Sandy M’s review of If You Hear Her (Ash Trilogy, Book 1) by Shiloh Walker
Romantic Suspense published by Ballantine 25 Oct 11

As most of you know, Shiloh Walker is an absolute favorite of mine. I have a feeling with this new trilogy, a lot more fans are going to be coming out of the woodwork to follow this very talented author.

Ezra King has come to Ash, Kentucky to recuperate in both body and spirit. His grandmother left her home to him, so he’s healing amid a bit of grief and nostalgia. He’s been content to piddle around the place – until he meets Lena Riddle. The woman not only shoots lust through his system, but she demands respect and admiration for her determination and love of life.

Finally living on her own with no one to tell her how to do it, Lena is happy in every aspect of her life – she’s a chef for the local B&B and she’s surrounded by loving friends. When a man with a sexy voice shows interest in her lasagna, his interest in her piques even further after they share a meal or two together. But then Ezra puts on the brakes, and for a little while is one of those men who says he’ll call but doesn’t. He has his reasons, and once you learn of them you can understand why he’s so hesitant to start up a relationship with this fascinating and beautiful woman. Lena tries to forget the man, even when they run into each other in town, but after so many meetings and too much temptation, Ezra gives in and pursues Lena into a wonderful blossoming relationship.

What brings them together finally is the scream Lena hears one night outside her home at the edge of the forest. The only people who believe her are Ezra and Law, one of Lena’s best friends, and the local sheriff. But on investigation, no evidence is found of anything untoward. Lena can’t let it rest, however, and makes a trip to the sheriff’s office, where Ezra is making his own unrelated complaint. While the deputy helping Lena doesn’t believe a word she says, it’s Ezra who gets things moving to further investigate the matter, but everyone is baffled at the lack of evidence.

The reader knows exactly what’s happening, though, and sees what an evil villain lives and breathes in these pages. What he does to the women he kidnaps slowly weakens and breaks them until they’re praying to die. It’s his latest victim who Lena hears from her bedroom this fateful night that changes life for all concerned – including our villain. And from this point on, you are immersed so deeply in both the romance between Ezra and Lena and the deceptive and evil mind of a madman whose identity is kept from you the entire book. And the second book. You won’t know who it turns out to be until the last book. Talk about tension!

I love Ezra and Lena. Their romance is swift and sure. Ezra turns into the typical alpha cop he is when danger is unveiled around them and their friends. Lena is a sassy, smart, and independent woman, but she knows when to let go and do as she’s asked so everyone survives whatever situation is going on at the moment. Their lovemaking is vintage Shiloh Walker – steamy, intense, and loving. We also meet Remy and Hope, who are featured in the next book, and you love them on sight just as much as you do Ezra and Lena.

Pins and needles having nothing on this storyline. Tenterhooks is more apropos for all the goings-on, especially the suspenseful aspects of the story. If you’re ready for an edge-of-your-seat read that you can’t put down until it’s read, this is it. And do be sure to read this trilogy in order. They’re tied too closely together and left open ended to start in the middle or, heaven forbid, with the last book.

Grade: A+

Summary:

The scream Lena Riddle hears in the woods behind her house is enough to curdle her blood—she has no doubt that a woman is in real danger. Unfortunately, with no physical evidence, the local law officers in small-town Ash, Kentucky, dismiss her claim. But Lena knows what she heard—and it leaves her filled with fear and frustration.

Ezra King is on leave from the state police, but he can’t escape the guilty memories that haunt his dreams. When he sees Lena, he is immediately drawn to her. He aches to touch her—to be touched by her—but is he too burdened by his tragic past to get close?

When Ezra hears her story of an unknown woman’s screams, his instincts tell him that Lena’s life is also at risk—and his desire to protect her is as fierce as his need to possess her.

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

Sandy M’s review of Five Ways ‘Til Sunday (Delta Heat, Book 1) by Delilah Devlin
Contemporary Erotic Romance short story ebook published by Samhain 22 Nov 11

I haven’t had such a dilemma like this with a book in quite a while. I like the characters. I like the story. Then I didn’t care for the story. Then I’d like it again, but I’d hit another snag several pages later. Mostly, I just don’t see this hero allowing such things to happen, even if his BFFs are involved.

Jackson and Marti have a very active sex life – adventurous, sexy, and fun. In fact, the opening scene is quite fun, role playing behind Marti’s locked office door. I enjoyed that a lot. Jackson is one of those men who can win a woman over every which way, so when Marti keeps rejecting his love for her and his proposals of marriage, he tells her he’ll do anything to make her feel comfortable saying yes.

