For the first few years of my life, I lived in tropical places. I never saw snow except in movies and freezing to me was sixty-five degrees. I loved nothing more than swimming, chasing lightening bugs and having the summer sun warm my skin that was sticky from melted ice cream and sweat.

So, it would be natural to assume that summer is my favorite season. But I love fall. I love the way the air cools and has a crisp edge to it. I love to see the leaves change from green to red, yellow then fall to the ground. I love to walk through the fallen leaves and hear the crunch under my feet. And there is nothing better than to bundle up in cozy sweaters that are more like a cocoon than a piece of clothing,

My love for autumn comes from more from the season and its trappings, it’s something about fall that relates to me deep in my soul. A part is the fact that I’m a late bloomer. I had always wanted to write but was to scared to go after it. When I applied to college, I marked my perspective major as creative writing in all but one university. That was the one that I went to—Syracuse University.

But after all that I was like an aster and my writing career bloomed in my early thirties. Another reason fall is my season is because of the change. When the world goes from ninety degrees to sixty-eight, you feel it. It’s shows in all the world around you, in every part of nature. Another part, I love is cuddling under a blanket and reading a book. I like being alone. I’m an introvert. And this season is for me.

Well, all but pumpkin spice. I hate pumpkins.

What season is your favorite season?  And what do you love about it?

The Chieftain’s Secret

On a windswept Scottish Isle…

Many objects wash up on the shores of the rugged Isle of Mull. The Laird of Lochbuie never expected a pregnant wife to be included in that. Honorable Niall MacLean was wed to his childhood love when she died in childbirth. Now a widower, he struggles to get beyond his grief. Then a dear friend, Ermina Bruce pleaded for his help. His protective instinct came alive and he handfasted with Ermina to save her from an unsuitable marriage and one drunken night has led to forever after and a repeat of his past heartbreak. 

The bonds of friendship…

Noble Ermina Bruce has loved Niall MacLean since he first fostered in her uncle’s home. But he loved another so she settled for the deep bonds of friendship. When her family arranged a marriage she didn’t want she knew Niall could save her from that miserable fate.

One night of passion…

That one night in Niall’s arms led to her pregnancy. Ermina has not told Niall of their secret baby. But his reaction isn’t her greatest fear. Her fear is even greater than the brave laird’s wrath. Every woman in her family has died in childbirth and all know the same fate awaits her. Once again, Ermina knows Niall is the only one who can save her. And if he fails, her last days shall be with the man she has loved since childhood.

Will love have a chance to come alive?

Purchase link: https://www.amazon.com/Chieftains-Secret-Medieval-Scottish-Romance-ebook/dp/B07SD9DKYJ/

Excerpt:

Prologue

The church preached the Lord had a plan for all living creatures. Ermina Bruce wondered about her own divine design. Naturally, marriage, children, and a household of her own were included in the life plan. For Ermina, she would have liked a hint of what else awaited since her life had taken a surprising turn.

“Don’t fall into the fire.”

A scream squeaked from her as she spun around and nearly toppled into the hearth. Niall snatched her back and against his hard chest. She landed with a humph. Her nose and cheek smashed against him. She drew a breath into her empty chest along with the manly scent mixed with wine, leather, and musk. She planted her hands flat on his chest and straightened.

“Niall, you frightened me”—she shoved her palm hard against his chest, not that he wavered from her strike—“Sneaking in here without making nary a sound.”

He shrugged. “The skills of a Highlander.”Niall swayed on his feet.

Ermina grabbed him by his forearm to steady him. “The skill is made more impressive since you are drunk.”

“I am celebrating our handfasting.”He lifted his hand. He frowned as he realized his hand was empty. “I seem to have forgotten my cup.”

Ermina turned away from his empty hand hovering in the air as if it were curled about a cup.  He couldn’t see her tears. He would ask her why she cried, and she couldn’t reveal the truth. Worse than her unreasonable emotions for him, she knew his reason for drinking until the world faded to the edges of his awareness. That knowledge never stemmed the roaring need to scream down upon his head. She hated seeing his eyes heavy from drink, his movement sloppy, and hearing his slurred speech.

