Category Archives: Rocking Summer Romances

Worth the Risk (Rocking Summer Romances) by Lyn O’Farrell

September 17, 2014 joanbarbarasimon 3 Comments

WorththeRisk_200

Children’s librarian Amanda Lloyd values privacy above all else. Three years ago her wedding ended in disaster when her groom was arrested at the altar and the story of the ‘Embezzler’s Bride’ appeared in the supermarket tabloids. The experience has left her determined to avoid being caught in the public eye again. Until she meets a sexy single dad with a scandalous past.

Ex-racer Mitch Delaney is a public figure whose life has been plastered across the tabloids more than once. But he believes that anything worth doing is worth a risk. After the death of his ex-wife, he moved to Southern California to take care of his son Josh. He doesn’t need the complication of a woman in his life, especially since Josh’s grandparents have filed suit for custody. But Josh is on the hunt for a new mother and he has his heart set on Miss Amanda, and Mitch can’t fault his son’s taste.

Against her better judgment, Amanda finds herself falling for both of the Delaney men. When she agrees to accompany Mitch to a high-profile movie premiere, they draw the attention of the tabloids. Overnight Amand’a private affair becomes very public, threatening her job and Mitch’s custody suit. She’s waited twenty-eight years for the right man. But will happiness come at too high a price?

(Previously published as Private Affair, Kensington Precious Gem #121. Also: Golden Heart Finalist, Short Contemporary category)

His head was nestled in her lap. Amanda gently smoothed back the hair that had tumbled into his eyes. He sighed contentedly and gazed at her with soulful blue eyes.

“You really are a love,” she murmured. “I can’t imagine why I was ever nervous around you.”

The living room was quiet now, except for the soft crackling of the fire. Shadows played on the walls as the flames danced in the fireplace. Dinner was over, the kitchen cleaned up, and Josh was upstairs asleep. It was the first really relaxing moment Amanda had had all day.

“Is that mutt bothering you?” Mitch asked as he stepped into the room.

“No, we’ve been getting acquainted.” She smiled and scratched Albert behind the ears. He looked up at her adoringly. Then, as if aware that three was a crowd, he sauntered over to the fireplace and flopped down with a large sigh.

“Never thought I’d actually be jealous of a dog,” Mitch muttered, sitting down on the couch next to her.

Amanda laughed. “But he’s the sweetest thing.”

Mitch murmured his agreement, then said, “You’re sweet, too.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“For tutoring Josh, I mean,” he said quickly.

“There’s nothing sweet about that. I expect to be paid the going rate for my efforts.”

“You will be,” he assured her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “In fact, there may even be a bonus in it.” He leaned closer, a teasing gleam in his eyes.

“What kind of a bonus did you have in mind?” Amanda knew she shouldn’t have asked when his look changed to one of desire.

Pulling her closer, he rubbed his thumb along her lower lip and her lips parted instinctively. She looked deeply into his eyes and saw a new tenderness she hadn’t seen before. Her body ached in anticipation as he continued caressing her mouth and gazing at her from hooded eyes that promised a world of pleasure in their blue depths.

The final novel this month in the Rocking Summer Romances series, this is the only book I’m proposing that’s been co-written. Lyn O’Farrell is in fact Anne Farrell and Linda McLaughlin, putting their heads together. Taking the risk. I can’t imagine what it’s like to co-author a novel, and when I’m reading this one, I catch myself asking who’s contributing what. Can’t find any obvious seams, can you? Then maybe I should get back to the story as a story, and enjoy! The twosome aren’t taking any risks as far as the law’s concerned, which is why this sample’s more PG than erotic. Only one way to find out how hot they really get:

Can’t help wondering, though: are you two a couple in any other sense as well???

guest blogger, Rocking Summer Romances

Tempered Joy (Rocking Summer Romances) by Pamela Thibodeaux

September 9, 2014 joanbarbarasimon 4 Comments

All around rodeo cowboy and heir to the Rockin’ H Ranch, Ace Harris is determined not to fall in love. He’s only loved one woman in his life, his mother, and no one can even come close to filling her boots. Lexie Morgan thinks rodeo cowboys have rocks for brains and a death wish for a soul. A broken childhood and the death of her father and best friend leave her doubting and questioning God (despite her years of religious upbringing) and afraid of love. Can two young people who clash from the onset learn to trust in the healing power of God and find love and happiness amidst tragedy and grief?

Her eyes narrowed when he took a step closer. “Ace,” she warned and wielded the brush like a lethal weapon.

Raising his hands where she could see them, he watched her try to brush some semblance of order to the thick mass of unruly auburn hair. The simple chore made him want to sink both fists in the silken locks and gave him a whole new insight to the word erotic.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled vivid green and spewed wrath. She glared at him as though the tangled tresses were his fault alone. Her chest quivered with each breath she took. He took another step closer and could feel her tremble. Locking his gaze with hers in the mirror, he reached around her and picked up a bandanna off the dresser. He ran it through his fingers in what could have been a caress then slid the cloth beneath her hair and left it trailing over her shoulders.

With hands that shook, Lexie pulled the ends together and tied her hair back into a ponytail. Those bright gray eyes had gone soft and warm, like liquid metal. Mouth dry as dust, she swallowed hard.

The familiar question in a new frock: can we change? An author I know once said: if we knew the outcome of a novel from the start there’d be no need to read the bloody book, would there!

