Welcome Linda McLaughlin for an Egg-cerpt exchange!

Rogue's Hostage

By Linda McLaughlin

Historical Romance

4 ½ stars and a Top Pick from Romantic Times!

Romantic Times Nominee—Best Small Press Romance of 2003!

2nd Place - Lorie Awards - Best Historical Romance!

His hostage... 

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

Her destiny...

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

(Previously published by Amber Quill Press)

Buy links:

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00BJO26OY

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1005663623

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/291719

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

"Madame, are you listening to me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He dropped the bandages beside her on the bed, then reached out to touch her hair. "Must I remind you, in my companion’s eyes, scalps are more valuable than live captives?"

Horror sliced through her fear. "Emile!" She shot off the bed and bolted for the door. The Frenchman caught her around the waist before she could reach it.

"It is too late, madame," he said in a hushed voice. "It is done."

"No," she moaned, as she fought to banish the image of a bloody scalp, raw flesh.

The Frenchman turned her toward him, holding her by the shoulders, and spoke in an insistent voice. "Listen to me and be sensible. You must be strong now. We have a long journey ahead of us."

Dazed, she stared at him. "A journey? To where?"

"Fort Duquesne."

Mara gasped. The dreaded enemy stronghold deep in the wilderness. She struggled to get free, clawing at his powerful arms.

He gripped her tighter, grimacing as he did. "Stop it! What chance do you think you have against three men? Do as I say and you will live. Refuse and…" He let the implication hang in the air between them.
Live. Yes, that was what she must do. She must bide her time and stay alive. Her brother would find her and exact revenge. But for now, she was on her own.

She straightened her spine and stared into the Frenchman’s eyes. "How do I know I can trust you, monsieur?"

He met her gaze, but a shadow darkened his eyes. "You have my word of honor."

Bitterness filled her. "The word of a Frenchman? What is that worth?"

"For the moment, madame, your life."

***

My thanks to Lizzie for hosting me today. Hope you are enjoying the Egg-cerpt Exchange.

Linda

Linda McLaughlin grew up with a love of history fostered by her paternal grandmother and an incurable case of wanderlust inherited from her father. She has traveled extensively within the United States and has visited Mexico, Canada, & Australia. A lifelong dream came true with a trip to England where she was able to combine sightseeing and theater with research for her novels. A native of Pittsburgh, she now lives in Southern California with her husband.

Her first book was Worth The Risk by Lyn O'Farrell. Now Linda writes historical and Regency romance. She loves transporting her readers into the past where her characters learn that, in the journey of life, love is the sweetest reward.

She also writes sexy to erotic romance under the name Lyndi Lamont.

Website: http://www.lindamclaughlin.com/

Blog: http://flightsafancy.blogspot.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/LyndiLamont

Egg-cerpt Exchange with author Tina Gayle

Please welcome my good friend, Tina Gayle and her excerpt from Summer's Growth.

Summer’s Growth – 1st Book in the “Family Tree” series

Forced by the family spirits to get a life, Mattie Winston has to train her replacement Amber Harrison to be in charge of all the workings of the Winston estate. Reluctant to make changes in her life, Mattie forms a bond with Amber, when strange accidents start happening which threaten their lives and an unknown ghost makes an appearance.

After being rescued by an old flame, Quincy Miller, Mattie faces old wounds of rejection. As the general contractor for Amber’s redecoration project, Mattie is in constant contact with Quincy and realizes she still in love with her childhood sweetheart.

Amber, learning her new role in the family, wants to discover the identity of the ghost who keeps appearing. After several appearances, Gwen, Amber’s distance grandmother, shifts the book into more of Amber’s struggle to find out why her grandmother disappeared two hundred years ago without a trace. In a fight to claim her position in the family, Amber searches for clues to solve the mystery.

Mattie and Amber are both challenged when the family spirits decides Amber shouldn’t be the keeper. Battling for Amber, Mattie realizes she wants a life with Quincy outside the Winston estate.

Amber realized the importance of her new spiritual family, and she works to discover how Gwen died.

Can these two women achieve their goals?

Read the first chapter at

http://www.tinagayle.net/SGchapter.html

Find at

www.smashwords.com

www.amazon.com

Excerpt:

Standing by the bay window in the front room, Mattie watched the car approach. Her new recruit’s arrival had goose bumps popping out on Mattie’s skin, adding to her anxieties.

She wanted to run, but instead glanced at the kindhearted spirit of Opal, her distant grandmother. Dressed in her best early American gown, the many layers of her petticoat swished with a soft hiss when she moved.