“There have been enough toasts tonight. From all the warm wishes, if a wedding had occurred we would have had a very blessed lifetime. ”

That sounds wonderful. A lifetime with Niall.

“Your uncle scowled through the ceremony.”His befuddled voice snapped her free from her thoughts. His stance was wide but that failed to stop him from swaying.

She didn’t reach to steady him. Right now, with the dull ache thumping through her, she decided touching him was stupid.

Her uncle, the fourth earl of Annadale, and head of the family, had been snarling and growling since Niall and she informed him of the handfasting. There was no reason for his behavior to change on this day. “Aye, he did raise his cup begrudgingly.”She ambled to the bed and perched on the edge. “At least, we were both screamed upon but our lives were not in too much danger.” She put her feet up.

“I am accustomed to his temper. You were trembling like a new recruit.”Niall joined her and fell back. He threw one arm over his head and rested the other one on the flat of his stomach.

“I rarely witness that side of my uncle.”

“You thawed his plans but he gave in to your wants in the end. At least you will not be teetered to that auld man. I imagine Bruce will have more care in your next match.”

“I pray you are right. I do not wish to be bound to a man who believes a husband should not spare the rod with a wife.”Ermina fell back beside Niall. He peeked out the corner of his eye and stretched out his arm. She scooted over and propped her head on his muscular forearm.

This wasn’t the first instance that Ermina had been this close to Niall. This time, though, felt different. They were handfasted. Not that that knowledge changed anything. That was a falsehood. It changed everything for her. Her yearning for him sharpened.

She could bury her nose in the crook of his neck and breath in his scent. Just one whiff of his singular scent and a rush of warmth and pure happiness filled her. Then the longing came and the knowledge that she would never have his love smothered every ounce of her desire.

He rested his head against hers and let out a wine-scented sigh.

His lips were less than half a finger length from her own. Their breaths mingled. She could kiss him. She could finally feel the texture of his lips and discover if they felt as she had imagined.

That was wrong. They were friends. He had saved her from a marriage to a man she had no desire to be united with. A kiss would ruin their bond. That was one act she refused to allow.

“’Tis the first time we have lain together on a bed.”

“You make it sound sinful.” She hoped she put enough of a sneer into her voice so he couldn’t hear the rush charging through her.

He rolled his head to the side and wiggled his dark brows. “Most sinful.”

His intoxicated gaze flittered over her face and lost the stressed lines that pinched his face. His warm regard changed to one darkening with desire. His gaze slowly traced over the lines of her face then to her mouth where it lingered, tracing the shape. His mouth parted as if he were preparing to kiss her.

She stilled, unwilling to break the bond between them. Not once in her life had she been the focus of his smoldering gaze. She had seen glimpses of it when he spoke of Siobhan. Now, his narrowed eyes centered on her. His desire was meant for her and her alone. She had never been kissed. For Niall to be the first… Her whole body went hot and slowly melted. She went a little dizzy. He would kiss her. She licked her lips in preparation.

He blinked. Niall let out a heavy sigh laced with a groan. She understood its meaning. Siobhan.More than twelve months had passed since his wife’s death. Naturally, she understood the reasons for him losing himself in drink. Niall had loved his Siobhan since their childhood.

When Niall arrived at Annadale to foster at the age of eight, he had already been—as he said handfasted—to her. When he returned to the highlands as a knight, he had wed her. Ermina never met Siobhan, but she had been entertained and jealous of the highland lass as she listened to his countless stories that always centered around Siobhan. With each telling, she had felt the all-encompassing love he possessed for her. Aye, she understood the reasons for his drinking with each raise of his cup, and her heart ached for him.

“If I were to take another wife, I would be pleased to have you.”

He rolled on his side and placed a peck on her cheek. Instead of putting a proper distance between them, he rested his chin upon her shoulder. She leaned her head against the top of his head and listened to his easy breathing.

