Showing posts with label Books for Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Books for Christmas. Show all posts

Friday, December 8, 2023

Backlist Surfing: Exotic Settings--Whirlwind Romance & Orion’s Foot

 Romance & Adventure in the Dusky Tropics

Since  my new release won’t grace the internet until next year, I thought I’d do a little backlist surfing. Today I’ll focus on two of my novels set in exotic locales—Whirlwind Romance, and Orion’s Foot: Myth, Mystery, and Romance in the Amazon.

Whirlwind Romance


Whirlwind Romance is romantic suspense at its best—complete with a mysterious royal hero and evil power-hungry usurpers. It’s set mainly in the Western Caribbean on a tiny island. Warning: it is one of my early, spicy (R-rated) novels.

Blurb

In the aftermath of a hurricane, Lacey Delahaye finds herself marooned on an island on the Gulf coast of Florida with a mysterious man. They are immediately drawn to each other, but before Armand can confess his identity, they are kidnapped and taken to a tiny island in the western Caribbean. With the help of her son Crispin and a cadre of loyal followers, she and Armand must face down pirates, power-mad ideologues, and palace intrigue, if they are to restore the once idyllic tropical island to its former glory.

The beach where they escape

Excerpt (G): The Escape

Lacey looked out again. “What’s the other castle, the one on the northern point?”

“It’s the ancestral estate of the Proctors. The first secretary has always come from their ranks. Edrigu is the current officeholder.”

“The first secretary is like what, a vizier?”

“Yes. And treasurer, chief steward, commander of the army—”

Lacey stifled a giggle. “An army of one?”

Armand looked down his nose at her. “For your information, our muskets still work, and both Stefan and Luis are well trained in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Should it ever be needed.”

He turned grave. “I hope to God it never will be.”

It reminded Lacey of their predicament. “Where is Ulisses, do you suppose?”

Almost as if he’d been listening, the door sprang open, and Traficant entered, carrying a coil of rope. “I have an appointment with a man named Damiano.” He put Lacey on the cot and tied her hands to the bedposts. Dragging a chair to the other side of the room, he lashed Armand to it. “Now stay put. I won’t be long.” He left.

They heard the splash of the anchor. A little later, the sound of oars dipping into the water told them their captor had taken the dinghy. Spread-eagled on the bed, her arms stretched painfully, a familiar panic smothered Lacey’s senses. She had never been able to stand having her arms pinioned. She laid her head back and tried to relax, but her breathing quickened and hysteria washed over her. She concentrated on the gentle rolling and pitching of the boat.

“Here, let me.” Warm breath misted the back of her head.

She tried to jerk upright, but the ropes pulled her back down. Her eyes wild, she opened her mouth to scream, but a rough hand went over it. “Shhh, quiet, Lacey! You’ll wake the dead.”

“Armand! You’re…you’re free! I thought…I thought…”

“Now if you will kindly wiggle your fingers.”

Lacey did so and soon felt a loosening of the bonds around her wrists. “How did you manage it?”

Armand held up his hands, free of rope. “Unlike American prep schools, Eton teaches useful skills such as fencing and lock-picking.”

“I bet you’re a big hit at parties.”

“As a matter of fact…” He picked up her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers.

Lacey took a deep breath, and peace flooded back into her body. “So, your degree is in escape artistry?”

“Among other things.”

She rubbed her wrists. “What do we do now?”

“We get off this boat.”

“You mean, swim?”

“If we have to.” He stood up and paced the cabin.

She stopped him, hand to his chest. “You can walk!”

“What?” He looked down as though discovering his feet for the first time. “Oh, yes. The ankle is nearly healed.”

“But you were limping heavily only last night when Ulisses took you.”

“That was for his benefit. If he thinks I’m still lame, he won’t worry about our getting away.”

“I see.” She went to the door and tried the handle. “Locked.”

Armand held up what looked like a needle. “Standard school supplies.” He fiddled with the lock until the door sprang open.

“Why didn’t you use that before?”

“And go where?” 

Books2Read

Wild Rose Press 

Amazon

Bookstrand

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

Google

ITunes

Walmart

Indigo

Overdrive

 

Orion’s Foot: Myth, Mystery, & Romance in the Amazon


Orion’s Foot is wild—it’s set deep in the Amazon at a research station, where a mysterious cryptid may be attacking the scientists. A cryptid can be a creature from myth and legend, a supernatural or paranormal entity, an extinct animal who may still inhabit a specific area. It’s often of unusual size or appearance—like the yeti, the sasquatch, or the Loch Ness monster.