For Marti, it’s more that she’s not up to his standards – no education, tattoos, blue-streaked hair, piercings, and she manages a bar for heaven’s sake. Officer Jackson Teague deserves more than that. Of course, as far as he’s concerned, it’s all in her mind. He loves all of things about her. But when Marti fudges and tells him she has a bucket list of things to try before she marries, Jackson calls her bluff and demands to see her list.

At first he’s a little taken aback at what he reads, but with the help of his five best friends on the force with him, Jackson is determined to show Marti she has no reason to fear commitment from either one of them. So they set up the situations she wants to experience – a hooker working a street corner, making love in a cop car, and other such scenarios, each a tad more erotic than the last. And while these scenes are very erotic, ménages five ways and then some to help Marti give Jackson the answer he wants, this is where my problem with all of it comes about.

These buddies may be Jackson’s best friends, two of them since high school, but a man who loves a woman as much as Jackson loves Marti (and as much as she loves him but just won’t admit it yet), I just can’t see him letting any man put his hands and mouth on her and his cock inside her. Jackson even at one point says no penetration, but the next thing you know, all kinds of penetration are going on. And when Marti discovers Jackson sees beyond her reason for concocting the list in the first place, all of the shenanigans should have ended, but it’s Jackson himself who insists they’re nowhere near done with her yearnings. Yes, in the end Marti wakes up after her fantasies are realized; the men are still best friends despite their wild and wicked weekend, so all’s well that ends well. The journey getting there just doesn’t work for me as well as it does for them. I do love the depiction of Jackson on this cover, though. Whew-boy, just like he’s described in the book.

Despite all of this, however, I like these characters, including Jackson’s buds. They’re fun and likeable, and since this is the first book in the Delta Heat series, we’re going to see more of them in the future. It will be interesting to see what Ms. Devlin does with them all.

Grade: C

Summary:

Sometimes a man’s just gotta call for backup…

Marti Kowalski is all wrong for Officer Jackson Teague—he just won’t listen to reason. She didn’t finish high school, runs a bar. Has a tattoo and a blue streak in her hair. Yet he still wants to marry her? She can’t say she’s not tempted, but she’s got a bucket list to complete before she ties the knot.

Not just any bucket—more like a fifty-five-gallon drum of sexual wishes so explicit, there’s no way one man, even Jackson, can fulfill them all.

When Marti turns him down again, Jackson doesn’t give up, he insists on knowing why. That’s when she shows him her list. He takes it, thinks about it—and calls on the only men he can trust: four buddies from his academy graduating class.

Between the five of them, he’s sure they can come up with a plan to check off every item on her list in one wild, wicked weekend. That is, if she has the nerve to follow through—and if he can bear to share her.

Read an excerpt.

Deirdre Martin is back with her wildly popular New York Blades series, this time taking readers on a journey away from hockey and all the way to Ireland. Breakaway pulls you into the story of the NHL’s only Irish player, Rory Brady, and the one and only woman for him, Erin O’Brien – but he has a lot of groveling to do now that he’s home again.

Since Rory left her behind after making it big in the states, Erin has finally come into her own, determined to make her dream of leaving the small town of Ballycraig at the earliest opportunity. But when Rory unexpectedly returns, plans have a way of changing, no matter how hard she fights against it. Will he work his magic on her again, claiming the forgiveness he needs and the love he knows is still there? Or will Erin stick to her path and make it without the big lug?

Summary:

Erin O’Brien was everyone’s favorite in Ballycraig, while Rory Brady was the town’s golden boy: the local lad who moved to America and became a professional hockey player. Rory promised to return to sweep Erin away to the life of her dreams in New York. But the bright lights and late nights turned his head and he never came back.

Two years later, Rory realizes he’s made the worst mistake of his life. Heading back to Ballycraig, he’s confident that all he needs to do is flash his winning smile and Erin will fall back into his arms. But Erin’s moved on.

Racing the clock, Rory needs to prove to her that the man she fell in love with is still there. But can happy-go-lucky Erin risk it all and give another chance to the man who broke her heart?

Chapter One

Lord, please don’t let there be any truth to the saying, “This is the first day of the rest of my life,” thought Erin O’Brien, as she shoved guests’ dirty sheets into the massive washer in the basement. Ever since her parents had purchased Ballycraig’s sole B & B, she’d come to feel like an indentured servant. Helping her mother run the place was supposed to be temporary until they found “the right kind of help.” Apparently, no one in the village was right for catering to the PJ Leary fanatics who made up the bulk of the visitors. Months had crawled by, and Erin was still here, relegated to the less glamorous tasks: laundry, housecleaning, dishes. The worst part was, she did it all for free, out of what mother liked to term, “family unity.”

