Whirlwind Romance

What do pirates, princes, Puritans, and propaganda have in common? Lacey Delahaye, forager and jelly maker, finds out in Whirlwind Romance, romantic suspense set in the western Caribbean.

Monday, October 10, 2016

Griffin the Grump's at Dena Garson's Today

Drop by Dena Garson’s lovely site today for a taste of the Penhallow Train Incident, my Maine mystery romance. In it we meet the hero Griffin Tate, and, although he appears curmudgeonly, you’ll find he has a soft heart. Read about it here:

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Want to find out how a big old black bear can stir a human’s libido? In this new excerpt, Catherine gets up close and personal with a bear and Holden comforts her in my new romantic suspense, A Widow’s Walk: Catherine’s Dilemma, available at all fine online book stores in ebook and print-on-demand. Get your copy now!

Catherine Killean is a woman on a mission. When her new husband disappears, leaving a suicide note, she is determined to find out why. She follows his tracks first to the North Woods of Maine, then to Florida, and back again to Maine. Along the way, she meets the tall, dark, gruff Holden Taggart, a Maine guide.

In her doubt and loneliness she is drawn to Holden, leaving her confused and adrift. What will happen when her questions about Jonathan are finally answered? Will old loyalty or new love triumph?

Holden and Catherine meet in the North Woods, where moose and bears are common.

Black bears are the most common bear in North America. They are quite small, averaging four to five feet long and about 250 pounds. They usually subsist on berries, roots, grasses, and insects, with an occasional fish. They are not normally aggressive, although when harassed by a human female such as Catherine and kept from their favorite dish—ripe raspberries—they can become quite grumpy.

Good thing Holden was nearby to console Catherine after her fright.

Excerpt (R): Panic Turns to Desire

Another wave of panic washed over her. Holden started to rise but she held him closer. “Not yet. Don’t go yet. Just give me a minute.”
Holden clucked his tongue. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”
Catherine tried unsuccessfully to loosen her grip. Holden got one arm free but used it to stroke her hair. “Really, you’re perfectly safe now.” He brushed his lips against her forehead. Then he lifted her chin. He looked at her, concerned. Suddenly, he bent and kissed her lightly. “Are you okay?”
She raised her face to his. Her heart constricted. He really is handsome, isn’t he? Especially when that bad-tempered scowl softens. Before she could say anything, he kissed her again, this time a little harder. In her shaky state, it felt comforting. She kissed him back. An instant later, their arms were wrapped around each other and Holden’s tongue had slipped between her teeth to explore the inside of her mouth. She dropped back onto the bed. He followed her, bracing himself above her, his kisses now passionate. When they broke apart, they were both panting. A split second of decision, then his fingers went to the hem of her nightgown and lifted. Catherine gazed into his eyes, willing him to continue.
He fumbled at the buttons on the nightgown. Finally, in frustration, he took hold of the collar, tore it in two and threw the pieces on the floor. She lay back on the blanket, her long hair spread out on the pillow, drained of all rational thought, watching and waiting. The moon bathed her body with a misty light. Holden unzipped his jeans and let them drop. He was naked underneath and she thought fleetingly that he must have thrown them on when she screamed. That means he sleeps in the nude. She smiled at the thought, but he gave her no more time for reflection.
He fell on her, the length of his body pressed to hers, his arousal obvious. He kissed her hungrily, and then brushed his lips down her neck, continuing down to the right breast. She arched her back to bring her nipple closer. Her chest heaved beneath his mouth. He moved to the left breast and began to suckle. She gasped, the sensation too pleasurable for words. He lifted his head, as though praying that the sound didn’t mean she wanted him to stop. Instead, her arms went round his neck and her legs around his back, pulling him closer. He had no choice but to enter her. He didn’t hesitate. She was wet and ready for him. It didn’t take much, she thought. Then she stopped thinking.
Like an escalator—one which changed direction every few seconds—they went up, up, up, then down and down. They began to move faster and faster. Now they were both steaming uphill, but instead of flying off at the top of the stair, they met and came together. Catherine let out a mewling sound like a baby eagle and went rigid in midair. Holden held her up, ignoring the laws of gravity for just long enough to reach the moment of pure ecstasy. Then they plummeted. Quiet. Peace. Comfort.
It could not last.
Catherine’s eyes flew open. “What did we just do?” she whispered.
If Holden was wondering the same thing, he didn’t let on. “Do?”
“I mean…I mean…” She trailed off.
Holden gave her one more deep kiss before pushing himself off. He shook his head. “I don’t know, Mrs. Killean. It just happened. Sometimes it does. You were scared, you needed comfort. That’s all. Forget about it.” He looked out the window. She looked over his shoulder at the sky. The moon had gone down. It must be near dawn. He turned to her. “The bear is gone. I’ll take my leave as well.”
Catherine was so thunderstruck she couldn’t think of anything to say. Lost in wonder at what had just happened, she didn’t even hear him pull on his pants and leave, closing the door softly behind him. Just before she fell asleep, she whispered into the night, “Catherine…call me Catherine.”

