Love and triangle. Two fairly innocuous words. But it’s when they’re paired together in that order that they become possibly the two most hated words in all of romance—the dreaded love triangle.

Whether it was Rory trying to choose between Dean and Jess, Bella between Jacob and Edward, or Elena between Stefan and Damon, whoever she ended up with, I always felt a little cheated. I could never decide who was her perfect fit because each guy matched her in different ways. Why couldn’t she have it all?

And then I discovered my two favorite words in romance. Two words so destined to exist side by side, they’re literally smooshed together. WhyChoose!

A few years ago, I was introduced to a whole new (fictional) world where the heroine could have everything she wanted. Hot Boy Next Door… absolutely! Sexy Bad Boy… yes, please! Sweet Cinnamon Roll… come on down! According to the rules of WhyChoose romance, the more the merrier!

When I decided to pitch my hat in the publishing ring and give penning my own romance a try, there was no question it would be a WhyChoose romance. I wanted my heroine to have three men, each one complex and compelling in his own way and each one able to grow with her and fulfill a different need of hers.

So was born Vasenia and her three love interests, Marek, Gaeb, and Ryfin. In Blade & Thistle, my debut WhyChoose fantasy romance, we get the first installment of their exciting, enemies-to-lovers tale. Be sure to check out the blurb and excerpt below and read for free on Kindle Unlimited. I hope you enjoy reading Vasenia have it all!

Read now: https://mybook.to/Blade-Thistle

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Blade & Thistle

Vasenia has hated her life in Eretamia ever since her father, Imperator Supreme of the Sadoran Army, forced her to join him on his military campaign in the gloomy, backwater colony far away from the high society of the capital. But when her betrothed retrieves her for their wedding, she assumes the gods have finally shined their favor upon her.

Until her caravan is attacked along the forbidden, northern border and Vasenia finds herself in a hell far worse than Eretamia and at the mercy of three ruthless warriors. No, not warriors—Harrow demons.

Barbarians. Savages. Harrow demons. Warriors Marek, Gaeb, and Ryfin and their people, the half-fae Itheni, are known by many names but understood by few who live south of the magical border that protects their home, least of all by the Sadoran invaders.

But when the three warriors rescue a Sadoran woman on their trek home, they discover she’s more than just another invader. She’s half-fae too, a descendent of the lost women whose connection to their people was severed by a curse a thousand years ago.

When an ancient bond links her to them, Marek, Gaeb, and Ryfin realize they have no choice; they must bring their enemy home. But if they want to keep her, they’ll have to claim her and bind her to the fae by the only means they have: pleasure.

Excerpt from Blade & Thistle…
All three of them stand together near the entrance staring at me and exchanging words in their language. I try to focus on the things that made them so barbaric to me mere days ago. The blue tattoos marring their thick forearms. The hair on their chiseled jaws. Their undisciplined stance as if they could unleash the savage at any moment. I swallow thickly.

Single words filter to me. I understand tonight and seal before Marek motions to himself, Gaeb, and Ryfin. Gaeb nods in response and looks at me, his face wiped of humor.

I take a deep breath as Gaeb approaches.

“Sen,” he says, and warmth fills me at the name. It’s not an endearment, but somehow it softens me in ways Lucius’ my love never did.

“The ceremony on the dais bound us to one another, but the binding must be sealed.”

I nod.

“Sealing requires us to join the Goddess together,” Gaeb pauses to let that sink in and adds, “all of us.”

I can feel Marek’s attention focused on me even though his face remains in shadow, and Ryfin’s back is to me but his sudden stillness tells me he’s paying close attention to Gaeb’s words.

All of us.

I knew it as soon as I was brought here. What other use is there for a bed as big as this one? I’ve been preparing myself for this for hours.

Gaeb touches my waist, a feather-light touch but enough to send a shiver through me.

These men may not be demons, but they’re still my enemies. My body doesn’t care, though, as a now familiar feeling begins to ride my blood. What is it if not power?

He said the power in the wych elm is within me as well. If I can coax it out, learn how to master it, perhaps I can use it against them. My passion won’t be wasted anymore.

Gaeb tilts his head and narrows his eyes, attempting to read me. “You understand, yes?”

I nod again.

He cups my face, moving closer. The firelight illuminates the warm brown of his eyes, and his irises shine like sunlight through amber. “Do you want this?” he asks, his fingers caressing my cheek.

My consent is a tactic, a strategic maneuver.

But his touch settles and stirs me at once, building within me a heat that both loosens my limbs and tightens every muscle in my body. His thumb lands just below my bottom lip, and my mind empties of everything but this hunger I have for him, for all of them.

“You have to answer, Sen. Do you want to seal the binding with us?”

“Of course, she fucking wants it. I can feel her fae from here, so let’s get this over with.”