Unity? I guess da and Brian are exempt.

She envied her brother: Brian had left town as soon as he got married, an IT job waiting for him Liverpool. It was a great career opportunity, except it left their father all alone to run Ballycraig’s sole auto shop. For years they’d worked side by side. Now her poor father was working with a very green assistant mechanic, who’d already come close to crushing himself under a number of cars.

“How’s it going down there?” her mother called from the top of the basement steps.

“Fine,” Erin called back, peering up at her mother’s creased, anxious face. “Dad did a great job fixing the washer. Could be a second career for him.”

“No need to be cheeky.”

“I’m not!”

“Nevertheless, watch yourself.” Her mother checked her watch. “The first of the weekend guests will be here in three hours. Would you be a love and go to the supermarket in Moneygall for me?”

Erin’s shoulders slumped. “Mam—“

“Asking too much, am I?”

Erin felt guilty. “No, it’s just you’ve more than enough time to go to the market yourself. You’ll be back here and baking before they’ve even arrived.”

“Assuming the buses are running on time.” She looked fretful. “Normally, I wouldn’t ask you to shop on such short notice, love. You know that. It’s just that I’ve got so much to do…. ”

Lord help me, Erin thought. I really need to get my license. If I don’t, I’ll always be hostage to a bus timetable, or worse.

“Relax, all right. You know I’ll do it.”

“You’re a good girl, Erin.”

“A patsy, more like,” Erin grumbled to herself. Her mother was still peering down at her with a distressed expression. “Mum, calm down. I just said I’d do it, so why do you still look so upset? All you achieve by fretting and wringing your hands is driving yourself—and everyone around you—mad. You’re going to give yourself a stroke, and for what?”

“I know, I know,” her mother agreed distractedly. “It’s just that I want it all to be perfect, you know?”

“Perfection doesn’t exist.”

Her mother snorted. “Oh, so now you’re a philosopher, I see. You should be down at the pub with that Holy Trinity of Dimwits, sitting at the bar, each one thinking they’re the next Stephen Fry.”

Erin felt the sting of criticism but refrained from saying what she was thinking: I can never win with you. She didn’t want things to escalate, especially since her mother could go from zero to fifty in the rage department in seconds. Still, she did have a right to defend herself.

“I’m not being philosophical,” she replied calmly. “I’m just trying to point out that you drive yourself mad unnecessarily.”

Her mother didn’t respond. Erin could see this conversation was going in one ear and out the other.

“I’ll leave the list for you on the kitchen counter, all right?”

“Sure.”

“You’re a good girl,” her mother repeated.

Too good, Erin thought. She took comfort in knowing her escape plan was firmly in place and that she would, sooner or later, be free. She double checked behind her to make sure the washer was still tumbling properly, and headed up the stairs.

***

“Chores” done, Erin headed up to her room, locking the door behind her. She and her parents now occupied the top floor of the guest house, the sale of their family home and some land having provided the bulk of the money to buy the B & B.

She caught her reflection in the mirror atop the scratched bureau from her childhood, and paused. You’re no great shakes, she told herself. Nothing special to look at. But in the career she’d be pursuing, looks didn’t matter.

She glanced around the tiny attic room, her eyes caressing the reproductions of some of her favorite artwork that she’d pinned to the walls to help fend off dreariness: Frida Kahlo, the bright reds of Henri Matisse, fields of mood lifting bright yellow sunflowers by van Gogh, Irish landscape artist Henry McGrane’s gentle impressions of spring. Erin was pursuing an art history degree online with the Open University. Most people would think it impractical, even odd. Erin didn’t care: she loved art, and it was something she’d pursued off and on while Rory was away at college. Now that Rory was out of her life, she could do as she wanted, no more putting her dreams on hold for that selfish bastard. No one knew she was almost done with her degree but her best friend, Sandra.

Rory Brady. Just thinking about him made her feel like a twit. Ballycraig’s local idiot, that’s who she was, too stupid to tell when she was being played. How many times had she replayed their years long relationship in her mind? Why did she insist on torturing herself? The story always ended the same way: her life in tatters and his looking brighter and brighter, the first Irish born man playing in the NHL, for the New York Blades.

Rory’s face swam up in her mind’s eye. Her mam had always said he looked like David Beckham, and it was true. If he were a pop star, girls would be breaking into his house just to catch a glimpse of that dirty blond hair and blue eyes. It was a sin that a man should have eyes that beautiful and be such an SOB.

