Monday, December 11, 2017

Wild Whispers by Ryan Jo Summers

WILD WHISPERS
by Ryan Jo Summers

Genre: Romantic Mystical Mystery with horse racing element








Set against the exciting backdrop in the chase for the Triple Crown and filled with mystical surprises. Season is not a witch, but she can make a horse run and Ty’s heart race.


Season Moriarty is part fey and part druid. She can see the future and alter it. She welds control over the natural elements of earth, wind, fire, and water as well as manipulating life and death. She is an accomplished racehorse trainer, able to get any horse to run like the wind. Now Season has landed the dream job that will test all of her skills and abilities.


Ty Masters runs his horse racing business with an iron fist. No one dares to question him. He hires Season based on her reputation. Then they meet. Immediately, she questions him, challenges him, infuriates him, intrigues him, captivates him, and even intimidates him. Then she spellbinds him. But can she make a Triple Crown winner out of his willful colt?


Mysterious threats to Ty’s racehorses bring him and Season together in a race against the clock. As the stakes for the Triple Crown rise, and the mystery of who wants to destroy Ty deepens, so does the undeniable interest and fiery sparks between them.




The house was empty, a few lamps lit along the hallways. Ty dropped his coat in the foyer, ignoring the hook on the wall, wordlessly heading for the kitchen, his back straight and tension radiating from him like steam from a radiator.


Season quietly pulled out two coffee mugs and reheated leftover coffee. Pouring it, she tried to think how best to explain. Clearly, he was still thinking the worse and after what he had just witnessed, she couldn’t blame him. Would he even go so far as to fire her for what he witnessed? She kind of doubted it. But if he did not particularly trust her before, this wasn’t going to help. Okay, here goes nothing.


Setting the mugs on the table, she sat down opposite him, hair behind her, arms folded in front of her. Ty cradled the warm mug in his palms, steam rising from the top, the fragrant scent filling the air between them. He eyed her warily. Waiting. She searched for the best answer.


“Are you a witch?” he finally asked, breaking the ice.


“No, again.” she said. “I’m more of a druid.”


He blinked. “A who?”


“Druid. An ancient Celtic religion. I'm kind of like a fae or faerie.”


He shook his head. “What?”


She sighed. She really was terrible at these explanations. Another good reason not to tell anyone about her skills. “Okay, I inherited it from my folks, who inherited it from their folks and so on down their respective lines. Mom was a seer, she could see into the future, she'd have images or visions. Like a fae. And Dad communicated with animals and other things. It was almost magical how he could know what they were thinking or feeling. It sure helped his and Granddaddy's successes as trainers. They were druids in that they could give life. Just like you saw now.” She gave him with a shrug. “So I inherited the Sight from my mom and the Gift from my Dad. Lucky me,” she finished with a lop-sided smile.


He never moved or blinked. He just stared at her, hands curled around the mug, not drinking, as if it offered some protection between him and her. “So you aren’t a witch?” he finally asked.


Shaking her head, she stilled a laugh at the comparison. It was so typical she supposed. “No. Witches are more into black arts and stuff, learning their craft from anywhere. Faes and druids inherit it from their family, learning how to hone it from their parents. Plus I can't use my Gifts for personal gain. Only for good services.” She gave him another tentative smile. “Otherwise, if I were a witch, I would have turned you into a toad last night.”


That made him blink. “Pardon me?”


“When you broke into the bathroom and tried that little stunt of yours, I really wanted to turn you into a toad. But I decided not to. A witch probably would have anyway.”


He shook his head, baffled. “Guess I’m glad for that,” he said slowly. “Why didn’t you ... er ... do that?”


She shrugged, amused at his faltering question. “Misuse of the Gift. Unpardonable sin.” She grinned.


“Why? Would thunderbolts from heaven strike you dead if you had?”


“No.” She laughed outright at his suggestion. “No, it's just I learned it's not acceptable to do that kind of stuff. No real harm would come to me, but I know it's not right.”


“Again, glad to know that. I think,” he said, uncurling his hands from the mug and pushing it away. “So I thank you that I’m not a toad now. Could you warn me if you ever decided to do that? Turn me into something?” He grimaced at the request.


“Sure, what do you prefer? A toad or maybe a mammal?” she asked lightly.


“I prefer to be a man.” He jabbed a finger to his chest. “This man. Me.”


“Oh, okay. I'll keep that in mind.”


He stared at her, questions burning in his eyes. “So what else can you do?


