Category: Book Hooks

Secrets that change a lifetime #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

 Desire Me Again anthologyBlurb:
Second Chance in Desire Me Again
Sandy Henderson had been a sweet, wholesome girl in her first year of college, sure of herself and totally in love with her high school sweetheart, Tom Pritchard. Then something happened that shattered her dreams, her confidence, her will to live. When she meets Tom again many years later, she resists taking a chance on love because of her secret, but Tom won’t give up on her. On them. Or will he, once she tells him about her past?

Buy link:
Amazon US

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
“Sandy Henderson, as I live and breathe. Can that be you?”

Sandy looked up and up, into the richest, deepest brown eyes she’d ever known. They affected her just as they had since she was fifteen, sending tingles and warmth all through her. Fifteen had been fifteen years ago, but two lifetimes. When she first fell in love with Thomas Pritchard she’d enjoyed an age of innocence she barely remembered, but one he brought home now with just one look, one smile.

“Tom. Gosh, it’s so good to see you.” Sandy didn’t really mean that, but it was the polite thing to say. In reality, she’d hoped she could slip into town, take care of her dad’s estate and pack up her mother’s things for the move back to Idaho without meeting anyone from her former life.

Still, of everyone she hadn’t wanted to run into, Tom Pritchard. Her stupid heart skipped a beat. It was hard seeing him, remembering him. Remembering herself.

“You, too. I could hardly believe it was you. What’s it been? Since graduation?”

“Yes, I think so. Hard to believe, huh?” So hard to believe she’d ever been that happy, naïve girl who’d graduated top in their 300-student class and skipped off to college in Florida, thinking life would always be so free and simple.

“It is hard to believe.” Tom’s eyes studied her face. He hadn’t looked at her as so many men had for years, that up and down leer, like a hungry lion scoping out where he planned to start eating the gazelle. No, his gaze sought out her depths, her secrets.

“Are you back in town for a while?”

“No,” she said, subtly moving the grocery cart between them. It served as a shield from his examination and also as a layer of protection. The years had taught her that men—all men, even those who seemed friendly and safe—were not to be trusted.

“Dad died last year—”

“I remember. I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks. Mom isn’t really able to stay alone anymore, and she’s agreed to move closer to me. I came ho—back to move her.” She’d almost said that she’d come home. Whitley, North Carolina hadn’t been home for a very long time. Sometimes life here seemed like a dream.

“Ah. I’m going to miss your mom. Not that I saw her all that often.”

“She told me that you would come by every now and again to see if she needed anything. That was nice. She appreciated it, and so do I.”

Tom shrugged. “It wasn’t anything.” He looked into her cart. “You don’t have anything that needs to be refrigerated”—he held up his handbasket—“and neither do I. Want to grab a cup of coffee and catch up? The Whitley Diner is just a couple of doors down and has the best coffee in town. My treat.” He smiled. Sandy had to grab a breath at the sight.

“I really can’t,” she said. “I told Mom I’d be home for lunch. But thanks. Let’s get together before I leave.”

Holding her hand up in the way country people have of saying hello or goodbye, she spun around and headed for the checkout. She hadn’t finished shopping, but she’d come back later. Or maybe she’d head to the Piggly Wiggly over in Petersburg, a few towns over, in order to avoid running into Tom again. Or anyone she knew from her previous life.

Whitley had grown to a town of over forty thousand. How could she have met up with someone she knew in the first week she’d been back? And Tom, of all people.

Getting her mother packed and on the road to Idaho couldn’t happen soon enough

Second Chance by Dee S. Knight

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. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

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What’s one to do with a renegade daughter #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

One Woman Only by Dee S. KnightBlurb:
As one of a set of triplets, Jonah Goodman has always stood out as the least academic—and the last one to take the world, or commitment, seriously. Thing is, that’s not really who he is. But who can he convince of that? Not his family, who see him as they always have. And maybe not his one love, the sweetheart he left behind in high school but with whom he is now sharing an erotic holiday. Will he get his second chance to prove to Kelly that he is a loving man who wants more than a sensual few days, but a real relationship with the woman he lost once and doesn’t want to lose again? With that chance and Kelly’s love, Jonah knows that a “good man” can become a better man.

Buy link:

Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:

Kelly’s father cleared his throat again. “Could we get back on topic, please?” Both women shifted their gazes to him. “That’s better. Now Kelly, I want to talk to you about taking your place in the company.”

She blinked. “My place? I don’t have a place in the company.”

“You most certainly do. You’ll take over management. With a proper trial and training period, of course.” Picking up his knife and fork, he speared a piece of onion and casually ate, as if he hadn’t dropped another bombshell.

“Father, don’t you remember when I was about thirteen and wanted to come to the office with you, you said that girls had no place in business? That was for Robbie, even though he was two years younger than me and had no interest in the factory. After a year or so of learning all I could about the embroidery business and even interning for a summer in college, I finally got the point. Even so, I went on to get my MBA, on the outside chance that would convince you to ask me into the business.”

Her dad at least had the grace to look contrite.

“And now, I have no interest. If you’re retiring, it’s Robbie you should talk to. I already have a job.”

“It has to be you. Robbie left the company three months ago and refuses to come back. Ungrateful sonofa—”

“Stuart!”

“Yes, sorry, dear.” Once more with the throat clearing. “That’s why it has to be you to take over. We’ve been in the embroidery business for three generations. The Shepherd Embroidery plant has been here in Lucky Strike for forty-five years. I won’t sell it. But managing the company will kill me as it did your grandfather if I stick with it. So, you will have to move back and do your duty.”

