Showing posts with label Release Day Blitz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Release Day Blitz. Show all posts

22 February 2022

Whisper a Kiss by Laura Haley-McNeil - @laurarmcneil @bookreviewtours #Romance #Suspense #CleanRomance

 



He broke a promise to save her life.


Hunter Whitloch’s Wall Street career is on the fast track until he learns about his boss’, Egon Gregory, underhanded dealings. Hunter’s and Egon’s confrontation means Hunter must turn a blind eye or return to Crystal Creek and walk away from a lucrative career and the only woman he’s ever loved⸻Egon’s daughter, Bryce. He won’t let her make a choice between him and her father, so he makes that choice for her.
Bryce watched Hunter walk out of her life and never expected to see him again⸻until he shows up at her father’s funeral. The mystery deepens when Bryce learns her father asked Hunter to return to New York⸻the night her father died. The authorities have ruled Egon’s death a suicide but attempts on her life unearth more questions than answers⸻namely who can she trust? The man who abandoned her a year ago, or her father’s right-hand man who wants to seize control of the company from her?
Hunter has to return to Crystal Creek, but he won’t leave Bryce as bait to someone who wants her dead. But Crystal Creek isn’t the haven he expected, and soon he and Bryce race against the clock to find out what secret died with Egon, and how to endure the pain that has them fighting to protect their hearts and their lives. 

Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon.in * Amazon.com


Welcome to Crystal Creek!
Hunter loves Bryce more than anything, but to protect her, he had to walk away.
Now he’s back.