Other than turn men into toads and bring dead foals to life?” He paused, inhaling a sharp breath. “You made that foal come out, didn’t you?” He paled at her silent nod, swallowing hard. “What else can you do?”


“Oh, lots of stuff.” Thinking, she pushed her mug away and started listing items on her fingers. “I am attuned to nature so I’m one with the animals. How do you really think I won the mastiffs over so easily? And Sky Hunter? With the Sight of the fae, I can sometimes get visions of things about to happen or images of things that are happening now. Even from a distance. It's kind of cool, actually.


“And with the Gift of the druids, I can cure, heal, and weld powers over the elements and nature. I can make the sun shine for a little while or maybe work up a small thunderstorm. Light a campfire with two snaps of the fingers,” she added, winking, snapping two fingers. A flame sparked to life from her fingertips.


Ty blinked, astonished. “So you can see Sky Hunter winning the Triple Crown? Is that how you are so sure he can? Or will you just snap your fingers and make him win? Or burst into flames?”


“No, I can't just make him win. I can only train him to run and win like any other trainer and horse. But I sense he has the potential to go that far. The day he jumped the fence he told me he was ready for an all-out run. I sensed there was no danger and saw no danger ahead so I let him go.”


“Uh huh.” He frowned at her words. Casting his eyes around the room he searched for answers, as if they were written on the walls. Finding none, he returned his gaze to Season. “So now what?”


“What do you mean?” she asked, finally taking a sip of the tepid coffee, then pushing it away with a grimace.


“Where do we go from here?”


“Where do you want to go?”





Wild Whispers

A Delightful mix of human and fae/druid.

This story was a very fine tale of the struggles to create superb race horses.

When Ty invites Season to interview for a job as his horse trainer, he assumes it’s a fellow. Nor is he happy to discover Season is a beautiful woman.  His prior marriage to a beautiful woman has left him gun shy.

However, Season is too special for Ty nor readers not to fall in love with. She claims her ancestors came from Faes and Druids.  Crazy, right? Only she does seem to have special abilities and the ability to control and understand not just horses, but all animals.

I thoroughly enjoyed this story. There is a very fine love story, but even before Ty and Season realize they are falling in love, dangers abound! So they have to fall in love while trying to keep their horses safe. I especially loved Season. She is the only person who is willing to put Ty in his place, and she does so by threatening to turn him into a toad.

I won’t share all the high drama, but I highly recommend this story, if you like a well written, engaging tale.

5 stars!








Ryan Jo Summers is a North Carolina writer who pens romances with a twist. They may contain any number of elements: Christian, humor, mystery, paranormal, sweet, shape-shifting, or time travel. Her dad is a songwriter and his aunt wrote poetry so writing must be in the family genes.


She makes her home in a century-old mountain cottage, with a menagerie of adopted pets. In her spare time, she likes to gather with family and friends, paint ceramics or canvas, potter in the yard, bird-watching, or read, play chess, Mahjongg or work word-find puzzles. She might take her dog and head deep into the forests and rivers near her home to plot the next big scene or story. Like her dad's aunt, she writes poetry as a means to cope with life's pains.


She collects lighthouses, shells, driftwood, and anything to remind her of the shore.


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Thursday, December 7, 2017

Any Given Snow Day by Marie Harte

ANY GIVEN SNOW DAY
by Marie Harte

Genre: Contemporary Romance






Ex-NFL star + snarky single mom = a touchdown of a holiday romance

After two Super Bowl rings, MVP status, and retiring from the NFL while still on top, Mitch “Flash” Flashman’s millions should make life at the ripe old age of thirty-five a blessing. Yet he’s restless, rudderless, and can’t tell up from down. Roped into helping his brother coach a bunch of teenagers, Mitch finds himself playing defense against the many women in town wanting his attention. Except for one particular woman who doesn’t seem to like him much. Becca Bragg is mouthy, vulnerable, and sexy, and she captivates Mitch despite himself. But Mitch has no time for a sexy single mom when he’s still trying to figure out who he really is. With the playoffs, a boy’s future, and his own heart on the line, he’ll need to figure out how to pull the ultimate victory—winning Becca’s heart and keeping it. For good.




Mitch stared at a feminine version of Simon Bragg. A few inches shorter than her behemoth son, she had long, dark-brown hair, greenish-brown eyes, and a frown that would do Simon proud.

A subtle glance and he catalogued her feminine assets. Check, check, and check. A stunner if not for the scowl on her face. Her assistant, the other pretty brunette he’d seen with Simon at the game, just grinned at him before hustling away.

