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The Lady is Trouble Blitz

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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
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 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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The Colonel and the Enchantress Blitz

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An Enchantress Novel, Book 4
Historical Romance
Date Published: February 14, 2020
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From the shadows of war, love rises.
Lady Mary Mowbrah, daughter of a duke, fell in love with a man beneath her station. When he leaves for war, determined to earn her hand as a hero, she promises to wait for him, never dreaming the man who returns will be different from the man who left.
Colonel Duncan Starrett returns from war with honors, accolades, and a debilitating injury. As much as he still loves Lady Mary, he fears a future between them is now impossible.
This is the love story of Mary and Duncan as they forge a future from the shadows of the past.
 
Other Books in the Enchantress Novel Series:
 Enchantress novel series
The Earl and The Enchantress
The Duke and The Enchantress
The Baron and The Enchantress
Excerpt
Prologue
August 1790
 
Five years earlier
Stretching out his legs, Duncan Starrett lay across the picnic blanket, his forearm sinking into the dewy grass beneath. His eyes met those of his love’s—wide, walnut brown, framed with black lashes against alabaster skin. For nearly a year he had loved her, yet one look still made his pulse race.
“I want to come with you,” she said, brushing soft fingers against his cheek.
“I’ll return before you notice I’ve gone; a decorated hero worthy of your hand.”
She pleaded with her eyes.
“The battlefield is no place for you, Mary. How could I fight for Crown and country when worrying about your safety? Not that your family would ever consent for you to follow the drum.”
“Oh, Duncan, let’s elope! It would be so romantic.” Wistful, Lady Mary clasped her hands, looked to the heavens, and fell back against the blanket with a sigh of youthful innocence.
Tree branches danced shadows on her features. His heartbeat quickened as he leaned over her, tracing her lips with his fingertips. Leaving her behind would be the most difficult task of his life. His Mary. His love.
“Dream of my return,” he said. “We’ll attend the best parties, dance until our feet blister, and ride into the sunset on our fastest horses. Once I return, I’ll ask permission for your hand.”
She combed her fingers through his hair, sending shivers from scalp to toes. Pulling him to her, she kissed him, a gentle pout of moist lips pursed to his.
“We’ve lingered too long,” he murmured, lost in the depths of her eyes. “Go home before they notice your absence.”
***
1791
As an ensign in the Light Dragoons, Duncan saw more ballrooms than battlefields, easy to do when there were no battles. He craved the clash of swords and thunder of guns. After a childhood filled with his father’s romantic war stories, Duncan longed to experience the scenes for himself: hiking impossible hills, meeting the enemy with sword drawn, wading through rivers, sleeping beneath the stars. In the quiet of the night, he brandished his sabre at the darkness, practicing his moves, striking a dashing pose.
*
1792
Lieutenant Starrett had yet to see war. Was this his route to heroism? Was he fated to return home an officer who had never drawn his sword?
Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years.
The French were at war with themselves, launching a revolution against their monarchy. The British Army remained idle, waiting. Waiting for what? An opportune moment to fight? Duncan wanted to fight now. For too long he had waited for action. He recalled the promises made when his father purchased his first commission—the Crown would take advantage of France’s weakness. When was this grand takeover? His blade was sharp, his gun was clean, and he was ready.
*
July 1793
Captain Starrett ached with desperation to prove himself.
And then, he found war. Or rather, war found him.
The daring! The glory! The action exhilarated him.
He roared into battle, a fierce foe, heart in his throat, body tingling with excitement tinged with fear. He fought for his life, for his country, for his father, for Mary. In this moment, he was man—raw power, passionate and invigorated, victory red.
He thought himself debonair, a real hero.
