Thursday, April 30, 2015

Aloha to Victoria Roberts and KILTS AND DAGGERS

 

Ever since Lady Grace Walsingham discovered her uncle and sister are spies for the Crown, she has yearned for adventure. She’s counting the days until she can leave barbaric Scotland behind, even if she must endure Highland captain Fagan Murray’s company for weeks.

Fagan has a simple mission: escort the haughty Lady Grace back to England. But nothing is ever easy. The sharp-tongued woman needles him at every turn. But when a menacing threat follows them on their journey, Fagan’s grudging tolerance for Grace turns to respect…and into a perilous attraction that could seal their fate.

KILTS AND DAGGERS (Book 2)

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MY HIGHLAND SPY (Book 1)

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To celebrate the release of KILTS AND DAGGERS, the second title in Victoria Roberts’ Highland Spies series, Fagan Murray, the strong and handsome captain of Laird Sutherland’s guard has agreed to sit down with us and answer our questions so you can know more about this rugged Highlander!

Tell us about a special memory you have of your partner that you’ll never forget.

I’ll never forget the day that I made Grace mine.

What is your favorite hobby?

I don’t have time for hobbies. When I’m not protecting the castle, I’m having a wee dram with Sutherland and Munro.


Victoria Roberts writes sexy, award-winning Scottish historical romances about kilted heroes and warriors from the past. Prior to ever picking up a single romance novel, she penned her first young adult novella at 16 years old. Who knew her leather-studded motorcycle hero would trade in his ride and emerge as a kilt wearing Highlander wielding a broadsword? Victoria lives with her husband and their two beautiful children in western Pennsylvania.

VictoriaRobertsAuthor.com
Facebook.com/victoria.roberts.395
Goodreads link

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Sourcebooks offers an excerpt from KILTS AND DAGGERS

“Mister Murray, I don’t feel at ease discussing these subjects with you.”

“Then call me Fagan. Mister Murray was my father’s name anyway.”

Grace looked around and then softened her voice. “Now is that truly appropriate?”

“I told ye before. Ye’re a long way from England, lass. Lest ye forget, ye’re in the Highlands now. We do things differently here.”

She lifted a brow. “How could I forget?”

“Ruairi said ye’ll be staying with us for a few weeks. More to the point, I already call Ruairi’s wife Ravenna.” He turned up his smile a notch. “Ye and I are practically like family. Ye will call me Fagan, and I will call ye Grace, or I could always call ye bhana-phrionnsa. I’ll be kind enough to give ye a choice.”

“Ravenna may permit you to call her by her Christian name, but I certainly do not, Mister Murray. Although you do make me laugh, I’m afraid you and I are far from family.”

***

When Grace’s eyes smoldered, Fagan knew he shouldn’t get too close to the flame for fear of getting burned. There was still enough time to take his leave. Otherwise, he’d be verbally sparring with a lass in the middle of the great hall. Ruairi would no doubt have his head for causing mischief with his kin so soon after the wedding.

Fagan slapped both hands on the table and casually stood. Instinctively, he took another step back in case the lass suddenly had a strong urge to reach across the table and throttle him—or worse. Nevertheless, once she heard what he was about to say, the table wouldn’t provide enough space between them.

“Verra well then. I think bhana-phrionnsa suits ye quite nicely.” When Grace’s cheeks turned scarlet, Fagan smiled. “Donna say I didnae warn ye. Remember I did give ye a choice.” He winked at her and then turned on his heel.

“Wait!”

He had a hard time trying to mask his smile. He turned around slowly and lifted a brow. “Aye?”

Grace flew to her feet, walked around the table, and closed the distance between them. She lifted her head, and by the way she was unsteady on her feet, he swore the daft lass was standing on the tips of her toes in a futile attempt to look him level in the eye.

“England and Scotland have been warring for centuries, Mister Murray, yet somehow Scotland has never won.” Lifting her skirts, she brushed his arm with her shoulder and took a few steps away from him.

That was until he called after her and stopped her dead in her tracks. “Cuine a chì mi a-ris thu, Grace?” When will I see you again? He made certain he said the words as though he spoke to his lover, which obviously had the desired effect because her whole body stiffened, and then she left him without a backward glance. Fagan’s mood was suddenly buoyant. He wasn’t exactly sure why he loved to unnerve Princess Grace, but he had one hell of a time doing it.





Aloha to Jade Lee and 50 WAYS TO RUIN A RAKE



Mellie Smithson has a plan…

Mellie Smithson is trapped in the country with no suitors and no prospects on the horizon except, perhaps, the exasperating—although admittedly handsome—guest of her father. Unwilling to settle, Mellie will do anything to escape to London...

Trevor Anaedsley has a problem…

Trevor Anaedsley’s grandfather has cut off his funds until he gets engaged. Beset by creditors, Trevor escapes to the country—ostensibly to visit his old tutor Mr. Smithson—where he meets Smithson’s lovely daughter Mellie. The obvious solution is suddenly before him—but will this fake engagement go as Trevor and Mellie plan? Or will they find that even the best laid plans often go awry?


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USA Today bestselling author Jade Lee has been scripting love stories since she first picked up a set of paper dolls. Ball gowns and rakish lords caught her attention early (thank you, Georgette Heyer), and her fascination with the Regency began. An author of more than thirty romance novels and winner of dozens of industry awards, Lee lives in Champaign, Illinois.