“Hello. Mrs. Bragg?”

“Yes?” Cool and collected.

Funny, but his heart was racing. Mitch had been with supermodels, actresses, professional athletes. Some had possessed the same qualities Rebecca Bragg did, that essence of attraction that sparked something in his brain…and in other places. But Mitch didn’t do married chicks. Ever. Best to remember that.

He cleared his throat. “I’d like to talk to you about Simon.”

Her frown deepened. “Is he okay? What happened?”

Mitch had debated how to broach the subject. After talking to Deacon, they’d decided Mitch should be the one to talk to her. He still wasn’t sure how they’d come up with that, other than that his brother was a scum-sucking wimp who’d rather face a firing squad than an irate mother.

“As far as I know, Simon is fine. I wanted to talk to you about his attitude though.”

She snorted.

Just like her son.

“And before you say this is somehow about me not understanding him because I’m the new guy, you need to know that Simon has been acting out and is pretty much annoying most of the team.”

She studied him in silence.

He wondered what she saw. Did she see the regular guy who’d rather be running down a field or hiding out in his home, reading history books and watching movies? Or did she see the confident, laughing playboy everyone thought him to be?

“Come with me.” She turned and walked into the back of her teahouse.

He followed her toward the sweet smells coming from a small kitchen. Entranced by the scent of vanilla and cinnamon, he took a big sniff. “What are you making?”

“Sticky buns, my version of cinnamon rolls. Hold on.” She took a few steps toward the doorway and shouted, “Nora, can you watch the front? I’m in a meeting.”

Nora laughed and said something he couldn’t make out but apparently Rebecca could.

She flushed and returned, putting the center island between them. He wondered if her husband had a hard time dealing with her moods, then thought the lucky guy probably didn’t much care. A woman who could bake and looked like her? A win-win…until she opened her mouth.

“Well?” She waited.

He just stared.

“What?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to say this without you getting offended. I would have called your husband, but Simon wouldn’t give me his number.”

Something that looked like pain flashed across her face. “My husband is dead. Now what did you want to talk about?”

Wow. Talk about stepping right into it. Might have been nice if the kid had explained his father was no longer alive when Mitch had mentioned the guy. “Sorry. Simon didn’t tell me.”

She sighed. “So what has my son done that brings the ‘Amazing Flash’ to my lowly shop?”

He ignored the heat on his face. “You know, if you’d heard the whole conversation, you might not be so quick to judge.”

“You’re here to talk about Simon?”

Fine. He wouldn’t explain himself to this sexy, stuck-up viper. Wait. Where had sexy come from? Rebecca Bragg was more girl-next-door…with a side of sexy. Damn her full mouth.






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Caffeine addict, boy referee, and romance aficionado, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Marie Harte has over 100 books published with more constantly on the way. She’s a confessed bibliophile and devotee of action movies. Whether hiking in Central Oregon, biking around town, or hanging at the local tea shop, she’s constantly plotting to give everyone a happily ever after. Visit Marie's website and fall in love.


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Monday, December 4, 2017

The Dolan Girls by S.R. Mallery

THE DOLAN GIRLS
by S.R. Mallery

Genre: Western Romance






The Dolan Girls by S. R. Mallery has it all. Set in Nebraska during the 1800s, whorehouse madams, ladies of the night, a schoolmarm, a Pinkerton detective, a Shakespeare-quoting old coot, brutal outlaws, and a horse-wrangler fill out the cast of characters. Added to the mix are colorful descriptions of an 1856 land rush, Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show, Annie Oakley, bank/train robberies, small town local politics, and of course, romance. Two, in fact!




…The two sisters shifted into their usual standoff poses: Cora annoyed, self-righteous, her hands on her hips; Minnie, wiry, know-it-all, breathing hard.


Just then, one of their ladies entered. “Mrs. Cora, Miss Minnie, there’s a problem out on the floor.”
Cora sighed. “What now, Marlena?”


The soiled dove gulped before answering. “One of our customers, the old geezer one, is having a fit. Gettin’ real ornery, too.”


In recognition of a regular happenstance, the two sisters looked at each other and grimaced.


“Need any help?” Minnie asked Cora as she stood up.


“Nope, I have it under control. Thanks, Sis,” Cora replied and headed out the door, Ellie and her homecoming temporarily forgotten.