Her duty. Right. She hadn’t even been home six hours and for the first time she was hearing that her father was sick, he was retiring and expected her to drop her life to help out, and her brother had up and run off to God only knew where. Her stomach roiled in anger. She tightened the grip on her knife and fork to keep from tossing them onto the table like a child having a tantrum. She was an adult, damn it, and she’d handle this like an adult.

“Like hell I will. You expect me to drop everything and rush back here? Forget it. Fifteen years ago—hell, ten years ago, when Brad and I divorced—I might have jumped to do your bidding. But not now.”

Well, maybe she wouldn’t act totally like an adult.

Looking down at her plate, she saw that the gravy had begun to congeal, like the lump in her stomach. The meal that had looked and smelled so delicious a short time ago she now wanted nothing to do with. Was it too much to ask that she be able to have one meal with her parents and not get upset over something?

Except this wasn’t “something.” This was a demand that she change everything in her life, and she wouldn’t do it.

Would. Not.

“I don’t appreciate your attitude,” her mother said.

Fuck it, Mother. I don’t appreciate your attitude much, either.

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. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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How do you know it’s love? MFRWhooks

Naval Maneuvers by Dee S. KnightBlurb:
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.

Weighing Anchor (allowing a ship to move forward by retrieving the anchor): A professional woman sworn to avoiding all things military finds herself in love with a lieutenant commander in the Navy. Love won’t conquer all if she allows her childhood memories to eclipse future happiness.
Dropping Anchor (securing movement by dropping the anchor): Two people find (surprisingly) that they are both in the Navy and love their chosen professions—until one turns out to be an officer but not a gentleman and the other is a gentleman but not an officer.
Anchor Home (safe, smooth sailing): When two former lovers find each other after more than a decade, will a long-hidden secret threaten the course of a rekindled romance or be the cause of it?

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt from Weighing Anchor:
“I don’t get here often, but I love Richmond.” Mel glanced at her watch. Her little fantasy of seeing him again was about to end. The rush of disappointment surprised her but no good could come of extending their time. He’d explained why he’d left as he had and she’d apologized for not giving him a chance to do so weeks ago. The man was like sex on a stick. He made her pussy clench and her nipples perk up for attention. If she stayed with him much longer, she’d fall back into bed with him, and she’d already experienced a turn on the wild side.

“It’s been fun seeing you again, David, but I have dinner reservations and have to get back to my hotel.”

The evening she’d originally looked forward to—dinner, a hot soak, reading and then settling into bed—alone—now held no appeal, but she’d meant it when she said she wasn’t available for a night’s sex just because they’d been thrown together again. They’d shared a very nice afternoon but now it was time to go back to her life and let him get back to his.

“Nooo,” he said. “You aren’t going to make me dine alone, are you?”

“I’m afraid so.” As soon as the thought occurred to her she tried to swallow it down but the words slipped out anyway. “I’m sure there are any number of girls available to keep a mad scientist like you from eating dinner alone. You wouldn’t even have to look very hard to find one.” She hated the very idea of his spending the evening with another woman but she had no strings on him.

His victorious grin was immediate and he backed her up against the side of the building beside large glass doors leading into the lobby. “I think you just said I was sexy.” One arm braced above her head and the other still at her waist, his breath fanned her cheeks. “Is that what you were saying, Mel?”

She tried and failed to stop her heart from racing. His eyes were the color of the dark chocolate of the cake they’d just eaten, and so heated and intense, it scorched her wherever his gaze landed. Points south heated, too. Keeping her voice from showing how much she wanted him to kiss her took all of her effort. “I’m sure some women would think so.” She tapped his chest with her index finger. “But don’t be vain.”

He chuckled and leaned impossible closer, his mouth to her ear. All of her defenses crumbled. The scent of him invaded her mind. She wanted to drown in him, wanted to consume him and have him consume her. She shivered with sudden need.

“Didn’t we already talk about the difference between us and college kids? There’s only one woman in this city, no, in this whole fucking state that I want to find me sexy, and I’m standing with her right now.”

He moved his hand from her waist up and over her arm and shoulder to sweep it under her hair. His lips nuzzled the tender skin beneath her ear. “Do you, Melissa? Do you find me sexy?”

It was so much like a pick up scenario. Oh baby, I only want you to find me sexy. Do ya? So cheesy. So lame. So damn intoxicating. If they hadn’t been steps away from the museum crowds, she would have ripped off his shirt and slid her leg up over his hip.

Time to end this. “You are delusional.”

He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “Too fast? No matter. I meant what I said. I know what I want. And you’re it, Mel.”

“You mean tonight.”

He studied her eyes. His gaze dropped to her lips and back up. She started to squirm under his inspection. “I mean at least for tonight. I have the whole weekend.”

“If you don’t get called away for ‘work’ again.”

He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Nothing is going to drag me away this weekend. How about you?”

“I came for the lectures and a weekend of relaxation.”

He smiled, showing his dimples, and her heart nearly stopped. “I know the best form of relaxation in the history of man.”

Naval Maneuvers by Dee S. Knight

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. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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Secret baby? Well…maybe #MFRWHooks

Burning Bridges by Anne KristBlurb:
Not your typical “secret baby” book! This Southern romance packs in the emotion.

