tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4955822776847505782023-12-16T01:50:47.466-05:00Write Life of Andrea & CorrinaChicks of CharacterizationChicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.comBlogger578125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-49306742534978578402012-12-24T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-24T00:00:09.339-05:00 THE TROUBLE WITH HIGHLANDERS<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">By Mary Wine</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Book Five of the HIGHLANDER SERIES</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">RECOMMENDED READ</span></b></div>
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<strong>She Has Hardly Any Choices Left...</strong><br />
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With her clan on the wrong side of the struggle for the Scottish throne,
heiress Daphne Macleod, once the toad of the court, is out of options...<br />
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<strong>And They're All Dangerous...</strong><br />
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Norris Sutherland once helped Daphne, but she walked away from him without a
backward glance. Now she's in deep trouble and needs him more than ever. But he
may be lost forever...unless she can somehow convince him to forgive her.<br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trouble-with-Highlanders-ebook/dp/B007ZI09S8/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1355884351&sr=1-3&keywords=mary+wine+highlander+series" target="_blank"><b>PURCHASE THE TROUBLE WITH HIGHLANDERS</b></a></span><br />
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To find out more about THE TROUBLE WITH HIGHLANDERS AND Mary Wine's other books visit her website - <a href="http://www.marywine.com/website/"><b>http://www.marywine.com/website/</b></a><br />
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<span style="color: white;"><b>***** I am always attracted to books with HIGHLANDERS on the cover! I should come as no surprise that I LOVE Scottish Romances most of all. So, when I saw this yummy cover I had to read it!!! AND it does not disappoint!!! The only bad thing is, now I have to buy Mary's other books! </b><b>So many books so little time!********</b></span><br />
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<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">ENJOY</span></b><br />
Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-43850320261430463062012-12-21T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-21T00:00:11.470-05:00Featured Today- HEAVEN SENT<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">By Debut Author Sarah Hoss</span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1355880026129_120" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1355880026129_119" style="color: red; font-family: Calibri;"><em id="yui_3_7_2_1_1355880026129_118"><strong>When forgiveness heals the soul, love heals the heart.</strong></em></span></span></span></div>
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Flight nurse Tenlee Hawkins is used to making quick decisions, but one decision she made the Christmas day her mother died haunts her. Wrestling with the past, she spirals into depression—until the day she finds a man unconscious in her woods and saves his life.<br />
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When Sam awakens in the hospital with a concussion and no memory, Tenlee rescues him again. She takes him into her home and her life. But as Sam recovers and remembers who he is, he's torn. A guardian angel isn't supposed to fall in love.</div>
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As the promise of true love grows, Tenlee realizes that Sam has helped her much more than she ever helped him. But Sam is filled with guilt knowing he must soon leave. Will it take a Christmas miracle to find the life with Tenlee he’s always wanted?<br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Red and blue lights pulsed a beat all on their own, and even though the road was slick, people ran to and fro in a frantic pace to save a woman’s life.</span></span><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1355880026129_366" style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;">A car sat mangled on the side of the road. The roof, having been cut, rested on the ground beside it. A few feet beyond, a woman lay motionless. She wasn’t breathing as the EMT’s worked desperately to save her life. Sam closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. But it was no use. If he was here for an assignment then the lady on the ground was not going to live. He said another prayer, hoping that there would be no pain and she would slip easily into his world. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1355880026129_366" style="color: white; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"> The woman with the red hair sat on the ground near the deceased woman and cried, rocking back and forth. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;">“That is her mother.” </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"> Malachi’s deep voice broke into his thoughts and Sam turned to acknowledge him. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1355880026129_366" style="color: white; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;">“No, keep watching,” Malachi said. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"> The scene on the screen changed. Months passed, for now the trees were green and glorious in their summer splendor. A manicured lawn hugged a log cabin, nestled in the woods. Flowers sprung from pots here and there along the ground and deck. The place looked cozy. Scenes continued to change as did the weather. Snow decorated the landscape once again. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1355880026129_366" style="color: white; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;">Searching the scene for all of the details he could gather, Sam spotted her, just past the cabin, in the woods. She sat quietly on a swing hanging from a tree branch. The sadness etched in her features gripped Sam and tore at his emotions. He ached to go to her, to comfort her. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"><strong><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Heaven-Sent-ebook/dp/B00AO6IT30/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1355836129&sr=8-1&keywords=Sarah+Hoss" target="_blank">PURCHASE HEAVEN SENT</a></strong></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><b>ABOUT THE AUTHOR</b></span><br />
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<span lang="EN">Sarah Hoss grew up believing she could try anything and if she set her mind
to it, she would succeed. Sixteen years of dance lessons, Cheerleading, and
school plays proved to her that her parent’s words rang true. Writing was no
exception. Reading the Outlander series made her fall in love with time travels
and the historical places books could take her. Always a child with a vivid
imagination, she realized as an adult, she could put her imagination to good
use and began writing. Marrying her very own hero, they live in Indiana in the
town where she grew up. They have three beautiful children and one hyper dog.
When Sarah isn’t writing, she enjoys gardening, camping, and watching her kids’
play sports.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<u><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;"><b>Where to find Sarah-</b></span></span></u><b><u><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Twitter- @SarahHoss1<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Facebook-</span> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sarah-Hoss/237219983049037"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sarah-Hoss/237219983049037</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Website- </span><a href="http://www.sarahhoss.com/"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">www.sarahhoss.com</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Blog- </span><a href="http://www.heart-of-romance.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">www.heart-of-romance.blogspot.com</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">You can also find Sarah on LinkedIN,
Goodreads, and Pinterest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;">For more information please visit Sarah's website...</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="color: white;">***Sarah will be giving away an E-copy of HEAVEN SENT to one lucky commenter. Please leave a comment after this post, which includes your E-mail address so we may contact you should you WIN! Good luck!!!***</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>ENJOY</b></span></div>
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Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-56016964998416690322012-12-19T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-23T22:58:37.038-05:00Featured Today- HIGHLAND QUEST<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #f1c232;"><strong><u>WINNER OF THE CONTEST IS</u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232;"><strong><u>CATHY MACRAE!</u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">By B.J. SCOTT</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b>Book Two in the HIGHLAND SERIES- Sequel to HIGHLAND LEGACY</b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA">No longer
content in the shadows of his older brothers, Bryce Fraser rejoins the fight
for Scottish independence, but arrives too late to inform his fellow patriots
of a surprise ambush. Seriously wounded and left for dead, Bryce awakens to
find Fallon MacCrery tending his wounds, a twist of fate that rekindles passion
and desire he’d vowed to forget. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA">Gifted with
second sight and having lost everyone she ever held dear, Fallon believes her
ability and her love are curses that if
pursued will mean Bryce’s demise. But when she learns the English army plans to
destroy the Bruce and his followers, she risks all to warn them, even her
heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA">Can their
unspoken love stand the test in a time of uncertainty and war, or will the
plans of their enemy, a traitorous laird from a rival clan keep them apart
forever?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Loch Ryan Scotland, 1307 <br />
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“Wa . . . water,” Bryce mumbled, but there was no one there to listen. <br />
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His throat was parched and he ran his tongue over dry, cracked lips, but his action offered no relief. An entire loch lay only a few feet away, but he couldn’t muster the strength to drag himself to the bank and quench his thirst. <br />
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“Cold . . . so cold.” <br />
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Despite the sun beating down on him, he’d swear he was encased in ice. His life’s blood seeped from his wounds, soaking the ground beneath him. He tried to raise his head, but the excruciating pain radiating across his chest stole his breath away. <br />
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Was this what it felt like to die? If so, he prayed the Almighty would be merciful and take him now. <br />
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Bryce moaned, a shift in his position bringing on another nauseating wave of agony. He sucked in a short, sharp, gulp of air and stretched his arm out as far as he could, his fingers grappling in the dirt. <br />
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If only I could reach my sword. <br />
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Beads of perspiration dampened his brow. As the strength slowly drained from his body, drawing a simple breath became more difficult. The end grew near. No time to make amends for sins of the past, and he had committed his share. <br />
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Regrets? He had those, too. “Fallon.” He whispered her name then heaved a ragged sigh. He could see her beautiful face, her soft, porcelain-like skin with just a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Raven tresses hanging loose in a riot of curls down her back. Her petite, slender body had just the right curves to drive a man wild with desire. Mysterious sapphire eyes that held him captive and a heart-shaped mouth he’d never tire of kissing. If he had one wish before he died, it would be to hold her in his arms one more time, to find himself nestled between her thighs, making love until neither of them could take anymore. <br />
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But he’d missed his chance when she left Fraser Castle after his brother’s wedding, returning with her clan to their home in the borderlands. Determined not to allow Fallon, or any woman, to breach the protective wall he’d built around his heart, he’d let her go. <br />
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A restless spirit, he longed for adventure. While he admired his two older brothers, he was tired of living in their shadows. Alasdair had turned down the position of Laird when their father and older brother were killed at Berwick on Tweed. Connor, the next in line, had accepted the responsibility and did the Clan proud. He was happily married and Bryce was certain his wee son, Andrew, would be raised to follow in his father’s footsteps. <br />
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Bryce held no land or title. Until he had made a name for himself and earned these things, he had nothing to offer a wife. But marriage and family were not part of his immediate plans. He loved women, all women. Be they large, small, short, tall, fair, or plain, it made no difference as long as they were willing to warm his bed, and expected no long-term commitment in return. <br />
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A rogue many would say, but he made no secret of his intentions. So far, this way of life had served him well, and should he die in battle, he’d leave no one behind to mourn his loss. <br />
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When he was a lad of sixteen, he’d made the mistake of falling for the daughter of the village smithy. Totally enamored with each other, they’d vowed their eternal love and he believed they’d marry some day. <br />
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He swallowed hard at the ball of emotion rising in his throat, and clenched his teeth against the sudden ache gripping his heart. He’d heard when a man is about to die, his life experiences flash before his eyes. But some memories were far too painful to revisit. <br />
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He balled his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He didn’t want to think about the past and didn’t want a woman in his life. While Fallon was the only lass who had tempted him to stray from his chosen path, she was better off without him. Or so he’d told himself when he returned from a morning ride to learn she’d left Fraser Castle without saying goodbye. <br />
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Clinging to the memory of their brief time together, Bryce closed his eyes and waited for death to take him. But distant voices and the sound of approaching footfall alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone. <br />
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“Over here,” a man shouted. “I think this one is still breathing.” <br />
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“Aye, he’s alive, but for how long? The lad has lost a lot of blood,” another man commented and clucked his tongue. <br />
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Hovering on the edge of consciousness, Bryce heard the conversation going on between two men, maybe more. He tried to open his eyes, but the lids proved too heavy. <br />
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Judging by the familiar burr, these men were Scottish, but so were the traitorous bastards who had attacked them. <br />
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For a sennight, he’d ridden day and night. However in the end, he was too late to warn the Bruce’s brothers and their small group of Irish and Scottish islanders of the impending threat. Rushing headlong into an ambush and outnumbered four to one, their fate was sealed. <br />
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This wasn’t the first time the MacDougall Clan sided with the English. Staunch supporters of John Comyn’s bid for the Scottish crown, they’d turned their swords and their loyalty against their countrymen when Comyn was murdered at Grey Fryer’s Abbey and Robert the Bruce was accused of the deed. <br />
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After the massacre at Methven—the last major battle fought between the English and the Bruce before he went into hiding—the buggers lay in wait, attacking the Scottish survivors as they tried to make their way to the Argyle Mountains to regroup. The battle of Dail Righ would forever be a stain on the MacDougall clan’s name, and a battle Bryce would long remember. <br />
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Nor would he forget their leader. Today he’d had the long-awaited chance to make good on his oath to see the blackguard pay for his treasonous acts, but he’d failed. Instead, he’d found himself on the receiving end of Dungal’s sword. <br />
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“I canna believe Scots would kill Scots. These poor fellows dinna have a prayer of making it to shore unharmed,” the first man said. <br />
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“Aye, the ship was run aground and there must be at least fifty dead men on the bank of the loch. There appears to be a mix of Irish and Scots, but nary an English soldier or a MacDougall plaid among them.” The man speaking nudged Bryce’s shoulder with the toe of his boot. “This appears to be the only one alive.” <br />
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A dizzying wave of excruciating pain shot through Bryce’s chest as he was rolled onto to his side. <br />
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“What do you plan to do with this fellow, Donald?” the second man asked. “We canna just leave him here to bleed to death.” <br />
<br />
“We’ll take him with us. My niece has some knowledge of healing. She cared for my wife when she had the pox . . . rest her soul.” Donald paused for a moment before he continued. “After Mairi died, the lass decided to stay on for a while. Mayhap there is something she can do for him. Best we make haste. I dinna want to be here if the bastards return.” <br />
<br />
“I’ll be surprised if he survives the journey. But we can always bury him along the way if need be,” the second man responded. <br />
<br />
Strong hands slid beneath Bryce’s shoulders, raising him to a sitting position, then someone grabbed his legs. A few garbled words of protest were all he could manage before darkness closed around him.<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-T5WWSFBGI&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">WATCH HIGHLAND QUESTS TRAILER</a></span></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>HIGHLAND QUEST IS BEING RELEASED TODAY BY SOULMATE PUBLISHING!</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.soulmatepublishing.com/highland-quest/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #b45f06;">PURCHASE HIGHLAND QUEST</span></a></b><br />
<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Highland-Quest-ebook/dp/B00AQKYPU0/#_" target="_blank"><span style="color: #b45f06;">AMAZON</span></a></b><br />
<b><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/highland-quest-bj-scott/1114002946?ean=2940016110769" target="_blank"><span style="color: #b45f06;">BARNES & NOBLE</span></a></b><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b>ABOUT THE AUTHOR</b></span><br />
<br />
With a passion for historical romance, history in general, and anything Celtic, B.J. always has an exciting work in progress. Each story offers a blend of romance, adventure, suspense, and, where appropriate, a dab of comic relief. Carefully researched historical facts are woven into each manuscript, providing a backdrop from which steamy romance, gripping plots, and vivid characters—dashing alpha heroes and resourceful, beguiling heroines you can’t help but admire—spring to life. A PAN member of RWA, World Romance Writers, Celtic Hearts Romance Writers, and Savvy Authors, B.J. also writes contemporary, paranormal, time travel, and romantic suspense. <br />
<br />