Out in the main parlor, the girls had already formed a wide circle around old Pete. Corsets, bustles, crinolines, pantaloons, and camisoles intermingled with a whiskey-stained suit, a grimy vest, and mud-caked boots. He was no match for them. As they gleefully shoved and tickled him, his fury rose with each breath, while his face ripened into the color of raw meat. Finally, when he could take it no longer, he sputtered, “She-devils!” which produced gales of laughter.


“Ladies, ladies. Enough. Leave the man alone,” Cora said, placing a concerned arm around the smelly habituĆ©. “There, there, Pete. They meant you no harm.”


As Mercutio proclaimed in Romeo and Juliet, ...’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but ‘tis enough, ‘twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow and you shall find me a grave man. All I wanted was a little love, Cora. I swear it!” He sniffled pathetically as the girls giggled.


With a dirty glance aimed at the group’s ringleader, Charity, Cora turned back to Pete. “You did produce some money, right, love?”


He looked down.


“Now, Pete, you know the rules.”


“I just wanted a little love. As Henry David Thoreau said, There is no remedy for love but to love more. He also said…”


“Now, Pete, enough about Thoreau,” she interrupted, gently angling him toward the door. As soon as he left with a snort and an “After all we’ve been through together,” Cora shook her head and turned back to face her employees.


“Ladies, she said, “some women in this town may look down on us, but I do have my standards. Gentility is most important, above all else. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear.”


A few head nods and corset scratching was all she got before Marlena stepped forward. “Ah, Mrs. Cora?”


Placing one hand on her hip, Cora sighed. “Now what?”


“He was full as a tick, that one was. He almost fell down twice.”


Cora squinted her eyes, assessing her new employee. “I don’t care how drunk he was. He, Miss Minnie, and I go way back.”


“But you tossed out a feller from Fanny’s bed just the other night. I reckon he wasn’t half as likkered up as that ol’ coot.”


Cora frowned. “I could tell the man with Fanny was going to be big trouble.”


“Yes, zat one very, very scared me,” Suzette, the resident French girl affirmed. “I zink Mrs. Cora maybe saved Fanny’s life.”


“Trust Mrs. Cora,” Rosie interjected. “She’ll always watch your back, or at least your backside!” There was an explosion of laughter.


“All right, all right. Get a wiggle on, ladies,” Cora continued, her eyes sweeping over them. “I heard a group of cowboys are ridin’ through town, maybe even this afternoon. Now, go, go!”










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1) “At times rollicking, at times poignant, but always authentic, well- researched and a beautifully told story.”


2)“A compelling read, perfect amount of romance, with a wonderful ending. With Mallery's warm writing style, you will be immersed in cast, time, and place.”


3)“S.R. Mallery’s words thunder off the page like a cattle stampede... her sharply written characters demonstrate that truly it was WOMEN who tamed the American West.”


4)“It's a rip-roaring, nail-biting, heart-throbbing ride...my Stetson is off to S.R. Mallery, five stars all the way.”


5)"What a marvellous story... A well-researched book of historical value for this reader--entertaining and very warmly written. Highly recommended.”


6)“Mallery has done it again. THE DOLAN GIRLS leads you on a trip that is sometimes painful and sometimes loving. You are taken from innocence to womanhood. From love to heartbreak... Definitely 5-stars!”


7) “As a history buff, I just loved this whoppin' good tale set in the old west...From the first word to the last, the pages couldn't fly fast enough. Highly recommended!”


8)“S. R. Mallery gives us a colourful view of America’s wild west of the 1800’s... The characters are endearing and the action is fast paced ... Looking forward to more from this talented writer.”


9)“If you're a fan of the old west, strong women, and enjoy a great read, this book is for you. Recommend highly!”


10)“The Dolan Girls is simply a wonderful book. It brings the West alive in a way that is not only historically interesting, but one can't help but become fascinated with how the story is going to play out.”


11) “S.R. Mallery knows how to write historical fiction in a way that hooks the reader..."


12) “I loved The Dolan Girls. It was easy to get interested in from the start. I recommend that anyone wanting a good read of a clean historical western romance give this book a try.”




The Official Audible Review by CLM:
The narrator was fabulous At first, I didn't like the jumps in time, but midway through, I believed having the jumps made the story even better. I fell in love with so many of the characters. and I cried on several occasions.
5 stars all around!