Letters delivered decades late send shock waves through Sara Richards’s world. Nothing is the same, especially her memories of Paul, a man to whom she’d given her heart years before. Now, sharing her secrets and mending her mistakes of the past means putting her life back together while crossing burning bridges. It will be the hardest thing Sara’s ever done.

Buy link:

Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
Sara stared at the letters arranged before her in numerical order. The moment in time she and Paul shared was long ago, yet her dream had conjured his presence as though she’d just seen him. In her mind, his blue eyes darkened with passion before his lips captured hers, and he moaned his appreciation when their tongues met. She tasted his sweetness and knew the steel of his arms as he held her. How many nights had she put herself through hell reliving those memories? Too damn many.

After the concert, they’d met clandestinely on weekends, mostly at Sandbridge, where they could walk and talk undisturbed. With each meeting, stirrings built deep in Sara that pushed her to want more, but Paul insisted they restrain themselves because of her age.

Then the weekend before he shipped out, she’d planned a surprise and her life changed forever.

The kettle screeched, bringing her back to the present. Sara prepared a cup of tea and then picked up the envelope marked twenty-eight. At one time, she would have given her right arm to hold this letter. Now, curiosity and the desire for a brief escape drove her more than the passion of youth. Blind love had faded when she’d had no word to bolster her during the long weeks after the ship left.

First had come the waiting. No letters arrived, even though she wrote him daily. There were no phone calls, no notes, no anything, for days that dragged into weeks then crept into months.

Anticipation morphed into anxiety. She worried he was sick or hurt and unable to write.

One day she admitted that Paul must be afraid to write for some reason, and she feared what he would say if she did receive a letter. That their time together had been a mistake, that she was too young to be in love. That he really loved someone else and Sara had been only a stand-in while he was in Virginia. Perversely, she began to sigh with relief when she arrived home and found no word.

Now, knowing why she hadn’t received mail, what would she feel if she opened this letter and her old fears proved to be true?

“Nothing,” she murmured. “Paul’s dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.” At the very least, his letters might allow her to put his ghost to rest. For that reason alone, she had to read them.

She slid her thumb under the flap and ripped the envelope open. A single sheet held his hurried scrawl.

Author Anne Krist:
 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. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Anne Krist is the “sister” to erotic romance author Dee S. Knight. She is quieter, more reserved, and certainly more circumspect about S-E-X than her wild and crazy sibling. Thus she’s more comfortable writing sweet(er) romance, where there might be a few sensual scenes, but no more than that. One thing about Anne: she’s not more romantic than Dee. They both write in happily ever after and share the solid belief that love can last forever and beyond!

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

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So many lies, so much gold #MFRWHooks

Lies of Gold by Jan SelbourneBlurb:
Silent, ruthless, protected by an unknown ally in Whitehall, he smuggles gold across the Channel to Bonaparte. When flimsy evidence points to the Essex coast, three men are given secret orders to find these traitors. One of those men, Julian Ashford, has his life transformed into debts and disgrace and sent back to Halton Hall, and Katherine the woman he loved and lost. What Julian discovers within the walls of his ancestral home is much deeper and more sinister than he thought possible, but nothing could prepare him for the betrayal when he finally faces the mastermind behind this sordid operation.

Buy links:
Amazon
Goodreads
B&N

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
He turned the horse to the left and settled into an easy canter. They rounded a bend which he didn’t remember and a quarter of a mile ahead was the narrow road dividing the estate from the tenanted farms. He now knew where he was, but everything looked different. He reminded himself again that local scenery was the last thing on a twelve years old boy’s mind. When they came to the stream the horse dropped its head to drink and the first drops of rain fell.

“Christ, that’s all we need, a bloody soaking.” He’d have to ride back to where they’d emerged onto the grassy slope. His grandfather had shown good sense leasing his land but he’d made it plain he didn’t have to look at his lowly tenant farmers. Not only had he forbidden them to use the estate road, he’d ordered a wall be built along that end of his land. After strong protests, he grudgingly agreed to build a narrow apology of a road to meet the village road so they could take their produce to market. He’d then ordered them to show their gratitude by building a drystone wall on their side, to make it ‘visually pleasing’.

Julian vaguely remembered a gate in the estate wall and hoped he was right. The rain was falling in earnest as he urged the horse along the narrow, rutted road and almost missed it behind the thick ivy. Dismounting, he pushed aside the green blanket and swore. The gate was rusted and jammed. Remounting they continued and he shook his head in confusion. Ahead was another gate in the wall and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember it. He dismounted again, this gate was secured with a thick chain and lock on the inside. As he turned away a sliver of shiny metal in the wet earth caught his eye.  Reaching down he picked up a small crucifix.

“What the hell?” he muttered then his eyes went to the lock. Despite the rain he had to try. His fingers reached through the bars of the gate to insert the long end of the crucifix into the lock and, concentrating intently, he moved it gently. “Oh, come on!” He eased it around the inside workings again and it suddenly gave way.

“Well done, you haven’t lost your touch,” he congratulated himself, led the horse through and locked it behind him.

The rain fell steadily as they approached a semi- circle of poplars and he tightened the reins. Ahead of him was the rear of the Dower House.  His childhood home. Urging the horse through the poplars, he stared dumbfounded at the sagging, derelict building. Weeds and grass had almost taken over what remained of the small stone wall surrounding the house and the large pathway between the flower beds and rockeries had disappeared under a tangle of ground creepers and debris. A thick blanket of ivy had worked its way over most of the house and covered the chimneys. The glass had long gone from the gaping windows. The remains of the front portico were sagging and roof shingles lay scattered on the ground.