“There’s no reason to be nervous. Once you meet Amber, you’ll see she caps the climax,” Opal voiced in a soothing tone. “Your Aunt Rachel is absolutely thrilled to have a descendant from her branch of the family as keeper.”

Looking beyond her at the rest of the room, Mattie searched for the other members of the family council. They always offered her their support when she faced a big decision. Yet, today they were conspicuously absent.

“Don’t worry. The whole family is behind you. We just thought it better if we didn’t all hover.”  
    

Shifting from foot to foot, she wrung her hands together. A simple process of a changing of the guard for them, Amber’s arrival marked the end of the life Mattie loved.

The beautiful spirits around her didn’t understand how cruel humans could be to each other. What if she screwed up and the girl left? Or the girl hated living with a house full of spirits?

Unease pricked at Mattie’s mind. She had no experience in dealing with strangers. All her business associates understood her likes and didn’t force her to attend any social events.

A quick glance out the window, and a car rounded the fountain. She wasn’t prepared to entertain Amber. How could she be? She never invited guests to the estate.

“Now, Pumpkin, there’s no need to worry. It’s time another branch of the family realize what a pain it is to be keeper.” Opal smiled, offering her special form of reassurance. “We’re all here to help with the transition.”

The high notes of Beethoven’s Fifth sprang from the piano. Mattie jumped in surprise at the sudden noise. She whipped around to see Uncle Samuel, the artist of the family, standing next to the piano.

“The game is afoot.” He arched his eyebrows and grinned, then disappeared.

“I’d better leave.” Her aunt patted Mattie’s shoulder. “Just remember, the girl is uneasy too.”

Opal disappeared.

With a deep breath, Mattie turned and gripped the cold metal knob in her hand.

Soon her home would belong to a stranger, and then what would she do?

Find Tina Gayle everywhere

Home - www.tinagayle.net
Blog - www.tinagayle.blogspot.com
Twitter - https://twitter.com/#!/AuthorTinaGayle
Goodread - http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1641826.Tina_Gayle
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/tina.gayle
Google + - https://plus.google.com
Linkin - http://www.linkedin.com/pub/tina-gayle/11/689/759

Lisa Carlisle and the Egg-cerpt Exchange

Hi, I’m Lisa Carlisle and I write a paranormal erotic romance series with Ellora’s Cave called Underground Encounters, where characters meet in an underground goth club. My latest book was recently released with two more coming soon. Hope you check it out. J

Fiery Nights by Lisa Carlisle

“…Get ready to be hooked on the series.” ~ Sizzling Hot Book Reviews.

Here’s my latest release with Ellora’s Cave, Fiery Nights.

Fiery Nights

He may own a goth nightclub, but Tristan Stone avoids people—the darkness that surrounds them drains him. When he sees Maya for the first time, alone on the dance floor, a light surrounds her. He must discover who she is and what gives her power. 

Maya sees a man with haunting eyes watching her from the back of the club. She feels their connection, but thinks it’s merely physical attraction. Their passion ignites, overpowering them, and they must work together to understand their connection. The heat of their passion reflects their fiery personalities, which could send their world up in flames. 

Excerpt
Maya

I hadn’t been back since the fire.

Whoever had bought the club had kept the black brick exterior with the painted black windows, ensconcing the club in mystery. Passersby down this hidden alley might think it an abandoned warehouse, unless they got close enough to look up into the recessed doorway to see it flanked by two watchful gargoyle statues.

I felt a moment of hesitation before I walked down the alley. When I used to come with Nike, I never felt threatened. We’d come after long shifts at the firehouse to unwind and dance off some steam. I’d practically bounce down the alleyway so I could get inside sooner.

But now, on my own, the creepiness of the alleyway set in. I wrapped my long black leather trench coat tightly around my body to shield my fishnet-covered legs as if protecting myself. It could be dangerous walking alone through warehouse alleys near the waterfront.

No wonder Vamps was hidden back here. You wouldn’t want an underground club on the main drag, would you?

My Mary Jane heels clicked loudly on the cement. The further I walked, the closer the clicks were.
Easy, Maya, I chastised myself. You’re going to break into a trot in a second.

Finally I made it to the front entrance and pulled on the heavy wooden doors with steel bars intersecting in the middle and was rewarded by a familiar figure.

“Byron, you’re still here!” I said to the extra-large bouncer who had an extra-large heart.

“Maya, where have ya been?” He threw his enormous arms wide and I rushed in, aware that I was grabbing him tighter than warranted, probably due to relief after my misgivings walking here alone.
“Whoa, girl, you must have really missed me,” he said before he let me go.

“Of course I did. It’s been forever. How have you been?”