With the elation of battle pulsing through his veins, he wrote to Mary. He could not very well return after wielding his sword only once. He wanted more—thirsted, hungered for more. What was another couple of years after the three he spent waiting? It was not as though he would never return.
*
April 1794
Major Starrett dabbed the tender skin of his stomach with a wet cloth. The blade had come too close for comfort. Only now did he realize how close, as it had sliced through his waistcoat and grazed his skin. The more superficial, the more troubling. He winced with each stroke of the cloth.
However safe at camp he was, the apprehension of more bloodshed buzzed in his ears. The morning would see the fighting renewed. His limbs were clammy from the cold sweat all too familiar both post- and pre-battle. Tonight, he would dream of holding Mary, inhaling the aroma of her lavender-scented hair, savoring the feel of her velvet skin.  
*
June 1794
He trudged with throbbing feet, overwrought muscles, and pounding head, disillusioned by war. Lost were his dreams in a sea of red, bathed in the glow of regimental coats mingled with blood. This was not heroic. This was not glamorous. This was a horror show of vacant stares and flashing steel. He was Charon, ferrying sons from their mothers and husbands from their wives. No longer did he crave the battlefield with its death and guilt.
And yet, he still craved the valor, the camaraderie, the rhythm of the drums, the scent of victory, the sounds of gallantry.
*
August 1794
Atop his stallion Caesar, Lieutenant Colonel Starrett of the Light Dragoons led his men into battle. British, Dutch, and Austrian troops launched against the French, a proper invasion of a weakened and ruler-less country. With sabre at the ready, he leaned forward and squeezed his calves to the hot horseflesh, signaling his mount to charge. The formation was tight, mere inches between cavalry riders. A roar of power erupted as they broke through infantry lines, slashing an opening for the foot regiments.
There was no greater feeling than a horse beneath him, an inseverable bond between beast and man. Only his legs and weight signaled his horse’s movements, for his hands wielded weapons of war rather than reins. His horse was an extension of himself.
Boxtel was a fierce and bloody battle, but Duncan was untouchable atop his stallion.
*
January 1795
Colonel Starrett shivered. More men had died from exposure than battle; a harsher winter they had not seen. With white clouds for breath, they prepared to defend the frozen waters of the Lower Rhine. The horses pawed the iced earth, ready. He stroked Caesar’s neck, his hand trembling.
The enemy lined the opposite bank, muskets aimed, bayonets fixed.
Ignoring the smell of fear in the air, Duncan signaled his regiment with his sabre.
Time slowed. Seconds stretched to infinity between spur and charge. Duncan’s attention funneled. He knew only the hoofbeats of his horse, the song of bullets, and his steady breath.
The cavalry hoofed alongside their field commander, an impenetrable wall of horse muscle and blades.
Convinced the Holy Spirit was on their side, the enemy marched across the frozen water.
Steel clanged and men cried as the dragoons broke the line at the riverbank.
A moment of victory before it all went wrong.
Another line crossed the river, muskets aimed, bayonets fixed. Another line behind them. And another. His regiment, decimated by the cold, chattered their teeth along the river’s edge as they watched the endless onslaught of Frenchmen.
Retreat! The cry echoed through the ranks, the survivors running or fighting their way back to safety.
Duncan, one hand wielding his sabre, the other holstering his Elliot pattern pistol, nudged Caesar to about-face. Without further encouragement, the horse turned and retreated, the whole of the allied troops doing likewise.
His one thought: get the men to safety.
A slap to his lower back broke his focus. He looked to either side, expecting to see one of his men. Leaning forward to quicken the pace away from the river, he felt a tightening pressure along his spine, warming as it twisted, a fire poker sinking into his flesh then tugging.
The scorch spread, hot and wet.
As he straightened, slowing his mount, he felt winded, the air knocked out of his lungs. He panicked, struggling to breathe.
Before him, arm outstretched, hovered an ethereal Mary. His Mary. His ladylove. Even as he reached out to her, his head swam in a dizzying vortex. Their fingers touched as he slumped against Caesar’s neck.
 