Julian remembered the Dower House was creaky, draughty and damp but this was a disgrace. Why hadn’t Charles ordered it knocked down? He led the horse to the crumbling remains of the stables and they stood huddled against the wall until the rain increased and the dripping from above became a stream. Pushing the horse further in, he ran to the house and pushed against the front door. After a protesting squeal of rusty hinges, the door gave way and scraped against the warped floorboards. He stepped into a large puddle on the hallway floor, peeling walls and the smell of decay.

“Christ, what a mess.”

The room on his right, once his mother’s sitting room, was littered with dead leaves and debris blown in through the gaping windows. Pushing open the door on the opposite side of the hallway, he stopped dead. Although the room was dark he could see straw mattresses covering most of the floor.  His eyes adjusted to the gloom showing him a table covered with tin plates and mugs and beside the fireplace freshly cut wood was stacked. Boards now covered what was once the window. Feeling vulnerable without a weapon, Julian backed out into the hallway, paused, then walked to the bottom of the staircase. Looking up to the floor above shrouded in darkness, he continued through the narrow hallway leading to the servants’ quarters and kitchen.

The hairs lifted from the nape of his neck. Wood was stacked on both sides of the huge fireplace and black cooking pots hung from the iron crossbar in the chimney. He turned and walked swiftly back through the house and out to the crumbling stables. It could very well be smugglers or poachers using the derelict building but his instincts were screaming that it wasn’t. The rain showed no signs of abating so he remounted and guided the horse along the now overgrown carriageway between the avenue of dripping trees leading to the park and the warmth of Halton Hall stables. He’d return to the Dower House again tonight.

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.

Contact Jan:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com/JanSelbourne/index.html

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/JanSelbourne

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14661584.Jan_Selbourne?from_search=true

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Jan-Selbourne/e/B0184OSZ6E/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

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Be it ever so humble… #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

Blurb:
Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Daniel Goodman is a man on a mission. He aims to become headmaster of Westover Academy. For that he needs a particular, special woman to help him set high standards. Into his cut and dried life of moral and upright behavior, comes Eve Star, formerly one of Europe’s foremost exotic dancers. Her life is anything but cut and dried, black and white. Daniel is drawn to her like a kid to chocolate. Nothing good can come of this attraction. Or can it? He is after all, a good man.

Buy link:

Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt:
Question: What can cause a grown man to return home, despite his rarely even visiting in years?
Answer: A woman he’s obsessed with or a crisis. Or maybe a woman he’s obsessed with who’s in a crisis.

“Daniel, am I talking to myself, here?”

“Oh, no, I’m…” He chuckled an amused admission. “Tell me what you said again.”

He could almost hear Eve smile. “I said, you called at four-thirty on Saturday and Sunday, so I took a wild leap that you would today, too.”

“Ah.” Smiling to the empty room, he squirmed to get into a more comfortable position. “A woman of logic.”

“Absolutely. You don’t want to play me in chess. I think five or six moves ahead.”

“I’ll remember that. There’s nothing worse than seeing a guy cry when he’s been beaten at chess by a girl. Now tell me why you’re upstairs. I know you don’t have a lot of help this time of day.”

“I’m paying Jed extra to come in a bit early.” Her voice was low, as though she didn’t really want to tell him. The words struck his heart.

“You don’t have money to be paying Jed extra, Eve. I’ll start calling later, after dinner and before I grade papers.”

“No, don’t. It’s quiet this time of day and I want these few minutes to myself. Jed doesn’t mind, and he can use a few extra bucks.”

“Well, okay.”

“Besides, you won’t be calling forever. Soon you’ll be head of the school and won’t have free time for the likes of me.”

Daniel hadn’t promised her on Friday that he’d call. He’d simply felt the desire and acted on it. Then, by unspoken agreement, they hadn’t mentioned what might happen next in their relationship. They’d spent time sharing that day in their respective worlds.

Today, he’d discovered the desire to talk to Eve wasn’t an “at loose ends” feeling that sometimes came over him on weekends. After his dorm assistant had arrived, Daniel had locked his doors, put his books and papers away, and picked up the phone. Only after they’d been well into the fantasy did he remember he hadn’t even removed his gown and jacket before pressing her number. He’d wanted to hear her, find out what her day had been like and communicate his own. He felt seventeen again, with an infatuation about to drive him crazy. Except men his age didn’t have infatuations. They had obsessions.

“Hey,” Eve charged, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, like I was hunting for compliments or reassurances. I was simply stating a fact, the way we both know it to be. I want this to be short term as much as you do, so don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.”

But he was. How long did obsessions last, anyway? Daniel had never allowed himself to be distracted by a woman or anything that might waylay his goals.

Until now.

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A spy in the making? #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!
Perilous Love by Jan SelbournePerilous Love
Blurb
Europe is on the brink of the First World War. Gabrielle and Adrian, their marriage on the rocks, are thrust into a world of territory lies and deceit. Not knowing who to trust, they find themselves fleeing for their lives across war torn Europe, the brutal German forces are hot on their heels, determined not to let them escape. Adrian is between the devil and the deep blue sea as he’s accused of treason and doesn’t know what awaits him back in England. All he does know is he must reunite his family safely back in England. Will this mend their broken marriage or tear them apart forever? The odds are stacked against their survival. Will they have what it takes to overcome obstacles?