They’d started dating when they were just babies, fifteen years old. Casual, then serious. Very serious, then committed, even when his family moved to America. Six years of trying to find a place to be alone together when he’d come back in the summer, of arguing with her parents about visiting him, of the two of them planning their wedding. One memory in particular dashed back at her: it was early evening, the sky all grey dusk and pink, and she and Rory were lounging beneath the big oak tree in Old Man Mc Donagh’s field, the sun filtering through the lattice work of the leaves. “The Lover’s Tree,” it was called, because the old man never minded couples loafing beneath it. Rory was leaning back against the tree; she was stretched out with her head in his lap. It felt like they were in a poem.

Rory looked down at her, smiling. “I was thinking it might be nice if our wedding ceremony was just you and me, and some old padre saying the words in an ancient church, the only light coming from a blaze of candles surrounding us.”

Erin settled into his lap dreamily. “That’s very romantic.”

“And it saves us worrying about a guest list.”

Erin clucked her tongue and looked up at him with affection. “I knew you had an ulterior motive.”

“Me? Never.” His expression was tender as his large, strong hand brushed against her cheek. “I know it sounds mad, but sometimes I feel like we’re already married, we’ve been together so long.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’re getting tired of me, Rory Brady?” Erin teased.

His expression turned tender. “I could never get tired of you.”

“Promise?”

He put his hand over his heart. “On my life.” His voice, a deep sexy rumble, was charged with emotion as he continued, “You’re the only one for me, Erin, and you always have been. Nothing can change that, not even geography. You’re going to be my wife.”

She believed him. Their love was immutable, fixed as law. There was no telling where one left off and the other began. It had always been that way, and always would be.

The memory faded, straight on narrative returning as if she needed once again to recount the facts of what happened to make sure it was real.

They decided they’d wait to tie the knot until Rory graduated from Cornell and got picked up by a minor hockey team, and then hopefully, the NHL. Which is exactly how it happened.

Except part of it didn’t. The wedding. Erin loved him so blindly and with such faith that even after he hadn’t come back to Ballycraig for two summers running, she clung to her belief they’d always be together. swallowing all that rubbish he fed her about the NHL and training camp and not having any time to get back home. Deep down, she knew. So when she gave him the ultimatum—either marry me like you promised or walk—she shouldn’t have been surprised when he grabbed Option B.

Even so, when the crash came, it was no less devastating. She was dragged under by their history together, tormented by every loving thing he’d ever said and done over the years. She’d have donned widow’s weeds if she could. It was a lucky thing that she was surrounded by loving family and friends, like Sandra and Rory’s former best friend, Jake Fry. Were it not for all of them, especially Jake and Sandra, she’d have spent her life curled up in bed, not caring about anything. She certainly stopped caring about her job in the jewelry store in Crosshaven, quitting a month after Rory dumped her. She couldn’t handle dealing with people, especially happy couples who came in looking for wedding rings.

It took her two years her to pull herself together, but when she did, she made a promise to herself: never, ever again would she give her hopes and dreams over to a man like Rory Gallagher.

Writing is hard work for me. Really, really hard work, since I can be somewhat insecure. What if I think the hero and heroine have chemistry, but they don’t? What if the sex scene I’m working on is about as steamy as a boiling pot of spaghetti?

On days when Madam Muse refuses to appear, or when I feel that writing is the equivalent of working on a chain gang, I daydream about doing something else for a living. My top escape fantasies are:

* Become a mailman. Woman. Person. Whatever the politically correct term is. The big attraction to this job is that I’d get to walk around all day, so I’d get really thin. Plus, I’d get to wear a uniform, so I wouldn’t have to worry about what to wear. This is of crucial importance to someone who once opened her front door wearing lemon colored harem pants and a Ringo Rocks! t shirt from 1975. On the negative side, I haven’t figured out yet how to handle the heat of summer, and the US Postal System is on the rocks. Note to self: see if mail people can do their job in the nude, as long as their mail satchels are strategically placed.

* Join the Merchant Marines. There’s no age limit to this profession, as long as you pass the physical. How hard could it be? I’m sure all you have to do is be able to climb a mast and properly wield a telescope. Plus I love to travel, I love the ocean, and sleeping in a mesh hammock is Number Four on my Bucket List.

