Here’s a quick update to let you know what’s happened last week and what will be happening this week.
I have some winners of The Viscount’s Vow to announce:
Winnie from Leather Bound Reviews
Liza O’Connor from Jenna Jaxon’s blog, The Journal
Stacy Brutger from Rakes, Rogues & Romance
I’m visiting several blogs next week. I’ll usually post the link here. Often there’s a giveaway so you’ll want to stop by.
Don’t forget to help my celebrate the release of my second historical, The Viscount’s Vow, by entering the Rafflecopter drawing above , and please do spread the word!
Finally, The Earl’s Enticement is almost done. As of Saturday, when I’m preparing this post, I have around three chapters to write. Then, I’ll edit and cut.
If you’ve read Highlander’s Hope, you were introduced to Adaira Ferguson and Roark Marquardt. The Earl’s Enticement is their story.
I’ve posted an excerpt for you to enjoy below. Adaira has Roark locked in Craiglocky’s Keep.
“You do know—” Roark’s gaze roved the tidy cell, noting the fat, black spider weaving a web in the corner above the cell’s door, before returning to Miss Ferguson, “you could go to prison, for a very long time, for abducting and imprisoning a peer of the realm.”
“Ah, but then you’re not a peer are you?” She smiled again, the row of her neat white teeth shining bright in the shadowy corridor. “In fact, I do believe I’ve done the Crown a tremendous favor. I’ve apprehended a known spy.”
His gaze captured hers. Her eyes appeared black in the meager light, except for those unusual jewel-like gold specks reflecting in her irises. He fisted his hands, the only outward manifestation of his fury.
“That’s twice you’ve accused me of being a traitor. If you were a man, I’d call you out for it.”
She raised a perfectly arched chestnut brow and grinned. “Swords or pistols?”
Roark swept his gaze over her figure, shaking his head in disapproval. “Don’t tell me you’re trained in weaponry?”
“Of course.” She struck a fencing pose. “En garde.”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Was there ever a more unladylike woman of refined breeding?”
Miss Ferguson dared to inch a bit closer, then bold as brass, pointed at him and chuckled. “You did it again. Spoke your thoughts aloud. My, but that must be aggravating.”
She leaned in a fraction, seeming to assess him with her keen eyes. Her subtle fragrance wafted past his nostrils. Something with lilies? He resisted the urge to inhale deeply.
“Can you keep any secrets, or does everything gush from your mouth like milk from a teat?”
Roark’s mouth dropped open. He gawked at her.
“Had she truly said teat?”
“To a man?”
“She didn’t know?”
Mischief danced in her eyes. “Yes, I did. Teat.”