Today we excited to welcome Jade Lee to the blog! Jade’s latest title, 50 Ways to Ruin a Rake, is out May 5th and is the first in her hilarious new Rakes & Rogues series. To celebrate her new release, Jade is here to share a quiz about the book. See if you can guess correctly!

Question: If you've been following this blog tour, you already know that the heroine of 50 Ways to Ruin a Rake is given a nickname in the middle of the book. A small band of friends decides to create a fun story around our heroine to make her interesting and the ideas start as mildly entertaining and grow to ridiculous. They eventually decide on the Cricket Princess. Now guess what becomes the nickname for the hero.

A. No nickname. He's a future duke. They just call him Duke-To-Be.

B. Hopeless. Yup, they think anyone engaged to a Cricket Princess is too sad for words.

C. The Bug-eyed Duke. Because, you know, I thought it'd be hot to have a hero with eyes that bulge out.

D. The Buggy Duke. Because it's hot to have a regency hero driving a buggy.

Answer: D. Actually, Trevor is an amateur entomologist. So since he does research into all sorts of insects, it was natural that they start calling him the Buggy Duke. Well, not exactly natural, but that matched the Cricket Princess and became quite the object of humor. No one was serious about the nicknames until the titles took on a life of their own.

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Stanhope Gig 
Public Domain (link)

Sourcebooks is hosting a special giveaway at this link ... and offers and offers an excerpt from 50 WAYS TO RUIN A RAKE:


Trevor was down. Ronnie was going to finish the fight. But he hadn’t reckoned on Melinda. She’d been an unwilling participant in this whole disgusting display. Well, if her cousin wanted a Cheltenham tragedy, she would bloody well give him one.

She surged forward, having no need to fake the desperation in her voice. “Stop it! Ronnie, stop it now!” And when he didn’t hear her, she said the words she’d never thought she’d utter in her entire life. “My love!”

That got his attention. His fist was raised, but he looked to her, his eyes alight with excitement. “Mellie!”

She flung herself forward. Dropping to her knees, she slid in the mud, coming to a stop just where she’d intended—right beside Trevor’s head. Ronnie reached for her, but she pushed him away as she wrapped herself around the fallen lord.

“Stay away, you brute!” she practically spit at her cousin. Then she used her cloak to dab at the blood on Trevor’s face. “My love, my love, are you alive? Oh God, someone fetch a doctor! Please, someone!”

Her words were ten times more dramatic than were needed, but she’d learned that the best way to deliver a message to her cousin was in the most theatrical tone possible. So she cradled Trevor in her arms and crooned like any heroine in the most lurid gothic romance.

Trevor’s face was indeed a battered mess, but not so unrecognizable that she didn’t see the gleam of appreciation in his eyes or the mischievous smile that pulled at his swollen lip.

“Are you an angel?” he asked. “Have I died?”

The man was lying in the mud, his ankle nearly snapped in half. His face oozed from a myriad of cuts, and yet he still had the wherewithal to give the crowd a good show. It was enough to make her contemplate dropping him in the mud. She didn’t, of course, but she hoped her glare would suffice.

Meanwhile, Ronnie just stood there poised, his fist still raised as he gaped. “Mellie?”

She looked up, shooting a venomous look at his bloodied fist. “Do you mean to trounce me as well? Lay me out in the mud and the shite like last week’s garbage?”

“What?” Ronnie took a moment to understand while she gestured with her chin toward his fist. Then he abruptly gasped and shook out his hand, dropping it helplessly to his side. “But I won. This was an affaire d’honor.”

“Congratulations,” she mocked. “You beat a man half your weight.”

“Hey!” muttered Trevor. “I’m not that small.”

“Oh shut up. I’m making a point.” Then she turned her attention to her cousin. Best make the situation absolutely clear. “You were right, Ronnie. You have made everything so clear to me. I could never love a brute like you. It’s him I want. A man of elegance, not violence.”

She watched her cousin absorb her words, his mind obviously working slowly, and no wonder. Certainly, Ronnie was an accomplished fighter, but he’d never in his life been called a brute. He was a poet, for God’s sake. And his father was wont to call him a useless fribble with no starch whatsoever. Of course, both appellations were completely wrong, but truth didn’t matter here. Not when he’d wanted drama. And so she stretched the truth—she outright broke it—and she felt no remorse.

“I love Trevor,” she said loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Since when?” her cousin demanded.

Since never. She had a thorough disgust of them both. Especially as Trevor began to speak in a quavering voice.

“Oh, to finally hear those words, now in the moments before I expire. My life is complete.”

“You’re not dying,” she hissed. Unless he was hurt more than he appeared. The thought shot her with alarm until he started speaking again.

“I am dying!” he cried. “Kiss me, my love. Kiss me, and mayhap your love will keep me tethered to this mortal coil.”

“I will not,” she said between clenched teeth.

He pitched his voice to a plaintive wail. “Then I shall die for sure!”

Damnation on all bloody, arrogant, ridiculous men! One glance about her showed that the crowd was hanging on his every word. She didn’t really care until she looked at Ronnie’s face. He wasn’t stupid. He could see that Trevor wasn’t really hurt. It wouldn’t take him long to remember that she’d never spoken of Trevor with anything but disdain. And from there it was a small step to realizing that this entire display was a sham. So she had to do something quickly. Something that he’d never forget, even if he did suspect the lie.

So she did it. She kissed Trevor.

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Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Aloha to Anna Campbell and A SCOUNDREL BY MOONLIGHT


Anything can happen in the moonlight . . .