Let’s face it. S. R. Mallery is as eclectic as her characters. Starting out as a classical/pop singer/composer, she next explored the fast-paced world of advertising as a production artist while she simultaneously dipped her toe into the Zen biosphere as a calligrapher. Having started a family and wanting to work from the home, she moved on to having a long career as an award-winning quilt artist and an ESL/Reading instructor before settling on her true love––writing. Her short stories have been published in descant 2008, Snowy Egret, Transcendent Visions, The Storyteller, and Down In the Dirt. Her quilt articles have appeared in Quilt World and Traditional Quilt Works.


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Friday, December 1, 2017

Slammed by Liza O'Connor


How Liza became a bull riding fan.
When I broke up with the only decent boyfriend I ever had, I was shocked, stunned, and broken hearted. He told me he was interested in another woman, but he asked me to hang around until he decided which of us he liked the best. Needless to say, I wasn’t happy with men and certainly never planned to like one of them again after that fiasco.

So, I took up watching bull riding, just to watch the fellows get roughed up by bulls three nights in a row each week.

As time moved along and my heart healed, I continued watching bull riding because they were family now. Some I liked, some I adored, and some I loved to see trampled.

What can I say? Watching bull riding can be therapeutic after a painful break-up and enjoyable once you are healed as well.




SLAMMED


By
Liza O’Connor
Contemporary Suspense
Country Western/ Bull Riding

Blurb


Davy Hill goes from obscurity to fame by riding the rankest bull alive. Coming from a life of poverty, the young cowboy expects his life to change for the better now that he’s a successful professional bull-rider. Yet, with every occurrence of good luck comes an equal dose of bad. He suffers a potentially career-ending injury, a string of betrayals, and much worse. Despite all the brutal slams he takes, he keeps getting up, because he’s a bull-rider and they never give up.


EXCERPT
Davy Hill climbed in the rodeo chute and straddled the massive red Brangus bull, Son of Sam—two thousand pounds of muscles and raging fury, and never ridden for eight seconds in forty-eight outings. Riders only lasted an average 1.8 seconds on this beast’s back. Then, to punish them for the audacity of attempting to ride him, the red bull would turn on the fallen rider and attack with its twelve-inch long horns.
The owner had sawed off the tips, but that didn’t impede Son of Sam’s ability to dig beneath the breathless rider and toss him like a rag doll about the arena and then, for good measure, crash his sharp hooves on the rider’s limp body several times. He especially had a taste for attacking the heads of riders who wore helmets rather than hats. Beneath his two thousand pounds of energy, those helmets would crush like pumpkins, often giving the rider a career-ending concussion.
No one in the excited Guthrie, Oklahoma crowd expected anything different tonight. The only question in their minds was if Davy Hill would survive his encounter with Son of Sam to ride again. Many regretted he had pulled a potential ride to hell.


BUY IT NOW!
SLAMMED
Davy’s Saga, Book 1



ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Liza O’Connor lives in Denville, NJ with her dog Jess. They hike in fabulous woods every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels.

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Tuesday, November 28, 2017

The Lady and Mr. Jones by Alyssa Alexander

THE LADY AND MR. JONES
A Spy in the Ton series, Book 4

by Alyssa Alexander
Genre: Historical Romantic Suspense

She can never be his…


Born in the rookeries, the hard life is something Jones is all too familiar with. Saved as a young boy, he was trained to be a spy, one of the best--elite, in fact. He now spends his days serving His Majesty in espionage, hunting rogue spies. His latest assignment, though, has him tracking a fellow spy…


Cat Ashdown is a baroness. Nothing is more important than protecting five hundred years of heritage. She knows every detail of every estate that commands the largest income in Britain— yet her father placed her inheritance in trust to her uncle who is forcing her to marry a man she has no desire for. The baroness’s battle against law and convention leads her to Jones and results that are surprising … and possibly unwanted.




“Are we finished under the desk? I would like to stand, please. My legs are aching.”


There was a dry humor to her words, and he wondered if she were amused by their situation.


Certainly the two of them hiding beneath a desk, one after the other in order to avoid discovery, would be comical to witness.


“It’s probably safe.” Etiquette warred with protection in his mind, as he debated allowing her to leave the cubbyhole in advance as a lady should, or leaving before to ensure her safety.


She did not wait for his direction. She solved the dilemma by shifting to her hands and knees amid the swish of linen.


“This is so odd,” the baroness muttered as she crawled from beneath the desk. Her nightshift caught beneath her knees and she wrestled to free the fabric. He was treated to the most delightful pulling and stretching of thin linen over her bottom. “It’s also embarrassing,” she finished.


