Recommended Read/Featured Today- FIERY ROSES

By Pat McDermott

Book #2 in the Band of Roses Trilogy

 

"Irish Kings still rule the Emerald Isle - and Princess Talty is in trouble again ..."

 

 

Irish Kings still rule the Emerald Isle, and part of the kingdom is burning . . .

In the thrilling sequel to A Band of Roses, 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.  Intent on convincing County Mayo’s residents to allow a pipeline to cross their pristine boglands, an arsonist is setting homes and land ablaze. 

 

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.  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.

 

 

EXCERPT

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. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

“This is lovely, Renen,” said Talty, and Neil silently agreed. 

 

“It is the finest silk.” The fussing servant pinned the shoulder straps with matching broaches. 

 

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. 

 

“It fits well enough,” she said with a downward glance, “but the top is too big.” 

 

“Your mamms do look a little lost in there,” Neil called from the window. 

 

The women’s heads twisted toward him. As he suspected, they’d forgotten him. 

 

Talty’s brown eyes narrowed. She raised her chin and glared. “You never seem to have any trouble finding them!” 

 

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. 

 

When she finished, Talty’s eyes widened, silently asking Neil’s opinion. 

 

“You look more grippable now, darlin’.” He made squeezing gestures and laughed at her openmouthed gasp. “Really, Tal, you look fine. No goddess could be more beautiful.” 

 

“This one can,” said Renen. “We will add perfume and jewels, though even the baroness had no rings as fine as yours, Lady.” 

 

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.” 

 

“No,” said Neil. “The airline lost our luggage.”

 

 

 

CLICK LINK TO VIEW THE FIERY ROSES VIDEO TRAILER

http://youtu.be/CYmbvWxjDOk

 

 

 

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

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, A Band of Roses and Fiery Roses, are available now. The third, Salty Roses, is scheduled for a November 2012 release. Her Young Adult novel,  Glancing Through the Glimmer, and its forthcoming sequel, Autumn Glimmer (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.

 

 

FIND PAT ON THE WEB

 

Web Site: http://www.patmcdermott.net

 

 

Writing/Travel Blog (Put the Kettle On): http://pat-mcdermott.blogspot.com

 

Book Blog (Across the Plain of Shining Books)

 

http://acrosstheplainofshiningbooks.blogspot.com/

 

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pat.mcdermott1

 

 

ENJOY

Coming December 2012 from Renee Vincent- THE TEMPERATE WARRIOR

Gustaf Ræliksen, the eldest warrior son of Rælik, 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. There’s only one woman who can tame the fearless Northman—a fiery redhead from the spoils of his vengeful days.

Æsa, a lowly servant forced into a life of warming men’s beds, has nothing to offer the noble warrior but her heart. Through the tenderness of Gustaf’s touch, she learns that even the brusque and burly Northman is capable of temperance—that is…until someone, with a deep score to settle, seeks revenge upon him.

Gravely wounded, restrained, and left for dead, Gustaf is helpless as his dearest Æsa is ripped from his hands. As his world is torn asunder, he has but one vow—saving the woman he loves, and killing every last man who dared to best ................

The Temperate Warrior

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Contest open to residents of the United States Only ...

CONTEST HAS ENDED- Congratulations Tore!

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I hope you enjoyed the first look at THE TEMPERATE WARRIOR coming December 2012!

Our SPOTLIGHT is on THE FALL OF RAIN by Renee Vincent

Leif Dæganssen, an archeologist from Norway, is determined to trace back his Scandinavian roots as far as the Dark Ages and find proof of their existence on the Emerald Isle. After several years of living off the west coast of Ireland, he finally uncovers an ancient artifact—an intricately decorated chest with pagan carvings—buried beneath the very porch of his coastal cottage. Knowing it only confirms the presence of a glorified Norse-influenced settlement on Inis Mór, he’s determined to establish a link between himself and those who once inhabited the rugged isle.

For as long as she can remember, Lorraine O’Connor has had dreams of a Norse warrior kissing her. And even though she’s never fully understood the reason for her vivid subconscious imagination, she welcomes the meaningless and wanton pleasure of being in a Viking’s protective embrace—until the day she meets that brazen Northman on an impulsive vacation trip to Ireland.

Though blindsided by the relevance of her dreams and the strange familiarity of the man within them, Lorraine can’t help but feel a deep-seated intimacy toward Leif. And the more she gets to know him, the more she’s convinced they’ve shared a life together in a time long forgotten.