Justice. That's all Nell Trim wants-for her sister and for the countless other young women the Marquess of Leath has ruined with his wildly seductive ways. Now she has a bold plan to take him down . . . as long as she can resist the scoundrel's temptations herself.

From the moment Nell meets James Fairbrother, the air positively sizzles. Yet for all his size and power, there's something amazingly tender in his touch. Could he really be such a depraved rogue? The only way to find out is to beat the devil at his own game . . . one tempting kiss at a time.

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Always a voracious reader, Anna Campbell decided when she was a child that she wanted to be a writer. Once she discovered the wonderful world of romance novels, she knew exactly what she wanted to write. Anna has won numerous awards for her historical romances, including the RT Book Reviews Reviewers' Choice, the Booksellers' Best, the Golden Quill (three times), the Heart of Excellence, the Aspen Gold (twice), and the Australian Romance Readers Association's most popular historical romance (five times). Her books have twice been nominated for Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA Award and three times for Romance Writers of Australia's Romantic Book of the Year.

When she's not writing passionate, intense stories featuring gorgeous Regency heroes and the women who are their destiny, Anna loves to travel, especially in the United Kingdom, and listen to all kinds of music. She lives near the sea on the east coast of Australia, where she's losing her battle with an overgrown subtropical garden.

AnnaCampbell.info
Twitter @AnnaCampbelloz
Facebook.com/AnnaCampbellFans

Forever is hosting a special giveaway at this link.

Mahalo,

Kim in Baltimore
Aloha Spirit in Charm City

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Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Wednesday's Warriors - Coin Challenge at the RT Booklovers' Convention


Military commanders give out specially minted coins to those who go above and beyond the call of duty.  Above are coins I received for sending donations to Iraq.  Likewise, military personnel carry a unit coin to demonstrate their camaraderie. Below are coins I received in Hawaii.


 

It becomes a point of pride on Friday night at the club when someone yells "coin challenge".   Military personnel pull out their coins and place them on the bar.  Those who do not have a coin buys the round of drinks.   Those who do have coins determine who has the highest ranking coin.   In theory, a coin from POTUS - President of the United States - is the highest ranking coin. However, I have a coin from John Baca, a Vietnam veteran and Medal of Honor recipient, one that I treasure.

On October 12, 1945, President Truman had the honor to present the Medal of Honor (link),

As I have told the rest of these young men who have been here before me, I would much rather have that Medal around my neck than to be President of the United States. It is the greatest honor that can come to a man. It is an honor that all of us strive for, but very few of us ever achieve.



John Baca's Medal of Honor coin is the lower left, nestled among my SEAL coins.    

I invite the readers and authors attending the RT Booklovers Convention to bring their favorite military coins.  Tuck it into your badge holder, especially at the bar, as you never know when I will call for coin challenge.

If you don't have a coin, make your own!  Find your favorite state quarter, half dollar, foreign coin, or even a poker chip!

I am giving away a book choice from my convention stash to one randomly selected commenter.  To enter the giveaway,

1.  Do you have a military coin?  Have you seen one?  If not, what would you select for your substitute coin?

2.  Comments are open through Saturday, April 28, 10 pm in Baltimore.

3.  I'll post the winner on Sunday, April 29.

Mahalo,

Kim in Baltimore
Aloha Spirit in Charm City

Sign up for free tickets to the Military Tribute during the RT Booklovers Convention at this link.   The Military Tribute is open to anyone who would like to honor military families (do not have to be registered for the convention).   

My husband's coin rack in the shape of the Pentagon.


Aloha to Jill Mansell and MAKING YOUR MIND UP


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International bestseller Jill Mansell delivers a hilarious and heartwarming tale about falling in love when you have opinionated kids

Love is a complicated thing…

Lottie Carlyle is happy enough. Living in a beautiful cottage with her two adorable—sometimes—kids in an idyllic village, on good terms with her ex-husband, and with friends all around, everything is going just fine. But when she meets her new boss, her peaceful world is thrown into delightful, exciting, and frustrating chaos. Tyler is perfect for Lottie, but her kids do not agree. To make matters worse, the handsome and mysterious Seb appears on the scene, intriguing—and distracting—Lottie and charming her children, making it more and more difficult for her to make up her mind…

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With over 9 million copies sold, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jill Mansell writes irresistible and funny romantic tales for women in the tradition of Marian Keyes and Sophie Kinsella. She worked for many years at the Burden Neurological Hospital, Bristol, and now writes full time. She lives with her partner and their children in Bristol, England.

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Sourcebooks is offering an excerpt from MAKING YOUR MIND UP:


The lane that ran alongside the garden of Hestacombe House was narrow and banked high on both sides with poppies, cow parsley, and blackberry bushes. Turning left, Tyler Klein worked out, would lead you back up to the village of Hestacombe. Turning right took you down to the lake. As he took the right turn, Tyler heard the sound of running feet and giggling.

Rounding the first bend in the lane, he saw two small children twenty or thirty yards away, clambering over a stile. Dressed in shorts, T--shirts, and baseball caps, the one in front was carrying a rolled--up yellow-and-white-striped striped towel, while his companion clutched a haphazard bundle of clothes. Glancing up the lane and spotting Tyler, they giggled again and leaped down from the stile into the cornfield beyond. By the time he reached the stile they’d scurried out of sight, no doubt having taken some shortcut back to the village following their dip in the lake.