* Work on a cruise ship. I’d be a really good entertainer: I can juggle, and I can also sing Bonnie Taylor’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” perfectly. I could easily brush up on my kazoo skills as well. Seriously: who doesn’t love kazoo music? Have you ever heard “Memory” from the Cats done on a kazoo? Haunting. I’m not kidding.

* Visit elementary schools as a Mary Todd Lincoln impersonator. This one is actu-ally the most viable: I’m plump, I’m moody, and I have a very tall husband with a beard who puts up with me. I’ve been trying to talk him into playing Abe to my Mary, but so far it’s a no go.

Alternate: visit nursery schools as Dora the Explorer. She’s little, plus we have the same haircut right now.

* Get a job as Bono’s personal secretary. I know, I know, I know: he’s the size of Rumpelstilskin and he never shuts up about aid to Africa. But I’ve had a mad crush on the man since 1981, when U2 released their first CD, Boy. Think about what a cool job it would be to be his PA: “Could you please call Edge and ask if he got his check for three hundred million dollars from the last tour? Because I haven’t gotten mine yet. Also, you know that luncheon I’m holding tomorrow at the Plaza to raise money for impoverished romance writers? Find out if Obama has any food allergies. I’m sure I can talk him into making a huge donation for these poor, struggling souls.”

Of course, if I ditched my profession, I wouldn’t have been able to write books like Breakaway, the latest in my New York Blades series. It combined two of my favorite subjects: hockey and Ireland. Here’s the back cover blurb:

They had it all planned out: college, marriage, happily ever after.

But it didn’t quite work out that way…

Erin O’Brien was everyone’s favorite in Ballycraig, while Rory Brady was the town’s golden boy: the local lad who moved to America and became a professional hockey player. Rory promised to return to sweep Erin away to the life of her dreams in New York. But the bright lights and late nights turned his head and he never came back.

Two years later, Rory realizes he’s made the worst mistake of his life. Heading back to Ballycraig, he’s confident that all he needs to do is flash his winning smile and Erin will fall back into his arms. But Erin’s moved on.

Racing the clock, Rory needs to prove to her that the man she fell in love with is still there. But can happy-go-lucky Erin risk it all and give another chance to the man who broke her heart?

Intrigued? Breakaway hits the shelves today, February 7th. I’m also working on the next book in the Blades series. The writing seems to be going pretty well right now, but that’s all I’ll say. I don’t want to jinx things…

To find out more about my New York Blades series as well as The Wild Hart Saga, check out my website.

[Ed. Deirdre is kindly offering up a copy of Breakaway to one very lucky commenter, so be sure to leave a meaningful comment or question for her and we'll toss your name into the hat!]

Sandy M’s review of Fatal Heat by Lisa Marie Rice
Erotic Romantic Suspense novella published by Avon Impulse 8 Nov 11

I always love heroes written by Lisa Marie Rice. Give me a hero like Max Wright, alpha, determined, strong, but still tender and gentle, and I’m a very happy reader. It then follows she’ll also create the perfect heroine for such a man. Storyline is secondary for me, as is villain – hell, everything else, though she usually gives me something I can sink my teeth into. But it’s all about the hero for me.

Max is a former SEAL, severely wounded in Afghanistan. Taking a former commander’s offer to recuperate at his beach house, Max figures it’s better to wallow there than anywhere else; at least he’ll be alone. His military career may be over, but he’s going to prove the doctors wrong. All it takes is determination and perseverance. He’s walking when they said he wouldn’t, now it’s time to push even further.

What he doesn’t expect is the Cookie Lady, the niece of his commander. She lives next door and leaves a plate a cookies for him after a particularly strenuous exercise routine. And that’s all it takes. From the next moment on, after he gets closer for a better look, he’s taken with Paige Waring. She makes him quite happy and horny – especially because it’s been two years since he’s had any interest in sex during his healing period. She makes his body respond every which way.

Paige is surprised at her reaction to Max. She’s the staid researcher, not a seat-of-your-pants adventurous type. But this very manly SEAL has her thinking outside her lab coat on all counts. When he offers to watch her dog – Max, of all names! LOL I had as much with that as they did – her heart trips a little faster. Within twenty-four hours these two get to know one another very, very well. She’s never done anything like that in her life. With Max, however, she can’t resist the fire and desire in his eyes.

Then out of the blue Paige is kidnapped because of the knowledge she possesses about a work project that has gone terribly wrong. Hoping Max can figure out the clues she leaves behind but fearful he may be too late, Paige holds on the best she can when being “interrogated.” With the help of pet Max, our SEAL goes after his woman, pushes himself beyond all reason, refusing to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to him. This is a man every woman wants in her life.