“Been survivin’. Taking odd jobs here and there while they rebuilt this place. You saw the damage from the explosion.”

“Yes, I remember.” It wasn’t something I could forget any time soon.

“Why you here alone tonight?” he asked. “Where’s your partner in crime?”

“Nike? I haven’t seen her since the fire.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s been what—a year?”After I nodded, he asked, “What happened with her then? One of the bartenders told me how she saw her go upstairs with the former owner that night. What do you think—they hooked up?”

I didn’t know how much to tell about Nike and Michel, even though I was still hurt that I hadn’t seen heard from her in months. Sure, she sent postcards from time to time, but it wasn’t the same. We were like this—if you could see me, you’d know I was wrapping my index and middle fingers together. I know Byron was concerned about her, but I also didn’t want to perpetuate any rumors.

“Word spreads quickly around here, doesn’t it?” I chose to avoid the juicy part of the question and answered, “Last I heard she was traveling around Europe.” I left out the part that she was with Michel.

We were interrupted by a couple who opened the door. He was wearing a red velvet smoking jacket a la Gomez Addams, but didn’t pull off the look completely with his dirty-blond hair. While they showed their IDs to Byron and paid the cover charge, I looked at her outfit to see if she was sporting a Morticia-like dress. To my surprise, she was wearing a cowgirl outfit—hat, tassels, boots and a very short khaki shirt. Not a usual costume for a goth club, but she pulled it off.

 Note to self: see if you can pull off a sexy cowgirl outfit.

After they passed through the next set of doors, Byron asked, “So you’re solo tonight?”

“Hopefully not all night,” I lifted an eyebrow. “How’s the eye candy in there?”

“You know, the usual. Lots of weirdos.”

“Just my type.”

“Who you kiddin’? I’ve never seen you leave with anyone besides your girl Nike.”

“Byron. I haven’t been out in months. I went on some crappy dates this past year and realized I’m happier just being on my own. So all I’ve done lately is work. Which means the only males I’ve encountered are coworkers and they smell pretty rank after a twenty-four-hour shift. Since Halloween is on a Saturday this year, and Halloween was always the best night of the year here, I decided to climb out of my self-imposed isolation and make an appearance.”

“Well then, get in there and be a naughty girl.” Byron smacked me playfully on the ass to push me on. Then he said, “Wait.” He took my hands and extended them out to the side.

“Let me get a good look at you. See what outfit you’re sporting tonight. Are you wearing a costume under there?”

I cocked my head as I took my hands back to open my leather trench coat shawl, which could fit in just perfectly at a gothic club or a Renaissance fair, but not too many other places. Tonight I was wearing a sexy little pirate wench costume, with a laced-up corset top and short leather miniskirt. “Does this warrant your approval?”

He put his hand on his chin as he sized me up. “Not bad. I’ve seen you in worse. Still trying to forget the blue velvet gown, black combat boots debacle.”

“That was hot,” I protested.

He raised an eyebrow before his gaze moved up to my hair. “And you’ve gone back to black hair, I see?”

“Technically blue-black. There’s only so much color I can get away with at work, being a professional and all.” I winked. Lately, I’d been alternating between blue-black and a magenta tint, which was about as much as I could manage without the chief giving me the look. If I was feeling spunky and wanted to sport a hot pink or blue, I had to wear a wig. Could you imagine a firefighter with pink hair coming to your aid to deal with your distress call? I didn’t think so.

“All right, you get my seal of approval. And you know that’s not so easy, princess. Go on in.”

I kissed him on the cheek and walked down the dark tunnel lit by candelabras attached to the stone walls. A new sign adorned the door leading to the main club area. Dante’s quote was carved into the wood: Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.

“But Maya,” he called after me. “Leave some of the pretty boys for me.”

“Obviously,” I said, rolling my eyes. “So not my style.”

 * * * * *
Much of Vamps looked the same, yet much of it had changed. Gargoyles still guarded from their perches around the club. The three smaller dance platforms were replaced by one larger stage. They now had live bands perform up there as indicated by posters adorning the walls. Or when the stage was free as it was now, it was covered with uninhibited dancers who wanted to be watched.

I was worried that the vibe of the club wouldn’t survive the transition. Some clubs try too hard and end up seeming phony. Vamps always had its own style. Some called it goth for the prevalence of goth-inspired dress and music. But they played other music as well.

Others called it a fetish club for the freaky revealing outfits many chose to wear. Black duct tape pasted over nipples has been seen more than once. And the sexy futuristic outfits with hulking boots were a common choice. But to me a fetish club alluded to kinky sex out in the open, which wasn’t the case here. I’d never caught anyone doing it—but I have seen some couples get pretty close on the dance floor or in a corner.