The lane opened out into a sandy clearing that sloped down to meet a small artificial beach. Freddie Masterson had had this constructed several years ago, chiefly for the benefit of visitors to his lakeside vacation cottages, but also—-as Tyler had just witnessed—-to be enjoyed by the inhabitants of Hestacombe. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun as it bounced off the lake, Tyler saw a girl in a bright turquoise bikini floating lazily on her back in the water. There was a faint unearthly wailing sound coming from somewhere he couldn’t quite place. Then the noise—-was it singing?—-stopped. Moments later, as Tyler watched, the girl turned onto her front and began to swim slowly back to shore.

It could almost be that scene from Dr. No, where Sean Connery observes Ursula Andress emerging goddess--like from a tropical sea. Except he wasn’t hiding in the bushes and he had all his own hair. And this girl didn’t have a large knife strapped to her thigh.

She wasn’t blond either. Her long dark hair was a riot of snaky curls plastered to her shoulders, her body curvy and deeply tanned. Impressed—-because an encounter like this was the last thing he’d been expecting—-Tyler nodded in a friendly fashion as she paused to wring water from her dripping hair and said, “Good swim?”

The girl surveyed him steadily, then looked around the tiny beach. Finally she said, “Where’s my stuff?”

Stuff. Taken aback, Tyler gazed around too, even though he had no idea what he was meant to be looking for. For one bizarre moment he wondered if she had arranged to meet a drug dealer here. That was what people said, wasn’t it, when they met up with their dealer?

“What stuff?”

“The usual stuff you leave out of the water when you go for a swim. Clothes. Towel. Diamond earrings.”

Tyler said, “Where did you put them?”

“Right there where you’re standing. Right there,” the girl repeated, pointing at his polished black shoes. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Is this a joke?”

“I guess it is. But I’m not the one playing it.” Half turning, Tyler indicated the narrow lane behind him. “I passed a couple kids back there, carrying off stuff.”

She had her hands on her hips now, and was surveying him with growing disbelief. “And it didn’t occur to you to stop them?”

“I thought it was their stuff.” This was ridiculous, he’d never said the word stuff so many times before in his life. “I guess I just thought they’d been swimming down here in this lake.”

“You thought the size ten pink halter--necked dress and size seven silver sandals belonged to them.” The sarcasm—-that particularly British form of sarcasm—-was evident in her voice.

“The sandals were wrapped up in something pink. I didn’t actually get a close look at the labels. I was thirty yards away.”

“But you thought they’d been swimming.” Gazing at him intently, the girl said, “Tell me something. Were they…wet?”

Shit. The kids hadn’t been wet. He’d make a lousy private eye. Unwilling to concede defeat, Tyler said, “They could have come down for a paddle. Look, did you really leave diamond earrings with your clothes?”

“Do I look completely stupid? No, of course I didn’t. Diamonds don’t dissolve in water.” Impatiently she shook back her hair to show him the studs glittering in her earlobes. “Right, what did these kids look like?”

“Like kids. I don’t know.” Tyler shrugged. “They were wearing T--shirts, I guess. And, um, shorts…”

The girl raised her eyebrows. “That’s incredible. Your powers of observation are dazzling. OK, was it a boy and a girl?”

“Maybe.” He’d assumed they were boys, but one had had longer hair than the other. “Like I said, I only saw them from a distance. They were climbing over a stile.”

“Dark hair? Thin and wiry?” the girl persisted. “Did they look like a couple of gypsies?”

“Yes.” Tyler was instantly on the alert; when Freddie Masterson had been singing the praises of Hestacombe he hadn’t mentioned any gypsies. “Are they a problem around here?”

“Damn right they’re a problem around here. They’re my children.” Intercepting the look of horror on his face, the girl broke into a mischievous smile. “Relax, they’re not really gypsies. You haven’t just mortally offended me.”

“Well,” said Tyler, “I’m glad about that.”

“I didn’t see a thing, little sods. They must have crawled through the bushes and sneaked off with my stuff when I wasn’t looking. That’s what happens when you have kids who are hell--bent on joining the SAS. But this isn’t funny.” No longer amused, the girl said impatiently, “I can’t believe they’d do something so stupid. They don’t think, do they? Because now I’m stuck here with no clothes—-”

“You’re welcome to borrow my jacket.”

“And no shoes.”

“I’m not lending you my shoes,” Tyler drawled. “You’d look ridiculous. Plus, that’d leave me with nothing to put on my feet.”

“Wuss.” Thinking hard, the girl said, “OK, look, can you do me a favor? Go back up to the village, past the pub, and my house is three doors down on the right. Piper’s Cottage. The doorbell’s broken so you’ll have to bang on the door. Tell Ruby and Nat to give you my clothes. Then you can bring them back down to me. How does that sound?”

Water from her hair was dripping into her clear hazel eyes, glistening on her tanned skin. She had excellent white teeth and a persuasive manner. Tyler frowned.

“What if the kids aren’t there?”

“Right, now I know this isn’t ideal, but you have an honest face so I’m going to have to trust you. If they aren’t there, you’ll just have to take the front door key out from under the tub of geraniums by the porch and let yourself into the house. My bedroom’s on the left at the top of the stairs. Just grab something from the wardrobe.” Her mouth twitching, the girl said, “And no snooping in my panty drawer while you’re there. Just pick out a dress and some shoes then let yourself out of the house. You can be back here in ten minutes.”

“I can’t do this.” Tyler shook his head. “You don’t even know me. I’m not going to let myself into a strange house. And if your kids are there…well, that’s even worse.”