Ryfin stalks toward me, and I gape at him, at the foreign words that sounded so clear to my ears. But before he can reach me, Gaeb shoves him back.

“No,” Gaeb says, and it’s the only word I understand before I lose the translation.

Lucius didn’t ask my permission. It wasn’t required. Father betrothed me to him, and a lady of Dora is her family’s to possess and give away. Thus, I was given to Lucius and he took me, and not a care was spared for what I wanted.

I wanted Lucius’ family name, the access to power he could grant me, the security of his position. But had I wanted him? As I want Gaeb and Marek and even Ryfin?

Gods forgive me, the answer is no. I never wanted Lucius.

Someday this will be over. I’ll be returned to Father, to whatever Sadoran nobleman will take Lucius’ place, and to the role my mother was meant to play had she not proved a lovesick fool.

My mother lacked the control I possess. She didn’t merely want the Jacquerran man who wasn’t my father; she fell in love with him. I won’t make her mistake. I won’t fall in love with these men before me.

But I will fuck them. And then I’ll seize the power it gives me.

I stare at Gaeb, steeling my expression. “Yes,” I say.

UPDATE: The winner is…Sara D!
*~*~*

When I learned how Charlotte E. Ray engineered her success, the old Brylcreem hairdressing advertising slogan came to mind, “A Little Dab’ll Do Ya.” Her use of initials rather than her full name allowed Charlotte to attend the male-only bastion of Howard Law School, graduate in 1872, and eventually become not only the first African-American female lawyer in the United States, but the third American woman of any race to earn a law degree.

One of six children born to Charlotte Augusta Burroughs and Rev. Charles Bennett Ray, Charlotte was born in 1850 in New York City. Charlotte’s family enrolled her in one of the few schools at the time that educated girls, the Institution for the Education of Colored Youth in Washington D.C. There Charlotte took teacher training which enabled her to enroll as a teacher trainee at Howard University.

In 1869, she taught at Howard University’s Prep School, the Normal and Preparatory Department. Knowing of their law school’s bias against women, Charlotte applied to the law department as C.E. Ray. Her stratagem worked, and she was accepted. There is some dispute about whether or not this story is true, but from what I’ve read about her, I believe it. While pursuing her law studies, she continued teaching at the prep school. In 1872 she was the first woman to graduate from the law school. She specialized in commercial and corporate law. After passing the bar exams, she became the first woman admitted to the bar to practice in the District of Columbia and the first African-American woman lawyer in the US.

In 1875, Martha Gadley, an African-American woman whose petition for divorce from an abusive husband was denied, decided to appeal the decision and hired Charlotte Ray to represent her. Ray argued the case before the District of Columbia Supreme Court and won. This victory however could not overcome the discrimination against African-Americans and women Charlotte faced, and she had to close her practice by 1879. She moved back to New York and became a teacher in Brooklyn.

Besides her law practice, Charlotte participated in social justice movements of her day. She attended the National Woman Suffrage Association’s (NWSA) annual convention in New York City in 1876, and she joined the National Association of Colored Women (NACW) in 1895.

Records show she married in 1886 and became Charlotte Ray Fraim but had no children. In 1911, she died of bronchitis in Woodside NY.

I never cease to be amazed at how the women of this era refused to be cowed by societal expectations. Charlotte Ray’s victories are now recognized and celebrated. I’m glad her little stratagem enabled her to get what she strove for.

For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, leave a comment on Charlotte’s life or on the life of any woman you know who let a little stratagem do her.

“Take Me To The Water” by Michal Scott from Silver Soldiers

SILVER SOLDIERS: A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY will satisfy the reader who craves stories with older alpha male heroes—those salt-and-pepper hotties with crow’s feet earned through rugged training and years of combat. Former soldiers finding their footing after their first careers, or current soldiers nearing the end of their military careers. They’re ready to find the right partner to put down roots, ones who aren’t afraid of scars and rough edges.

Excerpt from “Take Me to the Water”…

That pitiable wreck of a man wasn’t her Ambrose.

Older, grayer, leaner, of course. She was older, grayer, leaner, too.
But the figure hunched in that corner of Douglass Fellowship Hall wasn’t her Ambrose.

Her Ambrose had never hidden, never cowered, never shunned attention even though he’d never sought it.

What had prison done to him? What had all these years of absence done to him? Why had she received no answer to her letters? Why had he stayed away when he had been released?

He’s not your Ambrose anymore. That’s why.

She closed her mind to that lie. In his eyes—despite the pain and sorrow etched on his face—she saw her Ambrose.

In whom she’d always taken her delight.

How many Christmases ago had it been when their bodies had become one, when their souls had soared, when their future had been assured? How many had passed since she’d learned of his release? How many had she stood in this window and waited for him to come back to her?

To come back home.