Chapter One


Hunter Whitloch stood on a knoll in the sweltering June heat and looked over the New York graveyard. The small group of elegantly dressed mourners gathered around Egon Gregory’s casket didn’t hide his daughter, Bryce. She tipped her chin, her blonde hair skimming her shoulders, and stared bravely ahead. Hunter would’ve known she was here even if they’d been surrounded by thousands of people. He had a sense when Bryce was near.
He pushed down the stirring of sensations rising in his chest. He hadn’t seen her in a year, but his feelings for her hadn’t changed.
Dressed in black, a thin veil covering her face, she clutched the hand of Egon’s closest friend, Percy Wright. Hunter wondered what Percy would say when he saw Hunter had attended the funeral. Probably not much. When Hunter had worked for Gregory Enterprises, Percy rarely spoke to him.
Hunter felt a vague disquiet, drew in a breath, then strolled down the hill. He’d come to pay his condolences to Egon Gregory, the man who had taken him under his wing and taught him how to earn a few million. That knowledge would’ve satisfied Hunter if he hadn’t discovered the machinations of the underbelly of Gregory Enterprises.
Maybe Hunter was the only one with a conscience.
Once he discovered how Egon Gregory made his billions, he couldn’t condone the underhanded deals and walked away from a career most people would’ve killed for⸻including Hunter.
When he reached the gathering, he felt the stares, listened to the murmurings. Some smiled. Others frowned. He heard the minister’s prayer, but didn’t catch the words. His gaze shifted to Bryce, to the elegant curve of her neck, her graceful poise, and the emotions he’d buried surged to the surface. 
He closed his eyes and uttered an oath. He was a fool to think his feelings for Bryce Gregory could have vanished when he left New York with a promise never to return—yet here he was with his memories in tow.
Feeling a stare, he looked up to see the disapproving glower of the woman in front of him. He tried to smile. He hadn’t thought he’d said anything, but Bryce had that power over him. What he thought, and what he felt, always reminded him there was no way to get Bryce out of his system.
The minister closed the service with an amen. Others echoed the closing, then a soft murmuring waffled through the crowd as the mourners shook hands and embraced. Several formed a line in front of Bryce and offered their condolences. Hunter recognized most in attendance⸻Sylvia Fisher, Calvin Spratt, Jarrod Morris⸻chums Hunter and Bryce knew from college.
Bryce clutched a handkerchief in her small, white hand. Her smile sad, she dabbed her tears and nodded her gratitude.
The crowd thinned, but Hunter didn’t move. He could only watch Bryce who, even when she grieved, looked beautiful. She moved to the casket. Slipping a rose from the funeral spray, she laid it on the crown. Her head bowed in sorrow, she turned away. As if feeling someone watched her, she lifted her gaze.
Her brown eyes looked straight at him.
“Hunter?” She blinked in surprise.
A muscle worked in his jaw. He should’ve told her he was coming or at least asked if he could. Showing up was a tactless decision to pay condolences to the man whom he’d admired and with whom he disagreed on almost everything. A year had passed since he’d tossed his resignation letter on Egon’s desk. The older man had been surprised at first, and then laughed.
Hunter wasn’t laughing. Egon had been charming in a ruthless sort of way. The bottom line ruled his world. His list of enemies grew by the day.
“Hello, Bryce,” he said, his voice low and husky. Saying her name was like catching his heart on a jagged corner.
“I … I didn’t …” Her voice filling with the sorrow he felt, she shook her head, her eyes swimming in tears.
“I just wanted …” His voice faded. The old, familiar feelings churned in his chest.
Someone behind Hunter cleared his throat. He almost felt relieved. He’d paid his condolences to the kingpin of the financial world, but that education taught Hunter that the man he admired also lacked a heart. Hunter wouldn’t be party to the schemes that destroyed more people than they helped.
With a slight nod at Bryce, he stepped away from her. He didn’t miss her bleak glance, but there could never be anything between them. When Hunter resigned, Egon had made him swear he’d never have anything to do with Bryce again. Hunter had agreed. He wouldn’t drag Bryce into this tug-of-war between him and her father.
But walking away had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. How he had the strength, he didn’t know.
He sucked air through his teeth. He felt all over again the desolation that had surged through him when he’d left. He had thought he was strong enough to see Bryce again without her closeness opening old wounds.
The couple who had stood behind Hunter stepped to Bryce. With a look of shock, she pulled her gaze to them, fresh tears in her eyes as she hugged the woman and clasped the man’s hand.
“Hunter Whitloch, what a surprise.” A man’s rough voice brought Hunter’s head around.
“Percy.” He stared into the pale blue eyes of Egon’s right-hand man. The way the man looked at him made him catch his breath.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, especially under the circumstances.” Percy’s patrician features firmed with arrogant condescension.
“Why is that?” Hunter asked, feigning bemusement. Percy had always been cagey about what he did and didn’t know.
“I don’t have to tell you what you already know.” The skin around Percy’s eyes tightened with impatience.
“If not you, then maybe someone else,” Hunter said graciously. “Of course, I would honor Egon with my last respects. Though we didn’t agree on much, I still admired the man.” He admired anyone who came from nothing but managed to build an empire.
Percy gave a soft snort.
Hunter blinked slowly but remained silent. Percy thrived on confrontation and seemed to feel great satisfaction when he could put someone on the defensive.
Looking past Percy to Bryce, Hunter watched her turn away from the casket looking bereft. A hollowness rose inside him. The first day he met Bryce in college, he saw that hurt look in her eyes. That she hadn’t been born a boy to please her father seemed to hurt most of all.
Percy’s gaze followed his. When he saw Hunter watched Bryce, his mouth curved. “Old feelings die hard.” He gave a dry laugh.
“Or they become immortal,” Hunter said and watched a young man he didn’t recognize approach her.
Whatever the man said made Bryce smile sadly and shake her head. The man nodded slightly and withdrew.
On the other side of the casket, Calvin Spratt paced nervously. He slipped a finger inside his collar and cast furtive glances at Bryce. When the young man left Bryce’s side, Calvin took a step toward her until another couple moved in. Their murmurings filled with regret, they seemed to share fond memories of Egon from another time and place.
Calvin stopped short, frustration in his eyes. He looked around until his gaze met Hunter’s. He gave a slight nod and moved toward him. When Percy faced him, deep lines etched into Calvin’s face. Giving a dismissive wave, he turned away and strode through the headstones to the cars parked along the narrow lane.
“He better leave,” Percy said, a satisfied look on his face. “He’s the reason Egon is dead.”
Hunter’s pulse picked up its pace. “How is that Calvin’s fault? The internet sites said Egon died of natural causes.”
“They copied my press release.” Percy narrowed his eyes at him. “If you read that, then you don’t know.”
“What should I know?” Hunter frowned at him.
“Egon was found in his office, a gun in his hand.”
Hunter’s pulse jumped.
A soft gasp sounded. Hunter’s head came up, and he stared into Bryce’s dark eyes. Her face snow-white, she touched delicate fingers to the base of her throat.


About the Author:

A native of California, Laura Haley-McNeil spent her youth studying ballet and piano, though her favorite pastime was curling up with a good book. Without a clue as to how to write a book, she knew one day she would.
After college, she segued into the corporate world, but she never forgot her love for the arts and served on the board of two community orchestras. Finally realizing that the book she’d dreamt of writing wouldn’t write itself, she planted herself in front of her computer. She now immerses herself in the lives and loves of her characters in her romantic suspense and her contemporary romance novels. Many years later, she lived her own romantic novel when she married her piano teacher, the love of her life.
Though she and her husband have left warm California for cooler Colorado, they enjoy the outdoor life of hiking, bicycling, horseback riding and snow skiing. They satisfy their love of music by attending concerts and hanging out with their musician friends, but Laura still catches a few free moments when she can sneak off and read. 