Are the clues to their ancestral past hidden within the contents of the chest or buried deep within their hearts?

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Renee will be with us all week so don't miss the opportunity to find out more about THE FALL OF RAIN ...

First GLIMPSE at THE FALL OF RAIN ........ Book Three of the Emerald Isle Trilogy by Renee Vincent!!!

Leif Dæganssen, an archeologist from Norway, is determined to trace back his Scandinavian roots as far as the Dark Ages and find proof of their existence on the Emerald Isle. After several yeas of living off the west coast of Ireland, he finally uncovers an ancient artifact—an intricately decorated chest with pagan carvings—buried beneath the very porch of his coastal cottage. Knowing it only confirms the presence of a glorified Norse-influenced settlement on Inis Mór, he’s determined to establish a link between himself and those who once inhabited the rugged isle.

For as long as she can remember, Lorraine O’Connor has had dreams of a Norse warrior kissing her. And even though she’s never fully understood the reason for her vivid subconscious imagination, she welcomes the meaningless and wanton pleasure of being in a Viking’s protective embrace—until the day she meets that brazen Northman on an impulsive vacation trip to Ireland.

Though blindsided by the relevance of her dreams and the strange familiarity of the man within them, Lorraine can’t help but feel a deep-seated intimacy toward Leif. And the more she gets to know him, the more she’s convinced they’ve shared a life together in a time long forgotten.

Are the clues to their ancestral past hidden within the contents of the chest or buried deep within their hearts?




Excerpt from THE FALL OF RAIN ....

There he stood; a monument of beauty and power, sturdy as the ground beneath him. He had long blond hair, a well groomed beard, and skin darkened from the sun. His eyes revealed a sense of maturity and intrigue, but even the darkness could not hide their color for they were as blue as the ocean she had crossed to get to Ireland. His hands showed scars and calluses from years of hard work, yet his broad chest, tapering to a narrow waist, held most of her attention.


“Lochlannach,” she breathed.


“Huh?” he muttered, crowding his brows. “You’re Irish?”


Lorraine swallowed, wondering where that word had come from. Hell, she didn’t even know what it meant. “No, I-I’m American.”

“I can hear that now in your accent, but you just spoke Gaelic and called me a Viking. Lochlannach means ‘lake dweller’, and it was what the Irish called the Norse foreigners a long time ago.”


Lorraine stared at him, still unsure of herself or what had come out of her mouth.


“It’s okay,” he said kindly. “It’s not an insult as far as I’m concerned. I’ve been called worse in my time. Just didn’t expect it.” A smile started to tug at his mouth. “I suppose the blond hair gave me away?”


Not exactly, she thought. But it had something to do with it. It was not everyday a woman would meet and talk to the actual man from her dreams. And quite frankly, it was exceptionally difficult to wrap her head around it.

As she continued to gawk at him, there was no doubt he was, indeed, that very man. The only difference was that he wasn’t sporting a tablet-woven wool tunic, cow-hide boots on his calves, or a thick bear cloak around his shoulders. There was no sword at his hip or silver clips in his hair. He looked like a regular modern-day male—who just happened to step out of a Men’s Health magazine photo shoot, demonstrating the look of a perfectly balanced torso of muscled shoulders and biceps.


Lorraine sat up a bit straighter, uncomfortably hot next to the fire. But as she moved about on the floor, she felt a strange dampness in her clothes.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he began explaining. “I tried to get you under shelter as quickly as I could, but by the time I mounted my horse with you in my arms, the rain poured from the sky. I would’ve taken you to your hotel had I known where you were staying, but I didn’t even know your name. Is there someone you want to contact? Someone you’re vacationing with to let them know you’re all right? It’s very late, almost midnight. I’m sure they’re worried sick.”

His considerate words stole hers right out of her mouth. If she had any residual fear of him, it had readily diminished. To know he had picked her up in his arms and whisked her away on his horse, just so she wouldn’t get wet, was astounding in itself. If he wasn’t her knight in shining armor, she didn’t know who was.

“Um…I’m staying at the Man of Aran B&B. But I’m not with anyone,” Lorraine clarified as she tried to stand up.

A little wobbly on her feet, he came rushing to her aid, bracing her elbows in the palms of his sturdy hands. Again, his brows furrowed. “You came to Ireland by yourself?”


She blinked rapidly, her reaction to his presence delayed, and suddenly she made an effort to step away from him.