C.S. Lewis first captivated B. J.’s imagination in the fourth grade, and her desire to write sprang from there. Following a career in nursing and child and youth work, B.J. married her knight-in-shining-armor, and he whisked her away to his castle by the sea. In reality, they share their century-old home in a small Canadian town on the shore of Lake Erie with four dogs and a cat. When she is not working at her childcare job, on her small business, or writing, you will find her reading, doing a variety of hand crafts, camping, or antique hunting.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://authorbjscott.com/yahoo_site_admin/assets/images/HighlandLegacy_72dpi1coverresized.248114240_std.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://authorbjscott.com/yahoo_site_admin/assets/images/HighlandLegacy_72dpi1coverresized.248114240_std.JPG" width="133" /></a>To find out more about B.J. Scott and the other book in the Highland Series- HIGHLAND LEGACY please visit her website- <b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><a href="http://www.authorbjscott.com/"><span style="color: #0b5394;">www.authorbjscott.com</span></a> </span></b>or at her blog <b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><a href="http://authorbjscott.wordpress.com/">http://authorbjscott.wordpress.com/</a></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #bf9000;">*Highland Legacy will be On sale from Dec 11th to Dec 25th for $2.99* </span></b><br />
Highland Legacy, book one in the Highlander series. An Amazon best seller in historical romance and finalist in the Oklahoma RWA International Digital Awards 2012. Is available in print and e-book.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yz3IA4Lu464&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">Watch Trailer for HIGHLAND LEGACY</a> </span></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><span style="color: #bf9000;">PURCHASE HIGHLAND LEGACY</span></b></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Highland-Legacy-ebook/dp/B0065KX8P8" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #b45f06;">Amazon</span></b></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b>*IN SPIRIT OF THE SEASON- THE YULE LOG*</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b><br /></b></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidEA80fFHkH2I8bnI2oz9KV0bi5B9sgBvl-iDzO55FX8i0c8v601tX5T7NeVfbLay7b5wuKYuDpS7826P3Z2AbbmaUfjDuuhUuympGPZrjWIhssR1_DvKbbdN8QJOxfuuTCxCHRkUS56H3/s1600/yuletide-log-cake-for-christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidEA80fFHkH2I8bnI2oz9KV0bi5B9sgBvl-iDzO55FX8i0c8v601tX5T7NeVfbLay7b5wuKYuDpS7826P3Z2AbbmaUfjDuuhUuympGPZrjWIhssR1_DvKbbdN8QJOxfuuTCxCHRkUS56H3/s1600/yuletide-log-cake-for-christmas.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA">When we
think of this holiday treat, we see a chocolate cake shaped like a log and
decorated with colourful icing, sprinkles and sprigs of holly. In many
countries, including </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-CA">Scotland</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-CA"> these festive cakes are still used
to mark the end of the year and to bring luck and good fortune to their home
and loved ones. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA">But the
origin of the Yule Log had nothing to do with cake or treats. The actual
country of origin is not known for certain, but the tradition goes back
centuries and was believed to have stemmed from Nordic cultures and </span><st1:country-region><span lang="EN-CA">Germany</span></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-CA"> pagan rituals, later brought to </span><st1:country-region><span lang="EN-CA">Britain</span></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-CA">, </span><st1:country-region><span lang="EN-CA">Ireland</span></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-CA"> and </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-CA">Scotland</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-CA">. The first record in </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-CA">Britain</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-CA"> of the Yule log being associated
with Christian celebrations was in 1620, but that does not mean it was not used
prior to that date.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA">In Ancient
Europe, before medieval times the Yule Log was associated with the Winter
Solstice, or Yule, celebrating the rebirth of the sun. Celts and Druids would
select a large piece of wood, often from an oak, pine or evergreen because they
were believed to hold magical properties, decorated them with mistletoe and
holly--two plants associated with the Yule season for their magical and
protective powers. The Yule log was then blessed, lit with a torch from the
previous year’s log, and kept burning for twelve days and nights. Being a dark
and cold time of year, by doing so and keeping the fire burning for that
designated length of time, they believed it would not only bring good luck and
prosperity, but also ensure the return of the sun and warmth. To allow the fire
to burn out would bring bad luck, so it was tended with care.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Later associated with Christian rituals of Christmas and
twelfth night festivities, the log were selected with care, decorated and
dragged into the home on Christmas Eve. Sometimes an entire tree was used. The
largest end placed on the hearth and lit using twigs or torches saved from the log
of the previous year. The remainder of the log stuck out into the middle of the
room, but as the fire consumed the wood, the tree was fed into the hearth as
needed, by the end of the twelve days all that remained was ash and remnants to
be saved and used the following year to light the next log. The ash was saved
and sprinkled on fields to aid the crop and in the well to assure it did not run
dry.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the years past and open hearths became obsolete, the
tradition of the Yule log diminished in <st1:place>Europe</st1:place>. However
the belief in its power still remains and the tradition kept alive on a much
smaller, more practical scale. Symbolic Yule logs are still selected and
decorated for the season and lets not forget the Yule log we can eat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So as you cut a slice of your chocolate treat this holiday
season, think about the origin of the Yule log and how it became part of our
Christmas traditions.</div>
<br />
<b><span style="color: #bf9000;">Traditional Yule Log Recipe </span></b><br />
<br />
Cake: <br />
2/3 cup flour<br />
1/4 teaspoon soda<br />
1/4 teaspoon salt<br />
4 eggs<br />
3/4 cup sugar<br />
3 squares unsweetened chocolate<br />
2 tablespoons water <br />
<br />
Filling:<br />
1/2 pint whipped cream<br />
2 tablespoons icing (confectioners') sugar<br />
1 teaspoon vanilla <br />
<br />
Icing:<br />
1/3 cup butter<br />
2 cups icing (confectioners') sugar<br />
1/4 cup cocoa<br />
2 tablespoons milk<br />
1/2 teaspoon vanilla <br />
<br />
<b><i>Directions </i></b></div>
<div>
<br />
<b>Cake:</b><br />
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 15 x 10 inch jelly roll pan, and line with waxed paper. Grease waxed paper. <br />
<br />
Mix flour, soda, and salt together. <br />
<br />
Beat eggs in a small mixer bowl at high speed, until thick and light - about 5 minutes. <br />
<br />
Gradually add the sugar, and beat until thick. <br />
<br />
Melt the chocolate and water together, and add to the egg mixture. <br />
<br />
Fold in the dry ingredients, and mix gently but thoroughly. <br />
<br />
Spread in prepared pan, and bake for 15 - 17 minutes, until the cake springs back when lightly touched. <br />
<br />
Remove from oven and turn out immediately onto a tea towel that has been sprinkled generously with icing sugar. <br />
<br />
Remove waxed paper, and trim of any crisp edges of the cake. <br />
<br />
Begin at the narrow end, and roll up the cake and the tea towel together. Allow to cool. <br />
<br />
<b>Filling:</b></div>
<div>
Whip cream until soft peaks form. Stir in icing sugar and vanilla and whip until stiff. <br />
<br />
Unroll the cake when cool, and spread the top with the whip cream. <br />
<br />
Re-roll, without the towel. <br />
<br />
Cut a thin slice off of each end of the roll, to make them even. <br />
<br />
<b>Icing:</b></div>
<div>
Soften butter. Combine all ingredients and beat until smooth and of good spreading consistency. <br />
<br />
Use the centres of the ends you sliced off the cake to make "bumps on the log": Use a little of the icing to affix the bump to the side of the cake - one on each side. <br />
<br />
Ice the entire cake with the icing, including the ends and the bumps. <br />
<br />
Run a fork along the icing so that it resembles tree bark. <br />
<br />
Sprinkle with icing sugar, and decorate with holly or other Christmas decoration leaves.<br />
Store in refrigerator.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<b style="color: #b45f06; font-size: x-large;">Enjoy</b><br />
<b style="color: #b45f06; font-size: x-large;"><br /></b>
<b style="color: #b45f06; font-size: x-large;"><br /></b>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;">***ONE LUCKY COMMENTER WILL WIN AN E-COPY OF EITHER HIGHLAND LEGACY OR HIGHLAND QUEST- (WINNERS CHOICE) AND A HANDMADE BOOK THONG!**** </span></b><br />
Please leave your E-mail address so we may notify you should you win!<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-59823239342955947632012-12-17T00:25:00.002-05:002012-12-17T00:25:54.212-05:00Featured Today- PLAYING FOR KEEPS<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">By Cynthia Owens</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">Book Three of the CLADDAGH SERIES</span></strong></div>
<br />
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<a href="http://cynwrites1.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/playing-for-keeps-2500.jpg?w=468" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://cynwrites1.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/playing-for-keeps-2500.jpg?w=468" width="204" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He fled life in the shadows for a life in the limelight<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Never as dutiful as his older brother, Lucas
Davenport<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a> was a thinker, a dreamer of dreams. When
tragedy overtook his family, he fled to the bright lights of the stage. Can he
make the Shannon Theatre Troupe a success – or is he doomed to once again be
“the other son?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She sought the past she barely remembered.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mary Kathryn O’Brien returns to the genteel
world her mother left behind – but can Irish Katie ever truly hope to belong?
Or will old wounds and new rivalries destroy the threads of family forever?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Lucas and Katie must battle prejudice and buried
secrets before they can learn to trust each other. Is their love just a brief
intermission, or are they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Playing For
Keeps</i>?</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; line-height: 115%;"><strong><span style="color: #bf9000;"><br /></span></strong></span>
<span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; line-height: 115%;"><strong><span style="color: #bf9000;">EXCERPT</span></strong></span><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;"></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><strong><i><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;">Philadelphia, 1850</span></i><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Luke stared in silent horror as glowing red flames
devoured the warehouse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><i><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">What have you done this time</span></i><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The words resounded through Luke’s brain,
condemning and inevitable, in his father’s disapproving tones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">What had he done? He’d secured the warehouses. He
had, he was sure of it. He’d made certain all the forges were out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Hadn’t he? Or had his head been too full of the
play he’d been studying in secret, the characters he was determined to flesh
out, the pages he’d obsessively filled with his own dreams and interpretations?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Clanging bells and pounding hooves hammered in his
ears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><i><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Thank you, God</span></i><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">But as quickly as relief flared, terror chased
close on its heels.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: x-large; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dear God, was anyone still inside? Tobias, his
father’s most trusted clerk—surely he’d left long ago. And the two young men
Matt hired last month—hadn’t they spoken of going to The Dancing Horse to spend
their first pay packets?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">He struggled for breath, the acrid smell of burning
wood and molten steel tearing at his throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Bleak realization swept through him. It was his
fault. It had to be. But it was an <i>accident</i>…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Matthew. Matt would take care of everything. Matt
always cleaned up his little brother’s messes, covered up Luke’s many
shortcomings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: small;">
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">“Mr. Lucas? Mr. Lucas!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Dazed, Luke stared in disbelief at the normally
impeccable clerk. Tobias had lost his coat, his once pristine white linen shirt
was torn and covered with soot. Luke’s gut clenched as he took in the other
man’s wild hair, the bloody gash slashed cruelly across one cheek.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">“Mr. Lucas!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">Luke grabbed Tobias’s arm, his head thudding, his
fingers gripping convulsively. Fear struck ice cold in his heart. His entire
body shaking, he ran his dry tongue over his ash-covered lips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">“Tobias, where’s Matt?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The clerk gazed at Luke, pity darkening his eyes.
Tears trailed slowly down his soot-blackened face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">“Mr. Matthew’s dead, sir.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: small;"></span><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b>PURCHASE PLAYING FOR KEEPS</b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b><br /></b></span>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Playing-for-Keeps-ebook/dp/B00AKWC11O%3FSubscriptionId%3DAKIAJBDF5XQBATGDX4VQ%26tag%3Dspea06-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3DB00AKWC11O" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Amazon</span></b></a></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b><br /></b></span>
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/playing-for-keeps-cynthia-owens/1113947284?ean=2940015735512" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Barnes & Noble</span></b></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b>ABOUT THE AUTHOR</b></span></div>
<br />I believe I was destined to be interested in history. One of my distant ancestors, Thomas Aubert, reportedly sailed up the St. Lawrence River to discover Canada some 26 years before Jacques Cartier’s 1534 voyage. Another relative was a 17thCentury “King’s Girl,” one of a group of young unmarried girls sent to New France (now the province of Quebec) as brides for the habitants (settlers) there. <br /><br />My passion for reading made me long to write books like the ones I enjoyed, and I tried penning sequels to my favorite Nancy Drew mysteries. Later, fancying myself a female version of Andrew Lloyd Weber, I drafted a musical set in Paris during WWII. <br /><br />A former journalist and lifelong Celtophile, I enjoyed a previous career as a reporter/editor for a small chain of community newspapers before returning to my first love, romantic fiction. My stories usually include an Irish setting, hero or heroine, and sometimes all three. My novels, In Sunshine or in Shadow and Coming Home, set in post-Famine Ireland, are available from Highland Press. Playing For Keeps, the third book in the Claddagh series, will also be published by Highland Press. <br /><br />I am a member of the Romance Writers of America, Hearts Through History Romance Writers, and Celtic Hearts Romance Writers. A lifelong resident of Montreal, Canada, I still live there with my own Celtic hero and our two school-aged children. <br /><br />To learn more about Cynthia and her other books please visit her website- <a href="http://authorcynthiaowens.com/"><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">http://authorcynthiaowens.com/</span></b></a><br /><br /><br /><div>
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b>ENJOY</b></span><br />
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Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-64679116192442977302012-12-15T11:10:00.002-05:002012-12-15T11:10:54.618-05:00F*R*E*E* today- SOMEWHERE MY LOVE<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="color: white; font-size: large;">By Beth Trissel</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">Book one in the SOMEWHERE IN TIME SERIES</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;"></span></strong> </div>
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Fated lovers have a rare chance to reclaim the love cruelly denied them in the
past, but can they grasp this brief window in time before it’s too
late?<br /><br />Two hundred years ago Captain Cole Wentworth, the master of an
elegant Virginian home, was murdered in his chamber where his portrait still
hangs. Presently the estate is a family owned museum run by Will Wentworth, a
man so uncannily identical to his ancestor that spirit-sensitive tour guide
Julia Morrow has trouble recognizing Cole and Will as separate. As Julia begins
to remember the events of Cole’s death, she must convince Will that history is
repeating, and this time he has the starring role in the tragedy. The blade is
about to fall.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;">GET YOUR FREE COPY HERE-</span> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/SOMEWHERE-LOVE-Somewhere-Time-ebook/dp/B00AFJ7DZ6/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1354249881&sr=1-1&keywords=kindle+somewhere+my+love+by+beth+trissel" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><strong>AMAZON</strong></span></a><br />
<br />
Check out Beth's other books on her website - <a href="http://bethtrissel.com/"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><strong>http://bethtrissel.com/</strong></span></a><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">ENJOY</span></strong><br />
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Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-18463949090888106692012-12-14T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-14T00:00:02.512-05:00Recommended Read- THE RECRUIT<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">By Monica McCarty</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">Book Six of the HIGHLAND GUARD SERIES</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #bf9000;"><i>Scotland’s King Robert the Bruce is retaking his kingdom from the
invading English. To win, he’ll need all the grit and courage of his elite band
of warriors, the Highland Guard, men who fight without fear and love without
limits.</i></span></b><br /><b> </b><br />Fiery, aggressive, and bold, Kenneth Sutherland is a
true champion—skilled with any weapon and driven to win. Now Kenneth is ready
for his greatest challenge: joining Robert the Bruce’s secret army to fight
among the elite. Kenneth’s best chance to attain that honor is by winning the
Highland Games. Focused and prepared for victory, he is caught off guard by a
lovely wisp of a woman—and a stolen moment of wicked seduction. Her innocent
arousal and her shameless hunger fire his blood. He will win his place in the
guard—and in Mary of Mar’s bed.<br /> <br />The ruggedly handsome hero-in-the-making
stirs a heart that should know better. Mary vows that her surrender will be
sport only—no promises, no heartbreak, just one night of incredible passion.
