Category: Promotions

Excerpt: Bound Together by Christine Feehan

Posted March 13, 2017 by Holly in Giveaways, Promotions | 3 Comments

 

Today we have an excerpt from Christine Feehan’s stunning conclusion to the Sisters of the Heart series. This is bittersweet for me. Sea Haven is one of my favorite fictional places, and I’m sad to see our time with the Prakenskii’s coming to an end. I’m hopeful we haven’t seen the last of them, however.

Excerpt: Bound Together by Christine FeehanBound Together by Christine Feehan
Series: Sisters of the Heart #6, Sea Haven #13
Also in this series: Water Bound, Spirit Bound, Air Bound, Earth Bound, Fire Bound, Bound Together (Sea Haven/Sisters of the Heart, #6), Turbulent Sea, Hidden Currents, Magic in the Wind, The Twilight Before Christmas, Oceans of Fire, Dangerous Tides, Safe Harbor, Turbulent Sea, Hidden Currents
Published by Piatkus
Publication Date: March 21st 2017
Pages: 416
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The Sea Haven series comes to a climactic end as the mysterious man from Blythe Daniels’ past re-enters her life. Don’t miss the final Sea Haven novel from the #1 New York Times bestselling “queen of paranormal romance” (J. R. Ward).
For five years, Viktor Prakenskii has put his life on hold in order to take down the world’s most feared motorcycle club from the inside. But carrying out the insane violence and seeing the club’s exploitation of the innocent has brought his traumatic past roaring back. And there’s only one cure: to see the wife he left behind...
Blythe Daniels thought she’d never see Viktor again after he murdered her stepfather and left without a word. She rebuilt her life without him, becoming a personal trainer and physical therapist...becoming strong enough for others to lean on. But when Viktor comes back to Sea Haven, he’ll make Blythe question everything she thought she knew about good and evil—and the dark desires of the heart...

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Excerpt

Excerpt from BOUND TOGETHER by Christine Feehan

Victor couldn’t help but stare at the tattoos on his fingers, the ones sleeving his arms, going up his neck and disappearing into his shirt. They all had tattoos. Ones that told stories if you knew how to read them. Every single one of them wore the Torpedo Ink tat on their backs—and they wore it with pride.

The cypress tree spread out with seventeen branches. Roots tangled at the bottom with piles of skulls buried among them. Crows flying away from the tree or picking through the skulls at the roots. Each skull represented a kill. Reaper’s tat was alarmingly full. The others were quickly catching up with this last assignment. He hoped to slow them all down. To find reasons not to do what they did, but Reaper was so right when he said they’d never be able to stop. He’d never be able to stop.

What would Blythe think about their inability to stop what they did best? Could he get away with not telling her? Women, as a rule, didn’t know club business. That was the way it was. They didn’t sit in on the meetings, and they were expected to do what their old men told them to do.

Blythe wasn’t going to like that. She was all about women’s rights and women being strong. He liked strong women, especially her, but he wanted her to trust him enough to follow his lead. He was a leader. He’d been put in that position at age ten and he was still in that position. He couldn’t be anything else. He glanced over at Reaper, who was still sitting on his bike, taking a careful look around. The man was right. Either she loved him for who he really was, or she didn’t.

“Your woman knows how to deal with trauma?” Absinthe prompted.

His woman walked on water. “She can do just about anything. She’ll love Alena and Lana, and they need a little love.”

“They have us,” Absinthe reminded quietly. “We love them, and they still aren’t better.”

Viktor raised his head and looked his brother in the eye. “Are you?”

Because none of them were. Not a single one, especially him. Viktor was as screwed up as the rest of them. He suffered the same nightmares and had all kinds of issues he didn’t want to talk about—especially with someone as sweet and innocent as Blythe. He sighed and shoved his hand through his hair. “You’re right, Absinthe, they aren’t better.”

Alena came out of the women’s room walking toward them with her long, confident strides, her glossy platinum hair flowing around her. She always wrapped her hair in some kind of intricate knot when she was riding, but took it down the moment she was off the bike. He knew that was a leftover from when one of the instructors had beat her senseless and shaved her head. She’d been six and it had taken all of them to console her. But then, she’d never really gotten over it.

“What is it?” Reaper asked.