“I’m finding the view enjoyable.” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. It was the most ungentlemanly comment he could make. Surely she would see, with a single statement, that he was nothing but a boy from the streets.


“I beg your pardon?” On her hands and knees, the baroness turned to look over her shoulder at him. She narrowed her eyes, but did not move. That lovely bottom stayed in front of him. Taunting him.


“My apologies, my lady.”


She scooted out from beneath the desk, movements quick and sharp.


“My words were inexcusable.” He did not look anywhere but into her eyes as he crawled from beneath the desk, refusing to allow his gaze to stray to any other part of her anatomy. He hoped it would put her at ease and make him feel less like a clod.


“It was.” But she did not sound panicked or prudish, only drew in a long breath and let it out again. “You should not say such things.”


“No, my lady.” But time mattered, so he unfolded himself to his full standing height, leaving her sitting on the study floor and looking up at him. She hesitated, then began to struggle to her feet.


“Please, allow me.” He spoke softly, holding out a hand and hoping she would not be so disappointed by his lack of finesse as to refuse his offer of assistance.


She stared at his hand with an expression he could not read. He looked down, expecting to see something frightening or strange attached to him, but he saw only his hand, gloveless to ease his search. It was not smooth or elegant as a man of her station’s would be, but wide, with blunt fingers and calluses.


Still, she set her hand in his and let him assist her to stand. Soft and smooth skin moved against his hand with none of the roughness marking his own flesh.


He wondered if she could feel his base birth through his very skin.







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"He went looking for a traitor. He found a wife."


A thrilling, seductive adventure from award-winning author Alyssa Alexander…


After he is betrayed by one of his own, British spy Julian Travers, Earl of Langford, refuses to retire without a fight, vowing to find the traitor. But when the trail leads to his childhood home, Julian is forced to return to a place he swore he’d never see again, and meet a woman who may be his quarry—in more ways than one.


Though she may appear a poor young woman dependant on charity, Grace Hannah’s private life is far more interesting. By night, she finds friendship and freedom as a member of a smuggling ring. But when the handsome Julian arrives, she finds her faƧade slipping, and she is soon compromised, as well as intrigued.


As she and Julian continue the hunt, Grace finds herself falling in love with the man behind the spy. Yet Julian’s past holds a dark secret. And when he must make a choice between love and espionage, that secret may tear them apart.



Revenge has never been so seductive. 


When her husband is killed at Waterloo, Lilias Fairchild takes up his cavalry sword and boldly storms the front, earning herself the nickname Angel of Vengeance. But there is another angel on the battlefield who is just as single-minded, and just as ruthless…


Alastair Whitmore, the Marquess of Angelstone, is a British spy. Code name: Angel. Still haunted by a first love felled by assassins, his mission draws him to Waterloo, where he is captivated by a beautiful and mysterious woman fighting amongst the men—a woman who becomes his most intoxicating memory of war.


Passion has never been so dangerous. 


Two years later, Lilias and Angelstone lock eyes in a crowded ballroom and the memory returns in an exhilarating rush. The history they share, and hide from the world, is as impossible to ignore as the heat of their attraction. But it’s that very connection that spells doom for their scandalous affair. When someone from the shadows of their past proves a dire threat to their lives, passion might not be enough to save them.







She was the only code he couldn't break...



Vivienne La Fleur is one of London’s most sought after opera dancers and one of England’s best weapons: the spy known as the Flower. When a French agent pressures her to change allegiance by abducting her sister, Vivienne is forced to seek the help of the only man in London who doesn’t want her.



Maximilian Westwood, retired code breaker, doesn't like surprises or mysteries and the Flower is both. When she sneaks into his study in the middle of the night with a coded message, he’s ready to push her out whatever window she arrived through. Except Maximilian is unable to turn away a woman in trouble. Determined to rescue Vivienne’s sister, they engage in a game of cat and mouse with French spies that requires all of Vivienne’s training and Maximilian’s abilities. Bound together by secrecy, they discover there is more between them than politics and hidden codes, but love has no place among the secrets of espionage...





Despite being a native Michigander, Alyssa Alexander is pretty certain she belongs somewhere sunny. And tropical. Where drinks are served with little paper umbrellas. But until she moves to those white sandy beaches, she survives the cold Michigan winters by penning romance novels that always include a bit of adventure. She lives with her own set of heroes, aka an ever-patient husband who doesn’t mind using a laundry basket for a closet, and a small boy who wears a knight in a shining armor costume for such tasks as scrubbing potatoes.