“I would be pleased to have you for a husband.”She felt that emptiness inside of her that ached to be filled. The sensation that hollowed her whenever she thought of Niall. If she had to name the turmoil within herself, she might have thought it longing. The corner of her eyes began to burn as if tears were forming. She blinked with such rapidness she could have started a storm. There was no reason for them. Niall would not be the man she would spend her life with.

He lifted his head. His nose brushed along her jaw and across her cheek, halting when he buried the tip in her hair. His lips hovered over her ear. His exhales blew across her lobe. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the lulling sensation.

“Ermina, you are a beautiful woman and shall have all the happiness life can give.”He kissed her—a simple peck that sparked goose bumps across her.

He drew back and stared at her. There was softness, nay, tenderness in his eyes. It wasn’t because of the color but the hooded shape that gave him an earnest expression. The hazy gloss dulled the brightness of his dark, burnished eyes.

“This isn’t right but I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to.”He fitted his mouth to hers with the softest of pressure. She should have turned away. Niall did not know what he was doing. She did.

With his top lip, he nudged apart her shocked mouth. The tip of his tongue flicked against her stiff one. She opened to him. Her mouth filled with the taste of wine. The tart flavor jolted her. The hairs on her arms stood as a current race through her.

This was foolish.

’Tis only a kiss…

About the Author

An Air Force brat, Mageela Troche has lived throughout the world then landed in New York City. She wanted to leave the same day she arrived. Yet, with her stubbornness, Mageela learned to like the place and the libraries were the main reason. Since she was a little girl, Mageela wanted to be an author and an actress, however, once in college, she changed her life plan in the pursuit of money. After all, college loans must be repaid.

 With life’s twists and turns, she returned to writing and focused on the romance genre. Mageela Troche’s first break came when she sold a short story to a magazine. She sold two more before the publication of her historical romance novel, The Marriage Alliance.She has gone on to write four more novels and a novella.

 Mageela is currently writing in the cramped corner of her Big Apple apartment. She is the proud owner of a Black-masked lovebird named Boobula. She loves to hear from her readers and can be found online at MageelaTroche.com

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Not all book ideas spring full grown into an author’s mind. Indeed, most of the books I’ve written begin with a line or two of dialog, or perhaps just a situation. With The Herald’s Heart, the image that sprang to mind was that of a knight lost in a thick fog. A hideous wail fills the air, and for a moment a gap forms in the fog. A woman’s face fills the gap. She’s pale but beautiful and the knight wonders if she’s a phantom. So I had to ask myself who was the knight, who was the woman, what were they doing at that spot at that time, what events would follow, and why?

Over the years, I would work on this project then put it aside for books with actual deadlines and resume searching for The Herald’s Heart in between contracts. Before I found the real story that I was writing, the tale went through two other major iterations. My first drafts were titled, “Found in the Heart.” I knew without doubt the story was about finding what was true, i.e. ‘love’ in one’s heart. But the story did not stay that way for long.

As I explored my heroine’s character, I discovered she was a victim of identity theft. Proving one’s identity in the middle ages was very difficult. A person needed to produce witnesses and documents attesting to the truth of his or her claim that he or she truly was a certain person. Because the heroine’s family is murdered, and she is lost far from home, no one can witness her claim. So everyone doubts she is the woman she knows herself to be.

When all of that came to me, the story’s second iteration was born, “The Last Bride.” It’s a good title, and I may use it for a different book someday. But the entire reason for the murder of her family was to force her to become the bride of a local earl with a cruel reputation. He’d buried seven or more other wives.

Hence my heroine’s parents objected to the marriage proposed by their overlord the earl.

Then my hero pops into my head, completely lost in a fog. It allowed for a vaguely gothic opening to the story and was representative of his task in proving or disproving the heroine’s claim to be ‘the last bride’ of the cruel earl.

All of this combined to create a more complete picture of The Herald’s Heart in my mind, and thus the third and final iteration of the story was born. In truth, my hero herald had to find faith in his heart that the woman he was coming to love was not a liar, deceiver and potential murderess. Yes, murderess.