“Hi.” Seizing his hand, she enthusiastically shook it. “I’m Lottie Carlyle. There, now I’ve introduced myself. And my house really isn’t that strange. A bit untidy perhaps, but that’s allowed. And you are?”

“Tyler. Tyler Klein. Still not doing it.”

“Well, you’re a big help. I’m going to look like an idiot walking through the village like this.”

“I told you, you can borrow my jacket.” Seeing as she was dripping wet and his suit jacket was silk--lined and seriously expensive, he felt this was a pretty generous offer. Lottie Carlyle, however, seemed unimpressed.

“I’d still look stupid. You could lend me your shirt,” she wheedled. “That’d be better.”

Tyler was here on business. He had no intention of removing his shirt. Firmly he said, “I don’t think so. It’s the jacket or nothing.”

Realizing when she was beaten, Lottie Carlyle took the jacket from him and put it on. “You drive a hard bargain. There, do I look completely ridiculous?”

“Yes.”

“You’re too kind.” She looked sadly down at her bare feet. “Any chance of a piggy back?”

Tyler looked amused. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?”

“I’m thinking of my street cred.”

Interested, Lottie said, “What are you doing here, anyway? In your smart city suit and shiny shoes?”

There clearly wasn’t much call for city suits here in Hestacombe. As they turned to leave, Tyler glanced back at the lake, where iridescent dragonflies were darting over the surface of the water and a family of ducks had just swum into view. Casually he said,
“Just visiting.”

Gingerly picking her way along the stony, uneven lane, Lottie winced and said meaningfully, “Ouch, my feet.”

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Aloha to Kelly Bowen and A GOOD ROGUE IS HARD TO FIND

 

HE THOUGHT HE'D SEEN IT ALL . . . 

The rogue's life has been good to William Somerhall: He has his fortune, his racehorses, and his freedom. Then he moves in with his mother. It seems the eccentric Dowager Duchess of Worth has been barely skirting social disaster-assisted by one Miss Jenna Hughes, who is far too bright and beautiful to be wasting her youth as a paid companion. Now home to keep his mother from ruin, William intends to learn what's afoot by keeping his friends close-and the tempting Miss Hughes closer still.

. . . UNTIL HE MEETS HER


He's tall, dark, and damnably intelligent-unfortunately for Jenna. She and the duchess are in the "redistribution business," taking from the rich and giving to the poor, and it's going great - until he shows up. But even as William plots to make an honest woman out of her, Jenna will use all her wiles to reveal just how bad a rogue he can be . . .

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Kelly Bowen

Kelly Bowen grew up in Manitoba, Canada. She worked her way through her teenage years as a back country trail guide and ranch hand and spent a year working on a cattle station in Australia. She attended the University of Manitoba and earned a Master of Science degree in veterinary physiology and endocrinology. 

But it was Kelly's infatuation with history and a weakness for a good love story that led her down the path of historical romance. When she is not writing, she seizes every opportunity to explore ruins and battlefields.

Currently, Kelly lives in Winnipeg with her husband and two boys, all of whom are wonderfully patient with the writing process. Except, that is, when they need a goalie for street hockey.

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@kellybowen09
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Forever is hosting a special giveaway at this link.

Mahalo,

Kim in Baltimore
Aloha Spirit in Charm City

21857233A Good Rogue is Hard to Find (The Lords of Worth, #2)23732477

Monday, April 27, 2015

Aloha to Linda Broday and TWICE A TEXAS BRIDE


Howdy, ma’am. I’m Rand Sinclair the middle brother in the Bachelors of Battle Creek series – Twice a Texas Bride.

What is your favorite physical feature of your significant other?

For the record, I love everything about Callie Quinn who married me so we could give two kids who had no one a home. But her soft curves and the flare of her hips sure draw my eye. She really fills out those dresses in all the right places! And when I pull her against me, all that softness makes me a very happy man.

What is your definition of a happy relationship?

Laughter springs to mind. Being able to laugh at ourselves and the antics of our adopted children is important. Take the morning I tried to make pancakes for breakfast and had eggs, flour and batter strung from one of the kitchen to the other. I thought my rear would be in a sling for sure but Callie just laughed and told me how much she loved me. Love and trust is also important. We wouldn’t have escaped the outlaw Nate Fleming’s evil brand of terror if we hadn’t loved and trusted each other.

When and where were you the happiest?

It was the day Callie Quinn became my wife. We married so we could adopt a baby named Wren. She was orphaned after her parents died and no one else would take her because she was half Comanche Indian. Callie and I stood in my brother, Cooper Thorne’s, parlor and vowed to always love each other. It was the best decision of my life.


TWICE A TEXAS BRIDE, Book 2 from the Bachelors of Battle Creek

Left with emotional scars from his time in an orphanage, Rand Sinclair has vowed never to marry. But when he discovers Callie Quinn and a small orphan boy hiding on his ranch, he can’t help but open his home to the desperate runaways.

Callie has been betrayed by every man she’s ever known. While she’s grateful for Rand’s incredible kindness, she knows it’s only a matter of time before he shows his true colors. But she needs this safe haven—maybe the outlaw on her trail won’t find them here. Yet as Rand slowly uncovers her secret fears, they each come to realize that the only way to keep her safe is for Rand to risk everything to offer her the protection of his name…and his heart.