Buy Links
Amazon
B&N
Goodreads

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt
Adrian Bryce nodded to the doorman of Number 2, Whitehall Court, Westminster and walked briskly towards the waiting car.  While not handsome in the classical sense, his immaculate attire, bearing and manner was one of wealth, authority and confidence.  He was a man who gives orders, never receives them.  His dark eyes set in an angular face barely concealed his anger and worry.  He knew, along with everyone else with a brain, that war was looming in Europe.  Since the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, rumours and intrigue and political double talk had been flying through Britain and the Continent.

Now, because of his family connections in Europe, he’d been ordered to accompany his wife and children on their annual visit to her stifling Belgian relatives who’d never emerged from the Victorian era.  It did not matter to the men at Whitehall Court that he and his plain boring wife of eight years, the mother of his plain, boring children, had lived separate lives for five years.  His wife was related to aristocratic families both here and in Europe and had been introduced to him at a diplomatic reception and as both were expected to marry well, he thought it a good match at the time.  However, their honeymoon proved they had nothing in common except for them to do their duty and produce children.  For the last five years they’d rarely spent time together except for the annual Christmas rituals and the children’s birthdays.  He preferred his townhouse in London, she and the children lived at their country home in Kent.

As the car turned in the direction of the small elegant lodgings in Bruton Street, his mind and body were anticipating what would be waiting for him.  Beautiful, voluptuous, passionate, pleasing Maryanne, Christ he was becoming hard thinking about her.  He couldn’t wait to push his head between her magnificent breasts and soak in her body.  He’d enjoyed the charms of several women but never before had he experienced anything like the heat and passion that Maryanne gave.  She was expensive, but she was worth every penny he spent on her.

Stepping out of the car, he told the driver not to wait, opened the ornate door and strode up the thickly carpeted staircase and into the beautifully furnished rooms.

‘Adrian, my darling,’ she put out her hands to him. ‘You have kept me waiting, you dreadful man.’  The beautiful, auburn haired woman pouted playfully then smiled, highlighting her high cheekbones and tawny eyes.  Her husky accent inflamed his lust even more and he pulled her to him.  She mouthed ‘wait’, dropped her loose robe to the floor, and then her warm breath was against his ear.

‘Darling, I cannot wait a minute longer.’ Taking his hand, she led him to the adjoining bedroom.  Neither wanted foreplay, both desperately wanted release and it came quickly.  Collapsing on the pillows, they smiled at each other.

‘Why do you keep me waiting?’ she tickled his chest.  ‘Your note tells me one time and you arrive at another.  Is there another woman you prefer to me?’

‘I wouldn’t have the strength,’ he chuckled.  ‘I was delayed at a rather important meeting.  I’m now obliged to travel to Brussels, my sweet.  Will you miss me?’

‘Brussels?  Why must you go away?’ She stroked his cheek.  ‘I will be alone and so hot thinking of you.’

‘Family duty.  I must accompany my wife to visit her relatives.’  He wanted to tell her more.  She was intelligent and her conversation refreshingly different from the polished, elegant, brittle women of his class. But he couldn’t, the real reason was classified.  He shrugged.  ‘Some of my investments in Belgium and France need my personal attention.’

‘You have so many investments.  You will be away from me forever,’ she sulked.

‘I know what I’ll be thinking of while I’m away.  Tell me where you were born. France or Belgium?’

‘On the border, I do not have happy memories.  I have told you all this, my papa was German.  He lost all his money and disappeared.  My mother struggled to feed and clothe us. Not one of his horrible family cared about us.  I hated them all,’ she pushed his fingers into her moist folds.  ‘Why are you accompanying your wife?  You never accompany her anywhere.  Don’t you love me anymore?’

He watched her eyes glaze with pleasure as his fingers pushed deeper into her wetness.  His lips touched her nipples and he felt her hips grinding against him.  Then she cried out and clutched at him as her body shuddered with its shattering climax.

‘Mon Dieu, je vous adore,’ she whispered and moved down his body to his painfully swollen organ.  Her lips enclosed him, her tongue drove him up and up and he was lost.

God Almighty, she gave as good as she got every time.  Slowly opening his eyes, he ran his fingers through her auburn hair, ‘Not love you?   Christ, I can’t get enough of you.’

‘Darling, let me get up so we may drink some wine.’

He lay back on the huge pillows and watched her naked body move to the bottle and crystal glasses waiting on the dressing table.  She was beautiful.

‘Who is so important you must visit in Brussels all of a sudden?’ She pouted crossly and handed a glass to him.

‘The Comte de Meyvier, the patriarch of Gabrielle’s Belgian family. She spent a lot of her childhood in Belgium,  I can’t stand him and I’ve avoided most family occasions for years but I’m afraid I must go this time,’ he savoured the wine on his tongue and gestured for her to refill his glass.  ‘He has a lot of influence in banking and commerce.’

***

An hour later he looked at his watch and at Maryanne.  ‘I must leave, my sweet.’

Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘Will you think of me?’

‘Think of you?  I won’t think of anything else. I’ll send you notes and will inform you when I’m due to return.’  He pushed a little packet into her hands.  ‘Don’t even think of looking at another man.’

Adrian walked back towards his club with a small smile on his face.  Maryanne had been his mistress for three months and he was besotted with her.  She instinctively knew what he wanted as soon as he walked in her door, whether it be passionate sex or to talk over a bottle of wine.  His mind drifted back three months to that overcrowded reception for German and French industrialists.  He’d turned and bumped into her standing behind him.  She’d smiled at his profuse apologies and said she’d forgive him if he fetched her a glass of champagne.  The next morning, he sent her a note with a posy of flowers asking permission to call on her.