Laura on the Web:
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Newsletter





21 February 2021

Sylvie Denied by Deborah Clark Vance

 

 


Women's Fiction

Date Published: February 21, 2021

Publisher: Flower Press



Deborah Clark Vance's first novel, Sylvie Denied, offers an intimate portrait of a woman who refuses to be silenced.

As she enters adulthood in the turbulent 1970s, Sylvie thinks the way to change a violent world is to become a peaceful person. Yet she slowly sees how a childhood trauma thwarts her peaceful intentions and leads her to men with a dark side – including Enzo, the man she marries. Even as his behavior becomes increasingly volatile, she believes she can make things better with love and understanding. But finally, living in terror, Sylvie must find a way to escape with her daughter and claim her place in the world.


Praise for Sylvie Denied

"Women’s fiction and literature readers will find Sylvie Denied a hard-hitting, familiar-feeling story of growth and new directions."– Diane Donovan, Midwest Book Review

"Sylvie is a resilient free spirit open to the world but struggling to find a lasting relationship worthy of her decency and altruism. Rich in emotional and geographic detail, it is genuinely rewarding to read." — Jonathan Slade, Producer of 8 Emmy-winning documentaries including “The Electric Road Trip,”

"In Sylvie Denied, Deborah Clark Vance gives a riveting picture of the sixties and seventies, as her strong-willed heroine searches for a meaningful life." -Madeena Spray Nolan, author of “The Gift” and “The Burning Ground.”



About The Author


After leaving her family home and respectable birthplace, Deborah Clark Vance set out to find what made the world tick. Inspired by Thoreau’s advice to simplify, she explored self-sufficient living. Deborah learned to identify and forage for edible plants and medicinal herbs, gaining confidence that she could survive in the wild as long as there were woods, and the weather wasn’t too cold. She attended the University of Life where she came to cherish those who prefer truth. She raised four children and cobbled together a living by selling paintings and freelance articles, copyediting and translating Italian, selling plants and designing gardens, working on radio documentaries and a kids’ educational TV series, teaching piano lessons, college students and adults with emotional and mental illnesses. . . and eventually earned a PhD in Intercultural Communication from Howard University and taught at a small liberal arts college. Her family and friends near and far live with her in her heart. Sylvie Denied is her first novel.


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Indie Bound

 

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13 October 2020

Treat Or Hex by Jane Cole

 

 

Erotic Romance 

Date Published: October 13, 2020

Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing


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Drama student Gabrielle is distressed to find herself lusting after her best friend and improv partner Paul. Refusing to give in to her desire and ruin their relationship, she attributes it to having gone too long without sex. G’s friend Natalie proposes the perfect solution—a Halloween party featuring a special guy for her horny friend. 

But the party is more complicated than Gabrielle imagines. Since they’re actors, when she and Paul get in costume, they become different people—the rakish ‘Mississippi Gambler’ Colonel Bartholomew W. Davis and sexy ‘Bourbon Street Madam’ Miss Tiffany. She is shocked when Paul comes on to her! Is he as attracted to her as she is to him? Or wait! Is this just another round of ‘improv chicken’—a game they play in which they try to rattle the other so much they break character?

Natalie asks for the green light to seduce Paul. Gabrielle’s ‘sure thing’ fails to show. Three horny witches tempt Paul with a foursome. He agrees! Or does he? And what about The Colonel’s offer to pay Miss Tiffany for a night of pleasure? Gabrielle’s head is spinning. Jealousy, lust, such confusion! Oh my!

Could it all be a trick that leads to a romantic treat?

 



 About the Author


Jane Colt began writing romances to deal with the stress of a ‘day job’ that’s mainly about examining the various ways people treat one another badly. An incurable romantic, her stories give her hope that we really can live happily ever after—even if only in our imaginations. She writes erotic romances because, having been raised in a morally rigid home, she wants to encourage in her readers a healthier, ‘sex positive’ outlook. She especially wants her heroines to be as sexy and passionate as they desire. You can count on the fact that her couples end up in love and having great sex! … OK, maybe they have the sex first!

Her stories aim to be light-hearted, fun, upbeat—and sexy! No dark, brooding, broken, tortured guys who need fixing. Just great, handsome, smart, sexy, ‘real men’ whose only weakness is being unable to resist the women she pairs them with. Think Lifetime or Hallmark movies plus hot sex!