Nothing, she swears, will persuade her to give up her hard-wrought independence
and put her fate in the hands of another powerful man. But with every gentle
touch and heart-pounding kiss, Kenneth makes her want more. Now Mary wants his
heart. But is this determined champion willing to surrender everything for
love?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b>PURCHASE THE RECRUIT</b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0345528417/?tag=monicamccarty-20">http://www.amazon.com/dp/0345528417/?tag=monicamccarty-20</a></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
To read an excerpt from THE RECRUIT visit Monica McCarty on the web- </div>
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<a href="http://www.monicamccarty.com/books/recruit.php">http://www.monicamccarty.com/books/recruit.php</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>*I am OBSESSED with Monica McCarty's HIGHLAND GUARD series and have been waiting somewhat impatiently for this book- AND it did not disappoint!!! If you haven't read this, you need too!!! And if you haven't read the rest of the Highland Guard books- Run out and buy them all!!! You won't be DISAPPOINTED!!!!!!!!!!!*</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #bf9000;">ENJOY</span></b></div>
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Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-12025605083616774972012-12-12T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-12T00:00:00.600-05:00Featured Today- THE HIGHLANDER'S LADY<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">By Eliza Knight</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">Book Three in THE STOLEN BRIDES SERIES</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<strong><i><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"'; font-size: large;">A Highlander tamed…</span></i><o:p></o:p></strong></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Laird Daniel Murray seeks adventure, battle and freedom for his
countrymen. Putting off his duties as laird—with a promise to his clan he’ll
return come spring—Daniel sets off with his men to fight alongside William
Wallace and the Bruce. But soon he stumbles across an enchanting lady in need.
She tantalizes him with an offer he simply can’t refuse and a desire he
attempts to dismiss.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">A lady’s passion ignited…</span></i><o:p></o:p></span></strong></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Escaping near death at the treacherous hands of a nearby clan,
Lady Myra must find the Bruce and relay the news of an enemy within his own
camp. Alone in a world full of danger and the future of her clan at stake, she
must trust the handsome, charismatic Highland laird who promises to keep her
safe on her journey—and sets her heart to pounding.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Together, Daniel and<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">will risk not only their lives, but their
hearts while discovering the true meaning of hope and love in a world fraught
with unrest.</span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">
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</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Cambria;">I’m
excited to announce the release of the third book in my Stolen Bride series,
THE HIGHLANDER’S LADY (available in print and ebook). Today, I’d love to share
an excerpt from the first chapter of my new release! Thank you, Chicks, for letting me
visit with you!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Cambria;"><em><strong><br /></strong></em></span>
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Cambria;"><em><strong>ELIZA</strong></em></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"'; font-size: 13.5pt;">EXCERPT</span></b><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></i><br />
<b><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"'; font-size: 13.5pt;">Early December</span></i></div>
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<st1:place><i><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"'; font-size: 13.5pt;">Highlands</span></i></st1:place><i><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"'; font-size: 13.5pt;">, 1297<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">A</span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">loud crash sounded from below stairs, startling Lady Myra from her prayers. What in all of heaven was that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ɻook Antiqua\'';">She’d been sequestered in the chapel for most of the morning—penance for her latest bout of eavesdropping.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">The chapel was dark, lit only by a few candles upon the altar. A fierce winter gust blew open the shudders, causing the candle flames to waver.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">rushed to the windows, securing the shudders once more, feeling the wood rattle against her fingertips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Her stomach muscles tightened with unease. There were not often sounds like this at Foulis. In fact, she’d never heard such before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">The very floors seemed to shake. Imagination going wild, she pictured the boards beneath her feet splintering and falling through to the great hall below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">kept a keen ear, waiting for a sign that would reassure her that nothing was amiss. For once she hoped to hear her older brother, Laird Munro, railing at the clumsy servant who’d dropped something, but there was nothing save an eerie silence. The hair along her neck rose and with it, her skin prickled as an acute sense of dread enveloped her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">The castle was never this silent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">“Astrid?” she called out to her maid—but there was no reply. Not even the scurrying of her servant’s feet across the floor. Where had the maid gone? She was supposed to wait for<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">outside the chapel door. “Astrid!” she called a little louder this time, but still there was no reply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">’Twas as if she were alone, but that made no sense.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:place><st1:placename><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Foulis</span></st1:placename><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><st1:placetype><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Castle</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">was always bustling with people. Unable to stand the silence,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">scrambled to her feet. She lit a tallow candle by the hearth to light her way in the darkened corridor and slowly crept toward the door of the family chapel. Nothing but a whisper of a breeze from her gown disturbed the areas where she passed—’twas how she was able to eavesdrop so often. Locked away, supposedly for her own good, since she was a girl, she learned an important lesson. If she were to find out anything of import, she had to be secretive and slick, so she learned to creep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">She did so now with practiced ease, sidestepping boards known to creak and pausing every few moments to listen for sounds. She strained to hear a whisper, someone’s breathing, anything that would assure her that she had in fact let her imagination get the best of her. But there was nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Fighting hard to keep the fear from suffocating her, she reached the door, and with tortured slowness gripped the cool iron handle. She wanted to throw it open, and ignore the dread that held her hand still. But she had to trust her instincts. Something was terribly wrong. She could feel it.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">leaned in close, pressing her ear to the frozen wood. She remained motionless, listening. Again silence. Satisfied there was no imminent threat, she began to open the door. An earth shattering shriek and another loud crash broke the silence.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">slammed the door. Was that…? She shook her head. It couldn’t be. Scrambling away from the door, she dropped her candle which snuffed itself out. God’s teeth! Was that a battle cry? Granted, she’d never heard one before, but ’twas not just any shout. Nay, this sound was terrifying. A cry that sent her knees to shaking and her lip to bleeding from biting it so hard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">She could barely see, the candles at the altar weren’t putting off enough light. What in blazes was she supposed to do? How would she protect herself? Damn those guards. Why hadn’t there been any warning? Shouts of caution. Why hadn’t the gates been closed?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Was it possible that she’d just not heard the warnings? She had been deep in prayer, worrying about her sore knees, and to add insult to injury she’d needed to use the privy for hours. Had she been that preoccupied? Angered? So distracted that if someone had shouted in her ear she probably wouldn’t have heard it? She took a deep breath to figure out her next course of action.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">The secret stairways! Lucky for her, the chapel was located in a tiny corridor off the gallery above the great hall. A hidden stair, inside the chapel, led up to the master’s chamber. Embarrassed after her penances—which were often,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">chose not to venture into the great hall, instead she preferred to use the hidden stairs. She knew them well. All of them. When she was just a girl, her father had shown her where they were located, and when she’d once found them fun, she now found comfort in their obscurity. Now they would not only help hide her embarrassment but they might even save her life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">did regret being sent to Father Holden for having listened in on a very private and political conversation. Her ears burned from hearing all the things he and his allies had said. Worry consumed her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">But this was no time to think back on that conversation. Or was it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">There’d been a warning. Rumors of an impending attack. But who would attack Foulis? Any why? Such an act was foolish. They had excellent fortifications. A stone gate tower was built at the front of the castle walls, with at least a half dozen guards on watch at a time. Her brother Byron made sure the gate was always closed, and most often barred. Their walls were thick and she’d thought impenetrable. If they were being attacked, there should have been fair warning. The guards could see all around the castle. No hidden spots for an enemy to hide. Her brother’s retainers kept guard upon the walls and the lands. This she knew—so how?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Then<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">remembered— from a neighboring clan, Laird Magnus Sutherland had told her brother that they suspected an attack would come from a trusted ally. There would be no warning. Anyone could be the enemy. Except Magnus had warned of one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Ross</span></i><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Upon her father’s deathbed this past spring, he’d signed a betrothal contract between<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">and Laird Ross—despite Ross being old enough to be her father.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">and Ross’ daughter, Ina—who made<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">want to pull her own hair out—were the same age.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">crinkled her nose. Wasn’t it wrong to be the stepmother of a woman who shared her birth year?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">’s reaction to the news of her betrothal had garnered her a penance too—three days in a hair shirt and her skin had been so irritated she’d not been comfortable in even the softest linen chemise Astrid could find for her for nearly a fortnight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Could it be him? Was that how the enemy had gained entrance without warning? If ’twas Ross, the he probably tricked everyone into thinking he’d come to discuss the impending alliance between their two clans. Byron wouldn’t have suspected an attack—despite the warning—he was too trustworthy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">backed toward the center of the room. Faint cries of pain floated through the floorboards. Fear snaked its way around her spine and threatened to take away her mobility. She grabbed the wooden slat leaning against the wall to bar the door. The candles flickered. Whoever was downstairs was not here for a friendly visit. Heaven help her. They would leave no room unturned.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">prayed her brother and his wife, Rose who was heavy with child, were safe. That Astrid was hunkered down somewhere with the other servants. She covered her ears from the cries of pain and anger. There was little doubt the enemy was causing great destruction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">“Zounds!”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">tamped the candles on the altar, putting the chapel into shadows and stalked toward the tapestry of a great wildcat on the hunt. She flipped back the covering, not even a speck of dust to make her sneeze since she used it so often. Pressing on the rock that opened the hidden door, she slipped into the black, closing the door behind her. Silent, she welcomed the comfort of nothingness as she slid her feet along the landing until she reached the first step. Finally something positive had come from her many penances, after using this particular staircase at least a thousand times, she knew the exact measurements of each step. The depth, the height. They fit her feet perfectly now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Fingers trailing over the dusty, crumbling stone walls, she made her way carefully but briskly down the stairs until she reached the wall behind her brother’s study. She peered through the imperceptible crack in the wall where she often stood to listen—as she had just the day before. The room was lit by a few candles as though her brother had been there, but he was not now. The room was empty and undisturbed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Where was he? And Rose?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">’s unease was slowly turning into an acute fear. She refused to let her nerves take over. There had to be another explanation. They<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>couldn’t</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>be under attack. She refused to believe it. Her mind skipped over every other possibility. Perhaps the men were involved in another round of betting. Fighting each other to see who could best who. That made sense. All the servants would be crowded in the minstrel’s gallery above to watch, and the great hall would be a raucous room full of shouting, sweating, swearing warriors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">That had to be it. A mock battle of some sort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Yet, this felt different. Every nerve in her body strained and her teeth chattered with fear. Why was she reacting so physically when it might possibly be nothing more than a bit of rowdy warrior fun? Her overactive imagination? Probably. But, she would have to see for herself.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">continued along her path, winding down and nearly to the great hall when she heard a distant whimpering. Nothing more than a whisper of a sound, but in the complete and silent dark, it was telling. Recalling the number of steps she’d taken, she calculated that she must be just outside Rose’s solar. She ran her hand along the wall searching for the small metal handle, then nudged the door an inch ajar. It was indeed Rose’s solar, and the whimpering was coming from inside, but she couldn’t see who it was, since the doorway was hidden behind a bureau that was pushed against it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">listened for a few moments longer to discern if there was only one person in the room. It had to be Bryon’s wife. “Rose?” she whispered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">The whimpering stopped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">“Hello?” came the tentative voice of her sister-by-marriage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">She called to her softly, “Rose, ’tis<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">A scuffling, like shoes scooting across the floor sounded within the room. Within moments Rose’s tear-stained face peered through the crack. Her brown eyes were red rimmed and her fiery curls jutted in frantic wisps from her head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">“</span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">!” she whispered frantically. “Ye must help me. They’ve come. I think they killed Byron. Everyone.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">“Who? Wait, help me push this door open, ye must come in here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Rose shook her head. “They are tearing the castle apart as we speak. If I come in there, then they will too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">’s sister-by-marriage was right. It would be impossible for them to put the bureau back in place. They had to escape unnoticed. The secret passages were the only way—and they had to remain concealed. “Can ye get to Byron’s library? There’s a passage through the hearth.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Rose looked about frantically, as if expecting the door to her solar to bang open at any moment. She nodded, fear filling her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">“I will meet ye there. Go. Quickly.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">reached her fingers through the door and gripped Rose’s, hoping to give her some measure of comfort. “I will be there waiting.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Rose nodded again, squeezing<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">’s hand with trembling fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">“I’m going now,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">There was silence and then a creak as Rose opened the door. For several agonizing heartbeats,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">waited. Waited for Rose to be struck down. Waited for the sound of shouts as she made her escape. Waited for something horrifying to happen. But there was nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">counted to thirty, slowly, with even breaths, and then she ran back up the dark winding stair until she reached Byron’s library. Peeking through the crack, she determined the room was still empty. With trembling fingers she found the hook in the wall, and slid her finger through it yanking and twisting until the lock unlatched and the wall opened behind the hearth. The library’s hidden door was heavy, but not as heavy as it could be. Made from plaster to look like stone, it was a perfect disguise within the wall. Ashes from the grate stirred and made her cough. She hid her face in her cloak to stifle the sound, and muttered a prayer of thanks for no fire being in the hearth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Her heart felt as though it would explode, racing like sheep hunted by wolves.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Myra</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">crouched low to wait for Rose, hoping that should the enemy enter she’d have time to shut the hidden door without their notice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';"><strong>Dear God, let Rose make it here safely.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></i></div>
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<b><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'ȫook Antiqua"';">Want to read more? THE HIGHLANDER’S LADY is available from the following E-tailers…</span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Highlanders-Stolen-Bride-Series-ebook/dp/B00AJQ32AK"><span style="color: blue;">Kindle</span></a> (Print
and Ebook)/ <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-highlanders-lady-eliza-knight/1045378282?ean=2940015729955"><span style="color: blue;">Barnes
and Noble</span></a> /<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/262664"><span style="color: blue;"> Smashwords</span></a> (all
e-formats) </span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: 13.5pt;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR</span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Eliza Knight is the multi-published, award-winning, Amazon best-selling author of sizzling historical romance and erotic romance. While not reading, writing or researching for her latest book, she chases after her three children. In her spare time (if there is such a thing…) she likes daydreaming, wine-tasting, traveling, hiking, staring at the stars, watching movies, shopping and visiting with family and friends. She lives atop a small mountain, and enjoys cold winter nights when she can curl up in front of a roaring fire with her own knight in shining armor.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Visit Eliza at<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.elizaknight.com/">www.elizaknight.com</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>or her historical blog History Undressed:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.historyundressed.com/">www.historyundressed.com</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">*Get your copy of THE HIGHLANDERS LADY TODAY! And check out ELIZA'S website for a look at her other books.*</span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: 13.5pt;">ENJOY</span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-64509039485250058172012-12-10T00:00:00.000-05:002012-12-10T00:00:01.327-05:00Featured Today- THE TEMPERATE WARRIOR<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">By Renee Vincent</span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;"><b>Book One of the WARRIOR SAGAS</b></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;"><strong>He was her champion.
She was his weakness.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;"><strong>Together, they loved
with wild abandon.</strong></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Gustaf Ræliksen lives by the blade of his sword. After
avenging his father’s murder and reuniting with his family, he wants nothing
more than to settle down and have sons of his own. Only one woman will do—a
fiery redhead he saved from the spoils of war.<br />
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No longer forced to warm the beds of the men who've taken everything from her,
Æsa has nothing to offer the noble warrior but her heart.<br />
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When someone with a deep score to settle seeks revenge upon her, Gustaf's world
is torn asunder. He has but one vow—saving the woman he loves from the ignorant
fool who dared to best the temperate warrior.</span></span></div>
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<strong><span style="color: #b45f06;">EXCERPT</span></strong></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“Dying a thousand
deaths in my head to protect you is better than losing you one time in the
flesh. I would never recover if I let anything happened to you.”<br />
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His voice was devoid of emotion, monotone as he laid open his heart for her.