For hadn’t that been what he and she were to one another? What he and she had claimed to be for one another the night he’d left to fight in the West?

Buylink: https://amzn.to/3GBExbG

Growing up there were 3 things I was obsessed with: watching soap operas with my mom, reading young adult books, and listening to music—particularly playing my favorite pop stars all day long. So, it’s no wonder I would write Cecily in the City, a YA book that has a teen girl who is dating her favorite pop singer/songwriter and gets a job on the soap opera her great-grandmother used to watch with her.

I liked creating storylines for my Barbie dolls when I was growing up, and my mom used to let me watch soap operas with her. One of my favorite things to do was finish off cliffhangers on those shows with my dolls. If I didn’t like the way the writers handled the storyline, I’d change it and play it out how I wanted it to end. That’s why two of my characters in the Landry’s True Colors Series, Landry and Ashanti, are obsessed with soap operas, too. They decorate their bedroom doors with pics of soap actors, and I might have done that as well. I even named the magazine they read, Soap Opera Hotties.

In my YA series called the Star Series, I also have my characters Hadley, Charlotte, and their grandfathers watching a soap opera in the books. The soap they watch is called Charmed Lives and I decided to do a crossover with that series and the Cecily Taylor Series, and I have Cecily auditioning for and getting a role on the very show the characters in the Star Series are obsessed with! It’s a fun little Easter Egg for fans of the Star Series as I bring characters and actors they know from that book into Cecily in the City as Cecily is now working with them. And yes, Cecily had a crush on the very actor Charlotte was in love with, too!

If you’re a fan of books that have the heroine getting to live out her dreams (and see the realistic side of what it’s like to date a pop star and also have people comment on your personal life on social media), then check out my Cecily Taylor Series. It’s free on Kindle Unlimited.

Here’s an excerpt from the book, Cecily in the City:

In this scene, Cecily’s best friend, Lila, asks her what it was like to film a scene in a music video with pop star Andrew Holiday. Andrew was Cecily’s music crush and favorite singer who she met on the set of the video and is now dating.

“Weird question, but did doing that scene with Andrew in the music video where you exchange that long romantic glance—did it feel uber romantic or was it just like, a job?”

I smiled as I thought back on the day that I got to be in his music video. I was just an extra and we had only met briefly when I went to the audition, but we had connected when we started talking in his trailer during the shoot. Initially, I had been afraid to meet him and find out he wasn’t like I had imagined him all this time. But I had nothing to worry about because once we started talking it was like an instant connection as we bonded over music, books, and our overall views on life. He was exactly the same guy who wrote the lyrics that spoke to my heart. It was wild to think that the same person whose music got me through the toughest times in my life was now the person I turned to for comfort.

I started to fill Lila in on how it went on the set. “At first, I got all starry eyed because he’s been my favorite singer for a long time. I don’t know how it’d be for an actress who just booked the job and wasn’t familiar with his music. Although, I think it’d be hard to separate fact from fantasy when you’re doing some dreamy scene.”

She nodded. “How do actors gaze into each other’s eyes all day and say all those romantic things and then go about their business when the director yells, ‘cut?’ I mean, a guy held the door open for me at church three weeks ago and I’m still thinking about it.”

We giggled. “Maybe that guy is somewhere right now planning what to say if he sees you at church again.”

She shook her head saying he hadn’t been back to the ten a.m. service and she had given up on him. I bit my lip.

“Well, now you have me thinking about the next time Andrew does a video with another girl and she gets all swoony. I don’t want to be the jealous type, but how do people turn off feelings during stuff like that?”

She nodded. “I wouldn’t be able to handle watching my boyfriend do those scenes either, but we better change the subject before you start overthinking things and get all weird the next time he messages you.”

Too late.

Find my books here in Kindle Unlimited: https://www.amazon.com/Cecily-City-Taylor-Book-ebook/dp/B0B35LSJRK

About the Author

Krysten Lindsay Hager is a bestselling author of young adult, middle grade, and contemporary romance. Krysten writes because she loves bringing people swoony moments & hope-filled happily ever afters. Her books are known for making you laugh, cry, & swoon.

Along with relationships, her novels deal with self-doubt, finding where you belong, true friendship, & soulmates.

Website: https://www.krystenlindsay.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/krystenlindsay/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/krystenlindsay/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KrystenLindsayHagerAuthor

I’m often asked, when did you fall in love with writing? Such a great question. At thirteen, I read a Harlequin romance novel and fell hard. I decided then that I wanted to create love stories. I wrote short stories and shared them with my friends for years. I’ve come along way because now I share my stories with thousands of readers. I’d love to say that I’ve been lucky to have a writing career, but luck has nothing to do with where I am today. When I first started writing seriously, I had a baby on one hip and a laptop on the other. The first couple of books I wrote were written long hand (and probably why I have deformed pointer fingers) in notebooks during the night when my husband and kids were asleep. I also had a day job, so I had gotten good at balancing.

