quabbin figuratively divided the state as well, pitting the rural inhabitants of the Swift River Valley against the city dwellers in the state capitol. Four towns – Dana, Enfield, Greenwich and Prescott – were drowned by Quabbin’s advancing waters. The houses of their inhabitants were dismantled and relocated on higher ground. Bodies were exhumed from their graves and reburied elsewhere. Forests were leveled in order to reduce the amount of degrading biological material that would pollute the reservoir. The land that had belonged to Dana and its unfortunate fellows was allocated to neighboring towns. Communities which had prospered in the valley since the seventeen hundreds ceased to exist.
Needless to say, the Swift River Valley is haunted. Even if you don’t know the history, you can’t escape the sense of mystery as you drive the winding length of Route 202, which hugs the west end of the reservoir. The evergreens that were planted to protect the watershed have grown tall now, shadowing the road. The woods around the man-made lake are home to bears, bald eagles, wildcats and perhaps stranger, more secret beings. On the eastern shore, overgrown dirt lanes meander through the village of Petersham, sending tentative fingers toward the still water.
Ghosts of the dispossessed inhabitants from the flooded towns still seem to hover in the area. They’re joined by older creatures from the earlier times when the Algonkian natives fished in the Swift River, grew their corn along the banks, and worshiped the spirits of the forest.
I’m not the only individual to feel that the Swift River Valley is full of supernatural stories. The movie version of Stephen King’s Dreamcatcher features the reservoir as a prominent plot element. The cult horror author H.P. Lovecraft explicitly set his now-classic tale “The Color Out of Space” in the valley before its flooding. A variety of other authors and singers have been touched by the mystery that seems to permeate the place.
My MM paranormal romance At the Margins of Madness is partially set in the Quabbin Valley. The book revolves around various psychic powers – precognition, telepathy and the like. I used to live near Quabbin, and had friends in Petersham. It seemed like a natural place for the home of a consulting witch who helps individuals with psi talents to understand and control their abilities.
Excerpt:
“Kitchen’s here, with the door out to the back porch. Only one bathroom, I’m afraid. Here’s the guest room—your room. The closet’s empty; you’re welcome to put your stuff in there.”
Rob led Kyle through his apartment, fussing and clucking like a mother hen. He wondered for the hundredth time whether this was a mistake. The guy was just so damned beautiful. Rob could hardly bear to be close to him. Driving the few miles from St. Vincent’s to his building, Rob had tried to pay attention to the road, but he couldn’t help sneaking sidelong glances at the mysterious, sensual face of his companion. Kyle seemed to be brooding. Maybe he had his doubts, too.
“What stuff?” Kyle spread his arms, a half-smile on his plump lips. “Everything I own is on my back.”
“I’ll take you over to Greendale Mall so you can pick up some new clothes. Loan you some cash until you get on your feet.”
“What makes you think I’ll ever ‘get on my feet’, Sergeant Murphy?”
“Rob. Please.”
“Okay, Rob.” Kyle stared at the mostly bare maple outside the guest room window, before turning back to confront him. “Why should anything be different now?” Rob heard the bitterness in his voice. “I have a disease, and I don’t mean the ulcer. I’m cursed. I see terrible things, and I can’t stop them. It’s getting worse all the time. There are only two possibilities. Either I’ll kill myself, or I’ll truly go insane.”
Rob suppressed the urge to take the man in his arms. Instead, he settled for an avuncular pat on the shoulder. “It’s only your imagination, Kyle. Your mind playing tricks on you. Once you understand that, maybe you can suppress the visions. Or control them.”
Kyle sank down onto the bed. His dark eyes burnt under exquisitely arched brows. “My imagination? You know that’s not true.”
Rob lowered himself onto the desk chair. He wished that he were somewhere else. He wanted to help Kyle, but he really didn’t like where the conversation was going.
“What else could it be? These spells—they’re like seizures. Storms of random activity in your brain that make you see things. I was there at the hospital, remember, when it hit you yesterday. You were completely out of touch, yelling about the brake, the gas tank, groaning and crying. You were delusional.”
“It was a crash,” Kyle intoned. “At least five cars. Glass everywhere. The screech of rubber, the stink of leaking gasoline, and then the explosion and the smell of charred flesh… Check the papers, Rob. Call the police station. If it hasn’t happened yet, it will soon.”