I’d call it more of an underground club. One that was frequented by people who didn’t stick to conventional dress and music and followed their own path, rather than worrying what other people thought. Whatever the club was, it was where I fit in.

But I wouldn’t want my fellow firefighters to see me in my sexy pirate outfit tonight.

Continuing to look around and assess the club, I thought it still had an authentic feel. The red marble bar hadn’t survived the fire, I noted. But it was still manned—or womanned—by the hot bartender with pink hair and a nice rack. I looked over the drink menu posted above the draft beer.

“What’s in a Tempting Fate?” I asked her.

“Southern Comfort, Amaretto, vodka, pomegranate juice, pineapple juice, grenadine,” she rolled out in a velvety voice that was as sexy as she was.

“Sold,” I said, banging an imaginary gavel.

“You won’t regret it,” she said.

After she gave me my drink, I toasted nobody in particular, well, I guess myself, thinking here’s to tempting fate. Then I watched the crowd as I tasted the drink. It was exquisite and I took another large sip. Maybe I’d pay for it tomorrow, but it was gooood.

When I heard a remix of Type O Negative’s Cinnamon Girl, I left my drink at the bar to slink my way amid the gyrating bodies. My favorite band, one of my favorite songs. Tragic that the super-hot singer died so young.

In a sea of black-clad bodies, I blended right in. It had been months since I danced, but I quickly found my rhythm and lost myself in the music, dancing with the crowd. I didn’t feel the least bit self-conscious that I was alone.

That is—until I felt his eyes on me.

You know the feeling when someone is watching you and you’re suddenly aware of it? I felt that and looked up. A tall guy dressed all in black—naturally—stood alone at the right side of the bar.

Something about that gaze arrested me and I stopped dancing. Dark eyes, almost black, on a face that looked as angelic as a young Jim Morrison. The black hair was a devil-may-care length, past his chin but not quite to his shoulders. Instead of the rock star’s signature black leather pants, this guy was wearing a cape over dark clothing.

His eyes defied the angelic appearance. Dark, penetrating eyes. The eyes of someone who was troubled—maybe haunted.

Why was he staring at me like that? Didn’t he know my weakness was a dark, brooding bad boy?
My lips parted as if they wanted to say something. But what did I want to say? And he couldn’t hear me anyway.

And then with a swoop of his cape, he was gone.

I stood there for a few more moments trying to process what just happened. Was some hot guy in the corner watching me? Who then took off with a flourish of his cape?

It seemed very Bela Lugosi-ish—another dark, brooding bad boy. I tried to shake off my confusion as Cinnamon Girl ended.

The DJ mixed in a version of David Bowie and Trent Reznor’s I’m Afraid of Americans. It took me another moment or two to brush off the effect that dark stranger had on me. I thought to hell with that guy and then got back into my groove.

To learn more or buy now, visit:
Ellora’s Cave
Amazon

Underground Encounters

Other books in the series include more lovable paranormal characters, including more vampires, shapeshifters, gargoyles, and more. I love to stay in touch with readers. Visit visit www.lisacarlislebooks.com and follow me on your social media of choice to stay tuned.

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Egg-cerpt Exchane with Anna Bayes

Please welcome Anna Bayes to starr words. Discover more about her tale here and visit her online!

Under His Wings, a M/M/F menage love story by Anna Bayes

Blurb:

Bonnie thought Matt was everything she ever wanted: boyishly charming, understanding and exciting. Then she realized that he had another lover: Sean, an artistic, intensely jealous and handsome man. She tries, and fails to accept herself as the barely tolerated female lover. On New Year's Eve, she demands a meeting amongst the three. The confrontation sparks dangerous rage, and something else with an entirely different heat level: steamy desire. Can she bring about a reconciliation satisfactory to everyone involved as she surrenders to her passion?

Buy at Toquere Press

Excerpt:

As I stood before my reflection in the mirror this morning, I tried to rehearse my request to Matt. I repeated it many times, looking into my eyes: the round, dark brown pupils returning my gaze unconvincingly. I shook my hair loose, and reasoned with myself again. If all Matt's talk about my importance is only empty words to keep me, then he is a lying bastard, and I am better off without him. I tried to say it aloud with conviction, but my voice betrayed me; I sounded like a frightened, disappointed little girl. I know logically that I can live without him, but loving him has become such an integral, necessary part of my life; I am not sure I could stop, even if we parted. 