“Here now,” he coaxed, putting his arm behind her back for support. “You need to sit.”


Lorraine looked up at him, his chiseled face only inches from hers, his large, brawny body hovering far too close, too quickly. She shoved him, only to clumsily teeter backward.


Before she could let out a gasp, he caught her and pulled her upright into his arms, her face smacking the warm blunt plane of his chest. “Are you trying to hurt yourself?” he asked, looking down the bridge of his nose. “’Cause at the rate you’re going, you’ll be spending your Ireland holiday in the hospital.”


Lorraine flinched at the approach of his hand, but he stopped short. “Your head…you passed out. Remember?”


She touched where he was pointing and winced. “Oh…I fell out of my bed.”


“I think you’re mistaken,” he corrected. “You were standing on the cliff near Dún Aonghasa when you went down and I’m pretty sure I didn’t see a bed.”


“No, I mean I this bump is from a few days ago when I fell out of my bed at home.”


His face drew back in surprise. “A grown woman falls out of her bed? That must have been some dream you were having.”


Lorraine froze, his tone sounding as if he knew something about her dreams. As if he were hinting he’d had the same. She studied him, peering into his beautiful blue eyes for a clue. But after a few moments of silence, he cocked his head, trying to read her just the same.


“Do you always make a habit of falling out of your bed?” he joked.


Though his jest made her smile with embarrassment, it confirmed she had hit her head harder than she thought. Before her, stood a man who resembled the brazen warrior in her dreams, and she had to start realizing that it was purely a coincidence. Nothing more.


Backing slowly out of his embrace, she began making excuses. “I’m merely jet-legged, I think. This vacation was a spur of the moment kind of thing. And…”


“Don’t worry yourself,” he said, giving her some space. “I’m just glad you’re all right. Now, take off your wet clothes and then you can have my—”


She reacted as if his words seared through her like one of Patrick’s red hot brands he uses on his horses.


“I most certainly will not!”


“You cannot get warm in sodden clothing,” he proclaimed.


“I will do no such thing!”


“Listen, princess,” he retorted, beginning to take off his belt and boots. “You, above all, should know this rain will be holding us here for many hours, if not days. I am not going to sit in wet, uncomfortable clothes when I have perfectly dry blankets at my exposal. And I suggest you follow my lead.”


She hadn’t long to contemplate his candid advice before he had completely disrobed.


“Oh, my goodness!” she gasped, turning her head away from his nakedness.


“You might as well get used to it, my lady. Soon you will be seeing me this way every night.”


“I will not!” she argued over her shoulder.


“Will you close your eyes to me even on our wedding night?”


“You are a stupid heathen of a man! How can you possibly think that I will want to marry you?”


“Marry you?”


Lorraine’s eyes flashed open at the sound of the man’s sharp, deep voice resonating behind her. She half expected to look over her shoulder and see him completely naked in front of her. But when she peeked around, he was standing there, hands on his hips, a look of bewilderment on his face.


“Don’t you think I should at least know your name before you propose to me?”


Lorraine brought both hands to her head. What the hell was that? One minute she was talking about being jet-legged in this man’s living room and the next she was standing in a cave—from what she could gather—watching the same man remove his wet warrior clothing while demanding she do the same on account of rain. It all seemed like a dream, yet she clearly was not sleeping.


“Is it still raining?” she asked curiously.


The blond stranger narrowed his eyes, confounded by the string of bizarre utterances coming from her lips. “It is…which is why your clothes are wet and why I was suggesting you remove them and get into dry ones.” He quickly pointed behind him. “In the bathroom, down the hall, of course.”


Relief washed over her. “I’m sorry…I’m…um,” she stuttered, words failing her.


“Are you sure you’re all right? There’s a doctor who lives up the road from here. At this hour I know he’s taken to his bed, but I think this would be considered an emergency. Clearly, you’re suffering from some mild head trauma.”

“No,” she said at once. “I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine. Really.”


He didn’t look convinced. “If you insist.”


“Yes,” she tried to say with confidence. “I just need a moment to gather my wits if you don’t mind.”


“Sure.” He reached for a pile of clothes from his coffee table and handed them to her. “I know they probably won’t fit you, but they’re dry, and I found a pair of pants with a drawn string so that might help. The bathroom’s two doors down on the left”


“Right. Thanks.” As her cheeks flushed with heat, she accepted the clothes.