“You really believe that your hallucinations foretell the future?” Rob remembered the night he’d picked Kyle up, the narrowly averted catastrophe at the address Kyle had seen.
“I only wish that they didn’t. All I ever see is violence and pain.” Kyle buried his face in his hands.
Rob moved to the bed, next to his guest, and put his arm around the denim-clad shoulders. He couldn’t help himself. “Look, that’s crazy. This isn’t some kind of horror movie. This is real life. There’s a rational explanation for everything.” He was trying to convince himself as much as Kyle. He didn’t want anything more to do with psychic abilities. Never again.
Kyle skewered him with a dark stare, hurt and angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought that you wanted to help me.”
Rob tensed. Kyle was so close. The funk of his old sweat rose from the worn jacket, along with a trace of disinfectant. Rob could see the pulse beating in the boy’s pale temple. He felt his own blood rush to his groin.
Kyle trembled. His nostrils flared. His eyes gleamed. Rob felt the pull, a magnet focused on his groin. It would be so easy to gather that taut young body to his chest, to fasten his mouth on Kyle’s ripe lips, to take control. But that wasn’t what the man needed. Kyle needed responsible strength. Logic. Maturity. With a heroic effort, Rob smothered his fantasies.
“I do want to help. If I didn’t, do you think I would have taken you in? I just want you to be realistic. To recognize that even when you think you’re seeing future events, that’s a delusion.”
Kyle wasn’t listening, not really. Rob could see him adjust his face, hiding his emotions, shuttering those bright eyes, donning a false smile. Putting on a mask. “Whatever you say, Rob. Maybe you’re right. After all, most nut cases think their visions are real.”
“You’re not a ‘nut case’, Kyle.”
“Are you sure?” He giggled. “You can’t have it both ways, you know. Either I’m prescient, or I’m insane.”
Meet Lisabet:
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – more than one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!
Luke’s Wings https://lukeswings.org/ “is dedicated to reuniting wounded, ill, and injured service members and veterans with their loved ones by providing complimentary airfare during recovery and rehabilitation. … Luke’s Wings was founded in 2008 after learning that the government does not always provide flights for family or loved ones to be bedside after a service member is injured. This is where Luke’s Wings steps in to fill the gap for the months and years ahead.
“Families are completely on their own to travel back and forth between their everyday lives and their new reality. Luke’s Wings provides complimentary airfare to wounded, ill, and injured service members, veterans and their loved ones keeping military families connected during recovery and rehabilitation. These flights bring mental, physical, emotional, and financial support, empowering wounded service members to overcome challenges they face every step of the way.”
On a personal note, I spent months at a time in several different hospitals when growing up for surgery. It’s not at all the same as what our wounded warriors go through, but it is similar in one small aspect: I was separated from family while waiting for surgery, after surgery , and during recovery and physical therapy. I understand why having family members present for recovery and therapy is a huge help, lending support, encouragement, and love. Allowing the reunions of wounded military members with their families would be a tremendous benefit.
May I tell you about Naval Maneuvers? Three novellas tell the stories of three servicemen and their loves. I dedicated the book to my dad, who proudly sailed the seas for 24 years and for my second father, who believed “once a Marine always a Marine,” and who demonstrated the finest qualities of the Corps in love of his country and family.
Blurb: Men and women of the armed forces experience lust and love pretty much like everyone else. Except, well, there is that uniform. And the hard-to-resist attraction of “duty, honor, service” as a man might apply them to a woman’s pleasure. All things considered, romance among the military is a pretty sexy, compelling force for which you’d better be armed, whether weighing anchor and moving forward into desire, dropping anchor and staying put for passion, or setting a course for renewed love with anchor home. Explore the world of love and the military and see just how hot Naval Maneuvers can be.
Excerpt: Carie made her way around the side of the building and nearly ran into Todd, who lounged against the weathered wood siding. He looked better than good in a pale blue polo shirt and jeans. Top-Sider boat shoes with no socks gave him that naturally casual look that no model could successfully carry out.
“I was hoping you’d come,” he said.
“You were pretty obvious,” she said dryly.
“I knew you were smart enough to catch the hint. I just didn’t know if you’d follow it.”
How could she not? The moment she noticed him she’d remembered the feel of his being deep inside her. But that didn’t change a damn thing. They shouldn’t be here, not together.