5 pm. Matt took my hand as I closed my shop early for the day, kissed it and buried it in the large pocket in his jacket. I love how my hand fits snugly in his; it is as if all my body parts have been tailor-made to suit him, and melt into him. I concentrated on staring at the toes of my boots, mustering up my courage, then I looked squarely into his eyes, and said, "I want Sean to meet me." I had initially practiced declaring in a crescendo, "I refuse to be hidden like an undignified whore. I am not a filler between Sean and other things in your life. I need him to acknowledge me as a person. I demand his respect," but this part of the speech became stuck in my throat. Matt looked at me, dumbfounded, until I almost started to believe that I had delivered my full speech, after all. Then he clenched his teeth, tightened his grip on my hand, and said, "Yes, you deserve better than this."

The taxi ride to his apartment was a blur. The original plan for tonight, it being New Year's Eve, had been that Matt would spend the early evening with me, then return home to Sean for dinner and to count down to 2013 over sizzling sex. Sean is not there when we arrive at the apartment, and we sit on the sofa to wait. Matt looks frighteningly dashing: his eyes blazing, his whole body tense, clearly deep in thought, preparing for something. He looks up as the sound of keys in the lock announces Sean's return. "Hey you..." Sean's lilting voice stops in its tracks as he opens the door wider and sees me seated next to his lover.

Find Anna Bayes at these places:

Her blog (http://annabayes.wordpress.com)

Her Amazon author page (http://www.amazon.com/author/annabayes)

Her Goodreads author page (http://www.goodreads.com/annabayes)

Her Manic Readers author page (http://www.manicreaders.com/annabayes)

Tribbles and Taylor Swift? Really?

Egg-Cerpt Exchange with Keta Diablo

Welcome to starr words! Keta starts us right out with her egg-cerpt. Enjoy!

The woods loomed ahead. Here, the path would narrow and Rory would be surrounded by clusters of dense hardwood and pines. On the other side of the forest, her sister’s belching chimney would come into view and to the east Jab and Louisa Pearson’s homestead, to the west, Hiram’s. She hadn’t thought of him since her wedding day. Neighbors claimed he’d changed; some said he’d run amok after Jane and Levi died. A pang of sadness cloaked her, but the day was far too beautiful to be bogged down with tragic thoughts.

Entering the woods, the familiar call of a whippoorwill competed with the harsh screech of a blue jay. Twisted limbs and branches hugged the man-made trail and thick bracken and underbrush covered the ground around her. Rory stopped Charmer when an eerie stillness descended on the woodland. The chatter of small critters had stopped and the songbirds had ceased their melodic trills. She forced her eyes to scan the trees in all directions, the lump in her throat tightening.

Looking over her shoulder, she blew a sigh of relief. Minx had paused to nibble on a sprig of grass bursting through the forest floor. The foal would act skittish if danger lurked. She relaxed in the saddle and journeyed on . . . until Charmer’s ears flattened against her head. Had the mare heard a foreign noise or were her muscles preparing for an attack from pesky flies?

Rory turned a keen ear to her surroundings and concentrated on a sliver of sunlight ahead. Keep moving toward the light. A scream tore through the still woods, or a war-cry. She’d never heard a native prepare for battle, but had read about their nightmarish shrills. Charmer whinnied and tossed her massive head and a sense of danger spiked Rory’s heartbeat. Clutching the reins, she looked down at her white knuckles and caught a flash of movement on her left. Her blood ran cold when she spied a tall, dark form stalking her with the stealth of a panther. God’s nightgown, is it human or beast?

ABOUT SKY TINTED WATER

Keta Diablo

Sweet Historical Romance

*Mystery

*Suspense

Note: This is a ‘sweet’ historical romance.

Familial bonds, malevolent schemes and passion collide in this sweet historical novel. Set in Minnesota during the Civil War and the Sioux uprising, this is the story of Rory Hudson, the exquisite Irish lass with an unbreakable spirit and the enigmatic Dawson Finch, a man bound by honor, duty and loyalty.

When Dawson enlists in the army to bring peace to nation divided, Rory’s world plummets into a tailspin. War, distance and time separate them, but nothing can dispel the haunting memories of their love. Not even death can destroy their fierce passion or a love so strong it beats the odds of the impossible.

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/WKj5lK

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/UjeU4W

Kobo: http://bit.ly/11xUc3e

Amazon UK http://amzn.to/WqzPSx

Watch for Book 2, SKY DANCE, coming to a Kindle and Nook near you in march 2013

FOLLOW KETA'S KEEP

http://www.amazon.com/Keta-Diablo/e/B002BODURI

Click on link above to visit my Amazon page

Anything you can do...

So, who does it better? The Doctor or Sherlock?