Here are some things you should know about me…

1. I wear my heart on my sleeve. My books are a true reflection of who I am. My characters are flawed, big-hearted, and full of emotion.
2. I’m afraid of what’s under the bed. Yes, it’s funny, but it’s true. I’ve had this fear since I was little.
3. I enjoy baking, painting, yoga, and volleyball. They’re stress relievers for me. My family tells me that I’m competitive and I guess that it’s true. I love to play sports, and will demand a rematch if I didn’t do as well as I hoped.
4. I tend to overthink. 😊

Did you know that I have a new release?

The Ryders and Thorns have been enemies for as long as she can remember. When she finds herself in the middle of a tug-of-war, she’ll have to pick sides. Her choice might tear her family apart…

Circumstances bring her back into the path of a cowboy she fell for once upon a time. To keep her heart safe, she must abide by some rules…

1. No lusting after LB Ryder. He’s hotter than ever, but that ship has sailed.
2. Ignore how the cocky cowboy makes her want to bite nails…and do unbelievably bad things.
3. No kissing, touching, or believing in an enemies-to-lovers fairytale. She won’t take a stroll down memory lane, especially with a man who is T-R-O-U-B-L-E.
4. Break rules 1-3 and repeat. Rules were meant to be broken anyway.

Haisley has always gravitated toward LB. Handsome, smart, cocky, and determined, he’s just the type of guy she finds challenging. And he’s about the only one who isn’t afraid to put her in her place.

LB has avoided the Thorns for years, but when the oldest brother steals a prized horse, LB’s ready to seek revenge. Then Haisley pops back into his life, stirring up the past and making demands. The chemistry is still scorching and the only thing sweeter than revenge is a stroll down memory lane.

As things heat up, LB and Haisley stop fighting each other and are forced to make tough choices…and find a way to navigate a secret that can either start a civil war between the Ryders and Thorns or end a four-decade old feud.

Readers who love enemies to lovers, second chances, and happily ever after won’t be able to put this book down. Craving a Second Chance is packed with emotion, grit, conflict, and a splash of suspense.

Book 1- Whiskey Ryder’s Second Chance
Book 2-Protecting His Second Chance
Book 3-Craving a Second Chance

EXCERPT:

“Still breaking hearts and bulls, huh, cowboy?”

LB Ryder flicked his eyes open and stared at the tent wall. He’d fallen asleep on the bed in the sickbay at the arena after a game of Cowboy Poker. The aches and pains, and the tweaking of an old back injury, were worth being the last cowboy sitting at the table. He took home the gold, and honor, of winning the final event at the annual Wildflower Rodeo Olympics.

Hell, the ass whoopin’ he got from the bull was worth watching Cruise Thorn lose. The son-of-a-gun had taken home the win three years in a row and thought the bull would be a Duck Spinner. Bad mistake. The meanest bull in the lot was drawn.

“Lookin’ good,” came the soft female voice again as the sheet over his backside lifted.

“Hey? Do I know you?” He was slowly coming more awake and aware that something wasn’t right. “I’m waiting for sports med.” The lady working the desk at the front of the tent told him a fellow would be examining him when the other cowboys, who got it worse, were finished.

Holding onto the ice bag against his temple, he lifted his head to get a look at who was in the room and caught a glimpse of dark hair.

“I am sports med. I’m helping Drew because it looks like the bull was the only thing that walked away from that event with his pride intact.” He caught the sarcasm in her tone.

Something about her voice sounded vaguely familiar. He started to sit up, but her fingers dug into the sore muscles of his back, causing him to grunt in pain. Damn, he didn’t realize how badly he’d hurt himself. He clenched his teeth as the pain radiated down into his legs.

He was getting too old for the rodeo.

“Does this hurt?” She moved her kneading to another part of his back.

“Not as much as the other side.” He relaxed.

“Congratulations on winning, by the way.” She buried her knuckles into the muscles on either side of his spine and he felt an instant release. He’d expected to get a bandage and a shot of cortisone, not a massage, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Thanks.”

“This is definitely an event aimed at cowboys who have more brawn than brains.”

LB squinted at the remark. “You don’t like charity events, or just cowboys in general?”

“I wouldn’t call four men sitting around a table, playing poker, in the middle of an arena with an angry bull stalking around them being very smart. I could think of a hundred other ways to contribute.”

He laughed. “And miss the friendly competition? What fun would that be?” The competition was anything but friendly. Cowboys took the annual event seriously.