New question(s):

i. Is change always development?

ii. Is development always synonymous with learning?

iii. Does change come from the inside or the outside?

iv. Is God essentially an inside or outside affair???

Take a maturational view of change/development/learning, then you’d go for ‘inside’. Take a catalytic view, on the other hand, you’re more likely to go for ‘outside’. I guess. I’ve heard people talk about ‘readiness’ for change, just as I’ve heard others talk about being ‘vulnerable’ to change. Also had to think long and hard about one account of change as the attempt of a complex organism to be more successful in its environment. See, I’m not some blockhead just because I choose not to speak as though I’ve got a broom up me arse. I think, seriously I do, about these terms: change… growth… vulnerability… success… throwing them into the basket with God…

And then of course you’ve got all the He-ing and She-ing between Ace and Lexie, with us readers eager to anticipate their moves. Keep changing my mind about whether or not love is over-rated…

So many ways to take this story, lick it clean, if you see what I mean. If a bloke like me who left school at fourteen can see all of that in a mere paragraph or two, don’t tell me this book won’t be worth your while.

Tempered Joy, by Pamela Thibodeaux

Amazon

Nook

Smashwords

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CFO’s Affair (Rocking Summer Romances) by Tina Gayle

August 31, 2014 joanbarbarasimon Leave a comment

Sylvia is a woman who has allowed life to beat her down. After the sudden death of her husband and the shock of discovering his secret, she reclaims herself by losing weight, then daring to try something new.

The door clicked open.

Wrapping his hand around the handle to keep from reaching for her, Vince Wilshire shoved the door wide. “Are you ready for this?”

Her face mere inches from his, he noticed a brief flash of panic in her eyes before Sylvia Donovan lifted her chin and stepped through the entrance. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. Or probably won’t see again.”

He understood she meant the task of doing a job, but for some reason his brain registered the sexual implications of the comment. “Oh, man, you’re brutal. Some things you know get better with age.”

Matching his steps to hers, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and leaned in close. He whispered beside her ear, “It’s all a matter of knowing how to use what you’ve got.”

She shrugged and shifted away from him, eyeing him with a raised brow. “Yes and some people are amateurs, Mr. Wilshire. You, I take it, are an old pro who knows how to wield your sword with the best of them.”

Laughter bubbled up into his throat. He marveled at her sassy tone and didn’t relinquish his grip. “I must admit I’m very good at a few chosen tasks.”

CFO’s Affair by Tina Gayle

– How long did it take to write the book, Tina?

– Six months.

– Got a writing routine? Did you need to do any research?

– I work eight to ten hours a day. My writing schedule is to write three to four hours at the beginning of the day. Then I log onto the internet and write up blogs, twits, handle marketing demands and check email. In the afternoon, I return to my writing and edit my manuscript. The main research I did for the book involved blood types .

– What would you say’s the main thing you’re offering readers in CFO’s Affair?

-The joy of letting go of the past and moving on to the future.

– Speaking from experience (wink wink!)?

– I am. From a different context, but yes, I’m speaking from experience.

guest blogger, Rocking Summer Romances

Lori’s Redemption (Rocking Summer Romances) by Pamela Thibodeaux

August 27, 2014 joanbarbarasimon 2 Comments

Lori Strickland has always been known as her father’s “wild child” with no desire to change until she meets ex-bull-rider-turned-preacher Rafe Judson. Her attempts to change her wanton ways come to naught until she realizes redemption only comes with true repentance.

Lori headed toward Recluse, Wyoming after another round of rodeos where the cash and prizes vaulted her to the next level of achievement. She hadn’t thought of Rafe in months. Hadn’t allowed herself to think of him, and wouldn’t indulge in useless fantasies now.

She’d made peace with the fact she was nothing more than a bad seed and there was no way around it. Oh she tried to be good. She stayed out of the bars for weeks on end, attended the prayer services before or after each rodeo when available, even visited with a group of supposedly devout believers who traveled a state-wide circuit within the national itinerary, but nothing seemed to help or make an impact on her life. Nor had she found the support she’d hoped for, only judgment and criticism. Answers to her questions only incited debates until she was scorned for her doubt and unbelief or shunned completely. Maverick was right when he said there was no in between and since she couldn’t succeed at being good, Lori figured she’d be bad.

Just as she had all of her life.

More than once she thought about calling Stanley or Amber or even Lexie for counsel, but was too ashamed to admit the total mess her life was in. She even considered quitting. Just give up and go home. But she was too close to making pro status, too close to the culmination of the dream that began in her heart nearly four years ago.

A dream she once thought came as a directive from God.

Now, she knew better.

God didn’t give success to losers; the devil lured them into it then left them to their own devices no matter how hard they tried to be good. Besides, even at her best, there was no way she’d ever be good enough for a preacher.

Goodness gracious: there are enough teases in there to keep me up all night, thinking. ‘There’s no in between’. I disagree. It’s all the smart Alecs convinced they’re on the right side of the fence, all that smugness and condemning that puts me off that lot in the first place. It’s faith, right? Not knowledge. You don’t know a thing. Lori’s full of doubt, but man oh man, she’s got guts. Doubt and fear: don’t mix them up. Then: no way round being a bad seed? If she really believed that, why bother trying to be(come) good? Why try out-cunning your nature? I mean; if humans were not open, even susceptible, to change, then why the hell travel all around the globe meddling with other people’s cultures and mindsets with the promise to convert ‘bad’ seed to good?