The man was creepy silent even in motorcycle boots. Viktor heard everything, but he never heard Reaper or Savage. The two were a force to be reckoned with. He didn’t know which was worse, Reaper, the older brother, or Savage, the younger. Most likely Reaper. Had any of Viktor’s birth brothers been in that place of horror, he would have lost his mind.

“We’re all pretty fucked-up, aren’t we, Reaper?” What if Blythe didn’t take him back? That question had haunted him for too long now. He woke up in the middle of the night numerous times, sweat pouring off of him, his heart pounding at the possibility. He had never once considered she wouldn’t want him, not in the first year or two, but then as time stretched out and he couldn’t see or hear from her, that fear had begun to take hold.

“Some of us more than others. You, not so much. You were older than the rest of us and figured out a way to fight back. You kept us human when we would have all been animals.” Reaper gazed out at the shimmering water. “You gave us a life, Czar. Stop beating yourself up. I’ve never seen you like this. She’s either the one or she’s not.”

Viktor pressed his thumb to the center of his left palm and held it there. Prakenskiis didn’t make mistakes when it came to choosing their women. Blythe was the one. She was his wife. His partner. His only. He touched his chest, the lock tattooed over his heart. She had the key tattooed on her body. “She’s the one.” He turned toward the ocean, and strode away from Reaper. The man saw too much.

Posted by arrangement with Berkley, a member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC, A Penguin Random House Company. Copyright © Christine Feehan, 2017.

Series

Water Bound
Spirit Bound
Air Bound
Earth Bound
Fire Bound
Bound Together

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About the Author

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Christine Feehan is a #1 New York Times bestselling author multiple times over with her portfolio including over 40 published novels, including five series; Leopard Series, Dark Series, Ghostwalker Series, Drake Sisters Series, & the Sisters of the Heart Series. All five series hit the #1 spot on the New York Times bestselling list as well. Her debut novel Dark Prince received 3 of the 9 Paranormal Excellence Awards in Romantic Literature (PEARL) in 1999. Since then she has been published by various publishing houses including Leisure Books, Pocket Books, and currently is writing for Berkley/Jove. She also has earned 7 more PEARL awards since Dark Prince.

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Cover Reveal: Chasing Christmas Eve by Jill Shalvis

Posted February 22, 2017 by Rowena in Promotions | 1 Comment

From New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis comes the next sexy, standalone novel in the Heartbreaker Bay series…

CHASING CHRISTMAS EVE - cover

About CHASING CHRISTMAS EVE

Meet cute…

Run for the hills—temporarily. That’s Colbie Albright’s plan when she flees New York for San Francisco. Wrangling her crazy family by day and writing a bestselling YA fantasy series by night has taken its toll. In short, Colbie’s so over it that she’s under it. She’s also under the waters of a historic San Francisco fountain within an hour of arrival. Fortunately, the guy who fishes Colbie out has her looking forward to Christmas among strangers. But she’s pretty sure Spencer Baldwin won’t be a stranger for long.

Make merry…

Spence’s commitment to hiding from the Ghosts of Relationships Past means he doesn’t have to worry about the powerful—okay, crazy hot—chemistry he’s got with Colbie. Just because she can laugh at anything, especially herself… just because she’s gorgeous and a great listener…just because she “gets” Spencer immediately doesn’t mean he won’t be able to let Colbie go. Does it?

…and hope for a miracle.

Now the clock’s ticking for Colbie and Spence: Two weeks to cut loose. Two weeks to fall hard. Two weeks to figure out how to make this Christmas last a lifetime

Pre-Order CHASING CHRISTMAS EVE in ebook or paperback, releasing 9/26/17

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EXCERPT

The bathroom door opened, and even better than his fantasy, Colbie emerged from a cloud of steam, her willowy body wrapped in one of his towels, her exposed skin gleaming and dewy damp. Her hair had been piled on top of her head, but wavy strands had escaped, clinging to her neck and shoulders.

He couldn’t tear his gaze off of her. There was just something so uncalculated about her, so . . . natural and easy. She was like a beacon to him, which was both crazy and more than a little terrifying.

Clearly not seeing him against the wall, she moved with an effortless grace to the suitcase she’d left at the door. Bending low enough to give him a near heart attack, she rifled through her things, mumbling to herself that she should’ve researched more about how to be a normal person instead of how to kill someone with an everyday object.