Most would think he was just being aloof, uncaring as he rattled off
sentimental words in an impersonal way. But Æsa knew better. He was not only
bearing his soul to her, but doing so the only way he knew how; by occupying
his mind and body with a simple task so his heart couldn’t entertain the idea
of failure.<br />
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Moved by his words, she stood and made haste to join him on the hide. Dropping
to her knees, she laid her hands atop his wrists, impeding his progress with
the knife. His eyes met hers and they stared at one another.<br />
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Long, heartfelt seconds ticked by as she absorbed the magnitude of his pain.
She plucked the tools from his hands and set them at his feet. “I am so sorry
for bringing this burden upon you.” Gustaf opened his mouth for rebuttal, but
she pressed her finger to his lips, feeding his words back to him. “Yesterday,
you were without burden, at peace knowing you had fulfilled your duty as a
loyal son. Ready to start your life anew…remember?”<br />
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He closed his eyes as if forcing himself to hear her and wait his turn.<br />
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“And now, I have thwarted your future happiness with a dark past that follows
me everywhere I go. You can deny all you want what I used to be and pretend
that I am a woman of worth if it makes it easier for you to accept my shame.
But I know what I used to be and I will not let you add me to the list of
things you will punish yourself for should you fail. I am not worth it. I am
not worth any man’s grief. Or death,” she added.<br />
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Slowly, Gustaf opened his eyes and stared at her. His lips drew a straight line
across his face. He removed her finger from his mouth and held her wrist in a
tight grasp. “May I speak?”<br />
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Æsa nodded, steeling herself for the tongue-lashing she knew would follow. He
took his time replying, which was worse than having him berate her on the spot.
The look in his eyes foretold of his disappointment, and his quiet reserve
prefaced the exceptional temperance this man was capable of.<br />
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“I shall do my best to make myself clear,” he began, his eyes never leaving
hers. “We all have a past and oftentimes we have an unfortunate moment in our
existence we would rather erase from our memories. But it matters not what we
have failed to do, but what we succeed in doing from those failed moments
onward. In my past, I have failed to protect my family, as I am the only one
left, save for my nephews on Inis Mór. While their deaths, brought about by
various regrettable circumstances, were not a direct cause of my own
negligence, the burden is still the same. Like you, I face that demon every day
of my life.<br />
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“That being said, our demons do not become us. They are not the bones and flesh
of our bodies, nor the substance of our hearts. They are recollections of what
used to be and what is no longer. Your demon—or your previous life as a whore,
as you like to beat upon my brow—is not who you are inside. Your worth is
diminished only by the demon you place across your shoulders like a royal
cloak. Divest yourself of that, my dearest Æsa, and you will understand the
depths of my love and the extent to which I will go to protect you. Gladly protect
you,” he reiterated. “Until then, you will just have to take my word for it.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: 13.5pt;"><strong>PURCHASE THE TEMPERATE WARRIOR</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Turquoise Morning Press</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">December 2012</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">ISBN:</b> 9781622370924</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Genre: </b>Historical,
paranormal romance, Viking</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Buy Links:</b> </span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AH14MCY"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">Kindle</span></a><span style="font-size: small;"> | </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-temperate-warrior-renee-vincent/1113883059?ean=2940015811520"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">Nook</span></a><span style="font-size: small;"> | </span><a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thetemperatewarrior-1010797-161.html"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">All
Romance Ebooks</span></a><span style="font-size: small;"> | </span><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/261245"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">Smashwords</span></a><span style="font-size: small;"> | </span><a href="http://www.turquoisemorningpressbookstore.com/products/the-temperate-warrior-by-renee-vincent"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">Turquoise
Morning Press</span></a><span style="font-size: small;"> | </span><a href="http://www.bookstrand.com/the-temperate-warrior"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">Book Strand</span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<strong><span style="color: #b45f06;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR</span></strong><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I am an author with a passionate interest in Irish and Norse
history. I live in the rolling hills of Kentucky with my husband and two
children on a beautiful secluded farm of horses and hay fields.</span><o:p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-size: small;">I am a sucker for a good cup of coffee (lots of cream and
sugar...and whipped cream if I can get my hands on it), great conversation, and
a lilting Irish accent. I love to read and I can't resist watching great epic
historical movies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">From an early age, I've always had scenes playing out in my
head. Whether it was a story with a moral or a tale with a twist, those ideas
have never let me sleep until I wrote them out. And considering I have
an eclectic ensemble of stories swarming in my brain at any given
time, I write under a couple pen names to accommodate the various genre
categories.<br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-size: small;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Renee Vincent<br />
</b>(Historical & Contemporary Adult Romance)<br />
From the daunting, charismatic Vikings, to the charming, brazen Alpha male heroes
of modern day, you'll be whisked away to a world filled with fast-paced
adventure, unforgettable romance, and undying love.<br />
Visit my website at </span><a href="http://www.reneevincent.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">http://www.reneevincent.com/</span></a><span style="font-size: small;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Gracie Lee Rose <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></b><br />
(Lighthearted, Fancy-free Women's Fiction)<br />
For those who love to read fun, wholesome, and endearing romantic stories that
your mother, sister, friends, and daughters can enjoy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Visit my website at </span><a href="http://www.gracieleerose.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">http://www.gracieleerose.com/</span></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></b>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Author Links:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Website: </span><a href="http://www.reneevincent.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">http://www.reneevincent.com/</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Blog: </span><a href="http://pasttheprint.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">http://pasttheprint.blogspot.com/</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Facebook: </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/reneevincentauthor"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">http://www.facebook.com/reneevincentauthor</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Twitter: </span><a href="http://www.twitter.com/ReneeVincent"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">http://www.twitter.com/ReneeVincent</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Goodreads: </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3005290.Renee_Vincent"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3005290.Renee_Vincent</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Romance Blog: </span><a href="http://www.deepintheheartromance.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: small;">http://www.deepintheheartromance.com/</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>*If you haven't read Renee Vincent you need too!!! Check out her website and look for her other books as well!!!*</b></span><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #b45f06;">ENJOY</span></strong></div>
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Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-46003118020727488932012-10-17T00:00:00.000-04:002012-10-17T00:00:13.431-04:00TEMPTED BY THE HIGHLAND WARRIOR<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">RECOMMENDED READ</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">By Michelle Willingham</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: large;">MacKinloch Clan Book 3</span></div>
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<strong><i><span style="color: #f6b26b;">HIS SILENT STRENGTH REACHED OUT TO HER</span></i></strong><br />
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After years of brutal torture, Callum MacKinloch is finally free of his captors—but his voice is still held prisoner. He’d never let anyone hear him scream. Although Lady Marguerite de Montpierre’s chains may be invisible, they threaten to tie her to a loveless and cruel marriage.<br />
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When Marguerite discovers Callum waiting to die, her heart aches for the warrior beneath the suffering—but they can have no future. Yet she is the one woman with the power to tame the rage locked inside him. Maybe he <em>can</em> find another reason to live…for her.<br />
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<span style="color: #e69138;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tempted-Highland-Warrior-MacKinloch-Clan/dp/0373296983/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1350253797&sr=8-1&keywords=tempted+by+the+Highland+Warrior" target="_blank">CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE TEMPTED BY THE HIGHLAND WARRIOR</a></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">I LOVE tortured heros and this is by far one of the best that I have ever read! I didn't realize there were two other books so now I have them on my TBR pile! I highly recommend this book!!!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">To learn more about TEMPTED BY THE HIGHLAND WARRIOR AND TO READ AN EXCERPT- </span><span style="color: #e69138;">click link- http://www.michellewillingham.com/excerpts/tempted-by-the-highland-warrior/</span><br />
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">ENJOY</span><br />
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Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-78621686393433060882012-10-15T00:00:00.000-04:002012-10-15T00:00:02.842-04:00Recommended Read- NEVER SEDUCE A SCOT<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-size: large;"><strong>By New York Times Best Selling Author</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Maya Banks</strong></span></div>
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<strong><i><span style="color: #8e7cc3;">THE MONTGOMERYS AND THE ARMSTRONGS</span></i></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Eveline Armstrong</span></strong> is fiercely loved and protected by her powerful clan, but considered “touched” to outsiders. Beautiful, fey, with a level, intent gaze, she doesn’t speak. No one, not even her family, knows that she cannot hear. Eveline taught herself to read lips and allows the outside world view her as daft, content to stay with her family. But when an arranged marriage with a rival clan makes Graeme Montgomery her husband, she accepts her duty<em>—</em>unprepared for the delights to come. Graeme is a rugged warrior with a voice so deep and powerful she can hear it, and hands and kisses so tender and skilled he awakens her deepest passions.<br />
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><strong>Graeme</strong> <strong>Mongtgomery</strong></span> is intrigued by his new bride, whose silent lips are ripe with temptation, whose bright, intelligent eyes can see into his soul. As intimacy deepens, he learns her secret. But when clan rivalries and dark deeds threaten the wife he has only begun to cherish, the Scottish warrior will move heaven and earth to save the woman who has awakened his heart to the beautiful song of a rare and magical love.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Never-Seduce-Scot-Montgomerys-Armstrongs/dp/0345533232" target="_blank"><span style="color: #bf9000;">CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE NEVER SEDUCE A SCOT</span></a><br />
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<strong><em><span style="color: #8e7cc3;">This sinfully sweet new romance from Maya Banks features a remarkable woman whose rare gift teaches a gruff Scottish warrior how to listen with his heart.</span></em></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #eeeeee;">I LOVED this book! I especially loved how Ms. Banks incorporated a woman who is not perfect but instead has flaws, and deals with her deafness with both courage and ingenuity! This story was so good I went out and bought another copy and sent it to my friend for her birthday!!!</span></strong><br />
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">To learn more about NEVER SEDUCE A SCOT- read an excerpt here- </span><a href="http://www.mayabanks.com/books/never-seduce.php"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">http://www.mayabanks.com/books/never-seduce.php</span></a><br />
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;">Hurry out and get your copy today!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><strong>ENJOY</strong></span>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-42838159661745402242012-10-03T00:00:00.000-04:002012-10-03T00:00:12.648-04:00Featured Today- DEIRDRE<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">By Miriam Newman</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">An Ancient Tale of Ireland</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">Born at a royal banquet for King Conor MacNessa of Ulster, Deirdre is predicted by Conor’s own druid to be blessed and cursed with a beauty that will make kingdoms contest over her. He names her “Deirdre of the Sorrows” and urges the king to slay her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"> But Conor, unwilling to murder a babe, takes her under his protection only to fall prey to the curse when she is nearly grown. Captivated by her youth and beauty, the aging king will go to any extreme to possess her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Deirdre-ebook/dp/B009DWBJBU/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #bf9000;">PURCHASE DEIRDRE ON AMAZON </span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">Join author Miriam Newman for her bardic-style version of a legend told countless times in Ireland over the centuries--a classic Irish tale of love, loyalty, betrayal, magic and revenge. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">Visit Miriam on the web- </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"> <b><a href="http://www.miriamnewman.com/"><span style="color: #bf9000;">www.miriamnewman.com</span></a></b></span><br />
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Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-66355134021439880312012-09-28T00:01:00.001-04:002012-09-28T00:01:00.826-04:00Recommended Read- GONE GIRL<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">By Gillian Flynn</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">MARRIAGE CAN BE A REAL KILLER</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://thereadingdate.files.wordpress.com/2012/08/gone-girl.jpg?w=198&h=300" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://thereadingdate.files.wordpress.com/2012/08/gone-girl.jpg?w=198&h=300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On a warm summer morning in North Carthage, Missouri, it is Nick and Amy Dunne’s fifth wedding anniversary. Presents are being wrapped and reservations are being made when Nick’s clever and beautiful wife disappears from their rented McMansion on the Mississippi River. Husband-of-the-Year Nick isn’t doing himself any favors with cringe-worthy daydreams about the slope and shape of his wife’s head, but passages from Amy's diary reveal the alpha-girl perfectionist could have put anyone dangerously on edge<b>.</b> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Under mounting pressure from the police and the media—as well as Amy’s fiercely doting parents—the town golden boy parades an endless series of lies, deceits, and inappropriate behavior. Nick is oddly evasive, and he’s definitely bitter—but is he really a killer? <br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As the cops close in, every couple in town is soon wondering how well they know the one that they love. With his twin sister, Margo, at his side, Nick stands by his innocence. Trouble is, if Nick didn’t do it, where is that beautiful wife? And what was in that silvery gift box hidden in the back of her bedroom closet?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/030758836X?ie=UTF8&tag=randohouseinc2-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=030758836X" target="_blank"><span style="color: #ea9999;"><strong>PURCHASE GONE GIRL</strong></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To learn more about Gillian Flynn and her other books visit her website-</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://gillian-flynn.com/"><strong><span style="color: #ea9999;">http://gillian-flynn.com/</span></strong></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><strong>***You won't be able to put this book down!***</strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ENJOY</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #ea9999;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #ea9999;"><strong></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-8577632999689412412012-09-26T00:01:00.001-04:002012-09-26T00:01:00.810-04:00 THE DANGERS OF DECEIVING A VISCOUNT<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Recommended Read</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">By Julia London</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #76a5af; font-size: large;"><strong>Book #3 in The Desperate Debutantes Series</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i43.tower.com/images/mm114102000/dangers-deceiving-viscount-julia-london-paperback-cover-art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i43.tower.com/images/mm114102000/dangers-deceiving-viscount-julia-london-paperback-cover-art.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Lady Phoebe Fairchild is well aware that the ton would be appalled to learn of a young lady of quality involved in a trade. Therefore, she resorts to selling her beautiful handmade gowns under a fictitious name: Madame Dupree. So when circumstances force her to visit the estate of William Darby, the Viscount of Summerfield, to design ball gowns for his sisters, she assumes Madame''s identity. </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Phoebe''s discomfort in her new position as hired help is nothing compared to her visceral attraction to the viscount himself. Heathenishly handsome and shamelessly seductive, Will invites her to be his mistress -- and Phoebe is shockingly tempted to accept. But as their desire for each other grows and the risk of exposure becomes even greater, Phoebe is in dire danger of losing her reputation, her livelihood -- and her chance of becoming the bride of the man whose passion has claimed her forever.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><em><strong><span style="color: #45818e;">***Excellent Read! Highly recommend this book and any others in the series!***</span></strong></em></div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong><em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dangers-Deceiving-Viscount-Julia-London/dp/B001TOQ83E/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1347847101&sr=8-3&keywords=the+dangers+of+deceiving+a+viscount" target="_blank"><span style="color: #76a5af;">PURCHASE THE DANGERS OF DECEIVING A DISCOUNT</span></a></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>To learn more about Julia London and her other books please visit her website-</strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong></strong> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong><a href="http://julialondon.com/"><span style="color: #45818e;">http://julialondon.com/</span></a></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong></strong> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong></strong> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>ENJOY</strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"></div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-41545529138153773592012-09-23T20:33:00.000-04:002012-09-23T20:37:45.642-04:00Featured Today - THE HIGHLANDER'S CONQUEST<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="color: #cc0000;"> Book #2 in the STOLEN BRIDE SERIES</span></span> </div>
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<i><strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">What is a Highlander to do when he falls for the daughter of his enemy?</span></strong></i></div>
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Highland warrior, Blane Sutherland, has one mission: disguise himself as an Englishman, cross the border and retrieve Lady Aliah de Mowbray. Always up for a challenge, he agrees, pursuing his conquest with vigor—and trying to deny the powerful desire that eclipses him each time he touches his charge. A rogue of the highest order and a younger son, he has nothing to offer a lady but a broken heart.</div>
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<i><strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">And what is a lady to do when she cannot trust her heart?</span></strong></i></div>
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Aliah is skeptical of the English noble who has come to take her to her father and sister in Scotland, but she pushes her doubts aside. Without word in months, she must make certain her family is safe, then she can return to England to join the convent to which she has sworn to pledge her life. But then her escort reveals his true self—he’s a Highlander and his kisses are more seductive than the sweetest of wines.</div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i><strong>Surrender never tasted so sweet…</strong></i> </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Late
Fall</span></span></span></i><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
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England, 1297</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></i><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">A
violent banging at the manor door startled Aliah from her studies and set
Frosty, the family’s monstrous Irish wolfhound, to barking ferociously. Aliah
jerked backward against the oak chair she sat in, hitting her head against the
ancient wood and stifling a harsh word beneath her
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</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Her
father, Baron de Mowbray, had left a small contingent of men to protect her
while he escorted her older sister Arbella to her bridegroom in Scotland. These
men would fight to keep her safe until their very last
breaths.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">But
who was to say they hadn’t already taken that last shuddering
inhale?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah
glanced around the room, filled with memories, but not with people. Today, her
maid Glenda was her only companion. Well, Frosty as well—who in fact was a far
superior protector than her maid. Swallowing her fear, she rubbed the ache from
the back of her head and squared her shoulders. Strength. That was what she
needed, even if the sound of someone knocking made her want to run to the
opposite end of the manor and hide.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Her
father should have returned a month ago. The only news she’d managed to garner
was that a battle took place at Stirling Bridge in Scotland—the very place her
sister was to marry.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Had
the battle now come to her own door?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah
jumped as a strong fist once again slammed the door.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Glenda,
would you answer the door?” Aliah asked.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">’Twas
Saturday morning and most of the servants had gone to tend family or to enjoy
themselves in whatever way they did, leaving Aliah quite alone—and at the mercy
of whoever stood outside her door. Could they have dispensed of her father’s
guards so quickly?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Glenda,
afraid of her own shadow, started to shake her head, but Aliah gave her a stern
look. The woman had been driving her mad since she was a babe and ever since
Arbella left, Aliah had little patience for the older woman’s
nonsense.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah
set down the book of Gaelic she’d been studying—she was determined to learn the
language because she secretly believed the Scots would soon invade.