She’s lived on both coasts of the U.S., recently leaving the beaches of Los Angeles to return home to the glorious autumn foliage of western Massachusetts. Married, she and her spouse are happy to be the devoted servants of two adorable cats. She loves traveling. Favorite cities: San Francisco, Boston, Venice, London, London, London!

By the way, anyone who knows her would be shocked to learn she writes erotic romances. “Jane Colt” is a pen name. So, shhhhhh.

 

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12 October 2020

The Window by Kellista Rae Keaton


 

Women’s Fiction

Date Published: 10/12/20

Publisher: TouchPoint Press


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After making the biggest mistake of her life, Olivia wasn’t comfortable anywhere — ever. Except in her dreams.

 

Is he really real? For so many years, I’ve wondered if I imagined him. I’ve lived too many years in fear of never being free. It wasn’t even about happiness. Everyone always asks, “Are you happy?” Does anyone really want happiness? We all just want to be able to breathe. We all just want to be comfortable in our own skin. I was completely comfortable in mine, until I married Christopher Brewer. After making the biggest mistake of my life, I wasn’t comfortable anywhere, ever. Well, except in my dreams.

 

Rarely do you find a book that deals with alcoholism/addiction and a fantasy element.



About the Author

Kellista Keaton has been writing fiction since she was nine years old. She prides herself on having taken creative writing classes across the nation. She holds a BA in film studies from UNC-Wilmington and an elementary teaching license. She resides in Kansas with her husband and two children. Her secret is that she was lucky enough to work on the set of Dawson's Creek.


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12 September 2020

Along Came a Spyder by Apeksha Rao

 


About the Book:

At 17, Samira Joshi has only one dream in life.

She wants to be a spy. And why not?

Spying runs in the Joshi genes. Her great-grandmother was famous for sticking her nose in everyone’s business. Her grandmother had a flourishing side-business of tracking down errant husbands and missing servants. Her parents are elite intelligence agents for RAW. Yet, they want their only daughter to become a doctor. When she sees a college friend being trapped by a pimp, Samira does some spying of her own, and discovers the existence of a secret sisterhood of teen spies — The Spyders. And, she wants in!

The question is, do they want her?



Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon

Read an Excerpt from Along Came a Spyder


Three in the afternoon is such a wrong time to be tailing someone, that too, when you’re stuck in a car that’s getting hotter by the minute. I stared longingly at the McDonald’s across the road. The orange float on the hoarding was calling out to me, but I didn’t have the time to fight my way through the crowd of college students just to join the long queue at the beverage counter.
I turned my face resolutely away from the hoarding and narrowed my eyes at the target — a plump woman with tacky gold highlights and loud makeup, stuffing her face with fries as she haggled over a pair of mojris. Our driver, Ranga, sighed for about the fiftieth time and as usual, I ignored his passive-aggressive sighs. He was just bitter because he was stuck driving around a bunch of girls, instead of some top cop.
“I was the official chauffeur for the Assistant Commissioner of Police, for twenty years. Not once was I in any danger. But in the one year that I’ve been driving these crazy girls around, I’ve been shot at thrice! The third time, the bullet missed my head by just an inch,” he’s been known to grouse.
That was a gross exaggeration. 
We have CCTV footage of the whole incident. The bullet missed his ear, not his head and that too, by a large margin. Also, if he had just kept his big head down like he was told to, the bullet wouldn’t have been anywhere near him.
But no! Catch our macho Ranga taking orders from a chit of a girl, even if said chit of a girl knows fourteen different ways to kill a man!
Yet, according to him, ‘these crazy girls’ are the cause of all his problems. Which is so unfair! It’s not like we go looking for trouble. At least, I don’t. I don’t have to, because trouble comes looking for me.
“Curiosity is one of your besetting sins,” my Baba used to say.
“No Ranjit,” Ma would argue. “Curiosity brings forth information.”
For my Ma, information of any kind was always gold. What she found really sinful, was my tendency to find trouble. Drama was anathema to my parents.
“Yet, trouble and drama follow you like a drone to its homing beacon, Samira!”
A slap on my arm snapped me back to the present.
Debbie was raving about something.
“Sammy ya! Just look at this cheap aunty. I bet she won’t mind dropping thousands in one of her high society card parties, but see how much she bargains for a pair of shoes. He has kids to feed, you mean cow,” she said, shoving a handful of chips into her mouth.
I sighed. It was way too hot for a sociology lesson. Plus, Debbie’s rants were getting a little old. It didn’t take too much to get her revolutionary Bong blood boiling, and she was totally capable of inciting a French Revolution-style riot if you let her go on. But this was neither the time nor the place.
“Debs, I don’t care how much they haggle. I just want her to get on with it,” I said, squirming on the hot car seat. My skin was starting to fuse with the rexine of the seat.
Monica Shah finally walked up to the store and stood looking around.
“Oh, go in already! You’re not fooling anyone with your dawdling. We know you’re going into Pretty Woman,” I grumbled.
“Okay, here she goes. Give her 15 minutes, then, you go in, Debs. If you can, please take some pics of whatever she does in there. Just don’t lose her, and whatever you do, don’t get caught. If they catch you taking pics, deny it outright. Your camera app will upload the pics directly to the server, so, your phone will be clean. Now, don’t look scared, and admit nothing! When you’re done, meet me at the end of the lane,” I said as I sent Debbie off with an encouraging fist-bump.
Then, I sank down in my seat, and whispered to Ranga, “Do you think we’re going to survive Debbie’s outing in the field?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want to die so soon,” whimpered the lily-livered Ranga, in response.