God won’t give success to losers? Hang on: what was that about the first being last and vice versa? Is there a verse or two ripped out of the Bible I was given for my Communion?

Me, I like my women ‘wild’. The only men who don’t are those who’re not up to scratch. Dinner party once. This loud-mouthed, pompous git to my right condescended to say: ‘my wife’s not the romantic type’. She shot straight back: ‘not with you, darling, but you’ll be astonished just how romantic I can be with a real man between my thighs’. Not a peep from him for the rest of the evening. And I gave her leg a squeeze under the tablecloth whilst the clattering of cutlery covered up the scene for a second or two. Don’t think they’re together any more.

Don’t know why women turn to the church. Don’t know what they can get out of it. Can’t imagine anything worse than being a vicar’s wife. More goodness than can ever be healthy for you. Having said that, I knew one who would beat his wife. Didn’t stop him from trying to correct us sinners from his pulpit. Strick (as in Strickland, as in Lori Strickland, our heroine) means noose in German. Just in passing.

I trust Pamela Thibodeaux to not let churchiness get the better of her heroine. I trust her to get closer to the truth. I can’t know, but I believe! (sorry, couldn’t resist that one!)

Lori’s Redemption, by Pamela Thibodeaux. Available at:

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guest blogger, Rocking Summer Romances

Rogue’s Hostage (Rocking Summer Romances) by Linda McLaughlin

August 20, 2014 joanbarbarasimon 2 Comments

His hostage…

In 1758 the Pennsylvania frontier is wild, primitive and dangerous, where safety often lies at the end of a gun. Mara Dupré’s life crumbles when a French and Indian war party attacks her cabin, kills her husband, and takes her captive. Marching through the wilderness strengthens her resolve to flee, but she doesn’t count on her captor teaching her the meaning of courage and the tempting call of desire.

Her destiny…

French lieutenant Jacques Corbeau’s desire for his captive threatens what little honor he has left. But when Mara desperately offers herself to him in exchange for her freedom, he finds the strength to refuse and reclaims his lost self-respect. As the shadows of his past catch up to him, Jacques realizes that Mara, despite the odds, is the one true key to reclaiming his soul and banishing his past misdeeds forever.

Holding the towel to his shoulder, he walked over and stood by the bed to check on the woman, who was still in a faint. Despite her pallor, he noted that her skin was fine, her nose straight and thin. She had a lower lip just full enough to entice a man to taste it, and a stubborn chin that dared him to try. Under different circumstances….

She was perhaps not as lovely as he’d thought when he first saw her standing in the clearing—her hair, the color of corn silk, shining in the sunlight. Still, she was tall and fair, with slender curves and shapely ankles visible beneath the short skirts of a farm wife.

And now she was a widow. He stared down at the woman and silently vowed to see that no more innocents died today.

The woman gave a soft moan and opened her eyes. When she spotted him, she shrank back against the wall, arms folded defensively across her breast. His gut tightened. He didn’t enjoy terrifying women, but fear should make her easier to control. She had already proven unpredictable.

Terror, stark and vivid, glittered in her eyes. “Who are you?”

“My name is Jacques Corbeau, lieutenant in the army of France. And you are my captive.”

* * *

Mara inhaled sharply, panic building inside her. This couldn’t be real. It was all a bad dream. She would wake up soon and tell Emile about it, and they would laugh. And laugh and laugh and… She swallowed the hysteria engulfing her.

“Madame, are you listening to me?”

The Frenchman’s voice, sharp and insistent, demanded her attention. “There is not much time. My companions are not patient men. We must leave soon, but first I want you to bind my shoulder. Where do you keep bandages?”

Her mouth and throat were dry when she swallowed, but she choked out an answer. “The trunk. Under the bed.”

He squatted beside the bed, pulled out the trunk and rummaged through it. She watched his every move, unable to take her eyes off him, alarmed by the physical threat he represented.

He was a tall man who dominated the cabin as Emile never had, and his state of undress revealed nearly every inch of his lean and powerful form. Not only was he bare to the waist, but his breechclout and leggings failed to completely cover his thighs and buttocks. He had a wide-shouldered, rangy body and long, sinewy legs. He looked strong, virile, and infinitely dangerous.

A cold knot formed in Mara’s stomach. The French had killed her father and now her husband. What would they do to her?

She wrapped her arms around her waist. Her grandfather would say whatever happened was God’s will, but she rejected that idea. What kind of God allowed such awful things to happen?

Fearfully, she watched as the Frenchman shoved the trunk back under the bed and stood. He held out the bandages, and she froze. She couldn’t touch him, she just couldn’t.

The man’s heavy black brows drew together in a fierce frown, but his voice was without emotion. “Madame, I am all that stands between you and the men who killed your husband. I can be persuaded to act as your protector. It is to your advantage to do what I command.”