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About the Author

Celebrated for her complex characters, realistic conflicts, and sensual love scenes, Paullett Golden puts a spin on historical romance. Her novels, set primarily in Georgian and Regency England with some dabbling in Ireland, Scotland, and France, challenge the norm by involving characters who are loved for their flaws, imperfections, and idiosyncrasies. Her stories show love overcoming adversity. Whatever our self-doubts, love will out.
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Valentine Blitz: The Stranger She Married

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Donna Hatch is the author of the best-selling “Rogue Hearts Series,” and a winner of writing awards such as The Golden Quill and the International Digital Award. A hopeless romantic and adventurer at heart, she discovered her writing passion at the tender age of 8 and has been listening to those voices ever since. She has become a sought-after workshop presenter, and also juggles freelance editing, multiple volunteer positions, and most of all, her six children (seven, counting her husband). A native of Arizona who recently transplanted to the Pacific Northwest, she and her husband of over twenty years are living proof that there really is a happily ever after.

 

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The Stranger She Married coverWhen her parents and twin brother die within weeks of each other, Alicia and her younger sister are left in the hands of an uncle who has brought them all to financial and social ruin. Desperate to save her family from debtor’s prison, Alicia vows to marry the first wealthy man to propose. She meets the dashing Lord Amesbury, and her heart whispers that this is the man she is destined to love, but his tainted past may forever stand in their way. Her choices in potential husbands narrow to either a scarred cripple with the heart of a poet, or a handsome rake with a deadly secret.


Cole Amesbury is tormented by his own ghosts, and believes he is beyond redemption, yet he cannot deny his attraction for the girl whose genuine goodness touches the heart he’d thought long dead. He fears the scars in his soul cut so deeply that he may never be able to offer Alicia a love that is true. When yet another bizarre mishap threatens her life, Alicia suspects the seemingly unrelated accidents that have plagued her loved ones are actually a killer’s attempt to exterminate every member of her family. Despite the threat looming over her, learning to love the stranger she married may pose the greatest danger to her heart. And Cole must protect Alicia from the killer who has been exterminating her family before she is the next target.


This romantic story of loss and betrayal, forgiveness and redemption, and strangers marrying, will leave you laughing, crying, and swooning. Sprinkled liberally with suspense, mystery, and heart-melting kisses, this is not your ordinary historical tale of an arranged marriage nor of redeeming the rakes. Fans of Victorian and Regency Eras as well as those seeking clean and wholesome romance with plenty of chemistry, not to mention the redemptive power of love, will love this story!


Dance with a duke, outwit pirates, save a kingdom, and fall in love. Believe in happily ever after.


The Rogue Hearts Series:
The Stranger She Married
The Guise of a Gentleman
A Perfect Secret
The Suspect’s Daughter


Praise for Donna Hatch:
“Donna Hatch is one of the masters of clean romance with electric tension and smokin’ hot kisses.” ~ Reading is My Super Power Reviews

“Written with heart and depth, Donna Hatch’s books are absolute must-reads for any fan of swoon-worthy historical romance.”  ~ Sarah M. Eden, USA Today best-selling historical romance author

Join the Cover Reveal for the 5th book in the Rogue Hearts Series

 

Book Buy Links:

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Snippet:

Mrs. Hancock beamed as Alicia reached her side, put an arm around Alicia, and brought her into their circle. “Miss Alicia Palmer, allow me to introduce Lord Amesbury.”
Even more devastating up close, Lord Amesbury turned to her. His piercing blue eyes threatened the strength in her knees. Though taller than most ladies, Alicia still had to look up to meet his gaze. No other color existed in those eyes; no green or gray, only deep, dark blue, like the fathomless depths of the ocean.
All the other men she had met lately, namely those her uncle insisted she consider for a husband, had taken careful note of her figure. But this gentleman only looked into her eyes. Very deeply.
Lord Amesbury inclined his head. “Miss Palmer.” His resonant, bass voice touched her very soul.
Alicia met his frank gaze and a sensation she did not quite understand stirred within her until breathing became a conscious effort. Mrs. Hancock discreetly coughed, and Alicia realized she’d been locked in eye contact with the Viscount much longer than appropriate.
Unable to pull her eyes away, Alicia sank into a curtsey. “My lord.”
No longer merely polite, his smile broadened, warmed, transforming an already handsome face into a perfectly stunning visage. Sensuality radiated off him, not in a manner that left her feeling threatened, but in a way that left her breathless for more. More of what, she did not know. But she wanted to find out.
“Miss Palmer,” Lord Amesbury said, “May I have the next dance?”
Alicia blinked. She looked back at Elizabeth who smiled encouragingly. Mrs. Hancock also smiled and nodded, but a touch of disappointment tainted her approval, reminding Alicia the dear lady had hoped her own daughter would attract the attention of the very eligible Lord Amesbury. That he’d singled out Alicia seemed a dream.
She squelched all hope that she might hold his interest. Surely only politeness motivated him to dance with the plainest girl first. He’d soon turn his attention to the beautiful ladies.
Finding her voice, Alicia replied, “I would be delighted, my lord.”
As the final notes of the current dance ended and the next began, Lord Amesbury offered his arm. She took it, an unfamiliar quiver beginning in her stomach. The art of dancing, she found as the set began, had not abandoned her as completely as her wits. The handsome viscount danced with athletic grace, his attention focused upon her. The warmth of his hand seeped through their kidskin gloves. He held her gently, firmly.
A playful glint touched his sapphire eyes. “I must warn you. Now that we’ve danced, my aunt will take it upon herself to ask you your opinion of me. She will most certainly interrogate me regarding you.”
She met those probing eyes and her mouth curved. “Oh? Has your aunt become your self-proclaimed matchmaker?”
A wry smile touched his lips. “Of course. I’m thirty and not yet married. She feels it her duty to ensure I produce an heir before I’m too old. Despite my efforts to delay that obligation, she persists.”
Alicia nodded, her smile deepening at his indelicate statement. “That is a dilemma.”
“Since you and I have only just met, it will be difficult to offer a fair assessment of your character. And if I say anything positive about you, she’ll plan the wedding.” His smile brightened, lighting up his stunning face.
Alicia missed her step. Even while dancing with the very handsome Duke of Suttenberg two Seasons ago, such a keen attraction for a man had never overcome her as it did tonight. Yet she was nearly twenty, for heaven’s sake, not a missish schoolgirl!
“Your aunt is a strong woman and a kind lady, my lord. I am sure you can reason with her.”
“I suppose she possesses a good heart deep, deep down inside, but be truthful; she’s sharp-tongued and outspoken.”
She laughed and then clapped her hand over her mouth. “My lord! She might hear you.”
He chuckled. “Fear not. We needle each other as frequently as possible. I say worse things to her face. I enjoy watching her squirm and plot a counter- attack.”
That reminded her of the playful banter she shared with her cousin Robert. “I don’t recall her ever mentioning you, my lord.”
His smile turned self-deprecating. “I’m one of those relations no one mentions.”