She held her head high and tried to look down her nose at him—nearly impossible since he was taller than she, but she had perfected the attitude long before meeting Todd Baxter. Senior Chief Todd Baxter. “I wanted to walk the beach while I was here, that’s all.” Todd grinned and Carie melted inside.
“Lucky for me, I wanted to walk the beach, too,” he said. “Quite a coincidence, huh?”
She snorted in disbelief and slipped off her sandals. Brushing by him, she was glad he didn’t try to kiss her or hold her. But then she frowned. Why didn’t he try to kiss her? She’d wanted to jump his bones right there in that Norfolk hallway. They had to maintain propriety then, but here, no one would see them. What held him back? She knew an unfamiliar sense of self-doubt. Had she mistaken his feelings before?
Nonsense. Carie knew what they’d had was more than mere lust. It had been lust of stupendous proportions, far beyond a few days of burning out. Then what held him back? Knowing the military regulations preventing officers and enlisted personnel from having a relationship, you idiot.
Damn. She finally found someone she clicked with, and he had to be an enlisted man in the Navy.
The sand felt good between her toes, cool and squishy. Gulls screeched overhead and on the sand, where they snatched up sand crabs and poked around for scraps sunbathers might have left. Surf pounded to the shore and then surged forward, the sharp white of its foam sharp against the dark, wet sand before the water was absorbed. The sun beat down, making her wish she’d worn her bathing suit under her jeans and tank top so she could take a quick dip, and remembered to bring a floppy hat to shield her face.
Suddenly, something was plopped on her head. She dragged it off to look at it. SFC Baxter was stamped on the inside of a white sailor hat, brim folded down.
“I kept it for sentimental purposes when I made chief,” Todd said. When she raised her brows, he continued. “I brought it in case you came without a cover. I remember you were sensitive to the sun when we went to pick up your clothes.” He smiled. “And I know you’re quick to freckle. Not that I don’t like your freckles a great deal. Ma’am.”
She cringed at his use of “Ma’am,” though it was the proper term for him to use when a superior officer was a woman. But she smiled inside that he’d remembered such a small thing like the sensitivity to the sun suffered by all redheads. Chagrined, she put the hat on and pulled it forward, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“After all that time in North Carolina, how in hell did we never mention what we did for a living?” She couldn’t believe her stupidity. Martha had nothing on her for not asking the right questions.
“In Carolina we had lots of other things on our minds. I knew you’re a lawyer. When I thought of you, I never wondered how you spent your time at work. I just thought of how you spent your time with me.”
“That’s pretty shallow.”
Todd laughed. “Not to a man.”
Stupid answer. But it had been his very maleness that captivated her. Well, and orgasms. Who’s shallow now?
“Look,” he said, his hand out in a request for understanding. “It isn’t as though I didn’t want to get to know you better. I did. I do. But when we’re together I can’t keep my hands off you. I can’t stop thinking how I want to touch you, kiss you, do other things to–”
“When were you going to tell me you were in the Navy?” she asked.
He sighed loud enough that she heard it over the sound of the waves. “I don’t know. I guess when we slowed down enough to talk. There wasn’t much time.”
There hadn’t been. In Asheville, if they hadn’t been eating or sleeping, they busy in other ways. And there hadn’t been much eating or sleeping going on.
“I think they should put a plaque on the outside of that room for the fewest number of times the occupants left in four days. I couldn’t get enough of you.” Carrying his shoes in his left hand, he stuck his right hand in his pocket and strolled along beside her, barefoot. “I still can’t.”
“You didn’t exactly write and tell me that.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to assume too much, not knowing if you wanted me again as much as I wanted you. Call me shy.” He grinned, and she burst into laughter. “Besides,” he continued, “you’re the one who left saying, ‘It’s been fun.'”
She dipped her head, acknowledging the fact. “And you agreed.”
“Carie, I was scared.”
He sounded sincere, but really? He stopped and stared out across the breakers. She stared along with him, wondering what he saw out there. “I’m pretty set in my ways,” he said, and she had to strain to hear him, he spoke so low. “I’ll be honest, I haven’t been a monk, but sex with you was different. You made me think of things I’d never considered before.” He studied her face. “Do you understand?”
“I think so,” she said softly. “I wanted you more than anything. I’ve never had time or energy for a relationship. I’ve given all I have to my career. But I think I want more now.”
Todd reached to cup her cheek but then dropped his hand. “Like I said, I’m not a monk but there’s been no one since you.”