(Previously published by Amber Quill Press)

Fear should make her easier to control… How’s that for a fine definition of society, 1758 and beyond! She covers up her breasts, but of course she must know that by putting her hands there in the first place that’s precisely where his gaze will follow. Me? I’m a buttock man. I don’t care about your boobs; big boobs are for slobs anyway. Know a lot of guys go for blondes. I’ve had my fair share myself, but given a choice; redheads. Bet you didn’t know that women taste differently depending on the (natural) colour of their hair. That’s a fact Jacques Corbeau will or won’t find out, depending on how experienced he is. What else? And what could be the misdeed that’s had him on the run from himself till then? Wouldn’t be fair if I gave too much away…

Available at:

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The Visionary (Rocking Summer Romances) by Pamela Thibodeaux

August 12, 2014 joanbarbarasimon 2 Comments

Pamela S. Thibodeaux. Inspirational with an edge. Love the twist she gives to faith by taking passion into account. Like it so much, in fact, that I couldn’t get enough of her. I’ll be sharing three of her works with you as part of Rocking Summer Romances blog hop. First work: The Visionary. I’ll kindly ignore that close-up on the cover which makes me think of Jehovah Witnesses; smiley happy people who always:

turn up as a twin pack
seem to have the better arguments up their sleeve

Give Pam a chance; don’t jump to conclusions. Now I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: me and the church? Tricky. With more like Pam around, things’d be better. More honest. Maybe ‘twist’ is the wrong word for what Pam does. More like: straightening out. More like:

noluckwiththefu@…: Sex is God-given, ladies!

flow.tite.ange@…: Hush! You can’t sit down God next to sex like that, makes people nervous!

noluckwiththefu@…: Well, it’s God-given, I don’t give a damn, and the fact that we all have trouble acceptin it don’t make it any less true. I swear, it was not God’s intention for us all to be like Mary, an if it was, a mean an ugly God he would be. (from Mut@tus)

Now, I know Pam will insist that the passion she writes about goes far deeper than sex, it’s a spiritually-inspired love manifesting itself in union, or at times a sinister, forbidden longing. I get you, Pam, but you get Tatar too, right? I know you do. You smell the perfume in your own way… Glad you do. Glad you dare.

Now back to the book:

‘A visionary is someone who sees into the future. Taylor Forrestier sees into the past but only as it pertains to her work. Hailed by her peers as “a visionary with an instinct for beauty and an eye for the unique”, Taylor is undoubtedly a brilliant architect and gifted designer. But she and twin brother Trevor, share more than a successful business. The two share a childhood wrought with lies and deceit and the kind of abuse that’s disturbingly prevalent in today’s society. Can the love of God and the awesome healing power of His grace and mercy free the twins from their past and open their hearts to the good plan and the future He has for their lives?’

“Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“I’m not through yet,” he mumbled, then slid off the couch and swung her up in his arms.

Fear snuck in, darkening her eyes. She stiffened and opened her mouth to protest. He brushed his lips over hers and silenced her objections.

“I just want to hold you,” he whispered and laid his forehead against hers. “That’s all. I promise,” he added, unable to camouflage the need in his voice.

***

He’d offered her another step to relinquish her fear and trust him. Triumph lit his expressive eyes when she wrapped her arm around his neck, smiled, and whispered, “Okay,” then snuggled her face against his shoulder and let him carry her to the bedroom.

With exquisite tenderness, he laid her on the bed, crawled up beside her, and took her in his arms. Taylor felt the strength of his need in the heat and tensed against the hardness of his body. He eased his grip and propped up on one elbow beside her. His eyes pleaded for grace when he stroked the hair off her face and said in a soft, husky voice, “Please don’t be afraid of me; please trust me. I will never force or even persuade you to give more than you’re ready to.”

They gazed at each other for a long, tender moment. She cupped his cheek in her hand, brushed her thumb over his mouth, then curled her fingers in his hair and urged his head down to fasten her lips to his. A low moan escaped his throat, yet he held himself taut.

Taylor ran her hand over his shoulder and back in a soft caress then wrapped her arms around his waist. “Hold me, Alex, I trust you.”

The emotions reflected in his tone caressed her heart when he thanked her in that beautiful velvety-rough voice. He rolled onto his back, pulled the covers over her, and held her while she slept.

Someone I don’t like too much said at least one thing that stuck: civilization is built up on a renunciation of instinct… Someone else I dislike less said where there’s desire, the power relation is already present. To which I’ll add; where there’s power, there’s struggle… and I’ll second someone else who saw sexuality as a dense transfer point (of power). Not that I’m trying to join the league of great thinkers, I’m just saying honest reflection will take you to interesting places. Whether we focus on what’s done or desired, there can be nothing reproachable in my search for love and knowledge of myself. We even have the green light from the bloody Bible! And as for God’s forgiveness, course he’ll forgive. He has to. Forgive us our trespasses and all that. God’s an act, not merely a thought. Surely? Besides, the act Pam describes here’s not unforgivable (and even if it were. What’s the point in only forgiving what’s forgivable in the first place? It’s the rest that counts, or should, if the thought is to become an act. I mean, a sincere one. Shouldn’t it?) Loads more to say on the subject. I’ll be back. By popular demand. Seems loads of you’ve been missing me after all. I knew you would. Well, I’m back. Pam’ll be back. You’ll be back. Tatar.

The Visionary by award-winning Christian novelist, Pamela Thibodeaux. “Steamier and grittier than the typical Christian novel without decreasing the message.”

Available at:

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also as hardback:

Rocking Summer Romances

Morning’s Journey by Kim Headlee

August 7, 2014 joanbarbarasimon 1 Comment

The second half of my double feature on award-winning author, Kim Headlee, presents her story Morning’s Journey, a further title in her Arthurian series. Here’s what it’s about:

In a violent age when enemies besiege Brydein and alliances shift as swiftly as the wind, stand two remarkable leaders: the Caledonian warrior-queen Gyanhumara and her consort, Arthur the Pendragon. Their fiery love is tempered only by their conviction to forge unity between their disparate peoples. Arthur and Gyan must create an impenetrable front to protect Brydein and Caledonia from land-lusting Saxons and the marauding Angli raiders who may be massing forces in the east, near Arthur’s sister and those he has sworn to protect.