A Widow’s Walk: Catherine’s Dilemma
I Heart Book Publishing, June 6, 2016
Ebook: words; Print: 227 p.
Contemporary romantic suspense, M/F, 2 flames

Buy Links:

Friday, September 30, 2016

Linda Nightingale and her Vampire Morgan

Please welcome Linda Nightingale and her spicy new novel Morgan D’Arcy. Tell us about this romantic vampire story.

Certainly and thanks for having me, M. S.

   A titled lord, concert pianist, and … vampire, Morgan D’Arcy has everything he wants…except what he most desires…the woman of his dreams—the search is on.

Morgan D’Arcy: A Vampyre Rhapsody
By Linda Nightingale
The Wild Rose Press, September, 2016
Rating:  Spicy

The greatest enemy of a vampire is boredom. Four centuries of existence have taught Lord Morgan Gabriel D'Arcy to fear nothing and no one. Humans and their weapons have little chance against his preternatural speed and arcane powers. Vampires are viral mutations of human DNA. Still, the Vampyre code requires secrecy, and he has learned to hide his nature from the world. The lure of mortality, of a life in the sun, puts Morgan again and again at the mercy of calculating human women though they fail to consider his charm and determination into the equation. However, even grooming a future bride from infancy proves to be fraught with heartbreak. And second chances are not always what they seem unless... you are Morgan. Immortality and beauty, aren’t they grand?

What have reviewers been saying about Morgan?

“…Morgan…is a tour de force of egotism, wit, sensuality, and talent…” ~Author Toni V. Sweeney
 “Morgan D’Arcy is a class act and the most arresting vampire I’ve ever encountered in literature or films.” ~ Historical and Paranormal Romance Author Beth Trissel