 

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More Dangerous Heroes Blitz

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Sizzling Tales of Timeless Desire
Historical Romance
Date Published: January 28, 2020
Publisher: Scott Publishing
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USA Today & Award-Winning Authors present 1600 pages of Romance, Adventure, English Lords and Highland Warriors, and heart-stopping romance.
The Time Traveler’s Desire – Amy Jarecki
A man’s life can fall apart in an instant…
Tougher than oxhide, Lachlan Wallace can take about anything except a breakup call from his wife two minutes before competing in the Karate Championship of the World. Arriving home with a loss, he agrees to watch his uncle’s cat over the holidays. Or so he thinks–until he awakes on a fourteenth-century battlefield beside a woman fighting for her life.
The Wicked Lady – Brenda Jernigan
When Trevor Claremont is blind-sided by a pickpocket, he isn’t prepared for the feisty redhead whom he finds is one wicked lady. Seeing a solution to his pressing problem of finding a bride to please his dying grandmother, he offers her a deal: marriage to him…or prison, never imagining that this little cut-purse will also steal his heart.
A Knight’s Desire – Catherine Kean
Lady Rosetta Montgomery is on her way to her wedding when she’s kidnapped by a rider dressed all in black. She discovers her abductor is Lord Ashton Blakeley, her first and only true love, who left her to go on Crusade. Ash is a changed man now, with disfiguring scars and agonizing secrets. As rumors of lost Anglo-Saxon gold and treachery unfold, and Rosetta grows to understand the man Ash has become, will she help him fight for their love, or will the danger surrounding the hidden riches cost them all that they treasure?
The Angel and The Prince – Laurel O’Donnell
In this exciting medieval romance, the French lady knight known as the Angel of Death wages a battle of wills and desires against her dreaded enemy — the English warrior known as the Prince of Darkness.
Highlander in Her Dreams – Sue-Ellen Welfonder
They met through Highland Magic, can true love keep them together?
After stepping through a magical gateway, Kira Bedwell finds herself in fourteenth-century Scotland, face-to-face with Aidan MacDonald, the irresistible Highlander who has visited her in dreams. As their romance transcends to reality, it will take all of their courage and will for their love to survive beyond time itself…
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Autumn Countdown Blitz – Day 6

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Donna Hatch is the author of the
best-selling “Rogue Hearts Series,” and a winner of writing awards such as The
Golden Quill and the International Digital Award. 
 