“Do you kill a lot of people, then?” Spence asked.

“Motherforker!” she said with a startled squeak of surprise, whirling to face him, almost losing her grip on the towel.

Five days a week, Spence worked out hard in this gym. Mostly to outrun his demons, but the upside was he could run miles without losing his breath. But he lost his breath now.

And that wasn’t his body’s only reaction.

Series Love

Heartbreaker Bay graphic

And don’t miss the previous books in Jill Shalvis’s Heartbreaker Bay Series, SWEET LITTLE LIES, THE TROUBLE WITH MISTLETOE, ONE SNOWY NIGHT and ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE, now available! Grab your copies HERE!

About the Author

Jill Shalvis - headshot

Jill Shalvis

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New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jill Shalvis lives in a small town in the Sierras full of quirky characters. Any resemblance to the quirky characters in her books is, um, mostly coincidental. Look for Jill’s sexy contemporary and award-winning books wherever romances are sold and click on the blog button above for a complete book list and daily blog detailing her city-girl-living-in-the-mountains adventures.

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Blog Tour: Somebody Like You by Donna Alward

Posted February 8, 2017 by Rowena in Giveaways, Promotions | 2 Comments

Somebody Like You by Donna Alward
Series: Darling, VT #1
Release Date: February 7, 2017
Publisher: St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Genres: Contemporary, Romance

A kiss to last a lifetime

Aiden Gallagher was only five years old when he appeared in a photograph on the Kissing Bridge. The town of Darling, Vermont, has used Aiden’s image on the famed bridge—local legend has it that a kiss there results in everlasting love—as part of its tourism campaign. Now, twenty years later, Aiden is asked to recreate the moment with the woman he once kissed: Laurel Stone.

Recently divorced, there’s nothing Laurel wants less than to pretend happily-ever-after with Aiden. As teenagers, their romance was no fairy tale—and Laurel has never quite forgiven Aiden for breaking her heart. But now that she is back in her hometown, and keeps bumping into police officer Aiden, Laurel can’t deny that there’s still a strong flicker between her and her old flame. Could it be that the Kissing Bridge is working its magic on Laurel and Aiden—and that all true love ever needed was a second chance?

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Excerpt

By the time they were through, it was nine o’clock and time to open. Being a Saturday, business was brisk. Her dad dropped off the supplies and offered to stay to help cover the tagging, but with the heavy shopping traffic, Laurel decided to wait until things died down. For now the tarps covered the tags, and she’d focus on her customers. Otherwise her anger would get the best of her and that was bad for business. By six p.m., things had slowed considerably.

Laurel had been going flat out for ten hours, stopping for only fifteen minutes to run to The Purple Pig for a sandwich. Her stomach growled, her feet hurt, there was dirt beneath her nails and she really, really wanted a shower and a glass of wine—in that order. Laurel had just dragged out the hose to water the fruit trees when a half- ton truck drove into the lot and parked in an empty space.

The driver hopped out, and her heart slammed against her ribs as she immediately realized how she must look. Dirty jeans, mannish golf shirt that did nothing for her figure, scrubby ponytail through a Ladybug Garden Center ball cap, and probably smudges of dirt on her face and arms. Not that she was trying to look nice for Aiden or anything, but it was him getting out of the truck, looking sexy as hell in faded jeans and a T- shirt that stretched across his chest and shoulders.

She could pretend she hadn’t seen him. Resolutely she turned on the hose and started watering the apple trees.

“Hey, Laurel,” he called out, and that erased any hope of avoiding him.

She turned off the hose and faced him. “Aiden. What brings you by? Looking for a shrub or tree or something?”

Keep it businesslike, she reminded herself. The last thing she needed was for him to know that he had the ability to fluster her.

“I heard about what happened.”

Of course he had.

“Don’t even. I’m still pissed.”

“I know it’s not what you needed. Did Crystal tell you that you weren’t the only one hit?”

Crystal must be the offi cer from this morning. “She did.”

“Well, that must make you feel better.”

She stared at him. “Better? Seriously? Since I opened a month ago, I’ve had to have the driveway re- graded, I’ve had to replace shrubs that were stolen from out front, deal with a break-in and vandalism, and now tagging. Trust me, Aiden, the only thing that would feel better is if you actually did your job and found out who was doing this.”