He’d participated in every event from roping cattle, riding broncos, barrel racing, hot pepper eating contest, even a chili cook off, and a line dance competition. The Wildflower Rodeo was a veritable cowboy triathlon, some events tested a cowboy’s endurance, and some were included to make spectators laugh. All proceeds were donated to the charity of choice. Through most of the events, LB and the eldest Thorn brother had been neck and neck in points, but the Cowboy Poker pushed LB ahead because Thorn was sent packing by the bull.

Her fingers were now on his shoulders. “You’re a bit tense.”

“Yeah, it’s been a bit of a tiring two days.”

“You unfortunate thing. I’m sure it has been. I can give you a shot for inflammation and another for pain. You don’t mind needles, do you?”

He sensed animosity in the woman’s words. Angry women and syringes never mixed well in his experience. “A couple of pain pills, some rest, and I’ll be good as new come tomorrow.”

“Then let me see if I can work the tension out of these muscles. We wouldn’t want our star cowboy hurting, now, would we?”

LB opened his mouth to respond, maybe even suggest he didn’t need her services, but she dug her fingers into his shoulders. Even though her bedside manner left a lot to be desired, he enjoyed the brutal massage. Most therapists were too gentle.

He eased his body into the bed. “You have a magical touch.”

A gasp fell off her lips and her hands paused. “Are you flirting with me?”

What the hell? “No, I was only complimenting your skills.” Curiosity rose in him. His instincts were going off like fire-alarms. “Did my brothers put you up to this?”

“Did your brothers also convince that bull to toss you over the rail?” Her voice reeked of cynicism.

LB had patience. Growing up with a house full of brothers, he’d built a wall of strength. Over the years, Bend, Rip, Dean, Raven, and Whiskey had all loved a good joke and any and every opportunity required a prank. LB could see any one of them sending in some random woman to give him a tough time. Hell, he might even have found this funny if he wasn’t banged up by a pissed off bull.

The sheet was pulled away and cooler air swept over his bottom. Now he wished he’d kept his jeans on and dealt with the cut on his butt cheek himself. “Did you say Drew was around?” LB would rather stick with someone he knew.

“He’s somewhere around here, I’m sure.”

He started to push up from the bed, but she pressed her fingers into his glutes, pushing him back down onto the hard bed. She did seem deceptively strong.

Now this was something new.

“About flirting, it’s okay if you can’t control yourself. I know how to manage men who get carried away. You wouldn’t be the first I’ve had to teach a lesson,” she said close to his ear.

LB swallowed hard. He’d never, in all his thirty-one years, taken advantage of a woman. His Pa would tar and feather any of his sons that would dare step a toe out of line with a female. They were taught respect and manners. “I’m feeling much better now. Thank you, but I’ll be heading on my way now.”

“Was it something I said?” she said in a sweet, innocent voice.

“Yeah, I believe it was.”

“Well, please accept my apology. I’m a bit new to this. Will you give me one more itty-bitty try?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “Sure. It would be best if we don’t talk.”

“My lips are sealed,” she said perkily.

He heard the rustling of paper then she practically smacked a bandage on the cut. At least he didn’t need stitches.

Then her fingers were on the backs of his thighs, kneading the tight muscles. God help him, he couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d received a massage that was both blissful and torture all at the same time. He didn’t know whether to relax or anticipate the next time she’d find a pressure point and cause him bittersweet agony. LB decided to lay his head down and close his eyes. She knew better than he did what he needed for his injury.

“So, Cowboy,” she purred. “What made you decide to participate in the Wildflower Rodeo Olympics? I haven’t seen you around in a few years.”

He thought they weren’t supposed to talk.

“Two things. Helping my charity and taking home the title of best cowboy,” he mumbled against the sheet he had his face buried against. He’d leave out the small detail that he enjoyed beating Thorn at something the man had always been good at.

“I’d say it’s pretty lucky that you took first place. If my mind doesn’t fail me, I remember that other fellow, Cruise Thorn, almost winning.” He could hear a lid being opened, a squirting sound then the wet slapping of her hands.

LB stiffened some, couldn’t help himself. “Winning has nothing to do with luck. You’re either skilled, or you’re not.” He wouldn’t say he knew from the beginning that he had the win in the bucket, but he’d kept his nose to the grindstone and stayed focused. From the get-go, all bets were on Thorn. He and his family were well-known in Wildflower Ridge as billionaire superstars.

Buy here

Author Links:
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UPDATE: The winner is…Debra Guyette!
*~*~*

Harriet was born Harriet Adams on March 15, 1825 of mixed-race heritage in Milford New Hampshire. Her mother was an Irish washerwoman. Her father was of African-American and Indian heritage and made barrels. Orphaned by her mother after her father’s death the courts made Harriet an indentured servant to the Hayward family until she was eighteen. In 1851, she married a sailor, named Thomas Wilson and bore a son named George. Wilson died at sea and Harriet and her son went to live on the county Poor Farm.