She wanted him. More, she needed him. “Nor for me. It wouldn’t have been the same. Nothing before you was ever that intense. Nothing else has ever touched me.” Pain struck her heart. “I want to kiss you so damn much.”
Before he could say anything, she turned and began walking again, sticking her hand in her pocket so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach for his hand. She’d had to hold herself back from stepping into his arms in the hallway on base. Here, on a near-empty beach, she had to exert even more will power. “That was then, and this is now. Vacation and real life seldom mix.”
“Funny,” he said. “Given the chance, I’d mix vacation and real life in a New York minute”
“Me, too,” she admitted. “But we can’t now. You’ve ruined everything.”
She felt him stiffen beside her. Idiot! You make a living saying the right thing to sway people’s opinion and you screw up like that?
“This is my fault how?” he asked quietly. She hadn’t seen him angry, but she had an idea this quiet voice was the prelude.
“You’re in the Navy but you’re not an officer.” It might sound petty, but regs were regs. “Why aren’t you an officer?” Okay, and that sounded whiny. But damn it, she felt whiny. “That attorney friend of yours said you were a mechanical engineer. Weren’t you offered OCS?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. After I received my BS and again after I earned my Masters. I didn’t accept because I didn’t want to be an officer.”
“Why not?” She spun to face him, the arm holding her sandals outstretched in confusion. She’d never met anyone who would turn down the chance to make more money and have more prestige.
“I like working, using my hands, being with my men—on the job and off.”
She started walking again. “Well, too bad you like sleeping with me. Or you seemed to. God knows, I loved being with you. And now it’s all over.”
“I’m surprised at you, counselor. The regulation obviously was written for two people who work together. It’s to keep one from having undue power over the other. We don’t work together.”
“It’s military regulations. You don’t mess with them. I don’t mess with them. I work to uphold them, not bend them to suit my desires.”
“I love your desires.” He pulled her hand from her pocket. Linking their fingers, he stepped closer and they continued their stroll across the sand as though the world hadn’t just turned on its axis. “Right here, right now, it feels like we never left Asheville. The view is different but we’re the same.”
Carie opened her mouth for air, suddenly needing more than she had a moment ago. But she couldn’t gather the strength needed to take back her hand. “The view isn’t the only thing different.”
He frowned. “Was I the friend you had planned to surprise this weekend?”
After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.
An historical novel of mystery, intrigue, revenge, and love
Some women are just stubborn, as Lloyd Harrington discovers when he drags Carey Stafford back to London. Maybe the feel of a noose around her pretty neck will dispel the sweetness of her revenge.
As you can tell from these two comments, Jan Selbourne’s new book, Full Circle , is not all sweetness and light. But it is a fantastic model of intrigue, characters who masquerade as one thing and then another, murder and mystery, spanning two continents. And I musn’t forget revenge–lots of revenge! I loved it! I think you will, too.
Full Circle is available for 99 cents until February 1, when the price will increase (although not too much!) Really, with Jan’s attention to detail, her faithfulness to historical accuracy, and her amazing storytelling, her books are bargains at any price. If you’re a fan of Jan’s, you know what I’m talking about. If you’re new to her, do you ever have a treat in store!
Please enjoy this remarkable book!
Blurb:
According to Dr. Arthur Sanders, a terrible miscarriage of justice has taken place. His entire fortune and that of his partner, Mr. Frank Owens, has disappeared along with Owen’s secretary/accountant and the secretary’s assistant. Owens himself is visiting the Australian colony. Is he, like Sanders, a victim or the perpetrator? That is what Sanders wants Lloyd Harrington to find out and as swiftly as possible.
Harrington is recovering from an injury received while on the job in the Metropolitan Police as well as guilt from a personal loss. He’s bored from forced inactivity and the chance to use his skills to track down Owens interests him. Sanders agrees to pay all expenses, and so Harrington sets off for Australia. Before he leaves, a body is discovered—the secretary. And the assistant holds a ticket on a ship bound for Australia. It seems the action is all set to take place Down Under.
Miss Carey Stafford arrives at the home of Owens’ host just as Harrington does and announces to the stunned Owens that he is bankrupt, along with his partner, Dr. Sanders. How does she know this, Harrington wonders. His tingly detective senses warn him that something very wrong is going on here, and he arrests the lovely Carey for theft and possible participant in the murder of Owen’s secretary. He has no way of knowing then that she holds secrets upon secrets upon secrets. They will either provide the answers to everything or will drag Lloyd into a morass of trouble with his former comrades at the Met.