Remember that cruel Earl. Sometime after murdering her family, he met a gruesome death that could only have been murder. But who did it? It was writing the journey to discover the truth that rests in the heart that helped me and my heroine win The Herald’s Heart.

Excerpt: Find an excerpt from The Herald’s Heart here.

The Herald’s Heart

Her identity was stolen. He thinks she’s a murderer. Will love help them discover the truth?

When he ceased serving as one of King Edward I’s heralds, Sir Talon Du Quereste imagined he would settle on a quiet little estate, marry a gently bred damsel, and raise a flock of children. The wife of his daydreams was a woman who could enhance his standing with his peers, and certainly not an overly adventurous, impulsive, argumentative woman of dubious background.

When her family is murdered, Lady Larkin Rosham lost more than everyone she loved—she lost her name, her identity and her voice. She’s finally recovered her ability to speak, but no one believes her claim to be Lady Larkin. She is determined to regain her name and her heritage, but Sir Talon Du Quereste guards the way to the proof she needs. She must discover how to get past him without risking her heart.

Buy Links: Smashwords Amazon Universal Buy Link

About Rue Allyn

Award-winning author, Rue Allyn, learned storytelling at her grandfather’s knee. (Well, it was really more like on his knee—I was two.) She’s been weaving her own tales ever since. She has worked as an instructor, mother, sailor, clerk, sales associate, and painter, along with a variety of other types of employment. She has lived and traveled in places all over the globe from Keflavik Iceland (I did not care much for the long nights of winter.) and Fairbanks Alaska to Panama City and the streets of London, England to a large number of places in between. Now that her two sons have left the nest, Rue and her husband of more than four decades (Try living with the same person for more than forty years—that’s a true adventure) have retired and moved south. When not writing, enjoying the nearby beach or working jigsaw puzzles, Rue travels the world and surfs the internet in search of background material and inspiration for her next heart melting romance.. She loves to hear from readers, and you may contact her at Rue@RueAllyn.com. She can’t wait to hear from you.

Find Rue Allyn On-Line:
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A Few Reviews

4 stars. “A gem for lovers of the medieval – 4 stars. In The Herald’s Heart, Rue Allen has given us a medieval novel that is out of the ordinary, with an unusual plot, strongly drawn characters, and gothic overtones, including a mad anchoress and a haunting.” Author Jude Knight

4 stars. “Atmospheric and Fast Paced. . . . a strong, plucky heroine and a hero who has it all. He is loyal, responsible, honorable, strong, handsome—and just enough of a clueless male to frustrate the heroine. The secondary characters are well drawn as well. . . .” Author Caroline Warfield

5 stars. “What can I say about a book that has suspense, love and spice. I loved it. I sure hope we will be able to visit them again in another book.” Marina Leonard, Amazon.com

“Great storytelling on Ms. Allyn’s part makes the centuries fall away . . . as each page comes to life. . . . A suspenseful mystery or two to solve!…and did I mention very passionate romance?” Reviewer Dianne, Goodreads

In the scientific community, there is some argument on whether time travel is possible. The hypothetical theory for it is called an Einstein-Rosen bridge, otherwise known as a wormhole. A wormhole is a short cut through the space-time continuum. It acts like a tunnel connecting two places in three-dimensional space, the present, and the past or future, with time as the forth-dimensional element.

The key aspect of a time travel novel, regardless of what time it takes place, is the fish out of water trope. Imagine, for a moment, that you suddenly found yourself in the 1800s. All the everyday things that you are used to haven’t been invented yet. How do you survive?

In 1876, Edison was still perfecting his telephone. The carbon arc lamp was the first practical electric light in use, but only in larger cities. Women’s clothing included a long line bodice and hemlines that reached the floor. Freedoms and socially acceptable behavior were different. Louis Pasteur and Robert Koch established the germ theory of disease in 1870 but it is not widely practiced. The first city to have a comprehensive sewer system was Chicago in 1885.