A hopeless romantic and
adventurer at heart, she discovered her writing passion at the tender age of 8
and has been listening to those voices ever since. She has become a
sought-after workshop presenter, and also juggles freelance editing, multiple
volunteer positions, and most of all, her six children (seven, counting her
husband).
 
 A native of Arizona who recently transplanted to the Pacific
Northwest, she and her husband of over twenty years are living proof that there
really is a happily ever after.

Facebook ~ Website ~
Amazon ~
Goodreads ~ Twitter ~
Unmasking the Duke cover
The last thing Hannah Palmer wants to
do is flirt with men in a crowded ballroom, but when her sister, the Countess
of Tarrington, throws a Masquerade Ball, Hannah can’t say no to the invitation. 
 
Taking comfort behind her disguise, she dances with a charming masked
gentleman, matching him wit for wit. When the glorious evening culminates in a
kiss, and the two remove their masks, Hannah is horrified to discover the man
she’s been flirting with all night is her most despised neighbor, the Duke of
Suttenberg. 
 
No matter how charming the duke was at the ball, and how wonderful
the kiss, he is the last man she could ever love.

 

 

 

Q & A With the Author:
When did you write your first
novel?
My first pathetic attempt was when I
was in 7th grade. It was basically fan fiction. Around that time, I attempted
screen plays too. I wrote my first novel that later became published (in
incarnation of it, at least) when I was in 9th grade.
What drove you to write/why did you
become an author?
I’ve always loved making up stories
and have been writing them down since 3rd grade. At the time I thought they
were epic but now I look back on them and want to put a sack over my head.
Fortunately, I never attempted to get them published—I just kept writing for
fun. Then one day, I attended a workshop at a local library where an author
spoke of her writing journey and had just published her first book. That really
awoke a dormant desire to see my stories in print.
How do you create your characters?
It’s different with each story.
Sometimes, they come to me fully formed and I just need to listen to them.
Other times, I have to work at it with personality types, backstory
development, and character interviews.
What is one thing you love about
Fall/Autumn?
I love so many things about autumn!
Cooler weather is high on my list which means fuzzy socks, sweaters, jackets,
and spending more time outdoors hiking, walking, or just sitting on the porch
swing. Also, I adore leaves turning all those gorgeous shades of red, gold, and
rust. Autumn means hot apple cider and all of those amazing smells of cinnamon,
nutmeg, apples, candles, and firelight. Plus, Fall means Halloween with all the
fun decorations as well as costumes. Yes, I love dressing up! But one of the
best parts of Fall is gathering with family at Thanksgiving. My grown children
can’t always come home for Christmas, so they often come home for “Thanks-mas”
where we celebrate Thanksgiving on Thursday, then spend Friday decorating the
house for Christmas so we can celebrate Christmas on Saturday. Usually everyone
leaves on Sunday so they can return for jobs and college. We get in every
family tradition that we can during the time we have.
Who is the person or group of
people that most support you in your writing?
My sisters-in-law were always super
supportive and encouraging. Once I got published and brought home that first
royalty check, my husband got on board and stopped viewing it as a time-consuming
and expensive hobby, and started seeing it as a career—one that pays horribly,
but still offering a monetary payoff. Now, one of my nieces is my one of my
go-to proofreaders as well as one of my staunchest supporters. I also couldn’t
have done it without my local RWA group, my online Regency research group
the Beau Monde, and my local American Night Writers Association
chapters. Also, I’d be remiss if I didn’t give a shout out to my awesome,
wonderful, amazing critique partners, beta readers, and proofreaders. They say
it takes a village to raise a child; it also takes a village to raise a book.
What is your favorite Halloween
Memory?
One of my favorites was when my third
child was about a year old. After a dinner of baked potato soup, I put the baby
in a stroller and followed around my older two children from house to house. My
seven-year-old son was a ninja, my six-year-old daughter was a fox with big,
fluffy tail, and the baby was a fuzzy bear complete with little bear pads on
his feet. I guess animals were popular in our family. I enjoyed chatting with
the neighbors, seeing everyone dressed up, and enjoying my neighbors’ reaction
to our costumes. The weather was perfect—cool enough that the costumes weren’t
too hot but not so cold that we needed to wear jackets over them. After
trick-or-treating and gathering enough candy to get a small country high on
sugar, we went home and drank hot apple cider and handed out candy. I’m not
sure why that stands out in my memory except that it epitomized the perfect
Halloween. 

 

 

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