But he didn’t let go of them, cocking his head in scrutiny. “So, why am I a heathen again?”


A nervous laugh fell from her mouth. “I don’t know where that came from. It was an outburst. It’s obvious you’ve been nothing but kind and gentlemanly. And I’m sorry it I came off as rude.” His eyes played over her, toying with her already scrambling mind. She’d never seen such brilliant color in a man’s eyes before, and it was hard not to drown in them.


Finally, he let go of the clothes and reached for her backpack sitting on his couch. “Trust me, you didn’t come off as rude,” he allotted, handing over her things. “However, I think you’ve given me too much credit with that ‘kind and gentlemanly’ nonsense. You might not think that come morning.”


Lorraine’s eyes widened.


“Joke, love,” he amended. “You know, for an American woman you sure are a bit uptight. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.”


 THE FALL OF RAIN~ COMING DECEMBER 2011


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http://pasttheprint.blogspot.com/2011/04/renee-vincent-blog-tour-giveaway.html

COMING SOON from Renee Vincent ..... "Silent Partner"........*Contest*

AND INTRODUCING ....... 'SILENT PARTNER'
Availabe from Turquoise Morning Press April of 2011!!!




Grayson Anders has it all. He’s the co-owner of a happening nightclub in downtown Boston , he’s wealthy, and women practically throw themselves at his feet the moment he steps on the dance floor. But profiting from these obvious benefits is not his desire. His passion is dancing and he wants nothing more than to find the perfect dance partner.

Chloe Laroche is a talented artist, but a failing entrepreneur. Her once thriving studio is now on the brink of foreclosure and unless she paints the next Van Gogh Starry Night, she’ll have to cut her losses and say goodbye to her quaint little gallery. Fearing her career is at an end, she drags herself to the local hotspot, determined to drown her worries in the bottom of a shot glass. At least that was the plan…until she lays eyes on a wickedly sexy, swarthy dancer in the club—Grayson Anders.

Unable to resist, Chloe finds herself in Grayson’s arms, indulging in a passionate, out-of-control, one night stand. And when both awaken the next morning, they are consumed with inspiration.

Grayson finds his perfect dance partner and Chloe finally finds her muse. But will her secret destroy both their dreams?





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*CONTEST*
Renee will be giving away an E-book copy of Mac Liam to one lucky commenter when the SPOTLIGHT is over, so leave your comments for your chance to win!

Our SPOTLIGHT is on Mac Liam by Renee Vincent ... *Contest*

BOOK TWO of The Emerald Isle Trilogy~

A tortured soul…
Breandán Mac Liam, the strapping young hunter from Ireland’s lush forests, is in love with Mara, an ineligible beautiful princess. For seven long years, he has been vividly haunted by her memory, taunted by the throes of his heartache. And not even the thought of her marriage to a Northman can extinguish the fierce, burning desire running rampant through his heart and soul.

An innocent heart…
Mara, the spirited Connacht princess, has no idea she is the object of the Irishman’s longing. She is living out her days on Inis Mór, raising a troubled son and trying to endure the cruel loneliness that afflicts her.

A deadly secret…
Ordered by the king on his deathbed, Breandán must return to Mara and bring her through the perilous lands of Connacht to fulfill her father’s last dying wish. But as their worlds collide, Breandán not only finds himself wrapped in the arms of Mara’s embrace, but thrown into a struggle to defend his honor.

With Mara caught between the family she loves and the father she knows, can Breandán uncover the mystery of her past and still protect her from a secret that threatens them all?

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Trailer for RAELIKSEN by Renee Vincent!

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~AND INTRODUCING- BOOK TWO IN THE EMERALD ISLE TRILOGY~

Mac Liam
Coming December 2010 from Turquoise Morning Press

Breandán Mac Liam is the young, loyal Irishman from Ræliksen, only seven years older and still in love with Mara.

He is fortuitous enough to cross paths with Mara again, yet he still cannot help but believe that he truly belongs with her. For that very reason, he refuses to walk away a second time. But is he prepared to face the consequences of that decision?

Excerpt from "RAELIKSEN," by Renee Vincent ...

~Ræliksen- Book One of the Emerald Isle Trilogy~

The thunder rolled like hundreds of cavalry horses across a battlefield, shaking the ground as it passed above, until suddenly the Heavens opened, and without mercy, dumped its water in sheets.

The rain was bitterly cold and Dægan relished the feel of Mara huddled into his back. She buried her face within his wet hair, as if finding a small refuge between his shoulder blades.