But their biggest threat is an enemy within: Urien, Arthur’s rival and the man Gyan was treaty-bound to marry until she broke that promise for Arthur’s love. When Urien becomes chieftain of his clan, his increase in wealth and power is matched only by the magnitude of his hatred of Arthur and Gyan—and his threat to their infant son.

Morning’s Journey, sequel to the critically acclaimed Dawnflight, propels the reader from the heights of triumph to the depths of despair, through the struggles of some of the most fascinating characters in all of Arthurian literature. Those struggles are exacerbated by the characters’ own flawed choices. Gyan and Arthur must learn that while extending forgiveness to others may be difficult, forgiveness of self is the most excruciating—yet ultimately the most healing—step of the entire journey.

THE CLASH OF arms resounds in the torchlit corridor. Blood oozes where leather has yielded to the bite of steel, yet both sweating, panting warriors refuse to relent.

Her heart thundering, Gyan grips her sword’s hilt, desperate to help the man she loves. Caledonach law forbids it.

Urien makes a low lunge. As Arthur tries to whirl clear, the blade tears a gash in his shield-side thigh. The injured leg collapses, and Arthur drops to one knee. Crowing triumphantly, Urien raises his sword for the deathblow.

Devil take the law!

Gyan springs to block the stroke. Its force jars her arms and twists the hilt in her grasp. She barely holds on through the searing pain.

Urien slips past her guard to slice at her brooch. The gold dragon clatters to the floor. Her cloak slithers to her ankles, fouling her stance. As she tries to kick free, Urien grabs her braid, jerks up her head, and kisses her, hard. Shock loosens her grip. Her sword falls. She thrashes and writhes, but he holds her fast, smirking lewdly.

“You are mine, Pictish whore.”

Urien’s breath reeks of ale and evil promises. She spits in his face. He slaps her. She reels backward, her cheek burning. He grabs her forearms and yanks her close.

“Artyr, help me!”

No response.

Her spirits plummet. Weaponless, she can do nothing—wait. A glint catches her eye.

When Urien kisses her again, she surrenders. He grunts his pleasure, redoubling the force of the kiss. Slowly, she works her hands over his chest until her left hand touches cold bronze on his shoulder. She snatches the brooch and rips it free, hoping to stab him with the pin.

Her elation vanishes with her balance as her tangled cloak thwarts her plans. Face contorted with rage, Urien lunges and catches her wrist. She grits her teeth as his fingers dig in to make her drop the brooch. Pain shoots up her arm. She pushes away. Together, they fall—

***

Gyan gasped and sat bolt upright, pulse hammering. Sweat plastered her hair to her head, which felt like the ball in an all-night game of buill-coise. Bed linens ensnared her legs.

Fingers grazed her shoulder. She recoiled and cocked a fist. Her consort ducked behind his hand. “Easy, Gyan!” She relaxed, and he wrapped his arm about her. “What’s wrong?”

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “A dream,” she replied, hoping that for once he’d be satisfied with a vague answer.

“Some dream.”

She sighed. “It was the fight—and yet not the fight.” Gently, she traced the thin red line at the base of his neck where she’d scratched him with Caleberyllus to seal his Oath of Fealty to her and to her clan. But dreams cared naught for oaths. “This time, Urien won.”

Arthur grimaced. “That’s no dream.” He hugged her, and she burrowed into his embrace. “I’d call it a nightmare.”

“Ha.” She bent forward to disengage the linens from her feet. The unyielding fabric ignited her ire. She pounded the straw-stuffed mattress, furious at Urien and even more furious at herself for allowing him to creep into her wedding chamber, if only in spirit. “Why must that cù-puc keep coming between us?” She gazed at the table where Braonshaffir, named for the egg-size sapphire that crowned its hilt, lay sheathed inside its etched bronze scabbard beside Caleberyllus. Indulging in the fantasy of her new sword shearing through Urien’s neck, she bared her teeth in a fierce grin. “Just let him cross me openly, and by the One God, I’ll settle this matter!”

Arthur’s warm sigh ruffled her hair. Together they righted the linens, but when she would have risen, he clasped her hands and regarded her earnestly. “I can’t afford to lose either of you.”

She looked at those hands, young and yet already scarred and callused by years of war: hands that cradled the future of Breatein. “I know.” Briefly, she squeezed his hands, hoping to convey her desire to help him forge unity among his people, the Breatanaich, as well as with Caledonaich, her countrymen.

One legion soldier in five called the northwestern Breatanach territory of Dailriata home, and one in three of those men hailed from Urien’s own Clan Móran. In a duel between Gyan and Urien, Arthur’s Dailriatanach alliance would die regardless of the victor.

If politics ever failed to constrain the Urien of the waking world, however, she couldn’t guarantee that diplomacy would govern her response.

She averted her gaze again to the table where their arms and adornments lay. Their dragon cloak-pins sparked a memory. Something else had been odd about that dream, but its details had receded like the morning tide. She couldn’t decide whether to be troubled or relieved.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, trying to purge Urien map Dumarec from her mind. Moist pressure against her lips announced her consort’s plans. She welcomed his kiss and deepened it. He ran his fingers through her unbraided hair, following the tresses down her neck and over her breasts. Her nipples firmed under his touch. She arched back, and he kissed his way down to one breast, then the other, drawing the nipples forth even farther and awakening the exquisite ache in her banasròn.