TEXAS MAIL ORDER BRIDE (Book 1)

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TWICE A TEXAS BRIDE (Book 2)
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Linda Broday now resides in the panhandle of Texas on the Llano Estacado. At a young age, she discovered a love for storytelling, history, and anything pertaining to the Old West. Cowboys fascinate her. There’s something about Stetsons, boots, and tall rugged cowboys that get her fired up! A New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Linda has won many awards, including the prestigious National Readers’ Choice Award and the Texas Gold Award. She blogs regularly at PetticoatsandPistols.com.

Website – LindaBroday.com
Twitter – twitter.com/lbroday
Facebook – facebook.com/lindabrodayauthor
Goodreads – goodreads.com/Linda_Broday

Praise for Linda Broday

“Broday understands the West and its lure. Without stinting on the gritty reality of a rough Texas life, she brings strong characters and deep emotions into a very realistic western romance that pulls no punches.”—RT Book Reviews, 4 stars, on Redemption

“Linda Broday is a wonderfully talented author, who has a knack for bringing the west to life.”—Roundtable Reviews

“Broday’s style of storytelling is captivating; readers become emotionally involved in her stories, and are not disappointed with the outcomes.”—The Best Reviews

“A compelling tale... sure to touch western romance fans seeking a sentimental love story.”—RT Book Reviews, 3 stars, on The Cowboy Who Came Calling

Sourcebooks offers an excerpt from TWICE A TEXAS BRIDE ... 

Toby barreled out the kitchen door, trailed by Biscuit. “What’cha doin’?”

“Hi, pardner.” Brett ruffled Toby’s dark hair. “I brought you something.”

“What is it?”

“Your very own tepee.”

“To keep?” Toby’s eyes widened and his big grin spread.

“Maybe. We’ll see how it goes. If you mind your elders, you can keep it. If not, I’ll have to take it back.”

“I’m the best boy in the whole world.”

Brett’s grunt seemed to say that time would tell as he arranged twelve long poles on the ground and began tying the tops of three together with a length of rawhide. “Where do you want to put this, Rand?”

“Let’s move it over by the woodpile, where it’s out of the way.” He was going to be the only white man with an Indian tepee on his ranch. How had this sorry state of affairs come to pass? But he wouldn’t say no. It meant too much to Brett and to Toby.

Callie came from the house looking fit to be tied. “Hello, Brett. I hope this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Miss Callie, I wanted something special for Toby to play in, that’s all. If you draw the line at him sleeping out here, that’s all right. It’s up to you to decide when and how often you want the boy to use it.” Brett gave her a smile. “I’d never undermine you.”

“This could be very magical to a child,” Rand said gently.

“Please, ma’am?” Toby begged. “I wanna be an Indian.”

Biscuit gave a loud whine and spun around in a circle as though she too was adding her two cents’ worth.

“Please?” Toby persisted.

When she lifted her eyes to Rand, he gave her a lopsided grin and a wink. Getting tangled up in her warm whiskey gaze could be quite pleasurable, he found.

“Oh, all right.” Callie threw up her hands. “But I won’t have you sleeping out here, young man. You’ll play in it only when I give you permission. And you’ll have chores to do each day before you can play. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s too dangerous out here at night anyway, with that mountain lion hanging around,” Rand said. “I’ll keep an eye on him during the day. I don’t want you to worry.”

Toby hugged Callie, then threw his arms around Brett’s waist. “Thank you. I’m glad we came here.”

Brett returned Toby’s hug, then knelt to rub Biscuit’s head. “Now tell me where you got such a fine-looking animal.”

Rand stood watching the pint-sized squirt relay what little facts he knew. He already loved this little kid. Whatever had happened to them, it made him happy that he could help bring a light to the boy’s eyes. He remembered how dull they’d been when he’d first found them in the run-down bunkhouse last week. His mind turned back time to the days following his, Cooper’s, and Brett’s escape from the orphan train. To avoid detection, they’d slept during the day and traveled by the light of the moon, eating food whenever they found some or managed to kill a rabbit or squirrel. Cooper was always the one to watch over them and fight when things called for it. He’d once tried to kill Tolbert Early in a bathhouse for attacking Brett.

Toby had that same protective instinct. Rand only prayed he could help the boy stay a boy a while longer. Once you became a man, you could never go back.

“Where are you, brother?” Brett asked.

“Just thinking that you’d best explain what we need to do.”

With Biscuit supervising and pretty much getting in the way, they all pitched in erecting the tepee, which was made from buffalo hide.

Working side by side with Callie proved the best part. Each time their hands touched, a current ran up Rand’s arm. He couldn’t imagine what might happen if the touching involved a bed and the scent of night around them. He’d probably just explode faster than a load of nitroglycerin. Likely find pieces of him three states over.

The haunted look had begun to fade from her eyes a little, and she wasn’t as tense and anxious as when they first arrived.

Maybe, just maybe, the fear would be gone soon.

And then he intended to kiss the daylights out of her.

Of course he’d go slow. He closed his eyes and watched it play out in his head.

He’d start by kissing each eyelid, then move to her shell-like ears and trail kisses down her long slender throat.

Tiny nibbles at the corners of her mouth.

Trace the seam with his tongue.

Breathe her fragrance.

Whisper tender words.

Only then would he press his lips fully against hers and take all that she wanted to give.

And then…

“Rand!”

It took a minute to sink in that someone was trying to get his attention. “What?”

“Where did you go?” Brett asked. “I need you to help me get these sewn buffalo hides around this tripod and cone I’ve made. Of course, if you’d rather take a nap—”

“Just show me what to do,” Rand snapped.

As they worked, Rand’s gaze kept straying to Callie’s soft, round curves. The woman was going to be the death of him yet.