Full Circle is a complex tale of mystery, intrigue, and revenge. How the tale and its principals actually come full circle will keep you on the edge of your seat!
Lloyd and Frank Owens followed William into the hall and were about to enter the room opposite when the dogs outside set up a chorus of barking. Hooves and coach wheels grew louder and halted outside.
“Who the devil is this?” William fumed as a housemaid hurried to the entrance. A murmur of voices and as the maid stood aside, Lloyd stared in disbelief at the woman walking in. The same woman from the coach in the mud and the White Hart Inn but now her red hair was hanging in ringlets on both sides of her heavily made-up face, and she was wearing spectacles. He really was at the local playhouse or very soon he’d wake up.
“How dare you walk in here uninvited,” William said angrily and pointed at Lloyd. “Do you know this woman?”
“I don’t.”
William swung back to her. “This man has just walked in without a by your leave and now you! What next, half the town?”
The woman’s eyes widened with surprise seeing Lloyd, then ignoring William Parker, walked up to Frank Owens, standing in the doorway of the study.
“I have news for you,” she said softly.
“You know this woman?” William demanded.
Her eyes never wavered from Owens. “Mr Owens, you and Doctor Sanders are now penniless.”
Owens’ mouth dropped open. “What did you say?”
“The financial portfolio you shared with Arthur Sanders is no more. The lease on your London home was terminated on 31st March. Your home in Berkshire was sold. Your bank account is empty. Arthur Sanders has lost everything but his clothes.”
A pin dropping would be louder than a pistol shot.
It took several seconds before Owens found his voice. “Who are you?”
When the woman didn’t reply he began spluttering, “What on earth are you talking about?” His face was now a sickly white. “You know nothing of my business affairs.”
The woman shrugged eloquently. “You have no business affairs, you are ruined. Destroy and you will be destroyed.”
Frank glanced at Lloyd and back to the woman. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Soft footsteps and the attractive middle-aged woman walked across the hall. Her cold eyes glared at the woman. “I am Amelia Parker and I demand you explain this outrageous intrusion.”
“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” was the icy reply. Her attention returned to Frank. “I almost forgot. Your letter of credit. It’s obvious you haven’t presented it to a bank otherwise you’d know it is not worth the paper it’s printed on.”
Lloyd snapped out of his trance. “Don’t take another step. How did you know about this and what is your connection with Mr Owens and Dr Sanders?”
Ignoring him, she brushed past Williams and his wife and walked to the front entrance. Lloyd followed and put his hand on her shoulder. “I said, not another step.”
Her dark eyes flashed angrily. “Take your hand off me.”
Lloyd’s grip tightened on her shoulder. “Who are you and where or from whom did you learn of this crime?”
“None of your business.”
“It is very much my business. I am investigating a crime committed in London and the police are investigating a death connected with that crime.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Your business has nothing to do with me, so I suggest you solve your crime in London, not here.” Pulling herself away from his hand she walked out onto the porch.
Stunned he’d let her pull away, Lloyd followed and grasped her arm. “I haven’t finished. While on leave from the Metropolitan Police I was retained by Arthur Sanders to find Frank Owens. Now, answer my questions.”
“A London policeman here in the middle of New South Wales? Surely you can do better than that. A duke from a small European principality would impress those country upstarts in there a lot more.”
Despite himself, Lloyd felt admiration for her standing up to him. His grasp on her arm tightened and he pulled her back into the drawing room. “Slorrach, I’d be obliged if you’d bring me a length of rope.”
Slorrach glanced at William who nodded. Lloyd waited until he left the room, then pushed the woman into a chair and spoke to the three dumbfounded people staring at him.
“Last March, Arthur Sanders asked me to find the person or persons responsible for embezzling money from his business partnership with Frank Owens.” He told them what had transpired and about Henry Todd’s death. “The police believe it was a vicious robbery. However, I am sure they have discovered more since I left England. That’s not all. Mark Davis’s reference was forged, and a snooping servant found his ship’s passage to this colony.”
Frank’s eyes bulged. “Henry is dead and Mark Davis here?”
Lloyd glanced at the young woman whose face was as white as Frank’s.
William Parker’s face was red with anger. “What the devil is going on Frank?”
Author Jan Selbourne:
Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.