Of course, because this is a novella, a lot is packed in in a few pages. As usual, Ms. Rice does it just right – just enough alphaness, just enough emotion, plenty of lovemaking, and her SEALS always do that exactly right. Now, however, I’m in the mood for a full-length Rice novel. I never seem to get enough.

Grade: A

Read LynneC’s review here.

Summary:

Former Navy SEAL Max Wright is out of the SEAL Teams forever after being almost killed by an Afghani RPG. He retreats to his former XO’s beach house to lick his wounds. He wants to snarl at the world but finds it hard to snarl at his new neighbor, his XO’s beautiful goddaughter, Paige Waring, who also comes with a ridiculously likable, totally undisciplined dog.

As a plant geneticist, Paige has always been focused on her work, but when she and her dog run into Max, she recognizes the lonely, shattered man behind the rugged exterior. To her mind, sexiness always comes with a white lab coat, not with acres of tanned muscle and a tough mind-set.

When Paige’s work becomes the target of criminals and she’s abducted, Max springs into action. Though still terribly wounded, this tough as nails SEAL goes on his last mission—stopping at nothing to save the woman he loves.

No excerpt found.

Sandy M’s review of Murder, Mayhem and Mama by Christie Craig
Contemporary Romance published by BookEnds Literary Agency 20 Dec 11

Whenever I finish reading a Christie Craig book, I’m always smiling and I feel darned good. That smile usually lasts for a while too. In between the mystery of the story and her characters I love to death, her books are just plain fun.

Cali has just lost her mother, is ready to kick her boyfriend out, and is dreaming of her mama giving her advice just when she needs it most.  Then all hell breaks loose when her boyfriend begins acting bizarre, shoots her front door out, his aim much to close for comfort, and Detective Brit Lowell keeps coming back to ask her questions she has no answers to. Brit’s partner was recently killed and they’ve had no breaks in the case, so he shouldn’t be messing with an insignificant case like this domestic brouhaha. Except for that Cali. He can’t seem to shake her out of his head, though he keeps telling himself he wants no one in his life like his mother, who always returned to the abusive relationships she’s been in over the years. Cali fits that bill and that’s not for him.

The more he’s thrown into her path, discovering both cases are somehow connected, the more the woman gets under his skin. Though she’s fed up with men right at the moment, there is something about the detective that makes her want to give in and take what he seems to be offering. But there’s a few issues that prohibit their getting involved – the most important being the fact Cali’s a witness in Brit’s case. Brit does his best to keep his hands and mouth to himself, but he finally crosses the line of “I don’t care” and gets Cali in his bed. And, heavens, do they tangle the sheets and steam up the windows. They both still have their doubts, especially Brit, and that, of course, causes an extra set of problems in the long run.

In between all of this, Cali’s mama is still doling out advice. He’s a good man. He needs your help but you can’t fix him. Don’t go to lunch tomorrow when at work. And many more, all designed to keep Cali alive and on the right track toward a good relationship with Brit. Hopefully. At one point, however, Cali tries to put distance between her and Brit, and I like her solution to putting an end to her sweet Charmin baby face – take bitch lessons. That’s only one of the numerous fun parts of this book that had my ear-to-ear grin in full swing.

Brit is falling hard for Cali, despite his misgivings and his acknowledgment of that fact. He desires her, yes; lusts for her; wants her constantly; and wants to protect her from harm at all costs. But he won’t go any further in the feelings department. He still feels she’s too much like his mother, even though she assures him differently. And Cali has gone the distance as far as feelings, but she knows Brit is unable to commit to her. I do feel for both of them, caught up in circumstances beyond their control – and dangerous to boot – thus confusing their emotions outside the bedroom. They’d be good together, so you definitely want them to get beyond the bumps they keep racing over.

I also enjoyed the relationship between Brit and his sister – and his sister getting involved with his partner. Brit gnashes his teeth at that budding relationship, cautions his partner to be very careful not to hurt his sibling, all the while refusing to look as closely into his own relationship problems. Cali gets her chance at the ex once he’s caught, and I cheered her on every step of the way. That jerk is something else. Brit solves the case, of course, and then has to face himself and Cali. A very lovely scene at the end when he finally decides to fight for her.

This book is vintage Christie Craig. Wonderful characters who draw in from page one. Emotions pinging away on both sides. Sizzling love scenes throughout – you don’t have to wait until the book is nearly over before you get some lovin’. A mystery that keeps you guessing and is far from one dimensional. And it’s fun and full of laughter. Can’t beat that any day of the week.