The swelling shaft of sunlight heralded a reminder of their duties.

“The cavalry games will be starting soon, mo laochan.” No other man had earned the Caledonaiche endearment from her, and none ever would. Her “little champion” bore her down onto the pillows, and his lips interrupted any other comment she might have made. As they explored the curve of her throat, she whispered, “We must make an appearance.”

“We will, Gyan.” His fingertips teased her banasròn, discovering its damp readiness. “Eventually.”

She stilled his hand. He looked at her, puzzled.

Being àrd-banoigin obligated her to ensure her clan’s future by bearing heirs, but was she ready to abandon the warrior’s path and devote her life to a bairn? She gave a mental shrug. A swift calculation assured her that her courses would return soon, leaving the question to be faced another day. Smiling, she began caressing one of the reasons he’d earned “laochan” as an endearment.

He cupped her face and kissed her, urgency for both of them soaring on the wings of desire. His thigh rubbed hers with slow, firm strokes. Gyanhumara nic Hymar, Chieftainess of Clan Argyll of Caledon, yielded to her consort’s unspoken command. She opened to him, and he plunged her into their sacred realm of mind-blanking bliss.

Whenever Arthur map Uther, Pendragon of Breatein, issued an order, on the battlefield or off, only a fool disobeyed.

For more about Kim:

Kim is a Seattle native and a direct descendent of 20^th-century Russian nobility. Her grandmother was a childhood friend of the doomed Grand Duchess Anastasia, and the romantic yet tragic story of how Lydia escaped Communist Russia with the aid of her American husband will most certainly one day fuel one of Kim’s novels. Another novel in the queue will involve her husband’s ancestor, the 7th-century proto-Viking king of the Swedish colony in Russia.

For the time being, however, Kim has plenty of work to do in creating her projected 8-book Arthurian series, The Dragon’s Dove Chronicles, and other novels under her new imprint, Pendragon Cove Press. She also writes romantic historical fiction under the pseudonym Kimberly Iverson.

Q: Among those that you’ve written, which is your favorite book and why?

A: King Arthur’s Sister in Washington’s Court (ebook edition forthcoming in November 2014; fully illustrated print edition November 2015), hands down. In 2007, when my (now ex) literary agent sent a blanket message to his client list stating that he had met a publisher who was actively seeking sequels to 19^th-century authors’ works, I got the green light to develop a sequel to A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, providing that I updated my story for the 21^st century. Which I did, in spades, and dove right in. After about 50 pages, however, the thought hit me: who did I think I was, trying to emulate Mark Twain, for heaven’s sake? That single doubt stopped me…for three years. Not just that project, either, but all of my fiction projects. If “writer’s block” has a dictionary entry, there’s where you’ll find my picture. Finally, in early 2010, I exercised (literally—treadmill, Wii Fit, etc.) my way out of my depression, strapped on a pair, decided that with my background and talent, I might be the only one alive who could pull this off, and finished the first draft. It became the single most important project for me to reclaim my writing mojo, because if I could write this, I could write anything.

Insider info:

When working on her Arthurian series (Dawnflight, Morning’s Journey, etc.), the Scottish Gaelic-English dictionary is Kim’s go-to reference for developing character names, endearments, epithets, etc.

Keep up with Kim:

amazon author page – blog – facebook –twitter – google+ – pinterest – goodreads – LinkedIn – YouTube

For more of Morning’s Journey:

Amazon Kindle US — Amazon Paperback US — iTunes — Barnes & Noble print and Noon ebook editions — BooksAMillion paperback — Createspace — Draft2Digital Kobo ebook — Smashwords — Sony ebook

Further English-language ebook editions Smashwords;

Amazon Canada — Amazon UK —Amazon Australia — Amazon Germany — .Amazon France — Amazon Spain —.Amazon Italy — Amazon Japan —.Amazon India — Amazon Brazil —Amazon Mexico.com

Half.com for ordering personally autographed print copies from Kim Headlee.

For Morning’s Journey social media links:

Goodreads — YouTube

For The Colour of Vengeance, a short story excerpted from Morning’s Journey:

as audiobook on Audible — Amazon — Kindle Select eBook

guest blogger, Rocking Summer Romances

Snow in July by Kim Headlee

August 6, 2014 joanbarbarasimon 4 Comments

Kim Headlee’s Dawnflight has been nominated for so many prizes that I’ve decided to do a double feature of some of her other work over the next two days. Today’s special: Snow in July. Here’s what it’s about:

Sir Robert Alain de Bellencombre has been granted what every man wants: a rich English estate in exchange for his valiant service at the Battle of Hastings. To claim this reward, the Norman knight must wed the estate’s Saxon heiress. Most men would leap at such an opportunity, but for Alain, who broke his vow to his dying mother by failing to protect his youngest brother in battle, it means facing more easily broken vows. But when rumors of rampant thievery, dangerous beasts, and sorcery plaguing a neighboring estate reach his ears, nothing will make him shirk duty to king and country when people’s lives stand at risk. He assumes the guise of a squire to scout the land, its problems, and its lady.