A week later she was installed in the small but comfortable townhouse.  Many times since then, she’d asked him if he loved her and he always assured her he did.  But he didn’t.  He couldn’t remember loving any woman.  Obsessed with lust over her, yes, but actually in love?  No.  And he would never fall into that trap.  His satisfied smile disappeared. The meeting today had worried him intensely.  Like it or not, he must travel to Brussels immediately.

***

Maryanne waited until she heard the front door close before opening the packet.  A diamond and pearl necklace twinkled up at her.  She kissed it lightly, murmuring in German how beautiful it was, then sat down and pulled the perfumed notepaper and pen towards her.

Thanks for reading!
Jan
https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne/
https://twitter.com/JanSelbourne
https://www.linkedin.com/in/jan-selbourne-2817b6140/
https://nomadauthors.com/

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On a planet far, far away #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

The Triple S Bride by Dee S. KnightBlurb:
For most women, one husband is more than enough to handle. But Sabina Volt has three mates. Gosh, that would have been nice to know before she’d left Earth in the dust. Being a mail-order bride on a planet far, far away might be more of a challenge than she’d anticipated.

Buy links:

Amazon https://tinyurl.com/y67f948v
B&N https://tinyurl.com/y6clqmur

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
“Do you need help with your bags, ma’am?”

Sabina Volt looked up into the earnest young face of the transporter steward. He set her two duffel bags beside the seat, retrieved from the storage closet assigned her. Once petrified of stepping aboard a plane or shuttle, Sabina now wished she could hide in the cabin and avoid disembarking. She no longer had that option—she had to get off.

She shoved to her feet. “No thanks. These are all I have.” A glance up the aisle showed an empty cabin. Though the young man’s face didn’t show impatience, he probably wished she’d get her sorry ass in gear so he could leave.

The steward politely stood aside so she could follow the flashing green lights embedded in the floor leading to the hatch. Dragging her feet as much as possible, dread building with each step, she made her way.

How had she ended up here? It had been sheer madness, signing a contract as a mail-order bride to a man she didn’t know in order to escape a man she knew all too well. But the remaining ache from nearly-healed broken ribs proved that most any action would be better than staying on Earth as Kevin Groman’s punching bag.

“Thank you for flying with us,” said another steward at the hatch.

“Sure,” Sabina muttered. Hopefully she wouldn’t soon fly with them or anyone else. Not back to Earth at least, or anywhere near her former fiancé.

She took a deep breath, eyeing the length of insulated portable structure connecting the shuttle to the terminal. You’ve come this far. Don’t turn coward now. “It’s going to be all right,” she muttered. “Buck up.”

The lights in the terminal stung her eyes, and after the quiet of the shuttle the noise struck her like a living thing. Comm sets dotted the walls every fifty feet or so, all sending out the latest news from Earth at top decibels. Dozens of people, mostly men and shuttle crews, stood around watching the sets or holding shouted conversations over the din. She blinked and stood a moment, adjusting to the new environment.

Then she saw him. Or at least, the cowboy with crossed arms who leaned insolently against the check-in desk sure looked like Walter Sheridan. She’d stared at his hologram often enough to have his features memorized, yet the man watching her wasn’t exactly what she expected.

His face looked sculpted from stone, with a squared chin and sharp cheekbones. Wives’ tales claimed smiling caused wrinkles, but no tell-tale lines marred this man’s face. He had the coloring of someone with brown hair, but she couldn’t tell the color because a sweat-stained, dusty cowboy hat covered his head. When their gazes met, his eyes gave her pause. Green as late spring fields depicted in laser paintings, they were also penetrating and unforgiving. This man wouldn’t trust easily or give any quarter. Like Kevin.

Oh, God. She couldn’t breathe. For a panicky moment she thought she might pass out. Turn around! Get back on that shuttle. Make them pry you out if need be. She swung back toward the door only to find it locked. Fanning her face with her hand, she had no choice but to find someplace to hide. Coming here had been a mistake, a horrible mistake. Run! Anywhere would be better than—

“Are you okay?”

She didn’t look but knew instinctively who stood beside her and took her elbow. He firmly guided her to a chair. When she sat, he forced her head down between her knees.

“Breathe,” he ordered.

“I’m fine,” Sabina said at last, and she did feel better, though a little silly. Kevin was a long way off. It might have taken her half a year and two beatings, but she finally regained her mind, took back her life and escaped him. The method might prove cowardly and impulsive, but she didn’t care. As long as coming here didn’t mean jumping from the solar roaster into the core generator.

Please don’t let Walter be like Kevin!

With her head down she couldn’t help but notice the dust covering his boots and the hems of his worn jeans. This was the way he came to meet his new bride? The lack of care on his part didn’t bode well. She chose this planet for its distance from Earth and Kevin, thinking her former fiancé would never find her here, or think it not worth the trouble and expense to come for her. She had to stay, she had to. Yet if Walter took so little care when coming to meet his new bride, what did it say about his wanting a wife? “I’m fine,” she repeated, then added, “Thanks.”

Then she had no choice. She looked up. And up. Warm pools of emerald colored eyes stared back with a hint of worry. His shirt wasn’t in much better shape than his jeans and boots. A threadbare collar topped a dull khaki colored shirt almost completely faded. Spots of rust-red plaid marked the fabric here and there. He’d rolled up his sleeves, showing muscled, tanned forearms sprinkled with light-colored hair.