About the Author:
Apeksha Rao is a multi genre author from Bangalore.

She is the author of Along Came A Spyder, which is the story of a seventeen year old girl who wants to be spy.

Apeksha has written many short stories based on the same series, The Spyders, which are available on this blog.
She is a voracious reader, and a foodie.

Apeksha's current works in progress: A middle grade book, a chick lit featuring a detective, and a horror novel (the writing of which is giving her sleepless nights).

Apeksha on the Web:



21 April 2020

I Love Me! by LaRonda Gardner Middlemiss



Picture Book
Date Published: 4/21/20
Publisher: Beaming Books

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I love me from my mouth and chin
all the way down to my knees and shins.
This affirming picture book features a diversity of races and ethnicities, physical features, body types, abilities and disabilities. I Love Me teaches all kids they have many, many reasons to love themselves.





About the Author

LaRonda Gardner Middlemiss found that motherhood immersed her in the fascinating world of picture books as she shared in her son's love of story time. Experiencing picture books with varying styles, stories and approaches to themes inspired her to write stories of her own. With a vision to create stories that will entertain, enlighten and empower all children, she ultimately aspires to both author and illustrate her work.

LaRonda is a member of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators as well as Storyteller Academy.  Living in her home state of North Carolina with her husband and son, she participates in a local SCBWI critique group and a regional SCBWI illustrators network. She holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Industrial Engineering.

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20 March 2020

Like Fire and Powder by Shannon A.Hiner



Prequel novella to The Immortal World series (release #5.5)
Paranormal Romance
Date Published: 3/20/20

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She’s Risqueen.

Celeste was never meant to be a vampire. She never wanted to die, or be undead, or drink blood. And the vampire who turned her, Angela Estrada, certainly didn’t want her either. Celeste has never been a fan of Angela’s cynical overly religious ways and she’s spent two whole centuries asking the same question: Why her?

He’s Fraccas.

Tanner is in a bind. Even as Second in Command to the Fraccas clan, he’s never been completely on board with the leader’s view of the world and their place in it. Now there’s a strong likelihood that Ignatius is looking for a way to replace Tanner. Permanently.

Sworn Enemies. Until . . .

Eyes meet across a crowded ballroom. The world stops. And then starts spinning again…in the opposite direction. Moving them toward each other when everything about who—and whose— they are is designed to keep them apart.

When your world won’t let you have the one thing you desire most, what other choice is there than to burn it down and build a new one?