Understanding their barbaric conversations was crucial. Aliah smoothed her gown
and stood tall.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Glenda
scurried toward the door, Frosty a foot ahead of her.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah
tried to find comfort in the fact that perhaps the guards had allowed whoever
came knocking through the manor gates. She’d heard no clanging of metal or yells
of pain. Aye, the only conclusion that made sense was, they were not enemies,
but friends.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">She
could use a good friend. The comfort of someone she knew. Aliah frowned. She had
few friends, and seldom was it that they dropped by.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">So
who had the audacity to practically beat down her door?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Wait!”
Aliah shouted just as Glenda touched the wooden plank barring the
door.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She
hurried to retrieve her bow and an arrow from beneath her chair. As swiftly as
possible, she cocked an arrow and aimed it at the door. Taking a deep breath,
she nodded for her maid to open it. </span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">If her father’s enemies dared to
come after her, they were in for a big surprise, she wouldn’t surrender so
easily.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">An
interminable amount of time seemed to pass before the door was fully open.
</span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Aliah stepped back,
speechless. Standing before her was the most</span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
staggeringly handsome man she’d ever seen—and he was quite alone. Frosty growled
for only a moment, quickly silenced by a motion the stranger made with his hand.
What? How had he done that? Aliah struggled to keep her mouth from falling open
at the man’s effortless command of the dog. The animal had favored her sister,
but since Arbella had left, Frosty refused to leave Aliah’s
side.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">She
felt a certain amount of betrayal at Frosty’s easy acceptance of this stranger.
Who in the name of God was he? And why didn’t one of her father’s men escort
him? She’d have to speak with them about that later.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">The
visitor wore an intriguing cap of deep burgundy, a dark feather jutting from the
side, held on by some sort of medallion. A thick black wool cloak lay open to
reveal a matching tunic, and leather studded armor. White hose outlined the
shape of his legs in a way that drew her eyes from his intense dark green gaze.
His boots were made of soft, expensive-looking leather, and the gilded belt at
his waist held a gleaming, sharp sword that was hard to
miss.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah
allowed her gaze to travel over the length and breadth of his solid form, before
getting ahold of herself.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Will
you shoot me, my lady?” His voice was deep, raspy, and stroked along the ends of
her nerves in a way that made her want to run away and kiss him at the same
time.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Where
had that thought come from? She’d never kissed a man. And she never would. She’d
pledged her life and future to God. Shame crawled through her making her cheeks
heat with embarrassment. Even her toes felt the blush of such a carnal
thought.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah
had to gain some control of her wayward mind. Her life belonged to the
church—penance for having caused her mother’s death. There was no room for
kissing or men in her life. Not even for a thought.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Apologies,
sir, but one can never be too careful. I am Lady Aliah.” She kept her arrow
pointed at his heart, taking note of how his tunic and leather studded armor
strained over what appeared to be a very broad, taut
chest.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Sir
Blane of Yorkshire.” He doffed his cap and bowed low, then returned upright,
settling his cap back in place.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">She
tilted her head, studying the angles and lines of his face, taking in the
pleasant smile of his wide, full lips. He didn’t appear to be someone she should
be wary of, but as she’d learned over the years, looks could oft be deceiving.
Aliah flicked her gaze toward her maid who wrung her hands and looked ready to
bolt from the room.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Deciding
that for the moment he did not have any designs to harm her, Aliah disarmed her
arrow and lowered the bow. “Welcome to Mowbray Manor, Sir Blane. Have you any
men with you?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Aye,
I’ve left them by the stables. I assure you, we come on friendly
terms.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah
nodded, making her lips thin so as to keep them from trembling. Did he come with
news of her father, of Arbella? She shivered. The news must not be good. If her
father were able, he would announce his return himself. Her spirits lowered,
replaced by a dull, cold pulse.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">He
smiled, disarming her, his lips curving in a rascally way that set her to
shivering and then to quickly reciting a Hail Mary in her mind for
penance.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“I
come with a message, my lady. If I may?” He swept out his hand, asking
permission to fully enter their great hall.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">She
nodded again, not sure she could trust her voice.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Glenda
backed away, but Aliah quickly caught her gaze. “Fetch our guest some
refreshment.” She motioned for Sir Blane to sit at the long trestle table.
“There is no need to wait, please tell me what news you
bring.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Sir
Blane pulled out her chair before taking his own seat, and she disliked how that
chivalrous move made her feel warm and tingly inside.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“I
come from Scotland, my lady.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">She
felt the blood rush from her face, but quickly recovered. There could only be
one thing he needed to relay and she was positive she was not ready to hear it.
Just then, Glenda returned setting down a pitcher of watered wine and two
glasses. She left again, coming back several moments later with a trencher of
hard cheese, a few apples and day old brown bread. After setting down the food,
Glenda made a hasty retreat from the room.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Aliah
poured his wine and pushed the goblet towards him, then snatched an apple from
the trencher. </span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Slicing
a piece, she bit into it, hoping the man would eat and forget that she’d asked
to hear the news.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">But
alas, that was not to be. After a hearty bite of cheese and bread, Sir Blane’s
green eyes met hers. “My lady, I come with a message from your father. He and
your sister are well and wish you to accompany them in Scotland for a
spell.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“They
are well?” Her voice sounded weak to her own ears and her heart pounded against
her ribs.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Aye,
heartily so.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Aliah released a shuddering breath.
</span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“And
Arbella, is she married then?”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">A
strange expression briefly crossed his face before disappearing.
“Aye.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">What
did that expression mean? “Is she happy?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“I
believe so.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">But
would the man say otherwise? ’Twas really none of his business whether or not
her sister was happy, and if he were truly just the messenger then he wouldn’t
know anyway.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“How
can I know you speak the truth?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">As
if the sting of Frosty’s earlier betrayal was not enough, the great wolfhound
sidled up to Sir Blane and nuzzled him in the ribs. Absently, the man rubbed
Frosty behind his ears.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“My
lady, I come with direct orders from your sister. Arbella told me herself to
tell you that it pained her not to have you at the wedding with her, and that
she hoped you’d help her to settle into her new home.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah frowned. Was he telling her
the truth? It made no sense. Hadn’t Arbella told her not to come before she
left? So what changed her mind? Why would Arbella say such a thing? Aliah had
agreed for her own personal reasons. Reasons no one knew about. If Blane were
telling the truth, this would surely hinder her plans. There were only a few
short months before spring and Aliah was due to present herself to Mother
Superior, never to leave the convent again. Although her sister wasn’t aware of
that, going to Scotland to be with her sure did put a glitch in her arrangements
if it meant Aliah couldn’t return in time.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Your
father sent this.” Sir Blane reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled
scroll.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">The seal was plain wax. “My father’s
seal is not on this missive.” Aliah handed it back, intent now on figuring out a
way to escape. Who was this man and why was he trying to lure her away from her
home? A sense of unease made her suspicious.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Sir
Blane didn’t even bat an eye. “Ah, yes. Your father knows you well. As I told
you, there was a battle. He lost his seal during the encounter and bid you
forgive him for such.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Was
he injured?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">The
knight shook his head. “Not overly so. A few scrapes and
bruises.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“And Arbella—”She sucked in a breath
and held it, regaining her composure. “Was she near the
skirmish?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Again
that odd look crossed Sir Blane’s face. “No, she was perfectly
protected.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah
broke the seal and read the short, two-lined note stating her presence was
requested in Scotland. It was signed by her father. His script appeared shaky,
but that was not alarming as he’d just been in a battle. After rolling up the
parchment, she set it aside and returned her attention to her
guest.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Should she trust him? Could she
trust him? Her father may have been forced to sign the missive. But why? What
could Sir Blane possibly want with her? If the knight had her father and her
sister, taking her wouldn’t further his cause. Aliah’s instincts were failing
her. <i>Saints preserve me!</i></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">He tore off a hunk of bread, bit
into it and chewed as his eyes roved over the room. She took the opportunity to
study his features. His skin was darkened from the sun, and a brush of stubble
covered his cheeks and chin. Aliah fought the urge to reach out and brush her
fingers over it to see how rough it was. She would be doing penance for a month
if Mother Superior knew the thoughts going through her mind. Pledging herself to
God meant she should not care about the texture of his face. It meant that the
way he smiled should not make her melt.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah watched in utter fascination
as his throat bobbed after taking a swallow of wine. “’Tis a homey place you
have here,” he murmured.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah
glanced away from him and stared at the walls covered in tapestries her mother,
grandmother and several other generations of Mowbray women had woven. Some
depicted battle scenes, victories, while others showed glorious moments in their
family’s history, like a man being knighted, or the birth of an heir. A few even
depicted warm moments that she missed the most—especially the one that embodied
her mother, with Aliah, Arbella and their brother Samuel as small children,
playing at her feet—a moment that had never come to pass. The latter was sewn by
her aunt some years after Aliah’s mother’s death as a comfort to the family. But
to Aliah it was a constant reminder of what she didn’t have. She still felt an
empty void where the love of a mother should be.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Aye,
I suppose it is.” She glanced back at him. “Is your home not
so?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">He
shook his head, his eyes saddening. She wanted to ask why, what made his mood
change, but didn’t. That would have been awkward coming from someone he barely
knew. And she didn’t want to offer him the chance to get more personal, even if
it were only on a basic level.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">His
face cleared and Sir Blane pushed back from the table. “I hate to rush you, my
lady, but we must be going now. ’Tis a long journey to our destination and the
weather will soon be turning surly.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">Glenda gasped. Aliah had not
realized her maid had returned, and she threw a disgusted look in Glenda’s
direction. She knew what Glenda was thinking—that if Aliah were to leave she
would surely die of the cold—and Aliah was also aware that it was utter rubbish.
Glenda had been filling the girls’ ears with rumors and terrors of the Scots
since they were babes, and while Arbella had taken them to heart, Aliah knew
better—but only by accident. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but one evening
after Glenda had consumed too much wine, Aliah heard her confess to another maid
that her own mother had told her those things. And everyone knew that Glenda’s
mother was mad.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah had only ever met a Scot once
—a woman in fact, who’d been married to a neighboring lord, and she’d been the
epitome of grace and calm. If it weren’t for her Scottish burr, Aliah would have
thought she was an English noblewoman. She’d begged to go with her father when
he made the trek to congratulate them on their wedding and he’d acquiesced since
Arbella and Samuel were both busy with their studies.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Ever since meeting the Scottish
Woman, Aliah never paid much attention to Glenda’s rantings. And so, she didn’t
mind the journey to Scotland for the cold, she minded it for another reason
entirely.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“I
shall need an escort.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Aye,
indeed, my lady, I shall provide you escort.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">She
shook her head. “No, that won’t do.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">He
gazed at her quizzically. “Why not?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“I’ll
need a female companion.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">He
pointed to her maid. “This one shall do.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah
rolled eyes at the choking noise that Glenda made. “Glenda does not
travel.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">A
hint of knowledge glowed in his green eyes. “That is Glenda?” He nodded. “Makes
sense now.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“You’ve
heard of her?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Oh,
aye. Your sister speaks of her often.” His smile was catching and she found
herself returning it.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“What
did she say?” </span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“What
manner of horrid things we—I mean the Scots—would do to
her.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">What
did he mean by <i>we</i>? </span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">He
picked up his glass of wine and chugged it. Perhaps the slip of his tongue was
the wine, or lack of sleep. If he knew of Glenda from her sister—and she could
only imagine what Arbella had said—she could trust him, couldn’t
she?</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Where
is it exactly that we shall travel to?” she asked.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“The
Highlands, my lady.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">A
chill caught her and she tried to downplay the gooseflesh rising on her arms.
“And what is my family doing there? I thought their destination was
Stirling?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“’Tis
where they are seeking shelter. Stirling is in a bit of unrest.” He waved his
hand, dismissing the topic. “We must depart, my lady. Pack a satchel or two.