Blurb:

Petra Steele is wallowing in self-pity after being dumped at the altar, when her brother Nick invites her to come to the Peruvian Amazon. Before she even sets her suitcase down, she's confronted with a murder victim. In a research station peopled with a quirky assortment of scientists, she is drawn to Emory Andrews, a gruff, big man with a secret past. That is, until his beautiful ex-wife shows up. More murders, more secrets, more mysteries ensue, all in the deeply romantic, sizzling jungle.

The Mapinguari

Excerpt: The Mapinguari

They went back down the path they’d come, surveying the ground and vegetation for any trace of a large animal. They had reached the mahogany tree when Petra checked her watch. “Winston’s been gone half an hour. Maybe we should—” Her words were cut off by a low snarl. “Emory? Is that you?” She whirled around. “Where are you?”

For answer, the growl grew deeper and more menacing. Sounds like a gorilla—but they don’t live here, do they? She whispered, “Emory?”

Shh.” She looked up. Emory clung to a low branch of the mahogany tree. He held a hand out. “Quickly.”

She grabbed a liana, hoping fervently it wasn’t a Strychnos vine, and scrambled up. The growl came again, closer. They climbed higher. Something crashed through the woods, puffing. Whatever it was entered the clearing, and the noise stopped. Petra held her breath and Emory’s hand. It must be looking for us. After a lengthy pause that left her feeling chilled to the bone in the torrid heat, the puffing started again, gradually diminishing into the distance. She waited five more minutes to be sure it was gone before whispering, “Did you get a look at it?”

“No, the foliage was in the way, but it sounded awfully big. And grouchy. I’m going to—” As he started to climb down, a twig snapped below them. They froze.

Something’s being dragged through the underbrush. They waited another five minutes. Finally, she ventured, “Do you think it’s gone?”

“I don’t know. Let me go first.” He ducked and touched the top of his head. “Uh-oh. I hope that’s not monkey scat.”

She raised her face to the canopy. “It’s rain.”

“Just a drizzle. No problem. We…shit.”

The downpour came suddenly, drenching them. They sat, huddled under the canopy of leaves, waiting it out. Petra tasted a drop on her forearm. “They don’t have acid rain here, do they?”

“No—they have a lot of poisonous species here, but no industrial pollution that I know of.” He shielded his face and looked up. “We can only hope manchineel trees don’t grow here. We’ll have to ask Aguirre when we get back.”

“Manchineel?”

“Small trees of the swamp. Their sap is extremely toxic. If it drips on you, it burns and blisters the skin. Enough exposure can kill you.”

“But if the poison is only in the sap, we’re safe unless we tap into the tree, right?”

“I wish. It’s a particularly vicious plant—even runoff from the leaves in a rainstorm can sluice the poison onto your skin.”

“Great.” She began to shiver, mainly due to nerves. The rain stopped.

They heard a shout. Winston came tumbling into the clearing. “Up here!”

He looked up. “What are you doing up there?”

“We heard something.”

“Never mind. I have news!” He panted. “My…my…son…he saw it.”

“What?”

“The Mapinguari.”

Emory started to climb down but paused. He stretched out an arm and grabbed at the hair, stuffing a hank in his pocket. “We should study it when we get back.”

Petra followed him. When she reached the ground, she found Winston, his face aglow with feverish excitement. “Your son saw a Mapinguari? Is he sure?”

“It was running through the scrub. Acarapi followed it, but in his hurry he stepped on a snake. He pulled up and it got away, but he says it was very tall and hairy.”

“Where was he when he saw it?”

“Only a few yards from here. He was picking herbs for the shaman. When the snake bit him, he went home for help.”

They crossed the clearing on the way to the boats. Winston slipped but caught himself. “What’s this? Were you people hungry? There is food in your backpacks.” He picked up a peel. “You shouldn’t have eaten Francisco’s bananas. You will have to pay him.”

A stalk of bananas had been stripped from the tree and dozens of empty peels lay about. Petra shook her head. “It wasn’t us.”

 

Books2Read

Wild Rose Press

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

ITunes

KOBO

Google Play

Indigo

Indie-bound

Scribd

Bookbub

Goodreads