Excerpt

Celeste didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Clearly, she hadn’t been thinking. Just reacting. Moving on instinct. She’d never had an instinct so strong as the one that had pulled her across the room to that man.
She hadn’t bothered to ask herself what she would do once she stood in front of him.
Seeing the leggy brunette in a skin tight red dress had been a serious wake up call.
Celeste slipped out the back door and into the cool night air with a sigh. Autumn was nearing its second half, where the trees were barren and the cold mornings were slow to relinquish their hold, returning with a vengeance as soon as the sun turned its back again.
Celeste didn’t feel the chill. No gooseflesh rose on her arms, she didn’t shiver or pace about to keep warm. Instead, she took a deep breath of fallen leaves and impending dew and leaned her back against the wall of the building.
It was quiet outside. Quiet and deserted. Above, music and conversation escaped the hall through the open balcony doors. Couples who thought no one could hear them rendezvoused on those balconies. Their whispers floated down almost incoherent to where Celeste stood. She closed her eyes and listened without really paying attention.
When she opened her eyes again, she already knew she wasn’t alone. The breeze moved past another before reaching her.
He stood only a few feet from her. Silent and imposing as a gravestone. His eyes rested on her with a curious sort of ease, as if he was able to relax for the first time in ages.
Celeste didn’t move from where she leaned against the building. She stared back at him and waited. He hadn’t thought it through either. The “what came next” part. The side of her mouth lifted. What a pair they were.
He took in her smile, eyes lingering on her mouth, flicking back to her eyes, then spanning the curve of her cheeks and jaw.
Celeste had never felt so seen in all of her life . . . or death, for that matter. He took in every aspect of her and kept on looking. She swallowed back the jumble of words that rose in her throat. Nothing she attempted to say would make any sense. Jibberish, all of it. And the first person who spoke might break the moment. Dispel the magic.
And it was magic.
Celeste stared back at him just as intently. Admired the breadth of his shoulders and the straight line of his nose. The unforgiving slant of his jaw and the steady warmth of his light eyes. What color were they? Impossible to tell in the starlight.
He opened his mouth, but only a small sigh of air escaped before Celeste moved forward, cutting him off with a shake of her head. She stopped barely a foot from him. The space between them wavered, pulled like a magnet to its mate.
Celeste took a deep breath. Cotton and pine and bourbon whiskey. Clean and warm and welcoming. She closed her eyes with a smile, opening them again when his hand touched her hair, smoothing over her curls so lightly, it was as if a butterfly had landed against them.
They were closer somehow.
Time and space vanished until only their senses ruled them.
His hand curved around the back of her neck, tangling in her hair. Celeste’s fingers found their way into his coat, curling around the lapels.
Nothing in her life had made sense for so long. Nothing had fit. Nothing felt right. There was always a “but.”
Until him. Until this. Until . . .



About the Author


SHANNON A. HINER lives in far Northern California with her feline roommate, Pangur Ban. She attended and graduated from Butte College in Oroville, CA. Having believed in faeries, vampires & all sorts of immortal creatures her entire life, it came as no surprise to her family and friends when she started writing down her stories in a grossly exaggerated fashion.

After finishing her first book in 2009, Submerged In Darkness, she realized she had written not the first book of many, but the last in an epic series. Since that time, she has been laboring to write & publish all prior books.

She wishes you would follow her on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram where you can enjoy quotes from works in progress, grammar puns, music that inspires and irregular updates on future works. @ShannonAHiner

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18 February 2020

The Lady is Trouble by Tracy Summer


League of Lords, Book 1
Historical Romance
Date Published: February 18, 2020

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In the first in Tracy Sumner’s sizzling League of Lords historical series, mysticism in Victorian England is the setting for a captivating love affair . . .

He’s a viscount with a dark past who yearns for the one woman he can’t have. She’s rebellious, spurned by society and determined to change his mind.

What’s a defiant woman to do when the man she’s meant for doesn’t believe in love?

After three years of waiting for Julian Alexander to realize they are destined to be together, Lady Piper Scott takes matters into her own hands. Because her gift as a healer has never done anything but distance her from the most principled man in England. A meaningless diversion as a medium, all done to gain a certain wandering viscount’s attention, backfires. As most endeavors have for a woman known in the ton as Scandalous Scott.

What’s a reluctant viscount to do when the woman he can’t have becomes the woman he can’t live without?

Julian Alexander, Lord Beauchamp, battled his way from the lowliest slum to assume his title. He carries not only a turbulent past, but a mystical psychic gift that separates him from society. Honorable to his core, he is committed to protecting a community of outcasts with abilities like his own. He has no time, no place, for love. Or repeatedly rescuing the most outrageous, beguiling woman he’s ever known. Even if she needs his protection most—and he desires her above all others.

Seduction, intrigue and desire lead to an explosive passion…

Julian vowed to shield Piper from the deadly foes seeking to possess her powerful gift. Although he needs her help in controlling his own, the mix could be deadly. Soon what was once a simple agreement to work together becomes enchantingly complex as they surrender to a timeless love…



Praise for Tracy Sumner's novels:

“Delicious and amusing…witty dialogue, sparkling humor and a snappy narrative. A must read!” —The Best Reviews

“Terrific dialogue…and hot loves scenes. If you haven’t read Tracy Sumner before, Tides of Passion is a good place to start.” —All About Romance

“A powerful relationship novel that explores the heartache and triumph of love.” —Romantic Times

“The battle of the sexes heats up the pages of this fun and fresh romance by talented new writer Tracy Sumner.” —New York Times bestselling author Susan Wiggs



 Excerpt



 There is nothing stable in the world; uproar’s your only music. John Keats

Chapter One

London, 1865



Allowing the lady to lure him into her carriage had been a brilliant idea.