“Are you Sabina Volt?”

She nodded.

He stared a moment longer, examining her face. He must have agreed that she was better because he said, “I’d about given up on you bein’ on the transport. Everyone else who got off is long gone. Let’s get out of here.” He scooped up her bags and took a few steps away before stopping to turn around and look. His gaze softened. “You comin’, or do you need another minute?”

In that instant she knew this man was nothing like Kevin. Kevin wouldn’t have given her a moment’s thought. Sabina’s stomach stopped its loop-de-loops, and her head quit spinning. Standing, she said, “Before we go, I’d just like to be sure of who you are.”

He took in a breath and huffed it out. “We don’t have time to waste pulling out papers. You have my hologram. You should know I’m Walt Sheridan. Your future husband.” He stared and waited, as though letting that sink in. “Now hurry. My truck’s parked outside and the sooner we get going the better.”

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The story behind the woman #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

The Woman Behind the Mirror by Jan SelbourneThe Woman Behind the Mirror

Blurb:
Betrothed by her father to a man twice her age, Sarah Forsythe runs away with the son of a Methodist minister. Not to Gretna Green, to colonial America—the New World. For Sarah, a new world of broken promises poverty and shame. Around her, the American Revolution is simmering, and the siege of Boston worsens by the day. As British soldiers seek out traitors and treason, a desperate Sarah breaks open a safe looking for cash. Instead, she finds a box holding Bank of England documents. Through willpower, bitter determination, and lying through her teeth, Sarah manages to make her way home to England. What she doesn’t know is that two men follow, and they will do anything to claim those documents.

Bank investigator Neil McAlister faces an almost impossible task—to determine the true owner of the documents by deciding who is lying. Most of all, as danger creeps ever closer, he needs to know who wants the secretive, beautiful Sarah dead.

Buy Links

Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon AU

Available in Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
Sarah watched the door open and her heart almost stopped beating when Neil McAlister and a tall muscular man with a trim goatee beard walked into the room.

Frozen with shock she could only stare at Samuel Fenton. But it wasn’t Samuel Fenton.

Her strangled, “You aren’t,” was cut off when Neil began his introductions and Robert stepped in front of her to shake the man’s hand. She heard her brother’s hearty, “Mr Westfield, I am delighted to meet you. May I introduce my wife Hannah?”

The man put his handkerchief to his mouth and coughed. “Forgive my frog like voice. This wretched cold will not leave me.” He bowed to Hannah. “I am honoured to meet you, Mrs Forsythe.”

Robert took Sarah’s hand and drew her forward “And my sister, Sarah Langford.”

A low bow. “Mrs Langford, I understand you endured much hardship before returning to England. To be told you found and brought my personal papers with you left me speechless. It’s nothing short of a miracle and I cannot adequately express my gratitude.”

Sarah murmured a greeting and lowered her eyes.

Robert cleared his throat. “Mr Westfield, before we begin, allow me to thank you for your generous hospitality.”

“My dear, Mr Forsythe,” the man responded before coughing again into his handkerchief. “It was the very least I could do after such trial and distress.”

Robert picked up the decanter again. “I was about to enjoy your hospitality, sir. May I pour us a glass of wine or perhaps whisky?

“Thank you, a small whisky would be most welcome.” the man replied.

“Neil?”

Neil inclined his head. “I cannot say no. Then if you don’t mind, we will finalise the transaction as discussed.”

“Of course.” No one spoke while Robert poured whisky and handed glasses of wine to Hannah and Sarah. He then held up his glass to the room. “I am very relieved this has been settled amicably.”

“I am extremely relieved.” The man lifted his glass to Sarah. “My compliments.”

Sarah felt the blood pounding through her veins but did not move. Her stomach churned when polite conversation began on London’s expanding population, the dangerous highwaymen robbing innocent travelers, and the sudden sad death of a minor royal.

When the glasses were emptied, Robert stood up and handed the leather folder to the man called Westfield. “A very satisfactory conclusion. My sister has signed the necessary agreement.”

“Thank you, and if I may, I’d like to say a few words.” The man turned to Sarah. “It is indeed a small world, Mrs Langford. I did not think we would meet again after such a tumultuous time in Boston.”

Robert’s brow creased. “Pardon?”

“Mrs Langford and I were acquainted at Griffins club,” the man said smoothly.

Look him directly in the face and do not quail. “I am afraid you are mistaken sir. I do not know you,” Sarah said evenly.

The man inclined his head. “We do look very different in the light of day, but I remember you well in those crowded smoky rooms.”

“What are you talking about?” Robert said sharply.

“I was part owner of Griffins gentlemen’s club. Mrs Langford, known there as Adele, worked as a”—he gestured eloquently—“for want of a better word, hostess.”

Hannah had risen and was staring at her. All of them were staring at her. “Mr Westfield, I am afraid you have me confused with someone else.”

The man’s hard hazel eyes glittered into hers. “No, I’m not confused. Your husband David Langford disappeared leaving a mountain of debts and you destitute. I was with Fenton when he paid the turnkey a shilling to release you from the cells. It was work for him or die on the streets. You were one of three women employed to pour drinks and keep our clients gambling and satisfied in the clubrooms and”—he paused—“upstairs.”

A pin dropping would have sounded like gunpowder exploding.

Sarah did not move. “Mr McAlister, I am appalled you willingly brought this man here to insult me.”

As if snapping out of a trance Neil stepped forward. “I am at a loss, Westfield. Not once in our discussions at the bank did you say you knew Mrs Langford.”