He couldn’t ignore the warmth and softness of her body against him for the thin tunic and shift she was wearing left little to the imagination. The thought clung to him like a wet blanket, drenched with his own lustful musings as he considered what she would feel like without the nuisance of clothing. What he would touch first if only she would allow it.

Dægan cursed the timing of those indecent thoughts, and clutched her arms that surprisingly held fast to his waist, reassuring her that cover was just a bit further. The shelter he promised was something he had seen only once, near the river on his way to Connacht several days before. He hoped that his memory served him correctly as he navigated through the onslaught of needle-like rain in his face.

Several times the horse slipped and Mara’s arms tightened around him, a pleasure he gladly took amidst the situation. What’s more, they were descending a slope much steeper than he expected, and the rain only added to its difficulty as it shrouded the rocks that lay loose on the black slated ground.

Dægan didn’t need to worry about her ability to ride for he had experienced first hand her abilities yesterday morning, and didn’t hesitate to lunge the horse from the incline and drive it faster to where he thought the cavern would be.

And like a gift from Odin, there it was!

Although further from the river than he’d like, the overhang was hospitable and tall enough even for his horse, something he thanked the gods for upon entering. Their stop within the shallow depths of the cave was abrupt and only the tiny echoes of water dripping, crooned an appeasing welcome as they relished the sudden end of the chastising rain. The horse stood panting and its slick black body steamed as it cooled.

“Are you all right?” Dægan asked, his deep voice resonating within the cavern walls.

“Aye,” Mara shuddered, still trying to absorb the warmth from his back.

“We must get you warm.” Dægan slid from his horse, landing on both feet. His arms reached for her and without hesitation she wrapped herself around his neck, evidently too cold to care what protective limbs she was enveloped in. He smiled for she was like a little child burying her head against his neck, contrary to the fiery vixen from yesterday’s affair. He leaned his head toward her, feeling the warmth of her breath and savoring the petal soft lips upon his neck. He truly didn’t want to let go of her, but her shivering broke the moment, bringing him back from his heavenly Valhalla.

He shifted her weight to one arm while he untied the hide with the other, shaking it out to cover her. “Take off your wet clothes and then you can have my cloak.”

She reacted as if his words seared through her like a red hot brand. “I most certainly will not!”

“You cannot get warm in sodden clothing,” he proclaimed.

“I will do no such thing!” she said, jumping from his arms and keeping the hide for herself.

“Listen, princess,” Dægan retorted, beginning to take off his belt and boots. “You, above all, should know this rain will be holding us here for many hours, if not days. I am not going to sit in wet, uncomfortable clothes when I have perfectly dry blankets at my exposal. And I suggest you follow my lead.”

Mara hadn’t long to contemplate Dægan’s sudden foul language or his candid advice before he had completely disrobed.

“Oh, my goodness!” she gasped, turning her head away from his nakedness.

“You might as well get used to it, my lady. Soon you will be seeing me this way every night.”

“I will not!” Mara argued over her shoulder.

“Will you close your eyes to me even on our wedding night?”

“You are a stupid heathen of a man!” she retorted. “How can you possibly think that I will want to marry you?”

“I felt the tides turning last night—and so did you.”

“Nonsense!”

“Your problem is that you hardly trust yourself. You despise that you gave in to me so quickly, and for that you question your own good sense. Your heart is talking to you but you won’t listen. You are denying yourself the chance to find love, a love that is different, foreign, and well beyond your dreams. I saw how you would gaze upon the river waters in Connacht, looking further than its shores, wishing for something greater. And now ‘tis here in front of you, yet you fear the possibility of its wonder because ‘tis simply not what your father wants. Tell me Mara, what do you want?”


His poetic words coursed a path straight to her chest, almost knocking the wind from her. “You watched me?” she asked, her voice breaking as it inflated with shock and anger.

Though she couldn’t see his face, she heard a slight sense of guilt in his voice. “Aye, for many days,” he admitted.

“Days?”

“Weeks, actually. I came upon your singing one morning and ‘twas the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. Your voice was like the sweetness of honey on my tongue. It lingered and I could not rid its hold on me. I took pleasure in watching the simple life you were living and found myself wanting to offer you more. And each afternoon when you would ride away, I was left with a feeling of utter sadness. I despised that feeling and decided that I would not walk away from you any longer.”