That is all. We can send for more things if they are needed. But we must ride
quickly and too much baggage will hold us back.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah sensed urgency in his tone,
which made her wary. But all the same, this man knew her father and sister and
said he would take her to them. She needed to see that they were safe, before
she was cut off from the world by entering into the church where she would take
a vow of silence for a year. She hesitated for a moment. He had to be telling
the truth, didn’t he? She had her doubts but she didn’t have any other choice
but to trust him. Her father and Arbella might need her help. How could she give
herself over to the church if she gave into her fears and didn’t help her father
and Arbella in their time of need? Reluctantly she stepped forward, tilted her
chin and met his gaze.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“I
will be ready within a half-hour. Would you care for a bath or some other
comfort while you wait?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">He
shook his head. “I thank you, my lady, for the generous offer, and while I would
relish a bath, there is simply not enough time. I will see to my men and procure
a mount for you.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Aliah
nodded for Glenda to follow as she made her way upstairs to her chamber. Once
inside, her maid broke into a terrified litany, chewing her fingernails to the
quick. “My lady, you cannot go with him. You don’t know who he is, and he could
be a barbarian himself for all you know. He will cook you up for dinner. He
could have done the same to your sister and your father—absorbed their souls—and
that is the only way he knew you were here.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Rolling
her eyes heavenward, Aliah threw open her wardrobe and pulled out a leather
satchel that her father had given her. “Glenda, stop your blubbering. You saw
yourself he was English and he had a letter from my
father.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Oh,
I… Oh…” Glenda rushed around the room, doing nothing productive whatsoever. The
woman opened the wardrobe wider, banging the door into Aliah’s shoulder before
shutting it again. She rushed to poke at the non-existent fire, then turned to
mess with the coverlet on Aliah’s bed. “You will at least pack your
bow?”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“And
my arrows,” Aliah said sarcastically. She pulled a couple gowns, shifts and hose
from the wardrobe and tucked them into the satchel. “Help me change into a more
suitable riding gown.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Glenda
clucked and tugged at Aliah’s gown until she shoved the maid’s hands away and
finished the job herself. The woman was completely
useless.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Be
cautious, my lady.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“I
assure you, Glenda, I will not let any man put my bones in his beard, nor shall
I succumb to death from the cold.” She’d almost forgotten to get her cloak. She
pulled out the black wool, fur-lined cloak, and then switched from slippers to
her sturdy leather boots.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Oh,
I do hope that is the case, my lady. Arbella seems to have made it alive. Which
leads me to believe you might also.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">“Your
encouragement overwhelms me.” Aliah bit the inside of her cheek to keep from
laughing. “Fare thee well, Glenda.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Tears
brimmed in the older woman’s eyes. Despite her fear of the Scots and all the
crazy notions she’d filled their heads with, Glenda meant well, and had been the
only motherly figure Aliah had ever known. Dropping her satchel, she pulled her
maid in for a hug, breathing in the scent of bread and rosemary that always
seemed to cling to her. She would miss her. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I
shall return soon, Glenda.” She wished to tell her maid of her promise to the
church and that she intended to grace the sanctuary’s threshold come the first
day of spring, but word would get to her father who was certain not to agree.
</span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";">As much as she wanted
to tell Glenda, she couldn’t take the chance.</span></span></span></div>
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</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"></span></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: small;">Glenda
nodded, wiping a tear with her sleeve. “I shall pray for your
safety.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">
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<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I
thank you.” Before she lost the courage she’d summoned to embark on this sudden
journey, Aliah quit the room and the only home she’d ever
known.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Book Antiqua; font-size: small;"></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">P</span></strong></span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">urchase The Highlanders Conquest</span></strong></span><br />
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR</div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="font-size: small;">Eliza Knight is the award-winning, multi-published, Amazon
best-selling author of sizzling historical romance and time travel erotic
romance. She also runs an award-winning blog, called History Undressed. When not reading,
writing and researching, she likes to cuddle up in front of a warm fire with her
own knight in shining armor. Visit Eliza at</span> </span> <a href="http://www.elizaknight.com/">www.elizaknight.com</a> <span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">or</span>
</span><a href="http://www.historyundressed.com/" target="_blank">www.historyundressed.com</a></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">*Another HOT Highland Tale! </span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">Sweet, funny, sensual and deliciously intriguing! You don't
want to miss another of Ms. Knights HOT adventures through the Highlands! Get
your copy today! </span></div>
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ENJOY</div>
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Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-57193187452880336692012-09-21T00:01:00.001-04:002012-09-21T00:01:01.399-04:00Recommended Read- THE FORBIDDEN ROSE<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">By Joanna Bourne</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">The Spymaster's Lady Book #3</span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.joannabourne.com/images/aaajapanesefb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.joannabourne.com/images/aaajapanesefb.jpg" width="195" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span id="freeTextContainer10989340291700983374"><strong><span style="color: #bf9000;"></span></strong></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><strong><span style="color: #bf9000;">A career is blooming...<br />
</span></strong> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>A glittering French aristocrat is on the run, disguised as a British governess. England's top spy has a score to settle with her family. But as they're drawn inexorably into the intrigue and madness of Revolutionary Paris, they gamble on a love to which neither of them will admit.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="color: #bf9000;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="color: #bf9000;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="color: #bf9000;"><strong><em>~Another great addition to the Spymaster series~</em></strong> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="color: #bf9000;"> ****I Highly Recommended this book and this series****</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="color: #bf9000;"></span></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="color: #bf9000;"></span></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>To learn more about Joanna Bourne and her other books visit her website</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.joannabourne.com/index.html"><span style="color: #bf9000;">http://www.joannabourne.com/index.html</span></a><span style="color: #bf9000;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #bf9000;"></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #bf9000;"></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #bf9000;"></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #bf9000;"><span style="color: white;">ENJOY</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-6657040907401376342012-09-19T00:01:00.001-04:002012-09-19T00:01:01.601-04:00Recommended Read/Featured Today- FIERY ROSES<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">By Pat McDermott</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Book #2 in the Band of Roses Trilogy</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><strong>"Irish Kings still rule the Emerald Isle - and Princess Talty is in trouble again ..."</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.patmcdermott.net/images/fiery-roses-333x500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.patmcdermott.net/images/fiery-roses-333x500.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Irish Kings still rule the Emerald Isle, and part of the kingdom is burning . . .</span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In the thrilling sequel to <i>A Band of Roses</i>, the discovery of gas off the coast of Ireland ensnares Irish Crown Princess Talty Boru and her Royal Consort, Neil, in a web of blackmail and murder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Intent on convincing County Mayo’s residents to allow a pipeline to cross their pristine boglands, an arsonist is setting homes and land ablaze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>One of his fires sends newlyweds Talty and Neil to an ancient world at the mercy of a waking volcano. Their fledgling marriage comes under attack as they struggle to find their way home, and while they try to outwit a tyrant with a shocking secret, King Brian locks horns with ruthless oilmen trying to bully their way over the bogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The resulting conflict proves fatal for the Boru clan, whose members once again close ranks to thwart the latest threat to the kingdom they are sworn to protect.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong><span style="color: #e69138;">EXCERPT</span></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">From his window seat in one of Casa Verro’s largest guest suites, Neil opened the shutters and inhaled the briny sea breeze. Beneath him, a patchwork of planted fields and pastures stretched for mile after emerald mile. Yet the realization that the land sat on a waking volcano spoiled the idyllic scene. That, and knowing the verdant panorama wasn’t Ireland.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The air currents shifted. Tantalizing whiffs of pork and bread being roasted and baked for the Meddiss made Neil’s mouth water, yet they couldn’t subdue his growing dread that he’d never see Ireland again, never fly again, or zoom off in his Jaguar. His family, his friends, the home he’d built for Talty—Talty herself—would all be lost to him if the Peregrine Portal left him behind when it called the others home.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The fervent “Ooh!” behind him was a sound he knew well: Talty had found something to wear to dinner. His weighty brooding lifted. He turned his head just as Renen raised the top of a shimmering white gown over the pink-tipped breasts that perfectly fit the palms of his hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">For over an hour, Talty had been trying on the late Lady Danella’s gowns. Renen had come to help. Her shocked gasp when she’d first seen the scars on Talty’s chest had nearly caused Neil to send the woman away. Talty had staunchly said nothing, and Renen, a servant unaccustomed to questioning her betters, had recovered well.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“This is lovely, Renen,” said Talty, and Neil silently agreed.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“It is the finest silk.” The fussing servant pinned the shoulder straps with matching broaches.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The dress fell over Talty’s bosom in graceful folds, the cloth so fine it seemed transparent. Gold threads woven through the material shimmered with her slightest move. The gathered waist flattered her slender form—too slender in Talty’s view, it seemed.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“It fits well enough,” she said with a downward glance, “but the top is too big.”</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Your <i>mamms</i> do look a little lost in there,” Neil called from the window.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The women’s heads twisted toward him. As he suspected, they’d forgotten him.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Talty’s brown eyes narrowed. She raised her chin and glared. “<i>You</i> never seem to have any trouble finding them!”</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Renen grinned at the playful repartee and reached for Talty’s shoulder. “The baroness stretched the dress more, yes, but you, Lady, are well formed and lovely. We will show them. We only have to fix the pins.” She gathered the material tighter and reset the broaches.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When she finished, Talty’s eyes widened, silently asking Neil’s opinion.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“You look more <i>grippable</i> now, darlin’.” He made squeezing gestures and laughed at her openmouthed gasp. “Really, Tal, you look fine. No goddess could be more beautiful.”</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“This one can,” said Renen. “We will add perfume and jewels, though even the baroness had no rings as fine as yours, Lady.”</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Talty extended her hand and gazed at the rings Neil had put there. She smiled at him as she answered Renen. “I feel strange wearing Danella’s things, but I suppose I have no choice.”</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“No,” said Neil. “The airline lost our luggage.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong><span style="color: #e69138;">CLICK LINK TO VIEW THE FIERY ROSES VIDEO TRAILER</span></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1347838550865163" style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><a href="http://youtu.be/CYmbvWxjDOk" id="yui_3_2_0_1_1347838550865162" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span style="color: white;">http://youtu.be/CYmbvWxjDOk</span></a></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></span></div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong><span style="color: #e69138;"></span></strong></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong><span style="color: #e69138;"></span></strong></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong><span style="color: #e69138;">PURCHASE FIERY ROSES</span></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fiery-Roses-Band-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B008TSWLV6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1347818480&sr=1-1&keywords=Fiery+Roses" target="_blank"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">KINDLE</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fiery-roses-pat-mcdermott/1019614655?ean=2940044773592" target="_blank"><span style="color: white;">NOOK</span></a></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=530&category_id=205&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1" target="_blank"><span style="color: white;">MUSE IT UP PUBLISHING</span></a></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><span style="color: #e69138;"><strong>ABOUT THE AUTHOR</strong></span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQUAINzHaBZjFttb2t858U8geRoG_pY0a5f9R_Xdw6PnRmwYLsG-IMA1QpJeW_XTUfblWOcaD7Gutc_9WRgTDNL-FAxNNf4XLyGayiSdooSvHGt2SLk_5_28xZXIVIbpfkxiWGi_-hGqbH/s1600/pat_mcdermott_photo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQUAINzHaBZjFttb2t858U8geRoG_pY0a5f9R_Xdw6PnRmwYLsG-IMA1QpJeW_XTUfblWOcaD7Gutc_9WRgTDNL-FAxNNf4XLyGayiSdooSvHGt2SLk_5_28xZXIVIbpfkxiWGi_-hGqbH/s200/pat_mcdermott_photo2.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Boston native Pat McDermott grew up in a family full of music and myths that have found their way into her romantic action/adventures set in an Ireland that might have been. The first two books in her Band of Roses trilogy, <i>A Band of Roses</i> and <i>Fiery Roses</i>, are available now. The third, Salty Roses, is scheduled for a November 2012 release. Her Young Adult novel,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>Glancing Through the Glimmer</i>, and its forthcoming sequel, <i>Autumn Glimmer </i>(Jan 2013), are paranormal adventures featuring Ireland’s mischievous fairies. Pat is a member of the New Hampshire Writers’ Project, Seacoast Writers’ Association, Romance Writers of America, and Celtic Hearts Romance Writers. Her favorite non-writing activities include cooking, reading, music, hiking, music, and traveling, especially to Ireland. She lives and writes in New Hampshire.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><strong>FIND PAT ON THE WEB</strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal" id="yui_3_2_0_1_1347838550865134"><span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1347838550865133" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: white;">Web Site:</span> <span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1347838550865132" style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.patmcdermott.net/" id="yui_3_2_0_1_1347838550865131" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">http://www.patmcdermott.net</span></a></span></span></div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span> </div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: white;">Writing/Travel Blog (Put the Kettle On): </span><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://pat-mcdermott.blogspot.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">http://pat-mcdermott.blogspot.com</span></a></span></span></div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span> </div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal" id="yui_3_2_0_1_1347838550865159"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: white;">Book Blog (Across the Plain of Shining Books) </span></span><span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1347838550865158" style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span> </div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><a href="http://acrosstheplainofshiningbooks.blogspot.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">http://acrosstheplainofshiningbooks.blogspot.com/</span></a></span></div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span> </div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: white;">Facebook: </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pat.mcdermott1" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pat.mcdermott1</span></a></span></div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span> </div><div class="yiv1188760424MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>ENJOY</strong></span></div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-25195740100341893872012-09-17T00:01:00.001-04:002012-09-17T00:01:00.602-04:00Recommended Read- MY VALIANT KNIGHT<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">By Hannah Howell</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">New York Times Best Selling Author</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: large;">Re-released</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.angusrobertson.com.au/images/ar/60884ff7/60884ff7-7c42-43ff-9e6f-64c03328bd81/0/0/plain/my-valiant-knight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://images.angusrobertson.com.au/images/ar/60884ff7/60884ff7-7c42-43ff-9e6f-64c03328bd81/0/0/plain/my-valiant-knight.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Able to ride, wield a sword, and throw a dagger as well as any man, flame-haired Ainslee of Kengarvey is more warrior than lady. Yet even her awesome skill as a horsewoman won't help her outrace the knight who pursues her. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">An Anglo-Norman who has won favour with the King, Sir Gabel de Amalville must prove his loyalty by crushing the rebellious MacNairn clan. Seizing the youngest daughter of the chief gives him a necessary advantage. But having sequestered Ainslee in his isolated castle keep, he soon finds himself the prisoner of a passion he never could have foreseen. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, as the shadow of war descends upon the Highlands, Gabel will follow his heart into battle - for the love of the sensual woman who has captured him, mind, body and soul.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><em><span style="color: #e69138;">~Another great read by Hannah Howell~</span></em></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e69138;"></span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: white;">FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT HANNAH HOWELL VISIT HER WEBSITE</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://hannahhowell.com/"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">http://hannahhowell.com/</span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ENJOY</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-28286360068132241492012-09-05T00:01:00.005-04:002012-09-05T00:01:00.639-04:00Featured Today- TEMPTATION IN A KILT<div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">By Victoria Roberts</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Book #1 </span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">BAD BOYS OF THE HIGHLANDS SERIES</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sourcebooks.com/store/images/thumbnails/0/180/9781402270062.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.sourcebooks.com/store/images/thumbnails/0/180/9781402270062.gif" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="yiv1378313193MsoNormal"></div><div class="yiv1378313193MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #bf9000;">She’s on her way to safety...</span></span></span><br />
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</div><div></div><div class="yiv1378313193MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">It’s a sign of Lady Rosalia Armstrong’s desperation that</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">she’s seeking refuge in a place as rugged and challenging</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">as the Scottish Highlands. She doesn’t care about</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">hardship and discomfort, if only she can become master</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">of her own life. Laird Ciaran MacGregor, however, is</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">completely beyond her control…</span></span></span></div><div></div><div class="yiv1378313193MsoNormal"></div><div class="yiv1378313193MsoNormal"></div><div class="yiv1378313193MsoNormal"></div><div class="yiv1378313193MsoNormal"><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #bf9000;">He redefines dangerous…</span></span></span><br />
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</div><div></div><div class="yiv1378313193MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Ciaran MacGregor knows it’s perilous to get</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">embroiled with a fiery Lowland lass, especially one as</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">headstrong as Rosalia. Having made a rash promise</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">to escort her all the way to Glengarry, now he’s stuck</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">with her, even though she challenges his legendary</span></span></span></div><div id="yui_3_2_0_1_13436148916962370"><span id="yui_3_2_0_1_13436148916962369" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span id="yui_3_2_0_1_13436148916962368" style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">prowess at every opportunity. When temptation</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">reaches its peak, he’ll be ready to show her who he</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">really is…on and off the battlefield.</span></span></span></span></div><div></div><div><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;">EXCERPT:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Rosalia reached out and clutched Ciaran’s arm, immediately realizing her mistake. He felt like a rock underneath his tunic. She became aware of his strength and the warmth of his flesh. She lowered her gaze, but when she looked down, his kilt was parted and showed part of his muscular thigh. It was torture and the room was getting so warm.<br />
