Heartbreak and Honor’s Countdown-Two Weeks!
Perfect for your Christmas Read List!
This is where it gets super crazy before a book release. So many things have to come together for the launch, and naturally, I’m supposed to keep up with all the regular author rigmarole. I love it!
Here’s what readers are saying about Harcourt and Alexandra’s story.
“… this story will have you cursing, laughing out loud (I even snorted a couple times).Her dialogue between her characters is perfection, her timing, especially with her witty comments is perfection…Her stories just get better & better.” ~Liz Evans
“This author’s stories just keep getting better and better…A rollicking tale indeed, full of humor and wit and daring …and, of course, love.” ~Janice Hoaglund
Excerpt Time!
Tasara switched her blade to her left hand.
Who lurked in the corridor?
Not a Blackhall. Those Scots plowed into the room, all barbarous bravado and cock-sure swagger, bellowing vulgar threats the whole while.
The door latch wiggled.
Not Dat or another black tinker either. They would call her name or the children’s.
Oblivious to the bedlam downstairs, her vulnerable brother and sister slept on, their small forms dwarfed by the immense bed, the blanket’s folds nearly hiding them.
The unspeakable, vile things the Blackhalls threatened to do if the clan’s blackmail demands weren’t met echoed like an unholy, perverse mantra inside Tasara’s head. How men could suggest the obscene things those scunners vowed . . .
A revulsion-borne shiver shook her.
Clutching the handgrip of her knife, she crept on tiptoes across the stone floor. Flattened against the wall, she squinted at the lever.
There. It moved again—the merest bit.
And again.
The tiniest of jiggles.
Metal scraped metal, and her lungs cramped.
A key?
Swallowing her fear, she tightened her grasp on her dagger. Only the Blackhalls held the key to this chamber.
Tasara dried one damp palm, then the other, on her skirt. Could she stab someone? To protect her sister and brother, she would, by God.
A click announced the lock giving way.
Creaking on unoiled hinges, the door edged open, inch-by-cautious-inch, and as it did, the brutal sounds from below filtered into the chamber. Light from the passageway’s primitive torch-lit brackets illumined a sinister, black-clad form.
A disheveled man paused at the threshold, his coat unbuttoned and a pistol protruding from his waistband. In one hand, he held a sword at the ready, and in the other, he brandished a dirk. Legs braced, he stood at the entrance like a buccaneer balancing atop a ship’s pitching deck.
A pirate in the Scottish Highlands?
Heartbreak and Honor’s Christmastide Holiday is December 2, 2015 from 4:00-10:00 PM. Nearly 20 historical authors are coming together for this party.
I’d love for you to join us! Just click HERE!
By-the-way, I have two giveaways happening right now. Go to my home page HERE.