She turned the hose back on.

He waited. He waited a long time. Several seconds, maybe thirty. Which was really not that long at all but definitely felt that way. She was watering the third tree when he sighed. “ You’re upset.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He met her gaze, and his eyes were soft, even though she’d basically just accused him of not doing his job. The understanding she saw there made her stomach churn. She didn’t want to lash out, but that was what she did when she was hurt. Angry.

Stopping by was kind and thoughtful. She kept trying to make him out to be a bad guy, and he kept being nice. It definitely made it difficult for her to hate him. Particularly since her biochemistry betrayed her at every turn. Even now, when she was utterly preoccupied with the day’s events, she seemed to notice everything. His hair, his eyes, the breadth of his chest, the armband tattoo that looked like some sort of Celtic braid, peeking just below the hem of his T- shirt sleeve. The shape of his lips . . .
He muttered something that was as creative a curse as she’d ever heard, and sounded suspiciously Irish. She couldn’t help but laugh, and tried to clamp her lips shut again. But not before he saw and heard, and his eyes took on an impish gleam.

“You’re not fine. You’re tired and upset and rightfully so. You’re also just as stubborn as you always were.” He put his hands on his hips. “I take it you’re not adverse to help, just help from me in particular.”

Her face heated. Dammit.

“Maybe this could be my penance,” he suggested, giving her a quick grin. And she wished she could take him seriously, but he always seemed to be teasing. It was one of the things she’d really liked about him and hated at the same time. Particularly now, when she wanted to be, if not mad, completely unaffected. And she wasn’t. He was trying to cajole her out of her mood and it was working.

“It’s Saturday night. Don’t you have a hot date or something?” She turned on the hose again. Focused on the large plastic pot holding a cherry tree.

“Nope. Free as a bird.”

Dammit again.

“Come on, Laurel. Peace offering. Manual labor for you to stop hating me.”

She glanced over at him. “Why do you care so much?”

He was quiet for a moment, and to her surprise the teasing expression left his face. After a while he answered, his voice a little lower. “I don’t know why I care what people think so much. I always have. I don’t like anyone to be mad at me. Maybe it has something with being one of the younger siblings in the family. I don’t know. I just know that I don’t like it that you’re still so angry.” His intense blue gaze locked with hers. “It’s starting to become a personal mission to win you over. To atone for past sins.”

“Good luck,” she said dryly, more touched than she wanted to admit.

His boyish grin was back. “Come on, Laurel. You know you can’t hold out forever. You think I’m hot.” He had the audacity to wink at her.

She rolled her eyes.

“You do. You have a thing for gingers. And you have to admit, I grew up kinda good.” His hands were still on his hips and he tensed his muscles so that his shoulders and chest tightened beneath the thin T- shirt.

“I think you’re a bit taken with yourself, to be honest,” she replied. And tried not to smile. She didn’t want to be charmed, but he was incorrigible.

“Laurel.”

Damn, his voice was all silky- smooth now. “Yes, Mr. Narcissist?”

“You know damn well you want to hate me and you can’t. Besides, I saw your face just now. Maybe if I took off my shirt . . .”

“Would you like to go somewhere private to be with yourself?” she asked, biting the inside of her lip. She shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. And she wouldn’t be, if she thought he was serious. But he was teasing her.

Like he used to do when they were friends. And today . . . she swallowed against a ball of emotion. Today she needed a friend, and all she’d had were well- meaning customers.

She looked over at him. “Jeez, Aiden. You’re looking a little flushed. I think you could stand to cool off.” And before he could reply, she flicked her wrist and aimed the spray of the hose right at the center of his chest.

The abrupt shock on his face was gratifi cation enough, but then he grinned and reached to take away the hose. She danced away, still spraying him, admiring how the shirt now clung to his skin and the little droplets lit up his face and hair. A laugh bubbled up through her chest and out her mouth as she darted around the trees, dragging the hose with her. But there were too many pots and not enough room to maneuver and within seconds he caught her, wrapped one strong arm around her and wrenched the hose away with the other, spraying her in the process.