The Vampyre Himself


To impress upon my applicant the luxury of this position, I asked the Institut to arrange for the initial interview to be conducted at dinner.   Excitement mounted as Jean-Pierre assisted me to dress in a black evening suit.  My manservant draped a long white cashmere scarf around my collar and stepped back to study his handiwork.  Defying fashion, my blond hair brushed my shoulders, but most times was tied at my neck with a black velvet ribbon.  In the English Civil War, I’d been a Royalist, proud to be a King’s man.  Cavaliers wore their hair long.
I was anxious to meet this Dr. Wolfe.  He sounded the perfect candidate for my secret assignment.  I didn’t doubt he’d accept when I rattled the coffers, but would he be as eager to assist me in a daring adventure? 
At eight o’clock on a chill Parisian night, I arrived at the fashionable restaurant, commissioned the best table and the establishment’s finest bottle of wine, waiting…for a surprise.
“Lord D’Arcy?”  A stunning redhead rested a graceful hand on the chair across the table.
I nodded, drinking in her beauty and the tempting fragrance of her blood.  The lines of her dark green dress emphasized her small waist.  The taffeta and velvet gown was elegant and stylish but probably modest in price.  Mischief sparkled in mesmerizing eyes of the palest blue.  I wished that this vision had appeared another time and place.  My intent was to greet and woo a brilliant scientist.  Soon, Dr. Wolfe would arrive.  For that meeting, I must be alone.  I rose, offering a slight bow.   Skirts swishing, she wafted near enough for me to touch.
“My name is Morgan.”  I brushed her gloved fingers to my lips.
She grinned, her enchanting eyes crinkling at the corners.  “I’m Amber Wolfe.”
Shock bled the color from my face.  “Dr. Wolfe?”
My astonishing guest fought a smile, lost the battle and laughed.  Her laughter was deep-throated, foggy, promising hidden delights to all six of my senses.  “It is evident no one saw fit to inform you that Dr. A. Wolfe is, in fact, Dr. Amber Wolfe... a woman.”
“I apologize for staring.  If I appeared rude, I am somewhat stunned.”  I hurried to hold her chair.
She sat very straight, her posture perfect.  “Thank you.”
I signaled for the waiter to pour her wine.  “I hope you like Cotes du Rhone.”
“Adore it.”   When she turned her head, studying the surroundings, a garnet brooch winked in the ambient light.  “In fact, I have always wanted to dine here.  The candlelight.  The rose on the table.  Very…”  She lowered her head, gazing at me through her curling lashes.  “Romantic.”
Dr. Wolfe, with her pale blue eyes, was flirting with me!  An accent I didn’t recognize tinted her voice deliciously sensual.  My sleeping libido stirred.  The redhead, and her intellect, fascinated me.  Grief evaporated in the heat of her gaze.  How could I have forgotten that there would always be another interesting woman around the next bend in the road?
“Wolfe isn’t a French name.” I pretended to peruse the leather-bound menu.
“My father was American.  He was a wine broker, traveling often to France.  He and my mother met on a holiday.  He lost his heart on the Riviera.  A month after he returned home, she followed him to America.  I grew up in Charleston, South Carolina, but came back to France to study at the Institut.”   She laughed again, musical and rich as her dusky voice.  “My mother was horrified I wanted to be a scientist.  She said it was a social outrage.  Father was proud of me.”
“From what I’ve heard of you, Dr. Wolfe, he has reason to be very proud.”  I wanted to hear her laugh again…all night long.
The waiter hesitated at my elbow, and in French said, “My Lord, may I take your order?”
My French mother had taught me her native tongue.  I was fluent in the language, my accent a mixture of Bretagne and British.  I deferred to my companion, delighted when she requested lobster bisque as a starter and an entrĂ©e of steak au poivre.   Women shouldn’t eat like birds, and I preferred expensive women.  Amber Wolfe gave every indication of being costly.
Once I’d ordered food I couldn’t eat, the waiter withdrew, leaving us alone in the static field of attraction crackling between us.  Two strangers, we sat smiling and gazing into each other’s eyes.
“I didn’t expect to be greeted by an English lord when I applied for the Andorra position.”  She swirled the red wine in her glass.  “I must say I am more than intrigued.  If my situation at the Institut were such that I could volunteer my services…”
“I’m quite willing to pay.”  I nodded to the Sommelier.  “Pour, please.”
He delivered a new glass, filling it with a wine to compliment the starter.  I wished I could taste the white Bordeaux, but I’d be violently ill.  With my fresh glass, I saluted my savior.  Some god somewhere had answered my prayer.  She gave me a stunning smile, raising her wine stem in acknowledgment.
I returned my untouched beverage to the table.  “I have a few questions, if I may.”
She inclined her head, the mellow light caressing her glossy auburn hair.  Amusement twinkled in her eyes.  Dr. Wolfe was fully aware she had ambushed me, gaining the temporary advantage.
“I’m sure you know this is a dangerous adventure.  Of greater importance, to me, you must keep everything you learn in the strictest confidence.”
She frowned.  “The Institut is, of course, interested in the Andorran tragedy. I’d thought to use my findings in my work.”
“That’s quite impossible.”
“Why does an English nobleman wish to research anthrax?”  She sipped her wine, never breaking eye contact.  “As you say, the mission is perilous.”
“That, and other revelations, will come in time.   If you commit to the position, you will be required to sign a confidentiality agreement.”
Amber shouldered back in her chair, crossed her arms, and stared into the distance.  I studied the emotions flitting across her face.  She was more than interested but not thrilled with the need for secrecy.  The whisper of conversation and clink of silverware on china intruded on the sudden quiet as my companion considered the demands of the job.  Her pupils dilated, darkening her eyes.  Deep in thought, she was truly lovely.
She roused, tossing me a coquettish glance.  “You had no idea I’d be a woman, and I didn’t dream my employer would be so handsome, Lord D’Arcy.”
“Thank you, and call me Morgan.”
“Did someone you love perish in the epidemic?"
I laughed.  “You’re fishing, Doctor.  Not someone I loved, but, yes, I knew a few of the victims.”
Her upper body inclined toward me.  I’d won our battle of wits and of the sexes.
“I accept,” she said.

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About Linda:

Born in South Carolina, Linda has lived in England, Canada, Miami, Ft. Lauderdale, Atlanta and Houston.  She’s seen a lot of this country from the windshield of a truck pulling a horse trailer, having bred, trained and showed Andalusian horses for many years.

Linda has won several writing awards, including the Georgia Romance Writers Magnolia Award.   She is the mother of two wonderful sons, a retired legal assistant, member of the Houston Symphony League, and enjoys events with her car club.  Among her favorite things are her two marvelous sons, a snazzy black convertible, and her parlor grand piano.  She loves to dress up and host formal dinner parties.

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/LNightingale - @Lnightingale
Web Site:  http://www.lindanightingale.com – Visit and look around. There’s a free continuing vampire story.
Blog:  https://lindanightingale.wordpress.com/ - Lots of interesting guests & prizes

Other Reads by Linda Nightingale:

Gemini Rising – Controversial Dark Fantasy with deep psychological undertones

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Just LOOK at this cover!

A rush of emotion dropped a veil over all but the tiny world of the two people in seats 11A and 11B, in a jet plane floating somewhere over the Atlantic, in a still moment in time.

RJ Morris has come up with another perfect cover--this time for Lapses of Memory, a story—a very romantic story—about a couple of  journalists who fall in love while cities and governments topple around them.

Doesn't it just make you want to go to Paris?