Even so, he was realizing he’d die a happy man if he could only get a taste of her lips.







Aloha to Cara Elliott and SINFULLY YOURS


I recently reviewed Cara Elliott's SCANDALOUSLY YOURS (link) .... now I am ready for SINFULLY YOURS, Book 2 in the Hellions of High Street:


After an eventful Season, Anna Sloane longs for some peace and quiet to pursue her writing. Though her plots might be full of harrowing adventure and heated passion, she'd much prefer to leave such exploits on the page rather than experience them in real life. Or so she thinks until she encounters the darkly dissolute-and gorgeously charming-Marquess of Davenport.

Davenport has a reputation as a notorious rake whose only forte is wanton seduction. However the real reason he's a guest at the same remote Scottish castle has nothing to do with Anna . . . until a series of mysterious threats leave him no choice but to turn to her for help in stopping a dangerous conspiracy. As desire erupts between them, Davenport soon learns he's not the only one using a carefully crafted image to hide his true talents. And he's more than ready to show Anna that sometimes reality can be even better than her wildest imaginings . . .


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Cara Elliott started writing Western novels at the age of five. Later she changed her genre to Regency romance after reading Pride and Prejudice. She graduated from Yale University, and she now lives and works in New York City.

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Forever Romance is hosting a special giveaway at this link .... and offers an excerpt from SINFULLY YOURS:

“It was getting devilishly dull out here with only my own thoughts for company.”

Speak of the Devil!

Anna whirled around. “That’s not surprising, sir, when one’s mind is filled with nothing but thoughts of drinking, wenching, and gaming. Titillating as those pursuits might be, I would assume they grow tiresome with constant repetition.”

“A dangerous assumption, Miss Sloane.” Devlin Greville, the Marquess of Davenport—better known as the Devil Davenport—tossed down his cheroot and ground out the glowing tip beneath his heel. Sparks flared for an instant, red-gold against the slate tiles, before fading away to darkness. “I thought you a more sensible creature than to venture an opinion on things about which you know nothing.”

Anna watched warily as he took one . . . two . . . three sauntering steps closer. Quelling the urge to retreat, she stood her ground. The Devil might be a dissolute rake, a rapacious rogue, but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch.

“Sense has nothing to do with it,” she countered coolly. “Given the rather detailed—and lurid—gossip that fills the drawing rooms of Mayfair each morning, I know a great deal about your exploits.”

“Another dangerous assumption.” His voice was low and a little rough, like the purr of a stalking panther.

Anna felt the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end.

He laughed, and the sound turned even softer. “I also thought you a more sensible creature than to listen to wild speculation.”

“Indeed?” Feigning nonchalance, she slid sideways and leaned back against the stone railing. Which was, she realized a tactical mistake. The marquess mirrored her movements, leaving her no way to escape.

“I—I don’t know why you would think that,” she went on. “You know absolutely nothing about me.”

“On the contrary. I, too, listen to the whispers that circulate through the ton.”

“Don’t be absurd.” She steadied her voice. “I am quite positive that there’s not an ill word spoken about me. I am exceedingly careful that not a whiff of impropriety sullies my reputation.”

“Which in itself says a great deal,” he drawled.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Am I?” He came closer, close enough that her nostrils were suddenly filled with a swirl of masculine scents. Bay rum cologne. Spiced smoke. French brandy. A hint of male musk.

Her pulse began to pound, her breath began to quicken.

Good Lord, it’s me who is an idiot. I’m acting like Emmalina!

Shaking off the horrid novel histrionics, Anna scowled. “You’re not only an idiot, Lord Davenport, you are an annoying idiot. I’m well aware that you take perverse pleasure in trying to . . .”

Cocking his head, he waited.

“To annoy me,” she finished lamely.

Another laugh. “Clearly I am having some success, so I can’t be all that bumbling.”

To give the Devil his due, he had a quick wit. Biting back an involuntary smile, Anna turned her head to look out over the shadowed gardens. Flames from the torchieres on the main terrace danced in the breeze, their glow gilding the silvery moonlight as it dappled over the thick ivy vines that covered the perimeter walls.

She shouldn’t find him amusing. And yet like a moth drawn to an open fire . . .

“What? No clever retort?” said Devlin.

Anna willed herself not to respond.

“I see.” Somehow he found a way to inch even closer. His trousers were now touching her skirts. “You mean to ignore me.”

“If you were a gentleman, you would go away and spare me the effort.”

“Allow me to point out two things, Miss Sloane. Number one—I was here first.”

The marquess had a point.

“And number two. . .” His hand touched her cheek. He wasn’t wearing gloves and the heat of his bare fingers seemed to scorch her skin. “We both know I’m no gentleman.”

Devlin saw her eyes widen as the light pressure on her jaw turned her face to his. It wasn’t shock, he decided, but something infinitely more interesting. Miss Anna Sloane was no spun-sugar miss, a cloying confection of sweetness and air that would make a man’s molars stick together at first bite. He sensed an intriguing hint of steel beneath the demure gowns and dutiful smiles.

If I had to guess, I would say that she’s not averse to the little game we have been playing.

She inhaled with a sharp hiss.

Or maybe I am simply in a state of drunken delusion.

It was entirely possible. Of late he had been imbibing far more brandy than was good for him. Only one way to find out.

He would give her a heartbeat to protest, to pull away. Yes, he was dissolute, but not depraved. A man had to draw the line somewhere.

She made a small sound in her throat.

Too late.