How does a woman who is used to having her independence and modern conveniences, cope in a world that doesn’t have cars, air travel, air conditioning, television, radio or even the right of women to vote?

The heroine in my latest time travel story has to make the decision to return to her own time or remain in the past with the man she loves knowing what she is giving up. Is love more important than indoor plumbing or owning your own business? The answers are in my Halloween novella, THE PORTRAIT, part of the Love through Time series. Coming September 17th.

The Portrait

They had only the ghost of a chance…

The first time Catherine went to the historic Hamilton House, she was looking for whatever haunted it. But what she found was even scarier: a portrait of a woman who looked exactly like her. But Catherine was not going to let a look-alike from another century—or a broken heart in the twenty-first—stop her. She would still put on the fund-raiser of the mayor’s dreams so she could realize her goal: a bed-and-breakfast of her own.

David gave it all he had, but couldn’t escape what felt like a life-sentence in his family’s 19th-century prison. He wanted to go West, build his own business, and find his own wife. But his parents stymied him at every turn, choosing both the woman he would marry and the career he would follow. It wasn’t until Catherine popped into his life—and into his arms—that he found hope again.

Buy Links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07X7ZBJ1Z?ref_=pe_3052080_276849420
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1133277052;jsessionid=AC391BDA1382DE947FC6F53223236637.prodny_store02-atgap17?ean=2940163568963
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1478360582
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-portrait-39

Social Media Links:
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Twitter: @augustinavhoven
FaceBook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Augustina-Van-Hoven-Author/336028986575129
Pinterest: Augustina Van Hoven, Author

UPDATE: The winner is…Michelle Oxrider!
*~*~*

©Diana Cosby 2019

When I craft characters, such as Sir Cailin MacHugh, hero of Forbidden Alliance, book #4 in the bestselling The Forbidden Series, I look for animals that can serve as their talisman, something the character believes holds magic powers to protect them, brings good luck, or is a sign of strength.

One of my favorite talismans for characters is a hawk. They’re intelligent, strong, and determined.

The hawk I’m showcasing today is the Cooper’s Hawk.

You can tell if the Cooper’s Hawk is a fledging or an adult by their eye color. Younger birds’ eyes are pale, whereas the older birds’ eyes will darken to a deep red.

Regardless of the type of hawk, whenever you see one on the ground, in a tree, or flying overhead, their regal air commands attention.

It’s obvious why nobles as rulers throughout the centuries have claimed the hawk as a symbol in their banners.

What do you find intriguing about hawks?

About Diana Cosby

A retired Navy Chief, Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Books in her award-winning MacGruder Brothers series have been translated in five languages. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC, and appeared in Woman’s Day, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happy Ever After,” MSN.com, Atlantic County Women Magazine, and Texoma Living Magazine.

After her career in the Navy, Diana dove into her passion – writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. After the release of the bestselling MacGruder Brothers series, The Oath Trilogy, and the first two book of The Forbidden Series, she’s now working on book #5, Forbidden Realm, of the five-book series, which will be released April 2020.

Contest

***ONE winner will be drawn from everyone who posts on my guest post about, ‘Hawks – Character Talisman,’ on Delilah’s blog between 8th September 2019 – 15th September 2019. The winner will receive one of Diana’s totes and Celtic earrings by Joy Boothby, J and T Jewelry and Designs.

Diana Cosby, International Best-Selling Author
www.dianacosby.com
The Oath Trilogy
MacGruder Brother Series
Forbidden Series: Forbidden Legacy/Forbidden Knight/Forbidden Vow/Forbidden Alliance‒Aug. 6th 2019/Forbidden Realm April 2020

What do you think the future will look like? We’ve had a lot of television shows and movies depicting different possible futures. The most well know would be the STAR TREK series. The series portrays humans in the future as explorers who have gone into space to see who and what is out there. The film BLADE RUNNER gives a dystopian view of the future. There are cartoon shows like FUTURAMA and THE JETSONS which give a different twist and serious programs like THE EXPANSE and ENDER’S GAME. The future is limited only to the imagination of the writer.