Grade: A

Summary:

Being a mama is hard. But the job’s even tougher when you’re dead.

Cali McKay’s mama isn’t ready to pass over to the “other side” yet. Her unlucky-in-love daughter needs her now more than ever. Before Mama can chain-smoke her way to heaven, she’s gotta make sure Cali’s ex deadbeat boyfriend doesn’t get her daughter killed.

Grief Sucks. Love Heals.

Cali lost her mom to cancer. Detective Brit Lowell, lost his partner to murder. Now he’s in the mood to take down some dirtbags and Cali’s ex just happens to be a dirtbag leaving a trail of dead bodies behind him. Can Brit trust this beautiful woman to help take down her ex? Can Cali look past this sexy cop’s hard exterior to trust him with her heart? Can life get any crazier when Mama starts meddling from the grave? Only one thing is for sure–none of it will matter, unless they catch a killer before the killer catches them.

No excerpt available.

Sandy M’s review of The Lure of Song and Magic (Magic Series, Book 7) by Patricia Rice
Paranormal Romance published by Sourcebooks Casablanca 1 Jan 12

I’ve not read many of Patricia Rice’s books, but the few I have read, I’ve totally loved. Her voice is what first draws me into a story. As mysterious as the characters’ backgrounds are or the direction the storyline takes a reader, there’s a whimsical tone to her storytelling that gives the entire book an extra layer for a terrific reading experience.

Dylan “Oz” Oswin has been getting mysterious texts from someone calling themselves The Librarian. Those messages have led him to Phillipa Seraphina Malcolm James, the former teen singing sensation Syrene. Somehow she has a way of finding his kidnapped son, and he’ll do whatever is necessary to see that she helps, despite her vow to stay out of the limelight, tucked away in her little house in a little town in the middle of nowhere.

Having a voice that can cause riots, even kill, among other things, is a curse Phillipa will not allow to control her again. Her young husband is dead because of her, and these past years teaching children and writing children’s books has been a balm to her soul after the disaster of her musical career and such heartbreaking loss. When Oz shows up at her day care, wanting to make her the star of his new children’s TV show, her answer is no. She’ll never sing to the masses again.

These characters are total opposites. Oz is a legend in his profession, making money hand over fist for his clients as well as himself. Phillipa needs little in the way of material things. Nothing matters anymore but her inner peace and finding her family. So when Oz keeps after her to participate in the program, she’ll agree only if he’ll help find her any living relative she may have out there. She knows nothing about her family, having been left on the steps of a fire station in Bakersfield. Oz immediately takes her up on the offer, knowing he has the resources to solve her puzzle, and now he can move forward with his plan to find his son.

Oz is one not to let anything stand in his way, especially when it comes to the whereabouts of his son. The townsfolk all protect Phillipa in their own strange ways. But he finds that he likes these different people as he slowly gets to know them. The same with Pippa. There’s a quality about her that just calls to him. She’s thrilled to learn her voice has no effect on Oz. And once she relents, opens herself to him, her life begins to change. Again. Keeping the panic at bay is a very tall order, but with Oz at her side, perhaps she can have more than ever before.

I so enjoyed this couple. Their banter is fun, even when Pippa is pushing Oz away in the beginning. Then once they become more open to their attraction and Pippa’s desire to help Oz begins to overshadow her own needs and she now knows Oz will help her in any way possible, the relationship blossoms and is that much more fun to read.

The mystery of Oz’s missing son and Pippa’s family come together in a slow revealing and then a crashing crescendo. I like the family dynamic on both sides, but it’s Oz’s brothers who really pique my interest. Conan is the private investigator who does all of the legwork for whatever is needed to make progress for Oz. It’s interesting that Oz describes their family has one not wanting to be in the same room together for any length of time, but these brothers, while in their own worlds, would do anything and everything for each other. I’m hoping Oz’s siblings eventually get their own books.

If you’ve not read any of Ms. Rice’s paranormal books, you really should. They’re exquisitely written and the characters are unique and charming every time, with never-before-read concepts that keep you turning the pages well into the early morning hours. What else can a reader ask for?

Grade:  A

Summary:

Her voice was a curse…

When Dylan “Oz” Oswin’s son is kidnapped, the high-powered producer will do anything to get him back. Desperately following an anonymous tip, he seeks help from a former child singing sensation called Syrene, only to find she’s vowed never to sing again. Immune to her voice but not her charm, Oz is convinced she holds the key to his son’s disappearance-and he’ll stop at nothing to make her break her vow.