Julian Alexander stared at a spider crack in the ceiling of his Mayfair town home and wondered when he might start to believe it. He could presume encountering a former lover outside Hatchards on an otherwise lonely evening was a fortuitous event if there weren’t the niggling—familiar—pinch of regret the moment his cock settled.

A faint sense of having erred, gone off the path and into a twilight woodland where one could be easily lost.

As lost as he’d felt stepping into her dimly lit carriage.

Julian watched Marianne wrap herself in his silk dressing gown, her chatter lulling him into a state of satiated distraction. Only the first and third word of each sentence filtering through, he found the conversation definitively complete. Earl, garden, tryst, scandal. Titles and the men who held them occupied her undivided interest. Each day spent investigating a riddle that had no solution.

Was not, in fact, worth the attention she devoted to it.

In all fairness, Julian could not judge.

His mystical gift separated him from a normal existence and made the world he’d been born into at times unrecognizable. Out of a sense of duty, he played the part of the gentleman for

the solitary purpose of propping up the viscountcy, adhering to society’s rules while struggling to preserve his secrets and the secrets of those he protected. Of course, he tendered his title when it benefited himself or the League. But a barony would have profited as well and knocked him down a notch, perhaps enough to slip beneath the waves and be carried from view.

He closed his eyes and let the waves crash over him.

Then Marianne mucked it up by kicking the door to the past wide open.

He rose to his elbow, knocking the counterpane aside. Dragging his hand through his hair, he asked, “Repeat that, will you?” Alarm vibrated through his belly, like swimming in the sea and realizing a massive wave crested behind you. No, it couldn’t be. “Come again?”

Marianne’s gaze settled where the sheet hung low on his hips. “So, you were listening.” She reached to touch, a stroke on air. Licked her lips in the event he didn’t register her appreciation. “Jules, with you, I never know.”

He slid high in the bed, suppressing his annoyance. Jules. He’d asked her to refrain from calling him that. Too. Many. Memories. “Marianne, the clairvoyant?”

Her smile grew luminous, her delight underscoring the scant attention he offered. Without trying to be a disdainful cad, it seemed he was precisely that. “Oh, darling, it was the most farcical evening! Ashcroft arranged for a fortune teller to entertain, and you know him. For a duke, he pushes the boundaries of propriety while always staying within the limit.” She leaned in, clutching the lapels of his dressing gown to her bosom. “I heard there was absinthe served to the men. Why, the festivities were enough to make a stuffed bird laugh!”

Julian hummed low in his throat and rose from the bed. He didn’t know but could imagine. Hell’s teeth, he thought and reached for his clothes, which lay in a tidy pile next to the chiffonier. Taken off without haste, neatly folded.

He frowned. How little had he wanted this encounter?

“I didn’t glean any outrageous tidbit about my future. Though I tried.” She lifted a delicate shoulder beneath silk. “More the delight just being there.”

He buttoned his shirt, slipped his braces over his shoulders. “You mentioned the woman had an unusual accent.”

Marianne crossed the room, slippers striking the floor in an eager rhythm. “It was dark, too dark to see anything. Very mysterious. Madame wore a veil, and there was candlelight. The ideal setting. Although Ashcroft seemed oddly anxious the entire evening, adding nothing to our merriment.” At Julian’s impatient look, she rushed on, “Madame’s accent came out on one word. She sounded almost...” She twirled her hand in a languid circle, finger pointed toward the plaster ceiling rose. “Ad-ver-tise-ment. That’s what she called the sheet she handed me. She sounded, can you imagine, American? Would that not be a vulgar surprise?” She laughed it away, swept beneath the Aubusson at her feet. “Although I’m sure I misheard. Doubtless, an upstart trying to hide cockney.”

Julian’s fingers twitched, missing a button on his waistcoat. He moved too forcefully across the room as she took a stumbling step back. “Where is it?” He drew a breath laced with the scent of Marianne’s perfume and the acrid aroma rolling in the open window. Soot, sewage. That damned river. Christ, he hated London. “The advertisement.” He extended his hand, controlling the tremor that wanted to travel from his fingers to his heart.