There are difficulties in imagining what things will be like in thirty or fifty years. In the 1985 movie, BACK TO THE FUTURE, the DeLorean travels thirty years forward in time where Doc Brown gives it a flying upgrade because all the cars thirty years in the future could fly. Well, 2015 has come and gone and we still don’t have flying cars. In 1987 my father passed away from a heart problem of a leaky valve. Last year my husband had robotic heart surgery to repair a leaky valve. We have made amazing advances in medicine in the last thirty years. What will the next thirty look like? In 1969, Apollo 11 landed on the moon using computers with less computing power than most people carry around in their pockets today, smart phones. What will the machines and computers of the future look like? Today we can buy devices for our homes that turn on and off lights, music, television and appliances. What new innovations will we have in the year 2050?

In my latest novel in the Love through Time series, A WAY BACK, my character, Jack Sinclair, is accidently sent eighty years into the future and has to deal with all the strange things he finds there while figuring out a way to get home.

I’ve had to think a lot about what the world will be like in eighty years. What changes and advancements do you think we’ll have by then?

A Way Back

Time travel only seemed like a good idea.

Like many before her, Sarah Anderson is determined to make her fortune in the Wild West. She loads up her skirts with twenty-first-century necessities, gives her fiancé a kiss, and takes the leap. Only to land in the wrong decade. She’s lucky. She finds a job. But until she can save enough pennies for the return trip, she must contend every day with the fear of discovery, slop buckets, and roving hands.

Jack Sinclair returns from yet another business trip only to learn that his fiancée has left him for another time. They are now many miles and two centuries apart. Jack is stunned. But only for a moment. He sets out to find Sarah and bring her back home. Or die trying. Jack’s only fear is that he might be too late to save the love of his life.

Buy Links
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Back-Love-Through-Time-Book-ebook/dp/B07QGQ5S4K/ref=sr_1_8?crid=1LAQO6U9NSFRZ&keywords=augustina+van+hoven&qid=1558639326&s=gateway&sprefix=Augustina
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-way-back-augustina-van-hoven/1131176479?ean=2940156513673
ITunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1459110731
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/a-way-back-5

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Are there really? From the expression of Edwin Booth on this 1866 playbill from the New York Public Library’s digital collection, he looks like he’s thinking that might not be such a good thing. I first encountered Hamlet’s sentiment in an eighth grade English class. I always thought it strange that he would feel the need to say it when both he and Horatio have just seen and heard the ghost of Hamlet’s dead father. It is a line that has stayed with me fifty years later as I have pondered just what those “things” might be. Those things we can only detect through a mind open to the possibility of the sixth sense or extrasensory perception (ESP).

There are nine types of ESP that, when explained, show how being attuned to the feelings and/or our surroundings, ESP feels quite logical and for a writer pretty darned cool elements to incorporate into a story.

Precognition – The ability to see into the future.
Retrocognition – The ability to see into the distant past.
Clairvoyance – The ability to see events without being physically present.
Mediumship – The ability to communicate with spiritual world and talk to the deceased.
Clairsentience – The ability to feel the emotions of others.
Clairaudience – The ability to receive messages and information through “psychic hearing”.
Telepathy – The ability to read the minds of others and know what they’re thinking.
Clairalience – The ability to get psychic impressions from the sense of smell.
Clairgustance – The paranormal ability to taste a substance without putting it in mouth.

Check out this link if you’d like more detail on them: https://www.psychics4today.com/types-extrasensory-perception/

Hamlet and Horatio experienced mediumship. I wonder if during the African-American walking tour I did last Fall I didn’t experience it as well. Was it only my vivid imagination that allowed me to feel, see and hear the spirits of those Africans and African Americans striving for freedom, for a better life?

Why can’t a person be so sensitive to another person’s body language that they can feel what someone is feeling? Couldn’t you be so knowledgeable about a place, an era and particular events that when you’re in that place you can connect to the energy still inhabiting that place and see what took place there as if you had actually been present?