Mara gritted her teeth and tightened the hide at her shoulders as if to further screen herself from his viewing. “No matter how charming a tale you tell, you are still a thief if you take me not to my father!”

Dægan grabbed the other hide from his saddle and slapped it around his waist. “If I do that, I will put both our lives at risk, you know this! And by the gods, woman, turn around!”

Mara peeked her head slightly over her shoulder, fully expecting him to still be naked. But he was covered, eyes tapered to slits and his hands on his narrow hips. The reddish hide hung low at his waist exposing his entire torso. It was longer than she imagined but just as well, for she had never seen an unclothed man before. His chest was relatively bare, exposing two small nipples and a thin layer of dark blond curls at his navel that ran down beyond the obscurity of the animal skin.

His gruff voice promptly interrupted her subtle inspection. “I will take full responsibility for my theft if the time arises, but until then, I will keep you safe, first and foremost!”

Mara shook away the lingering thoughts of his unforgettable body and was glad to see that he finally admitted his actions to being that of a thief, proving that even beautiful men could be criminals.

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See what people are saying about Author Renee Vincent and RAELIKSEN ...

REALIKSON- Book one of the Emerald Isle Trilogy~

• “…is a sensational tale of love in a time stricken with loss. I mourned the characters and their stories long after I closed the pages. Renee Vincent is an author to watch.” Maddie James, Romance Author


• “...an excellent job of bringing the past back to life with her vivid characters. I do not know much about this era, but the historical detail is very impressive.” 4 Cups!Coffee Time Romance


• “A well written, deep novel; and long after the final words are finished, the story will echo within you: always present, always beautiful, always Ræliksen.” K. Whelan of A Romance Writer's Haven


• “...if you're looking for a tale that effortlessly blends romance and action, while staying true to the historical record, I can't recommend Ræliksen enough.” E. Hooper of Poised Pen

• “The imagery in this book will take your breath away… characters are well developed and come to life, jumping off the pages and into your mind—and finding their way into your heart.” J. Smith of Satin and Lace Reviews
  


• “...the plot is electrifying, and the romance is sizzling. Renee Vincent painted the three great virtues of Ireland page-after-page, honor, chivalry, and love of freedom.” Author Geri Ahearn


• “…a beautiful, colorful world with historically accurate information...(that) keeps you enthralled as Dægan and Mara are beset by danger as well as their own religious differences.” Author Danica Avet


• “Although primarily a romantic novel, Renee is not afraid to get her hands dirty with some excellently written fight scenes either. All in all this is a grand read and I would recommend it to anyone with even a passing interest in historical romances.” M. Quinlan, Ireland

Buy RAELIKSEN in Print:

Amazon

Turquoise Morning Press

Buy RAELIKSEN as an E-Book:

Kindle

1Romance EBooks

Smashwords

Turquoise Morning Press

Visit Renee on the web- http://www.reneevincent.com/

Let's get up close and personal with Author Renee Vincent!

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.

I have always wanted to be an author, ever since I was about five years old when my parents gave me a "personalized" children's book that featured me as the hero of the story. Seeing my full name in print was where the dream to become an author began. After a career in Radiology and Pre-School Education, two children, and helping my husband maintain a beautiful farm, I finally found the time to write the story that has lived and breathed in me for twelve long years. In December 2008, Ræliksen became a reality, and then in May 2010, I signed a three-book deal with Turquoise Morning Press for my Emerald Isle Trilogy.

When I am not writing, I love to spend my time on the back of a horse, whether with my family or with my friends. There is nothing like feeling the sunlight on your face, the wind in your hair, and the power of the animal beneath you as you enjoy the beautiful scenery. Seeing the world from a saddle is, by far, the best view and the best therapy for a heavy heart or a troubled mind. My therapist's name, or my horse's, rather, is "Statues Suddenly Lucky", a full-blooded Tennessee Walker, and of course, he goes by the name of Lucky for short.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.

Buy RAELIKSEN in Print: AmazonTurquoise Morning Press

Buy RAELIKSEN as an E-Book:Kindle1Romance EBooksSmashwordsTurquoise Morning Press

Visit Renee on the web- http://www.reneevincent.com/

Visit Renee's Blog: http://www.pasttheprint.blogspot.com/

Friend Renee on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/reneevincentauthor

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Join Renee's Yahoo Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/reneevincent/?yguid=433139017

Visit Renee's Coffee Time Romance Author Page: http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/board/forumdisplay.php?f=1226