Not without resources, in 1857 she produced and sold a line of hair care products which her ads claimed to be the real thing for anyone looking to have good hair. Unlike Annie Malone and Madame C.J. Walker, Harriet’s products weren’t targeted only to African-Americans. From 1860 to 1861 she was able to distribute along the east coast by partnering with a white druggist.

Two years later, she wrote an autobiographical novel, Our Nig, in order to make money for her sick son’s health care. He died in 1860. With the advent of the Civil War, her sales dwindled when her partner sold his business.

By 1867, she had become known in Spiritualist circles as “the colored medium. The Boston Spiritualist newspaper, “Banner of Light,”  called Harriet “Boston’s earnest and eloquent colored medium.” From 1867 through the 1880s, she spoke all throughout New England at camp meetings, spiritualist conventions, in theaters, meeting houses and in private homes throughout New England. Her speaking engagements often placed her on programs alongside other medium/spiritualists like Cora L.V. Scott and Andrew Jackson Davis. Harriet also made house calls and held medical consultations as a Spiritualist nurse and healer (“clairvoyant physician”).

She married again in 1870, this time to a pharmacist named John Gallatin Robinson. The marriage ended in 1877 although no divorce has been recorded. From 1879 to 1897, Harriet worked as the housekeeper of a boardinghouse in the South End of Boston where she rented out rooms, collected rents and provided basic maintenance.

On June 28, 1900, Hattie E. Wilson died in Quincy Massachusetts at the Quincy Hospital.

Today, Harriet is best known for “Our Nig; or, Sketches from the Life of a Free Black,” published in September 5, 1859 anonymously by a firm in Boston. The cover page of Our Nig reads “Our Nig, Sketches from the Life of a Free Black in a two-story white house, North, showing that slavery’s shadow falls even there.” It was felt because of her critique of Northern racism the book did not do well as Uncle Tom’s Cabin published in 1852. The rediscovery of Our Nig by author/historian Henry Louis Gates brought Harriet into prominence in 1981. He declared hers was the first novel written by an African-American woman. This has been debated because Our Nig is said to be more autobiographical than fiction. The novel is in the public domain and can be read for free here: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/584/pg584.html

In any case, once again I learned another woman proved she would not be hemmed in by the limitations placed on her by society because of her race and gender.

For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card share your thoughts about Harriet in the comments.

“Take Me to the Water”
by Michal Scott from Silver Soldiers

SILVER SOLDIERS: A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY will satisfy the reader who craves stories with older alpha male heroes—those salt-and-pepper hotties with crow’s feet earned through rugged training and years of combat. Former soldiers finding their footing after their first careers, or current soldiers nearing the end of their military careers. They’re ready to find the right partner to put down roots, ones who aren’t afraid of scars and rough edges.

Pre-Order your copy here!

Excerpt from “Take Me to the Water”…

Weeksville Third Baptist Church glistened and glittered in 1880’s homemade Christmas regalia. Beribboned holly swags and fragrant pine cones infused the sanctuary with seasonal joy. Seasonal joy that missed the mark with Ambrose Stewart.

He remained ramrod-straight in the last pew despite the minister’s personal invitation for Ambrose to come forward for prayer. He refused the offer with a smile and a shake of his head.

The choir sang the hymn of invitation.

Take me to the water to be baptized.

He winced as the song took him back to that night when he and Hephzibah had sung those words to each other in a wonder-filled coupling of cock and pussy.

Several penitents came forward and stood before the smiling minister as the song continued.

None but the righteous shall see God.

Grumbling and gasping parishioners glared at Ambrose with get-on-with-it-stupid expectation.

“What’s he waiting on?”

“You’d think a disgraced, court-martialed soldier would be the first to go forward for forgiveness.”

Ambrose ignored them. He knew how not to be worn down by peer pressure. He’d only come to church hoping to find Hephzibah.

Hephzibah.

Her name meant “my delight is in her.”

His delight had always been in her. Of all days, he’d felt sure she would come to church the Sunday after Christmas.

But she hadn’t.

“I would have come for you. And if I couldn’t walk, I’d crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we’d fight our way out together-knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that’s what we do. We never stop fighting.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

What makes the perfect hero for you? Is he a friends-to-lovers type or do you favor the bad boy or even the villain-turned-lover?

I’ll admit, I’m a sucker for the hero who says the words, “Who did this to you?” Or maybe even growls them. Yep, growling would definitely be better. There’s nothing like that toe-curling growl.

Here’s a list of my top three fantasy romance heroes. They are all more than capable of a good growl. Feel free to add your hero pick in the comments!