The tiny throb of her pulse beneath his fingertips had signaled her time was up. Devlin leaned in and felt their bodies graze, their lips touch.

A mere touch, and yet it sent a jolt of fire through him.

He froze. The distant laughter, the faint trilling of the violins, the rustling leaves all gave way to a strange thrumming sound in his ears.

Anna shifted, and Devlin shook off the sensation. It must be the brandy, he decided. He had just come from his club, where he had been sampling a potent vintage brought up from the wine cellar. Women had no such effect on him.

A kiss was a distraction, nothing more. A way to keep boredom at bay.

“Go to Hell.” Anna’s whisper teased against his mouth as she jerked back.

“Eventually,” growled Devlin. “But first . . .” He kissed her again. A harder, deeper, possessive embrace. Her lips tremored uncertainly.

Seizing the moment, he slipped his tongue through the tiny gap and tasted a beguiling mix of warmth and spice. Impossible to describe.

He needed to taste more.

More.

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Aloha to Patricia A. Rasey and GYPSY



Grayson “Gypsy” Gabor loves the ladies. As a matter of fact, the more the merrier. Life is good. That is until a mishap with a sexy-as-hell redhead leaves them mated. The eldest of vampires, Vlad Tepes, gives him a choice: Keep her or give her up for all eternity to his one-time best friend, Anton.

Tamera Cantrell sets her sights on the Vice President of the Sons of Sangue, Gypsy. But after a night gone wrong, she finds herself caught between one vampire who hates her and one who adores her. Now Tamera’s only got three short months to prove to the one who despises her that he can’t live without her.

Add in one Mexican Cartel, a vindictive primordial vampire, and a rival MC out for blood, and Gypsy has his hands full with club business. When Tamera’s life becomes endangered, Gypsy must act quick or chance losing her forever.


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A daydreamer at heart, Patricia A. Rasey, resides in her native town in Northwest Ohio with her husband, Mark, and her lovable Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Todd.

When not behind her computer, you can find Patricia working, reading, watching movies or MMA. She also enjoys spending her free time at the river camping with her husband and two sons. Ms. Rasey is currently a third degree Black Belt in American Freestyle Karate. 

Learn more about Patricia and her books at patriciarasey.com.




Saturday, April 25, 2015

Weekly Winners



We have winners at SOS Aloha:

National Library Week
- Maureen wins a book choice from my convention stash.


Cara Elliott's SCANDALOUSLY YOURS
- Cathy P. wins a book choice from my convention stash.

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Collette Cameron's WAGERS GONE AWRY
- Glenda wins a book choice from my convention stash.


Authors connected to the military 
- Denise wins a book choice from my convention stash.


Winners, please claim your prize by sending your mailing address to sos.aloha@yahoo.com.

Mahalo,

Kim in Baltimore
Aloha Spirit in Charm City



Friday, April 24, 2015

Aloha to Kate Angell and NO ONE LIKE YOU - Book Review

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No One Expects a Curveball

For Rylan Cates, the gloriously sunny beachside town of Barefoot William may be home, but the pro baseball player needs to focus on spring training. Hiring a personal assistant to keep him and his four dogs organized for the next eight weeks is the first step--and Beth Avery is the perfect pinch hitter.

Beth is still looking for her place in the world, and a couple months caring for Rylan's two dachshunds, his golden retriever, and a Great Dane named Atlas should shore up her finances before she moves on. Except it's Atlas who won't budge, pushing her toward tanned, scruffy, sexy Rylan every chance he gets. One more strike and she's calling the dog out--unless she and Rylan admit that the attraction they're feeling is a game-winning grand slam. . .
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University of Tampa - my alma mater

Don't let the fear of striking out hold you back. - Babe Ruth

NO ONE LIKE YOU opens with Beth Avery walking four dogs.  The great dane named Atlas decides to lay down and roll over in the street during Beth's trial run as a personal assistant for Rylan Cates, the aging star of the Richmond Rogues.   Rylan hires Beth for two months while his team enjoys spring training in his hometown, giving his full time assistant an extended honeymoon.  The temporary job is perfect for Beth as she wanders around the country, licking her wounds from a series of personal setbacks.   Rylan hires Beth over other applicants after his dogs bond with her ... and he decides she is not his type.  Yet he, too, finds her just as appealing as his dogs.   
Rylan is content with his life until he meets Beth.  He's the all American boy who realizes what he has been missing from his ideal life.  In turn, Beth begins to trust again.   NO ONE LIKE YOU is an easy breezy beach read ... which happens to take place in a beach town.  NO ONE LIKE YOU is the perfect way to usher in the summer.   

I follow Kate Angell on Facebook - she often shares her daily adventures with her elderly neighbors.  She also posts pictures of delicious food in honor of "national day" of celebrated dishes. Kate creates a cozy atmosphere for her fans ... I can hear her voice in NO ONE LIKE YOU.  

NO ONE LIKE YOU includes characters from the Barefoot William and Richmond Rogue series. 

NO ONE LIKE YOU is a heartwarming read worthy of your time.


Clearwater Beach could be the inspiration for Barefoot William

I am giving away a book choice from my convention stash to one randomly selected commenter.  To enter the giveaway,

1.  Leave a comment about dogs, beaches, and/or baseball.

2.  Comments are open through Saturday, May 2.   

3.  I'll post the winner on Sunday, May 3.

Mahalo,

Kim in Baltimore
Aloha Spirit in Charm City

Learn more about Kate and her books at kateangell.com.


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Other books in the Barefoot Williams series