A smell, a sound, a taste can thrust us back to a moment and cause us to from the past only be stored in memory?

What if we intentionally trained ourselves to use our five sense to their fullest capacity? It’s a myth we only use 10% of our brains, but I’m willing to bet we’re only fully focused and intentional is using our brains 10% of the time. What if we could harness our ability to see, hear, taste, smell and touch to the point where we transcended time and space?

Being in the moment doesn’t only have to mean we’re only aware of what’s here and now. William Faulkner wrote “The past isn’t dead. It isn’t even past.” Being in the moment also means being aware of what came before and by extension what might be to come. I like to think so. How about you?

Better To Marry Than To Burn

Freed Man seeking woman to partner in marriage for at least two years in the black township of Douglass, Texas. Must be willing and able to help establish a legacy. Marital relations as necessary. Love neither required nor sought.

Caesar King’s ad for a mail-order bride is an answer to Queen Esther Payne’s prayer. Her family expects her to adhere to society’s traditional conventions of submissive wife and mother, but Queen refuses. She is not the weaker sex and will not allow herself to be used, abused or turned into a baby-making machine under the sanctity of matrimony. Grateful that love is neither required nor sought, she accepts the ex-slave’s offer and heads West for marriage on her terms.

Her education and breeding will see to that. However, once she meets Caesar, his unexpected allure and intriguing wit makes it hard to keep love at bay. How can she hope to remain her own woman when victory may be synonymous with surrender?

Excerpt

With thanks to God, he pushed past her flimsy drawers to the moist welcome of her center. Her vaginal walls gripped his fingers with surprising force. No amount of twisting or turning wrenched them free. God, to have that grip surrounding his shaft.

He pulled back and studied her face. Eyes still closed, a sly smile bowed her perfect lips. She enjoyed this battling as much as he.

“Was I too brutal for your enjoyment, Mrs. King?”

Her eyelids rose with the slow grace of sunrise. A gleam as sly as her smile shone in her gaze. “You call that brutal, Mr. King?”

She unclenched her lower muscles, allowing his fingers momentary retreat. With great care, she grasped his hand then slid his fingers between her folds once more.

“Holy Christ, woman. What—?”

The gentle rubbing robbed him of his ability to think.

“Jesus, have mercy,” he wheezed.

She slid his fingers from her wet sex into his mouth. He moaned, lost in her delectable taste.

Without taking her gaze from his face, she raked her gloved hand down his chest, across his belly, to his groin. Anticipation tensed his muscles in the wake of her touch. He watched mesmerized as, with a practiced ease, she unbuttoned his fly, pushed past the fabric, sought, found and stroked his cock. Her woolen gloves imparted a delicious friction he couldn’t oppose, even if he’d wanted. Delight enlivened every muscle in his body, including his jaded heart.

Jesus. This couldn’t be more than arousal. Could it?

Her fingers squeezed and his body arched upward on the yes swelling his spirit with joy. He threw back his head, mouth open, ready to shout as he neared the point of release.

Then she let him go.

He doubled over, slain by the abandonment. His lungs constricted, bereft of air. Reason deserted him too.

She stood and smoothed down her skirts with the hand that had massaged his shaft more deftly than he ever had. Reseated, she grabbed the reins and snapped the leather against his horse’s rump.

“Get up there.”

The wagon jostled Caesar from side to side. Still unable to straighten up, he looked into eyes gleaming with triumph. Her lips curved in a regal smirk.

“Was I too brutal for your enjoyment, Mr. King?”

Buylinks:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KTaGPH
Wild Rose Press: https://www.thewildrosepress.com/books/better-to-marry-than-to-burn

UPDATE: The winner is…Linda!
*~*~*

©Diana Cosby 2019

I love crafting stories, and I trust my muse to give me inspiration to create characters, craft their story, and write their book.

I’ve discovered that my muse is most inspired during my walks through the woods as I enjoy the sights of nature. Read the rest of this entry »