1) Hawke Flynn, from Jennifer L. Armentrout’s From Blood and Ash

“With my sword and with my life, I vow to keep you safe.” – Hawke

Hawke is an interesting hero because he’s not only friends to lovers, but he’s enemies to lovers, too. He starts off as the handsome man Poppy kisses in a tavern on her illicit “night out.” When he’s assigned to her as one of her bodyguards, he becomes her fiercest protector and slowly her friend. But by the end of Book 1 in this series, things take a fierce twist. You’ve never seen friends-to-lovers-to-enemies done like this before! I highly recommend checking out this unputdownable series (especially if you like medieval vibes and vampires).

2) Rhysand, from Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses

“He thinks he’ll be remembered as the villain in the story. But I forgot to tell him that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key. He was the one who let me out.” – Feyre

Like most readers, I hated Rhysand at first. Last night I saw a new Sarah J. Maas reader post in a Facebook romance reader group I’m in saying just three words: “I HATE RHYSAND!” The comments below the post were hilarious, as you’ll understand if you’re already an ACOTAR (A Court of Thorns and Roses) fan. The fandom itself is worth reading the series for. Fans of SJM are rabid and devout. There are so many memes and so much fan artwork! And it’s fun to be in on the “twists” of the story.

One of the biggest ones of which is… (STOP READING NOW IF YOU DO NOT LIKE SPOILERS)

That Rhysand may begin as Feyre’s enemy but he slowly worms his way into her heart and reveals himself to be villainous only for the very best reasons (protecting his people is a great reason imo). Moreover, Rhysand and Feyre share something very few romance heroes and heroines share (maybe Jamie and Claire from Outlander are one exception) – similar trauma, right down to their tormentor, which helps them to bond.

3) “Max” Maxantarius Farlione from Carissa Broadbent’s Daughter of No Worlds

“I wanted him in so many ways. As a friend, as a kindred soul, as a fierce teammate. As skin and lips and teeth. As a hitched breathless moan in the darkness or a lazy embrace in the sunrise. I wanted that. I wanted it all.” – Tisaanah

Okay, Max is my exception here because he fits the villain or enemy definition in only the loosest terms. His villainy was forced upon him (read the book to find out how). By the time our heroine Tisaanah meets Max, he’s a quintessential grumpy hermit. With a nice age gap to boot! Max becomes Tisaanah’s mentor and as he trains her in the ways of magic, a friendship slowly blossoms. This is a slow burn romance but the romance is absolutely there! I’m looking forward to finally getting to book 2 of this series.

And finally, my very own fantasy romance hero can be found in my newest release. Queen of Roses is out April 15, 2023. Here’s a quick excerpt…Then keep scrolling for a giveaway!

“Who did this to you?” Draven’s voice was a guttural growl. The sound of a furious animal, not a man.

I shook my head mutely.

“You won’t tell me? You think I won’t find out for myself?” He shook his head as if in frustration. “Morg–”

My eyes widened.

He tried again. “Princess. My lady.” I could see him trying to soften his voice. Which was impossible. A steel sword could never become silk. “Tell me so I may help you. That is all I ask.”

I tried to clear my throat. When my words emerged, my voice was hoarse and cracked. “Thank you, but… there is no need for any of this. I’m fine.”

This time he really did growl. A sound low and deep in the back of his throat.

I tried not to flinch. I failed.

“Last night in the market. Now this. You are not fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. “Tell me this. Has it happened before?”

I was quiet.

The truth was, it had. But not this badly. Last night… Last night was the worst.

Florian had cornered me before. He had hurt me, bruised me. He had even used his knife. I had small scars in a few hidden places from those encounters.

But compared to last night, those had all been childsplay.

Again I thanked the Three that Draven could not see the rest of the marks I bore. Strange, the things we thought we ought to be grateful for.

If he could see Florian’s name carved across my chest, just above my breasts, well… I had the feeling he would explode into a tempest of rage that nothing would be able to contain.

KEEP READING

Giveaway

Want to win a copy of Queen of Roses and other great books? Enter to win a collection of paranormal and fantasy romance books here! (Contemporary and Historical Romance collections available, too!) https://coverandpage.com/april-bookbub-follow-giveaway/

UPDATE: The winners are…Debra Guyette, Flchen, and Cindy!
*~*~*

I was a little stressed last week. And it was all my fault.

You see, I have a new dragon shifter book releasing on April 19^th, which means I’m smack in the middle of the last-minute prepwork for it. Final edits, formatting, ARCs, and uploading the final-final-final version to the online retail sites, etc.

But as of the submission of this blog post, I don’t have a final-final-final version of my book. Because I made a rash (inspired?) decision that upended an important aspect of my current book, and all the books in this series: new covers.

I know it might seem weird to rebrand and recover a series before that series is finished. Or even before the second book is published. But the first book, What a Dragon Wants, was originally intended to be a one-off standalone novella. This story is rife with the concept of opposites interconnected to create a whole: a Viking man and a Chinese woman, a white dragon and a black dragon, storms and fire, yin and yang… So the cover was designed to help convey this.