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Carried away by her own response, she failed to notice that he was still looking at her, waiting. She tingled as he spoke her name. Tenderly, his eyes melted into hers. She could not find her voice. She could barely breathe, and she hungered from the memory of his mouth upon hers. Praise the saints. What was the matter with her?<br />
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He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. "Lass, your eyes show me what ye are clearly thinking. I suggest ye remove your hand from my arm and your eyes from my kilt."</span><br />
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">Purchase link:</span></div><div><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Temptation-Kilt-Victoria-Roberts/dp/1402270062/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1338296556&sr=8-1" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">Amazon</span></strong></a></div><div></div><div><br />
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #bf9000;"><span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1343786248234359"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1343786248234359"><div class="yiv1004630102mainbodycolored"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Victoria Roberts writes sexy, Scottish historical romances about kilted heroes and warriors from the past. </span></div><div></div><div></div><div class="yiv1004630102mainbodycolored"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">An avid lover of all things Scotland—simply, she writes what she loves to read. Prior to ever picking up a single romance novel, she penned her first young-adult novella (never published) at sixteen years old. Who knew her leather studded motorcycle hero would trade in his ride and emerge as a kilt donning Highlander wielding a broadsword? </span></div><div><span style="color: #eeeeee;"></span></div><div class="yiv1004630102mainbodycolored"></div><div class="yiv1004630102mainbodycolored"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Represented by the fabulous Jill Marsal of the Marsal Lyon Literary Agency, Victoria is a member of Romance Writers of America®, Celtic Hearts Romance Writers and Western Pennsylvania Romance Writers. </span></div><div><span style="color: #eeeeee;"></span></div><div class="yiv1004630102mainbodycolored" id="yui_3_2_0_1_1343786248234365"></div><div class="yiv1004630102mainbodycolored"></div><div class="yiv1004630102mainbodycolored"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Victoria lives in western Pennsylvania with her husband of nineteen years and their two beautiful children—not to mention one spoiled dog. When she is not plotting her next Scottish romp, she enjoys reading, nature and antiques. </span></div></span></span></div><div></div><div><br />
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">Visit Victoria on the web:</span></div><div></div><div><a href="http://www.victoriarobertsauthor.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1343618013_1"><strong><span style="color: #0b5394;">www.victoriarobertsauthor.com</span></strong></span></a></div><div><a href="http://www.victoriarobertsauthorblogspot.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1343618013_2"><strong><span style="color: #0b5394;">www.victoriarobertsauthorblogspot.com</span></strong></span></a></div><div><br />
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">"An invigorating romp through the Highlands full of intrique and romance! A wonderful debut novel that you don't want to miss!!" Andrea, The Write Life</span><br />
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I have read this book and HIGHLY RECOMMEND it!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><strong>ENJOY</strong></span></div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-21879519620366622952012-08-27T00:01:00.001-04:002012-08-27T00:01:00.870-04:00Recommended Read- PERSUASION<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">By Brenda Joyce</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a64d79; font-size: large;">Book 2, THE SPYMASTERS MEN</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><strong><span style="color: #a64d79;"></span></strong> <strong><span style="color: #a64d79;"></span></strong> <strong><span style="color: #a64d79;">BETRAYAL TORE THEM APART</span></strong><br />
<br />
Amelia Greystone was deeply in love when the Earl of St. Jude abruptly ended his courtship and left Cornwall ten years earlier. So she is stunned when Simon returns, recently widowed. Now she must forget the past they shared and his betrayal and console him as any neighbor would. Simon has changed—he is dark and haunted now—but he can still make her reel with a single look. When he offers her the position of housekeeper, Amelia knows she must refuse. But for the sake of his children, she throws all to caution to the wind…<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #a64d79;">PASSION WILL RENUITE THEM</span></strong><br />
<br />
A British spy, Simon Grenville is now playing both sides in a time of war, his goal to keep his sons safe. But when he is brought face-to-face with the woman he once loved, he realizes nothing about his feelings for Amelia has changed—if anything, they are even stronger. Still, Simon knows he must stay away from Amelia; his life is too dangerous now. But sometimes passion is too strong to be denied…<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #a64d79;">PURCHASE PERSUASION</span></strong><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Persuasion-Hqn-Brenda-Joyce/dp/0373776926/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1344220873&sr=1-1&keywords=persuasion+brenda+joyce" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color: #999999;">Amazon</span></strong></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;"><strong>Visit Brenda Joyce on the web-</strong> </span><br />
<a href="http://www.brendajoyce.com/"><strong><span style="color: #999999;">http://www.brendajoyce.com/</span></strong></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">**Loved, Loved, Loved this book!!!!***</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #a64d79;"><em>ENJOY</em></span></strong><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"></div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-14702294362536917482012-08-20T00:01:00.001-04:002012-08-20T00:01:01.661-04:00Recommended Read- SPELLBOUND FALLS<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">By Janet Chapman</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;"><em>Book 1- SPELLBOUND FALLS SERIES</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.janetchapman.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/book_full/Spellbound_Falls_re_47D8027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.janetchapman.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/book_full/Spellbound_Falls_re_47D8027.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b><i>New York Times </i></b><b>bestselling author Janet Chapman takes us to charming Spellbound Falls, where strange things have started happening ever since Maximilian Oceanus came to town…</b></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Maximilian Oceanus arrives in Spellbound Falls just in time to save Olivia Baldwin from an overly aggressive suitor, only to find himself attracted to the beautiful, if rather aloof, widow. And although Mac has come to Inglenook to get a handle on fatherhood, his newly discovered six-year-old son has set his sights on finding his father a wife.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Olivia, however, is busy getting Inglenook ready for its new season, so she doesn’t have time to deal with her growing attraction to the dangerously seductive Mac. Besides, weird stuff seems to happen all around him. Take the fact that her seatbelt keeps getting stuck in his presence, or locks magically open for him without keys, and that he seems to have a talent for <i>sensing</i> things. Never mind the three lost albatrosses walking down the road in the middle of the night. Since when are there albatrosses in Maine?</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">But despite Olivia’s resistance to falling under the sexy man’s spell, Olivia is having trouble fighting her longing. Because she knows Mac is just the man to unlock the powerful passion deep within her….</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">PURCHASE SPELLBOUND FALLS</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spellbound-Falls-Romance/dp/0515150363/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1344214683&sr=1-1&keywords=spell+bound+falls" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Amazon</span></strong></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Visit Janet Chapman on the web- <a href="http://www.janetchapman.com/"><strong><span style="color: #3d85c6;">http://www.janetchapman.com/</span></strong></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><strong><span style="color: #eeeeee;">*A page turning magical read*</span></strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><strong><em>ENJOY</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-36544327481629346772012-08-17T00:01:00.001-04:002012-08-17T00:01:01.197-04:00Recommended Read- SEDUCTION<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">By Brenda Joyce</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;">The Spymasters Men Book 1</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.brendajoyce.com/images/temp_page/seduction1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.brendajoyce.com/images/temp_page/seduction1.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="quote"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><strong><em>When seduction becomes betrayal</em></strong>...</span></div><br />
Dominic Paget, the earl of Bedford, will do anything to protect his identity so he can resume spying upon Britain’s enemies in the war. Badly wounded, he is put in the care of a beautiful and impoverished gentlewoman, Julianne Greystone, only to discover that her sympathies lie with his enemies. Now he must carefully seduce the woman who has saved his life—hoping she never learns of his betrayal. But on the eve of his return to London, Julianne discovers the truth….<br />
<div class="quote"><br />
</div><div class="quote"><em><strong><span style="color: #f1c232;">and betrayal becomes love.</span></strong></em></div><div class="quote"><br />
</div>Julianne never meant to fall in love with the wounded stranger she was caring for. And she has never despised anyone more than the earl of Bedford, for he is not the revolutionary hero she believed him to be. Determined to forget him, Julianne returns to London to agitate for the Jacobins in France. Yet when she is seized by the authorities for her endeavors, it is Bedford who comes to the rescue. Now Julianne must navigate the intrigues of London, the wild yearnings of her own heart and the explosion of their passion…<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><strong>PURCHASE SEDUCTION</strong></span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Seduction-Hqn-Brenda-Joyce/dp/0373776551/ref=pd_sim_b_2" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color: #cccccc;">Amazon</span></strong></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #bf9000;"><strong>Visit Brenda Joyce on the web-</strong></span><br />
<a href="http://www.brendajoyce.com/"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><strong>http://www.brendajoyce.com/</strong></span></a><br />
<br />
<br />
*Loved this book! Cannot wait to read book 2, in the series!!!*<br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #bf9000;">ENJOY</span></em><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"></div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-34320301251972597302012-08-15T00:01:00.001-04:002012-08-15T00:01:01.692-04:00Featured Today- HER HIGHLAND CHAMPION<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">By Alexa Bourne</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">A CONTEMPORARY ROMANTIC SUSPENSE</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.alexabourne.com/images/71a89c3073db1c2e613a519a8ab9079c_8vok.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.alexabourne.com/images/71a89c3073db1c2e613a519a8ab9079c_8vok.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Heather Winchester leads a charming life. With good friends, a beautiful flat in one of the most amazing cities in the world, and a promising future once she finishes her Ph.D., she is finally pursuing her own dreams instead of catering to everyone else’s…except she doesn’t remember any of it.<br />
<br />
Malcolm Fraser has returned to his Highland village to forget his failings as a professional bodyguard. Believing he could just lose himself in the mundane activities of running his bed & breakfast, he finds a woman’s lifeless body by the loch instead….</span> <br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Captivated by Heather as she regains her memory, Malcolm is thrown into the line of duty. As danger comes knocking on their doors, will he be strong enough to love her and keep her safe?</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="color: #6aa84f;">EXCERPT</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">She turned to the bedside. A man stood there dressed in dark green sweats, wih both hands clenched around the silver bedside bar. He was handsome, with light eyes, dark hair cropped close to his head, and a firm jaw. It was his hands, though. They drew her attention. Clean skin, defined knuckles, large fingers. Hands rough enough from a hard day's physical labor, and yet, she imagined, gentle enough to caress the afternoon's sufferings away.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">"It's good to see you awake." He smiled. "You gave us all quite a fright." </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Okay, the Scottish accent drew her attention, too. At once it both melted away some of her fears and sparked a whirlwind of questions. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">"Where am I?" Her throat scratched like sandpaper.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="color: #cccccc;">"St. Catherine's Hospital."</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She swallowed hard."Where is that?"<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span><span style="color: #cccccc;">"Fort William." He reached for something on the table by her bed and brought back a plastic cup with a straw. "Here."</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">"Thank you." The warm water coated her sore vocal cords. She handed the cup back to him.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Wait a minute. Fort William? The only Fort William she knew was in Scotland. "I don't understand. How did I get here?" Ignoring the aches in her body, she pressed palms to the sheets on each side of her and pushed herself up. The blanket fell away from her chest and a new chill surrounded her. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">"What's going on?"</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Her arms shook, and she collapsed back to the bed. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">"Relax." The man set his palm on her shoulder, as if to keep her flat against the mattress. The heat of his fingers seeped through her hospital gown and into her skin. "I found you unconscious on the beach in Glenhalish. I called for an ambulance, and they brought you here."</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">"I was in Glenhalish?"</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Aye, on a three day tour of the Highlands. Do you not remember being there?"</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">"No." She squinted and studied him. No memories surfaced. "Do I know you?"</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">He shook his head. "Only from the beach. I'm Malcolm Fraser."</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her gaze drifted to her lap as tears burned in the corners of her eyes. Panic swelled in her chest and into her throat.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">"What is it, lass?" he asked with such tenderness.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">"Can you tell me my name?"</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><strong><span style="color: #6aa84f;">PURCHASE HER HIGHLAND CHAMPION</span></strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Highland-Champion-Honor-Series-ebook/dp/B007PJ1GM0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1344107555&sr=8-1&keywords=alexa+bourne" target="_blank"><span style="color: #93c47d;"><strong>AMAZON</strong></span></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.decadentpublishing.com/product_info.php?cPath=75_197&products_id=508&osCsid=6q8apli4641np0rlhd6ankmfb0" target="_blank"><span style="color: #93c47d;"><strong>DECADENT PUBLISHING</strong></span></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-herhighlandchampion-769535-149.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #93c47d;"><strong>ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS</strong></span></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/her-highland-champion-alexa-bourne/1110361285" target="_blank"><span style="color: #93c47d;"><strong>BARNES & NOBLE</strong></span></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><strong><span style="color: #6aa84f;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR</span></strong></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 1em 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Alexa Bourne is a teacher by day and a romantic suspense writer by nights, weekends, and all school holidays. She</span> <span style="color: #cccccc;">also teaches online classes for writers throughout the year. She is thrilled to be writing for Decadent Publishing and to have the chance to share her love of Great Britain with readers everywhere.</span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></div><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">When she's not concocting sinister plots and steamy love scenes or traveling and exploring new cultures, Alexa spends her time reading, watching brainless TV and thinking about exercising. She loves to interact with readers, so visit her web page, hang out at her blog, follow her on Twitter or drop her a note at</span> <a href="mailto:Alexa@alexabourne.com"><span style="color: #93c47d;"><strong>Alexa@alexabourne.com</strong></span></a></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><strong>VISIT ALEXA ON THE WEB</strong></span></span> <br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Website:</u></b> <a href="http://www.alexabourne.com/"><span style="color: #93c47d;"><strong>www.alexabourne.com</strong></span></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Blog:</u></b> <a href="http://alexabourne.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #93c47d;"><strong>http://alexabourne.blogspot.com</strong></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Twitter:</u></b> <strong><span style="color: #93c47d;">@AlexaBourne</span></strong></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Facebook:</u></b> <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AuthorAlexaBourne"><span style="color: #93c47d;"><strong>http://www.facebook.com/AuthorAlexaBourne</strong></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Goodreads:</u></b> <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5818611.Alexa_Bourne"><span style="color: #93c47d;"><strong>http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5818611.Alexa_Bourne</strong></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><strong><span style="color: white;">ENJOY</span></strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-40332061767103542152012-08-13T00:01:00.001-04:002012-08-13T00:01:00.381-04:00Recommended Read- UNDONE<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">By Lila Dipasqua</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>A FIERY TALE</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.liladipasqua.com/images/UndoneCOVER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><em><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><img border="0" src="http://www.liladipasqua.com/images/UndoneCOVER.jpg" /></span></em></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Inspired by the tale of Rapunzel, Lila DiPasqua offers a new steamy, emotionally charged historical romance in the acclaimed Fiery Tales Series . . . Rescuing this beauty from the 'tower' is only the beginning . . .</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Maintaining her ruse as a commoner, and trusting no one has kept Angelica safe. But a chance encounter with a handsome stranger lands her right where danger lies. Now, this sinfully handsome man with arresting blue eyes and a polished manner thinks he's saved her life, when in fact he's placed her in great peril. She's intent on keeping him and everyone else at arm's length. Yet, the smoldering attraction between them is difficult to deny. And impossible to ignore . . . <br />
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As commander of a number of privateer ships, Simon Boulenger dresses and speaks like an aristocrat, and has obtained wealth. But he is still not a noble. Or an officer in the King's Navy. His lifelong dream to elevate himself from his station of birth and attain a respectable place in society is dead. Worse, he's ensnared in a deadly scheme, and must get out. But how is he to stay focused on his dangerous mission when the mysterious beauty has him utterly intrigued? He can't afford the distraction any more than he can resist the carnal hunger she stirs. Simon soon discovers that she's not only a passionate soul mate, but a woman born into privilege. A woman he can never have. But they're in too deep. Their hearts are at risk . . . as well as their lives.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Purchase UNDONE</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Undone-Lila-DiPasqua/dp/0988035014/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1344213585&sr=1-1&keywords=Lila+Dipasqua" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Amazon</span></strong></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">Visit Lila on the web- <a href="http://www.liladipasqua.com/"><strong><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">http://www.liladipasqua.com/</span></strong></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">This is a Hot, Hot, Hot read that you DON'T want to miss!!!!!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong><span style="color: white; font-size: large;">ENJOY</span></strong></div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-17730231503270226302012-08-10T00:01:00.001-04:002012-08-10T00:01:00.888-04:00Featured Today- THE EAGLE'S WOMAN<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">By Miriam Newman</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><em>THE EAGLE BOOK 1</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.miriamnewman.com/Miriam_Newman/Books_files/The_Eagle_-_Book_One_-_The_Eagles_Woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.miriamnewman.com/Miriam_Newman/Books_files/The_Eagle_-_Book_One_-_The_Eagles_Woman.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Son of an impoverished, dying Norse chieftain, Ari raids for booty and slaves so he can feed his people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pagan himself, still he spares priests though he sells them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>He’s a heathen, a murderer, and it is a sin for any<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a> Christian woman to love him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet when he abducts Maeve from her peaceful Irish fishing village, he may have found the one woman who can.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><strong><span style="color: #e69138;">EXCERPT</span></strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What?” Ari asked, reaching with his free hand to take her chin in it. His thumb caressed her bottom lip and she thought she was not out of danger with him, no matter how disheveled her appearance. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">This man wanted her, no doubt of it. Not enough to commit violence on her, apparently, but she thought gentleness held its own dangers. If she was not careful, it could weaken her will. He was not unattractive—with fair skin, strong angular features and striking eyes—though just then he looked like a drowned rat as all of them did. It did not obscure the strength of his body or the keen intelligence in those eyes. She turned her head to the side, dislodging his thumb. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I have not seen tears from you before,” he said thoughtfully, “though many of the others are crying. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">What has finally broken you?” </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I am not broken,” she spat, “only mourning two good people who raised me. But I am sure you know nothing of such feelings.”</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He sat back on his heels. “Do I not? Two good people raised me as well. One lies crippled in his sickbed and the other waits for me to bring coin to buy things a sick man needs.”</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Maeve was silent, surprised and momentarily chastened. She had never seriously supposed he had motives other than greed.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Do you think raiding is worthy of a fighting man?” he persisted. “I would rather face an army than hungry children.”</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">She stifled an impulse toward sympathy. “Ours are dead or captive. You seem to have no trouble facing that.”</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Abruptly, he set both feet beneath himself and got up, undaunted by the motion of the ship which made such things impossible for Maeve. She had not noticed a wineskin hanging from the rigging, but she saw him reach for it then. “I cannot help your children.” He took a fulsome swig. “Just mine.” Wiping the neck with his wet tunic, he held the wineskin out to her. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">It was decent wine, probably from their monastery, tasting of strength and summer. She needed strength to remember that summer would come again, so she drank.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><strong>PURACHSE THE EAGLE'S WOMAN<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><strong> </strong><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Eagles-Woman-ebook/dp/B008RZD4Q2" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color: #cccccc;">Amazon</span></strong></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-theeagle039swoman-904928-162.html" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color: #cccccc;">All romance E-books</span></strong></a></div><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><strong>ABOUT THE AUTHOR</strong></span><br />