Cold water dripped from her nose, down her neck, over her bare arms. Aiden held her close against his body, close enough she could feel the hardness of his muscles, and thrilled at it. Their breaths came fast, their chests rising and falling with both laughter and the exertion of the struggle over the hose. But it was the way he was looking down at her right now that made her feel as if the lack of air was strangling her lungs. All it would take was the tiniest move and he’d be kissing her. Her gaze dropped to his lips— he’d always had fine lips— and she swallowed, nervous and scared at her reaction and turned on as hell.

She looked up, which was a mistake. Because he was staring at her lips. And his arm tightened just a little bit at the hollow of her back. Oh God . . .

A car horn honked and Laurel jumped back. He let her go, but the gravity of the moment remained.

Copyright © 2017 by Donna Alward and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

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About the Author

Donna Alward

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While bestselling author Donna Alward was busy studying Austen, Eliot and Shakespeare, she was also losing herself in the breathtaking stories created by romance novelists like LaVyrle Spencer, Judith McNaught, and Nora Roberts. Several years after completing her degree she decided to write a romance of her own and it was true love! Five years and ten manuscripts later she sold her first book and launched a new career. While her heartwarming stories of love, hope, and homecoming have been translated into several languages, hit bestseller lists and won awards, her very favorite thing is when she hears from happy readers!

Donna lives on Canada’s east coast with her family which includes a husband, a couple of kids, a senior dog and two crazy cats. When she’s not writing she enjoys reading (of course!), knitting, gardening, cooking…and is a Masterpiece Theater addict.

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Cover Reveal: Goodbye Paradise by Sarina Bowen

Posted February 8, 2017 by Rowena in Promotions | 1 Comment

Cover Reveal

Sarina Bowen has a surprise release coming out soon. You see, a few years ago, she wrote an M/M romance and published it under another name but she has since pulled them, cleaned them up and loved on them a little and now they’re ready to be let go again. The first of the books is called GOODBYE PARADISE and it releases next month.

Here’s the cover:

Goodbye Paradise by Sarina Bowen
Releases on March 21, 2017 by Sarina Bowen

Most people called it a cult. But for twenty years, Josh and Caleb called it home.
In Paradise, there is no television. No fast food. Just long hours of farm work and prayer on a dusty Wyoming ranch, and nights in a crowded bunkhouse. The boys of the Compound are kept far from the sinners’ world.

But Joshua doesn’t need temptation to sin. His whole life, he’s wanted his best friend, Caleb. By day they work side by side. Only when Josh closes his eyes at night can they be together the way he craves.

It can never be. And his survival depends on keeping his terrible desires secret.

Caleb has always protected Josh against the worst of the bullying at the Compound. But he has secrets of his own, and a plan to get away — until it all backfires.

Josh finds himself homeless in a world that doesn’t want him. Can Caleb find him in time? And will they find a place of safety, where he can admit to Josh how he really feels?

Warning: Contains a hot male/male romance, copious instances of taking the Lord’s name in vain, and love against the kitchen counter. This book was previously released under the title: In Front of God & Everyone.

That’s a sexy ass cover, don’t you think?

About the Author

Sarina Bowen

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Sarina Bowen is the USA Today bestselling author of steamy, angsty Contemporary Romance and New Adult fiction. She lives in the wilds of New England.

She is the author of The Ivy Years, an award-winning series set amid the hockey team at an elite Connecticut college. Also, the The Gravity series.

With Elle Kennedy, Sarina is the author of the RITA award winning HIM, and its sequel, US.

Sarina has begun a new Vermont contemporary romance series, True North. She’s also unrolled new hockey novels from Penguin Berkley including Rookie Move.

Sarina enjoys skiing, espresso drinks and the occasional margarita. She lives with her family, eight chickens and more ski gear and hockey equipment than seems necessary.