Lady Kendra of Edgarburh has been granted what no woman wants: a forced marriage to an enemy who may be kith or kin to the man who murdered her beloved brother. Compounding her anguish is her failure to awaken the miraculous healing gift bequeathed by their late mother in time to save his life. Although with his dying breath, he made her promise to seek happiness above all, Kendra vows that she shall find neither comfort nor love in the arms of a Norman…unless it snows in July.

Alain is smitten by Lady Kendra from the first moment of their meeting; Kendra feels the forbidden allure of the handsome and courtly Norman “squire.” But a growing evil overshadows everyone, invoking dark forces and ensnaring Kendra in a plot to overthrow the king Alain is oath-bound to serve. Kendra and Alain face a battle unlike any other as their honor, their love, their lives, and even their very souls lie in the balance.

FIFTEEN THOUSAND MEN and horses writhed across the valley below, appearing as toys in a children’s game.

Many might consider war a game, but Sir Robert Alain de Bellencombre, knight of Normandy bound to the service of Duke William and commander of a unit in the cavalry reserves, did not number among their ranks.

Edward the Confessor, King of England via his Saxon father but Norman by his mother, was dead. This battle, raging near the coastal hamlet called Hastings, would decide the right of one man to wear the English crown: William the Norman, acknowledged by Pope Alexander to be Edward’s lawful successor; or Harold the Saxon, brother of Edward’s wife, the man alleged to be Edward’s deathbed choice.

Stroking his war horse’s glossy charcoal neck to calm her, Alain pondered Harold’s claim. It had to be true. This many men would not sacrifice their lives for a lie. Yet the vast majority of Harold’s supporters were Saxons harboring no wish to bear the Norman yoke. Perhaps such men might be desperate enough to fight for a lie that promised to restore Saxon rule.

A trumpet blared. He signaled his men forward, couched his lance, and spurred Chou to send her careening into the melee.

Harold’s shield wall, which had seemed impregnable, began to crumble under the onslaught of Alain’s unit, hastened by the desertion of men who no doubt decided they weren’t quite so willing to die. Their lord stood exposed just long enough for a Norman archer to sight his mark. Harold fell, screaming and clutching an arrow that protruded from one eye.

Harold’s supporters closed ranks around him, blocking Alain’s view and giving him more than enough to do as the Saxons redoubled their efforts to guard their lord’s body.

A familiar whirl of colors caught Alain’s attention. The saffron leopard prowling on a green field—Étienne! A Saxon knight, with a blue arm and fist blazing defiance across his gray shield, bore down upon Étienne with leveled lance. Étienne tumbled from his horse. He scrambled to his feet and retrieved his sword, putting it to good use on the Saxons surrounding him, although the knight who’d unhorsed him had already ridden in search of other targets.

Lance long since discarded and sword now rising and falling with fatal precision, Alain surged to reach his brother’s side. Protection of her youngest son had been their dying mother’s wish, and he had sworn on his own life to keep Étienne safe.

Before he could close the distance, another Saxon knight fought past Étienne’s guard to thrust a war-knife into his throat. Through the visor the knight’s eyes gleamed with startling, fathomless malice. Alain could only watch in stunned disbelief as he laid his hand upon Étienne’s chest for a few moments. Uttering a soul-freezing howl, the Saxon yanked out his seax and disappeared into the press with Étienne’s shield, denying Alain vengeance.

Shame and grief rent his heart asunder.

He had failed the two he loved most; failed them so utterly that he could never beg their forgiveness in this lifetime.

Pain slammed into his shoulder, toppling him from the saddle. Étienne’s body broke his fall. He tried to roll clear, but a spear through his chest pinned him to Étienne. His gut convulsed, and bile burned his throat. Blinding agony killed his struggle to free himself. Death’s stench invaded his nostrils.

He closed his eyes and waited for his final journey to begin.

for more of Snow in July:

Amazon US – Amazon CA – Amazon UK – Amazon paperback – Barnes & Noble Nook – Barnes & Noble paperback – Smashwords – iTunes

for more about Kim:

Kim is a Seattle native (when she used to live in the Metro DC area, she loved telling people she was from “the other Washington”) and a direct descendent of 20^th-century Russian nobility. Her grandmother was a childhood friend of the doomed Grand Duchess Anastasia, and the romantic yet tragic story of how Lydia escaped Communist Russia with the aid of her American husband will most certainly one day fuel one of Kim’s novels. Another novel in the queue will involve her husband’s ancestor, the 7th-century proto-Viking king of the Swedish colony in Russia.

And to keep up with Kim:

amazon author page – blog – facebook –twitter – google+ – pinterest – goodreads – LinkedIn – YouTube

guest blogger, Rocking Summer Romances

Fallen Leaves (Rocking Summer Romances) by Tina Gayle

August 4, 2014 joanbarbarasimon Leave a comment

As autumn comes to the Winston estate in Ohio, Amber Harrison learns further lessons in her new position as keeper for the spirits and ghosts who haunt the estate–and further lessons in love, too. She and her love, Carter Miller, grapple with the fears and passions of new love, while caught up in the storm of ancient family drama.

This is the second book in the unfolding saga of the psychics and talents associated with the Winston estate, a sheltered place where past, present, and future are woven into a single dramatic tapestry of love and desire. The tale spans multiple generations, multiple eras, and offers something special for all ages of reader. A sexy, erotic winner!

“How long before you install the new cabinets?”

He turned on the ladder. His dark brown eyes captured her, engulfing her in an encompassing warmth. She melted under his heated gaze, which ran from the top of her head to the white socks on her feet. He lifted a brow at her attire, but he didn’t comment on her pink sweat suit.