<strong><span style="color: #e69138;"></span></strong><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Fantasy poetry driven by myths and legends has been Miriam’s passion for as long as she can remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was published in poetry before catching the romance writing bug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She brings that background to her writing along with a lifelong addiction to horses, an 18 year career in various areas of psychiatric social services and many trips to Ireland, where she nurtures her muse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her published works range from contemporary fantasy romance to fantasy historical, futuristic, science fiction and historical romance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Currently she lives in rural Pennsylvania with a “motley crew” of rescue animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can view her books at <a href="http://www.miriamnewman.com/"><span style="color: #e69138;"><strong>www.miriamnewman.com</strong></span></a><span style="color: #e69138;"><strong>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><strong><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><em>ENJOY</em></span></strong></span></span> </div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-495582277684750578.post-3181179071096416742012-08-08T00:01:00.001-04:002012-08-08T00:01:01.497-04:00Featured Today- THE BEARWALKER'S DAUGHTER<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">By Beth Trissel</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ffd966; font-size: large;">HISTORICAL FANTASY ROMANCE</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://bethtrissel.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/the_bearwalkers_daughter-smaller-size.jpg?w=500" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://bethtrissel.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/the_bearwalkers_daughter-smaller-size.jpg?w=500" width="200" /></a></div><br />
Timid by nature--or so she thinks--Karin McNeal hasn't grasped who she really is or her fierce birthright. A tragic secret from the past haunts the young Scots-Irish woman longing to learn more of her mother's death and the mysterious father no one will name. The elusive voices she hears in the wind hint at the dramatic changes soon to unfold in the mist-shrouded Alleghenies in Autumn, 1784.<br />
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Jack McCray, the wounded stranger who staggers through the door on the eve of her twentieth birthday and anniversary of her mother's death, holds the key to unlock the past. Will Karin let this handsome frontiersman lead her to the truth and into his arms, or seek the shelter of her fiercely possessive kinsmen? Is it only her imagination or does someone, or something, wait beyond the brooding ridges--for her? <br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #ffe599;"><strong><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The</i> <i>Bearwalker's Daughter</i> is a historical romance novel interwoven with an intriguing paranormal thread, set among the clannish Scots in the mist-shrouded Alleghenies. My passion for the past, and some of the accounts I've come across while researching my early American ancestors and the Shawnee Indians, is at the heart of the inspiration behind this story.<span style="color: windowtext;"> <o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div><br />
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<span style="color: #ffd966; font-size: large;"><strong>EXCERPT</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966; font-size: large;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966; font-size: large;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">As for Jack, Karin spotted his shadowy figure inside the farthest stall. He’d<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>bridled<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>his<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>mount<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>and looped<span style="letter-spacing: 0.7pt;"> </span>its<span style="letter-spacing: 0.9pt;"> </span>reins<span style="letter-spacing: 0.8pt;"> </span>around<span style="letter-spacing: 0.7pt;"> </span>one<span style="letter-spacing: 0.85pt;"> </span>of<span style="letter-spacing: 0.95pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.9pt;"> </span>stout poles<span style="letter-spacing: 0.75pt;"> </span>joined to<span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>wide<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>beams<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>overhead. His<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>back<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>to<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>her,<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>he curried<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>a<span style="letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> </span>magnificent strawberry<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>roan<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>stallion,<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>its chestnut coat<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>heavily mixed<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>with<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>gray.<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>The<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>horse snatched hay<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>from<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>manger and<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>stood<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>quietly, seemingly<span style="letter-spacing: -0.4pt;"> </span>good-natured<span style="letter-spacing: -0.65pt;"> </span>and<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>well<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>trained.</span> </span></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">How on earth did he come by such a superb mount? Karin<span style="letter-spacing: 0.3pt;"> </span>had<span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>no<span style="letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> </span>more<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>opportunity to<span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>wonder, and<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>it<span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>wasn’t the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>stallion she<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>kept<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>close<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>watch<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>on<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>as<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>she approached the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>two,<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>unsure<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>what<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>Jack<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>might<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>say<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>or do.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">“Mister<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>McCray!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>was careful<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>not<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>to<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>take him<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>by<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>surprise as<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>she’d<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>done<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>last<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>night, ready<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>to turn<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>and<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>race<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>back<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>outside<span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> </span>in<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>an<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>instant<span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> </span>if<span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;"> </span>need<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>be. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">Jack<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>turned<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>his<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>head,<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>eyes<span style="letter-spacing: 0.3pt;"> </span>narrowed beneath his hat. Tension ran<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>length<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>of<span style="letter-spacing: 0.3pt;"> </span>his<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>jaw.<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>She<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>faltered at<span style="letter-spacing: 0.3pt;"> </span>the anger in<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>his<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>face.<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>He<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>must still<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>be<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>vexed<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>with<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>her grandfather; possibly<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>with<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>her<span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>too.<span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>Uncertain,<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>she said,<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>“Jack?” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">A<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>smile<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>turned<span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;"> </span>up<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>corners<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>of<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>his<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>drawn mouth, making<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>him<span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;"> </span>appear<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>even<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>more<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>youthful<span style="letter-spacing: -0.3pt;"> </span>and<span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;"> </span>less<span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;"> </span>like a<span style="letter-spacing: 0.7pt;"> hardened</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>frontiersman. “So,<span style="letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> </span>you’ve<span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>come.<span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>I<span style="letter-spacing: 0.65pt;"> </span>figured John<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>McNeal<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>would<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>hold<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>you<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>prisoner before<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>ever letting<span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> </span>you<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>go<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>off<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>with<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>me.” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">Maybe<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>he<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>should<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>have.<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>Karin<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>stepped nearer<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>to Jack, the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>hay<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>cushioning<span style="letter-spacing: -0.3pt;"> </span>her<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>shoes.<span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;"> </span>“Grandpa<span style="letter-spacing: -0.3pt;"> </span>can be prevailed<span style="letter-spacing: -0.45pt;"> </span>upon<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>by<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>your<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>bonnie<span style="letter-spacing: -0.3pt;"> </span>mother.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">He<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>paused,<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>brush in<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>his<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>hand. “And<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>you?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">Karin<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>shifted from<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>one<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>damp<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>sole<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>to<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>other and<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>ran<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>her<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>tongue<span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> </span>over<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>her<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>lips.<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>“Perhaps.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="color: windowtext; letter-spacing: -0.05pt;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">H</span></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">is smile widened. “Come and meet Pe<span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">k</span>i.” He<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>opened<span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>short<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>stall<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>door</span><span style="color: #eeeeee;">.</span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">She<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>hesitated<span style="letter-spacing: -0.45pt;"> </span>outside<span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>narrow<span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> </span>space.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">“You’re<span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> </span>not<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>afraid,<span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> </span>are<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>you?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">“Not<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>of<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>horse.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">Jack<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>chuckled.<span style="letter-spacing: -0.5pt;"> </span>“I’ll<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>be<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>on<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>my<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>best<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>behavior.” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">“For<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>a<span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;"> </span>warrior<span style="letter-spacing: -0.4pt;"> </span>or<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>a<span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;"> </span>soldier?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">“Myself.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">Keeping her<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>eyes<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>on<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>his<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>broad<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>bac<span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">k</span>,<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>she<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>said, “I’m<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>not<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>sure<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>if<span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;"> </span>that’s<span style="letter-spacing: -0.3pt;"> </span>good<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>or<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>bad.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">“Come<span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> </span>discover.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">She<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>slipped<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>inside<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.3pt;"> </span>pen<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>bedded with<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>clean straw and turned almost in awe at the horse towering above<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>her.<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;">She patted his sleek neck. </span>“He’s<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>beautiful. You<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>could<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>start<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>a new<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>line<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>with<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>him.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">“Yes.<span style="letter-spacing: 1.6pt;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">H</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;">e</span>’s<span style="letter-spacing: 1.65pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: 1.7pt;"> </span>finest<span style="letter-spacing: 1.55pt;"> </span>I’ve<span style="letter-spacing: 1.65pt;"> </span>ever<span style="letter-spacing: 1.65pt;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.05pt;">k</span>nown.<span style="letter-spacing: 1.5pt;"> </span>But<span style="letter-spacing: 1.65pt;"> </span>God help<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>me,<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>Karin,<span style="letter-spacing: -0.35pt;"> </span>so<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>are<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>you.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">A<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>current<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>charged through her<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>at<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>his<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2pt;"> </span>words<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>and the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>emotion behind<span style="letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"> </span>them.<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>She<span style="letter-spacing: 0.3pt;"> </span>swiveled, lifting her eyes<span style="letter-spacing: 0.25pt;"> </span>to<span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: 0.35pt;"> </span>intensity<span style="letter-spacing: 0.05pt;"> </span>in<span style="letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"> </span>his. “Why<span style="letter-spacing: 0.15pt;"> </span>do<span style="letter-spacing: 0.3pt;"> </span>you need<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>the<span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> </span>Lord’s<span style="letter-spacing: -0.3pt;"> </span>help?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">“You<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>have<span style="letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span>no<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>idea,”<span style="letter-spacing: -0.3pt;"> </span>he<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"> </span>said<span style="letter-spacing: -0.2pt;"> </span>huskily.~</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: small;">PURCHASE BEARWALKER'S DAUGHTER</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Bearwalkers-Daughter-ebook/dp/B007V6MA22/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1334748204&sr=1-4" jquery17207160874716083372="55" target="_blank"><strong><span style="color: #f1c232;">Amazon Kindle</span></strong></a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: -.5in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: small;">ABOUT THE AUTHOR</span></span></div><span style="color: black; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Married to my high school sweetheart, I live on a farm in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia surrounded by my children, grandbabies, and assorted animals. An avid gardener, my love of herbs and heirloom plants figures into my work. The rich history of Virginia, the Native Americans and the people who journeyed here from far beyond her borders are at the heart of my inspiration. </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="color: #eeeeee;">In addition to American settings, I also write historical and time travel romances set in the British Isles.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Visit Ms. Trissel on the web-</span> <a href="http://bethtrissel.wordpress.com/"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><strong>http://bethtrissel.wordpress.com/</strong></span></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New";"><strong><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;">ENJOY<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
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</div>Chicks of Characterizationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12507046887458343222noreply@blogger.com5