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Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway: Power Game by Christine Feehan

Posted January 17, 2017 by Casee in Promotions | 4 Comments

Power Game by Christine Feehan
Series: GhostWalkers
Also in this Series: Shadow Game, Mind Game, Night Game, Conspiracy Game, Deadly Game, Predatory Game, Murder Game, Street Game, Ruthless Game, Samurai Game, Viper Game, Spider Game.
Release Date: January 24, 2017.
Publisher: Berkley
Genres: Paranormal

When members of a United Nations joint security force are taken hostage by radical terrorists in Indonesia, Captain Ezekiel Fortunes is called to lead the rescue team. Part of a classified government experiment, Zeke is a supersoldier with enhanced abilities. He can see better and run faster than the enemy, disappear when necessary and hunt along any terrain. There are those in the world willing to do anything for power like that…

A formidable spy genetically engineered to hide in plain sight, Bellisia rarely meets a man who doesn’t want to control her or kill her. But Zeke is different. His gaze, his touch—they awaken feelings inside her that she never thought possible. He’s the kind of man she could settle down with—if she can keep him alive…

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Excerpt

He was a hunter first and always. That was bred in him. Enhanced in him. He could follow a trail better than almost anyone. Some said he had the eyes of an eagle and a sense of smell equal to a polar bear’s. It was close to the truth. Once he was set on a trail, few escaped him. Here, in the Quarter with the jazz players and the mimes and the street artists fighting for a small piece of the pie, it was more difficult to separate scents and spot the enemy.

Aromas from various small cafés and restaurants assailed him. Perfumes and the sweat of the street performers. The sweet smell of weed competed for space with tobacco. The river was close, and he could smell that and the ships that ran up and down it with their loads of cargo. The fish. The cars and horses. His mind processed it all, separating and cataloguing automatically.

The wind shifted minutely just as he was about to enter the store where Nonny bought all of her Cajun spices—at least the ones she didn’t make herself. The scent stopped him in his tracks and he whirled around, for the first time in his life losing focus on his primary mission. He had to track that scent. Turning away from the spice shop, he followed the wind up toward the street opposite the Café Du Monde.

Out in the open, away from the shelter of the buildings, the wind was capricious, blowing in small eddies, stopping and starting from a different direction. One moment it seemed to be coming off the river and the next it was down from the Café Du Monde. He didn’t stop moving, filled with a purpose he didn’t understand and therefore was leery of, but he knew he had to catch the scent again.

A small restaurant right on the corner was tucked into the space between two shops. Tables were on an outside balcony on the second story as well as a few on the street and more inside. A waitress laughed softly as she served two women what appeared to be strawberry lemonade and some fluffy pastry. The waitress was small and slight. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, hidden under a rolled handkerchief. Her accent was very Cajun, as if she’d been born on the bayou and stayed there growing up. Soft. Sexy. A slow drawl that crawled inside a man and wrapped itself tight until he couldn’t ever forget that sound.

More, for him, it was the elusive scent he couldn’t quite name. She smelled—delicious. Sexy. Everything her voice promised. He didn’t know how to saunter. To be casual. He didn’t date. He didn’t show interest in women. What was the use when he was a soldier? He was gone on a moment’s notice, and his woman would never know where he was. Still, knowing that, his feet refused to move and he simply stood there, inhaling her, taking the scent of her deep. It wasn’t as if she was strikingly beautiful. She was . . . nondescript. Hard to describe other than she was small. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. The more he took her in, the more he saw of her. Why hadn’t he noticed her bone structure? It was amazing and her skin flawless. Like silk or satin. More, her skin appeared dew fresh, as if the morning mist had enveloped her and left her skin looking like the petals of Nonny’s exotic flowers.

The rolled handkerchief covered most of her hair, but the sun struck her at an angle and he could see the shine, gloriously blond, so pale it appeared to be like the finest vintage of a fine white wine. He instantly had the need to touch her skin, to bury his fingers in that thick mass of hair peeking out beneath the triangle of cloth. When he found he’d taken a step toward her, he forced himself to halt, his hands curling into two tight fists against his thigh.

Posted by arrangement with Berkley, a member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC, A Penguin Random House Company. Copyright © Christine Feehan, 2017.

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About the Author

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I write every day and have done so since I was old enough to pick up a pen. (I spent a lot of time getting in trouble at school for writing instead of doing the things I was supposed to do.) Once I create my characters, I try very hard to have them react to situations as they really would. Sometimes I have preconceived ideas of what I would like them to do, but they don’t mind me, because it would be out of character for them. They take on a life of their own. Sometimes when I throw difficult situations at them in the hopes I’ll get a certain reaction and they don’t do what I want, I complain bitterly to my husband and he laughs at me. Still, it is important to me to have them be real, not perfect people, so they make mistakes we lesser mortals might make.

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