“With the old cabinets out of the way, I need to knock down this wall and tear up the flooring. The electrical work is next on the agenda.” He climbed off the ladder, yanked off his gloves, and slid a hand through his thick, wavy hair.

“It might be awhile before we install the new cabinets. Right now, we’re simply working to remove the old stuff so we can start fresh.” He smiled, which didn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes or the fatigue in the slump of his shoulders.

“There’s no hurry. If you’re busy with something else, this can wait until your Dad and Mattie come home next week.”

“No, Dad doesn’t want her dealing with this mess.” Carter unbuckled his tool belt and placed it on a workbench. “I promised him I’d have it done.”

“Is Grant helping?” Amber stepped around several pieces of sheetrock and stray bits of wood, to the bottom of the stairs.

He walked to the backdoor. “Friday, his classes are over at noon.”

With his hand resting on the doorknob, he appeared anxious to leave. “I’m headed to lunch, and then I need to drop by the office for a while. Are you sure you’re okay here by yourself?”

Amber toyed with the idea of saying no. She missed the taste of his lips and the strength of his arms, but she nodded instead. “Yes, I’m fine.”

After opening the door, he paused. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

She waved and turned to head to her room, satisfied she’d at least gotten him to talk. Her leaden feet trudged up the steps. Unexcited, she contemplated her latest assignment from the family council. How could she achieve such an impossible task of convincing her great grandmother’s ghost to cross over?

Amazon

Smashwords

All Romance ebooks (ARe)

So, Tina, tell us a bit about yourself:

– After years of working in the business sector

– Doing what?

– A variety of jobs, I then decided to try my hand at writing.

– Enjoying it?

– Definitely! Whether I’m good or not, you tell me! I’m currently working on a series about four executive wives. The first three books have been released. The last one will be out this year. I’ve also started a paranormal romantic mystery series called the Family Tree series. With a family of spirits guiding the lives of their keeper, Amber has a number of tasks to accomplish like solving a two hundred year old mystery.

– Summer’s Growth is in that series, right?

– You’re right!

– So what else? With all this writing, do you even find time for anything else?

– I like to play golf, to travel, and to do both with my husband, Mike. Can’t wait for him to retire so we can do more of both.

– Where can I get more of you?

– Well, you can read the first chapter of any of my books by visiting my website. And you’ll find me practically everywhere on the internet:

homepage blog twitter Linkedin goodreads facebook Google+

guest blogger, Rocking Summer Romances

Naked Rebel (Rocking Summer Romances) by Anita Philmar

July 28, 2014 joanbarbarasimon Leave a comment

A spy that prefers to work alone, Nick Royster’s assignment is turned upside down when his superiors sends him a personal companion. Not appreciating the need to watch someone else’s back, he attends a dinner of Salsar’s inner group. Only to learn; he has to sacrifice Rane to get the information he needs to end the war.

Rane knows the importance of winning. Her family slaughtered by Salsar, this is her homeland and she plans to do whatever it takes to win her people’s freedom.

With everything on the line, can these two have any future together or does love and war equal heartache?

“I know it’s not much, but its home.” At least for the last few months it’d been. Once he’d reached the rank of top miner, it’d taken less than a year to make head foreman. Yet, he still didn’t know the location of Nustru’s purification plant.

“Nice.” A muffled voice rang through his small two room unit.

He glanced around at the bare walls. She couldn’t be serious.

Yes, he didn’t have to live in a tent, but the place wasn’t a proper home for a woman either. An ugly brown couch stood right by the door while a yellow counter with a cooler and stove occupied the opposite wall. The doorway to the back led to a tiny bathroom and an even smaller bedroom.

Not willing to argue about how she never should have been sent here, Nick walked over and looked inside the cooler. “Would you like something to drink?”

“That would be great,” she whispered through her veil.

Nick grabbed a protein drink and turned to see her struggling with the hood covering her head. He set down her drink and stepped to her side. The black cloak covering her really did its job. He couldn’t see any part of her except her small hands.

“Let’s see, how can we free you from this contraption?” He fingered the rough fabric covering her shoulders and lifted the lip of the cloth running along her biceps.

She stepped back and lowered her head.

He pulled. The hood fell away, revealing her reddish-gold hair.

A loud rip preceded a soft feminine scent, which filled the room. The cloak covering her body tore into long strips and crumbled to the floor at her feet.

A bullet of lust shot straight to his loins at the spectacular view. Full, creamy breasts covered by a skimpy piece of pink lace led to a narrow waist. Another strip hung on her curvy hips and restricted his view of her luscious center. A dark stain on her panties made him wonder if she was already wet with need.

“Nick?”

For once, I, Tatar, man of many words, thought I’d keep out of this presentation of a new Rocking Summer Romance so you can make your own mind up without knowing beforehand what was going through mine. What I will tell you though, is: redhead. The woman who took my virginity:

Cup it… squeeze it… not so hard… kiss it (she halfwhispered)… if you pull on it with your tongue, it’ll feel like, let me show you… Do you know any Latin terms, she asked me. I hardly heard a word of what she was saying I was so bloody nervous. I’ll teach you one, she said. No, I’ll teach you two…

Had a soft spot for redheads ever since, so: Rane, rebellious, redhead, (naked…), of whom I’m told you will do ‘whatever it takes to save your people’, what else am I going to find out about you?

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