However, right before I published What a Dragon Wants, I made the impulsive decision to turn it into the first book of a series. After all, the hero had three hawt dragon shifter older brothers who absolutely HAD to have their stories written, and who was I to deny them their happily-ever-afters? The Star of the North Dragon series was born as almost an afterthought.

Does that mean the cover concept for my first book works for an entire series? No, it doesn’t. Not without a lot of unnecessary struggle and mediocre results, no matter how talented my amazing cover artist is. So, when I reached out for the cover to What a Dragon Needs, I was made the impulsive suggestion we re-do it all. And I don’t regret it for a second, because my amazing cover artist can work magic.

I’d be lying if I said I gave her plenty of time. It’s my own fault this last week was so stressful. I wanted something to show for this blog. I wanted to send out ARCs with the actual cover and not a place-holder. I need to upload the final-final-final file. Letting brash, ooh-shiny-object author decisions divert me from my vaguely-outlined publishing plan does a number on the stress levels. Ultimately, my books (and readers) benefit from these decisions. My nails will grow back and the new gray hairs will blend with the established grays. But maybe, just maybe, I can learn from this and better plan my work and work my plan. Think further in advance what my book offerings will be. Better outline my—

Oh, what if I wrote mermaid series?!

Contest

For a chance at a Kindle version of my What a Dragon Needs dragon shifter book, tell me of a time when your plans got hijacked by another (better?) plan.

Or Pre-Order via your favorite online retailer: https://books2read.com/b/49VxAk

What a Dragon Needs

Dragon Council Emissary Lucia Bengtsson visits Minnesota’s clan to discover how they thwarted a recent invasion by a long-prophesized World Destroyer. What she finds is a family that welcomes her with an unquestioning warmth she’s never experienced among her own clan members, who have always judged her by the diminutive size of her Light Dragon. Only the sexy yet antagonistic Ivar Drekison offers her support even as he keeps her at arm’s-length. Arms she desperately wants wrapped around her.

Third-born son of the Star of the North clan, Ivar Drekison’s attitude is as sharp and cold as his Metal Dragon’s claws. When gorgeous yet standoffish Lucia arrives to interrogate his family on their battle strategies, he senses an underhanded betrayal brewing. While everyone else adores Lucia and her gentle manners, Ivar clashes with her in an attempt to force the truth behind her visit. In doing so, he must also battle his own overwhelming attraction to her.

What a Dragon Needs Excerpt…

Ivar stood in one fluid motion and headed toward the sliding screen door, his face set in what must be his resting expression of bored disdain. He stepped close enough Lucia warmed from the heat radiating off his body. Or was that her own temperature rising?

“I’m just gonna squeeze right past ya there.” He murmured as his arm brushed against hers, even though there was plenty of room to pass.

If he’d cut her with a knife, she wouldn’t have been more surprised, and she barely halted the instinctive flinch at his voluntary contact. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stifle the soft gasp that passed her lips. She flicked a glanced at his face. Still bored disdain, but with a devious lift to one side of his mouth and a glint of humor in his eyes. Before she could discern his reaction or apologize for hers, he had stepped past.

“Ivar, grab Miss Bengtsson something to drink while you’re in there.” Arkyn called out as he helped Ulrik heap the grilled meats on serving plates.

Ivar’s snort of contempt rumbled in his throat. “I suppose next you’ll ask me to put her food in her mouth and chew it for her.”

Lucia whirled around as the others yelled a chorus of afront from his comment. She opened her mouth to say something that would put him in his place, to wipe that arrogant expression off his face. But what? If she were Lin, she would likely have an arsenal of biting retorts. But she wasn’t Lin. She was the emissary from the Dragon Council, and had to behave in a manner that would reflect well on all of them, her father included. A snappy comeback was out of the question, even if she had one.

So she dipped her head in a show of honor and forced her voice not to tremble. “That would be unnecessary, as I do not have a hot box.”

His smile turned fiendish, like a dragon with a wounded prey. Why the—Helvete! She’d mixed up her English words and said the wrong one. So much for reflecting well on the Council. She grappled with how to correct her verbal blunder and repair any damage, but Ivar’s gaze heated like a furnace and raked her form again, searing the words in her throat.

“Well, Miss Dragon Council Emissary. If you ever do find yourself with a hot box, we can revisit who will put what in whose mouth.” He took a long swig of his beer as if parched. The heat in his eyes cooled as his normal demeanor returned. “In the meantime, we’ve welcomed you into our home. Make yourself comfortable.”

He flicked the empty bottle in a nearby trash can as he crossed the threshold into the house, tossing over his shoulder as he disappeared from view. “That’s English for get your own beer.”