Claude’s eyes never left Sarah’s. “You didn’t ask, and the purpose of this meeting was for me to collect my personal papers.” He sighed. “While it pains me to reward a whore for stealing, I will honour the agreement.”

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Ménage a many #MFRWHooks

Bride of the Pryde by Dee S. KnightThis is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

Blurb:
DAT agent Susan McAllister escapes Earth with killers in hot pursuit. She normally runs toward danger not away, and she likes controlling her own fate, not relying on three strange men and an irreverent cyberbot. Skilled and experienced, she doesn’t believe there’s any way the three crewmen of the cargo ship Erik’s Pryde can help her.

Captain John Erik thinks the sexy, headstrong passenger is nothing but trouble, but he also knows she needs help. And not being men to shrink from adventure, he’s convinced that he and his crew are the ones to provide it. When they’re infected by an illegal drug that releases inhibitions, the crew of the Pryde shows they are men who not only can fight, but can satisfy a woman’s every fantasy.

It’s no surprise when Susan discovers that being a member of the Pryde’s crew has unexpected, lasting benefits.

This is a futuristic space romp!

Buy link:

Kindle
Barnes & Noble
Kobo

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:

The smell hit Susan McAllister first. The sharp scent of iron, immediately recognizable, stung her nostrils and madeher gag. Then she noticed the door, normally locked at all times, hung open a crack.

She’d been ready to call out that she’d brought back French pastries from the restaurant where she enjoyed an early lunch but instead dropped the white bakery bag on the back steps. Removing her Renthaur X-89 laser pistol from her oversized shoulder bag, she inched forward and released the safety. She eased open the door and stepped inside and then pushed it nearly closed. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust from sunlight to the dim interior.

The office fronted as a real estate agency but actually served as Centre District’s Domestic Anti-Terrorism headquarters. Susan had arrived that morning from the global headquarters in Mt. Saussat. In fact, if not for the fact that she never ate while flying and wanted an early lunch upon arrival, she would have been here for whatever shit had gone down.

Hugging the wall, she edged toward the workroom where her close friend and office manager, Lisle Hamilton, had set up the hologram generator, coffeepot, and storage shelving that helped form their cover of handling real estate. Behind an encrypted-lock vault door and out of sight, secure phones and code-deciphering, sub-particle computers were used for the real business of the storefront.

The Centre City office took a lot of ribbing in the Agency because of their cover. The joke was, what’s more boring than a DAT agent on desk duty? A realtor. What’s deadly boring? A DAT gent on desk duty posing as a realtor.

Deadly boring? The overwhelming scent of blood seemed to prove it. Criminy. What in hell happened?

Susan dropped to a crouch at the corner where the back hall entered the workroom. Pistol aimed up and grasped with two hands in classic shooter pose, she slowly leaned forward and peeked into the workroom.

Blood had begun to congeal where it covered the floor. Mark Nichols, who she’d just met that morning, lay on his back, his right hand inside his jacket pocket as though reaching for his weapon. Anne Barnewell lay face down. The size of the hole in the back of her head indicated a Succher 380, the weapon of choice for big-time drug dealers.

Also for cops’ personal weapons. The thought ran quickly through her mind and left just as fast.

The workroom connected to the main office by a swinging door of louvered wood, reminiscent of mid-twentieth-century architecture. From under the door she saw the body of Kyle Angustino, the son of one of Lisle’s friends and an actual real estate intern who had nothing to do with the DAT. Six people worked in the office, including Kyle, five of whom were DAT agents. Susan had no hope any of them were alive unless, like her, they’d been out of the office when hell struck.

The place appeared to be empty, but Susan didn’t change her position. Instead, she examined everything in her line of sight and listened with an intensity that had her shoulders tight with tension. Peering along the wall to the left she scrunched her brows in worry. The vault door stood ajar.

The only person in the office who had the combination was Lisle. A woman’s foot extended out the door, her burgundy shoe half-off. Lisle!

Her friend had bragged about the “killer burgundy pumps with little gold bows” when Susan had called to make arrangements to use one of the office cubicles for the week she would be in Centre City. They’d gone through Agency training together, and their paths crossed regularly. Later she would grieve for Lisle, but right now she needed to keep her wits about her and her emotions in check.

The bell over the front door tinkled, indicating someone entering from the street. A woman said, “Here’s a box for—Oh, dear God, what is this? What’s going on here?” There was no answer. Then, “No, please, no! Oh—”

Susan heard the unmistakable sound of the Succher firing and then a loud noise as something fell to the floor.

“What the hell?” A man pushed the vault door farther open. All that showed was a cuff-linked, white-shirted arm and a hand with long fingers. “What’s going on out there?”

“Nothing,” came a male voice from the front. “I didn’t have the keys to lock the door. I thought pulling the blinds would be enough to make people think we were closed. Forgot about delivery people.”

“Goddamn it. Go through Hamilton’s purse, for Christ’s sake, and find the keys.”

“Okay,” the guy in the front grumbled.

“Jesus, I have to do everything,” Vault Man said.

Susan pulled back. The lead guy knew Lisle’s name. Because he knew her or because of information gleaned while there? And how did he know about the vault room? Had he come to the office because of it, or had he and his buddy happened into the office and thought the heavy door hid more than it did? She dismissed that idea right away because really, who in the world robbed a realtor’s office? So, assuming they already knew about the vault and Lisle, the conclusion was ominous—the murderers were associated with DAT.

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