Could. Not. Be. Piper was tucked away in Gloucestershire. Under armed guard. Protected. Safe. Their enemies had been searching for her since she’d arrived from New York all those years ago. But they wouldn’t look in Gloucestershire. She knew this. He’d cautioned her more times than he could count. Had been advising her for years, it seemed.

Marianne regarded him through eyes the color of fresh cow dung. “Why, darling, I fear I’ve not seen you react…to anything. Appetites fed but the heart untouched.” She waved away her discomfiture and a statement she likely wished she’d kept to herself. Turning in a crimson whirl, she moved to rifle through the reticule sitting atop the chaise lounge, one just the shade of emerald eyes Julian had tried with little success to forget. “Lucky for you, I saved it. As proof, I experienced such an evening. Who would believe otherwise?”

Julian flexed his fingers, preparing for the transmission. His gift didn’t marry well with a lack of sleep. Touching an object and being pulled into the otherworld of someone who had touched it previously was brutal enough. Stepping into that world when exhausted was reckless and allowed the experience to control him.

Maybe it wasn’t Piper, and this endeavor would be nothing more than supernatural experimentation. He’d sent Finn to visit her last month. Or had it been May? A headache moved to the base of his skull. Lifting his hand to his brow, he pressed hard.

Blast it, had they not visited since the spring?

Marianne thrust the advertisement at him, and he hesitated. Taking time to notice she’d only secured an ear bob, and it dangled there without a partner, bouncing as she did. Her lips canted, though he’d bet a half-sovereign the smile would disappear if she fathomed the source of his reluctance. If she had any idea who he truly was and how his gift of sight forever separated them, she would run screaming into the misty night. “If you’re interested, Julian, and I’m shocked you are, Madame DuPre is doing a reading tonight. The address is listed.”

His breath seized. Madame DuPre. The name conjured forgotten summers of youth. Running through fields of grass so tall the blades hit his thigh; swimming in shallow lakes on moonlit nights; climbing trees until he was breathless surveying all that fell below. Laughter and

foolishness—even love by some arcane definition—on a scale he and Piper could no longer afford.

Julian huffed a sigh and grabbed the sheet before he could think better of it. Or stop himself, which he would not, because it appeared Piper had jumped off another goddamn ledge.

And he was her rescuer. Her caretaker.

Her warden.

I’m going to throttle her, was all he managed as he crushed the foolscap in his hand and stepped into the otherworld.

Shadow and candlelight bathed the room. The curious combination of burnt ashes, spice, and lilac. Piper was settled over a desk, her gown as golden as the Kingcup scattered along Harbingdon’s riverbank each spring. Moonlight carved a path along the floor and Julian followed the dazzling footpath of silvery blue. The walls surrounding her were covered in tattered wallpaper, peeling at the ceiling and seams. The furniture was scuffed, the rug threadbare. The dwelling was nothing like Finn’s description of the modest but opulent manor in Gloucestershire.

His heart thumped desperately against his breastbone. She was more vivid than any model he’d ever painted, and he had tried to recreate her, a thousand strokes of brush to canvas.

Her vibrancy eluded him.

Stumbling back, he tried to step out of the trance. It was a problem lately that he had trouble doing so. The otherworld had a voracious claim on him. Through eyes drawn to slits, he observed Marianne’s lips moving, but he was too entrenched in another space and time to respond.

Too entrenched in her.

Independent of his gift, Piper Scott had a stronger hold over him than any woman could ever hope to have.

Muttering a harsh oath, he dropped the advertisement like it burnt his skin and the image of Piper spiraled away, water down a drain. Forcing him from the room with the tattered wallpaper and the girl he’d sworn to protect with his life but never touch again to preserve hers.

The woman for whom he hungered.

Dear God, Piper, what have you done?

He was through the door and into the hallway before another breath had passed, ducking as a vase accompanied Marianne’s shriek of rage.

#


About the Author


Tracy's story telling career began when she picked up a copy of LaVyrle Spencer's Vows on a college beach trip. A couple of degrees (BA, Journalism-MA, Media Arts) and a thousand romance novels later, she decided to try her hand at writing a southern version of the perfect love story. With a great deal of luck and more than a bit of perseverance, she sold her first novel to Kensington Publishing.

Tracy has been awarded the National Reader's Choice, HOLT Medallion, the Write Touch and the Beacon - with finalist nominations in the HOLT Medallion, Heart of Romance, Rising Stars and Reader's Choice. Her books have been translated into German, Dutch, Portuguese and Spanish.

She lives in the south, but after spending a few years in NYC, considers herself a New Yorker at heart. She loves hearing from readers about why she tends to pit her hero and heroine against each other or that great novel she simply must read.


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