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

Sandy M’s review of Scrumptious by Amanda Usen
Contemporary Romance published by Sourcebooks Casablanca 1 Jan 12

I’m one of those people who likes upscale food in fancy-schmancy restaurants. Being a hillbilly at heart, I also like down-home food where the atmosphere is relaxed and fun. Amanda Usen gives me all that and more in this fun and light-hearted read.

I don’t usually read books dealing with food. I’ve not found one that’s been written by a classically trained chef who make culinary delights believable and enjoyable. Until now. Ms. Usen is a chef in her own right, and she does a terrific job of describing life in a fast-paced kitchen, while also tantalizing the reader with dishes served up for lunch, dinner, and even Sunday brunch. I also like that the heroine, Marly, is not a school-taught chef. She’s one of those who just loves to cook, found her affinity for it early enough through the help of friends, and gets a thrill every time she steps into a kitchen, professional or not. She’s living my dream.

Olivia owns Chameleon, a family restaurant, and Marly is her best friend and has helped her out from day one, keeping the place running smoothly, especially after Olivia meets Keith in culinary school, marries him and then brings him back to restaurant and puts him on the line with Marly. The man is a total screw-up, and it’s Marly who’s making him look good all the time, until she’s had enough. Asking to be taken off the line, she retreats to the bakeshop where her desserts are as mouthwatering as her entrees. The lady is talented in every aspect of the kitchen. She ran Chameleon while Olivia was in school. Now when things begin to truly fall apart, Keith is tossed out after one too many of his shenanigans, Olivia doesn’t turn to her for help. She brings in an outsider.

A sexy outsider who Marly would dearly love to have in her bed. Joe Rafferty is the love’em and leave’em type of man and a master in the kitchen. He never stays in one place long enough to be more than that, but he’s trying to change. He promised his mother on her deathbed  he’d find someone to fall in love with and start a family. No more sluts. But he’s just as attracted to Marly as she is to him, despite the bit of hard feelings when Joe does agree to put off his trip toward a new job in California to help Olivia until she finds a new chef. And so begins a sexy but battling dance between these two chefs.

After a couple of foolish and childish pranks on Marly’s part (which I’m glad didn’t go any further, didn’t sit well with me) and when strange things begin happening around the kitchen, Joe and Marly begin to work together to figure it all out and to keep Olivia from taking back the snake or even selling the restaurant. It’s Joe who finally realizes what they have, is willing to give up his plans to stay with Marly. But she’s just not there yet. Love and marriage aren’t for her, just like it’s never been for her mother. But with Joe? Her eyes should have opened much sooner than they did. After all they’ve been through, all the loving they’ve shared, Marly still drags her feet. A little too far for me, but at least she does wise up before it’s really too late.

I like the issue each of them has with their fathers. It takes a lot of long, hard looking to resolve those issues in the end. The mysterious goings-on in the restaurant are also solved, Marly ultimately being the cardsharp needed to get to the heart of it. All in all, you keep turning the pages for the fun in the kitchen, the food being served in the dining room,the lovemaking that is sizzling and sweet once it begin, and the laughs along the way.

Grade: B

Summary:

Joe Rafferty is just as mouthwatering as the food he cooks. But if he thinks he’s going to waltz in and take over her kitchen, he’s denser than a thick slice of chocolate-ripple cheesecake. Marly has invested too much of her life in Chameleon to hand off the restaurant to someone else—especially a cocky-as-all-get-out superstar chef.  But there’s no denying the man knows how to light her fire. Question is: Can she have the sizzle without feeling the burn?

No excerpt available.

Other books in this series:

Lucious – July 2012

We’ve got two copies of Sins of the Highlander, thanks to Sourcebooks, to give away today to two lucky commenters out there in romanceland!

And how easy it is to win – just tell us your favorite sin committed by romance heroes or your favorite sinful hero and you’ll be entered. Just like that!

See, told you it was easy.

U.S. and Canada only, please.

*Deep quivering sigh* I love Highlanders. Always have. Lately I’ve been disappointed once or twice in books that just didn’t live up to my expectations when reading about these alpha, sexy heroes. So I’m very happy to tell you that this book definitely gives a reader everything they want in a Highlander, sins and all.

Mad Rob MacLaren has reason to live up to the nickname given to him. He now lives dangerously on the edge, and with his current plan under way, folks are going to talk that much more when all is said and done and if he still lives. But his innocent abductee is going to change everything in his life. Elspeth at first wants only to return to her family, but when she learns more about Rob and sees him in action, her wants take a decidedly sharp left turn, and with Rob is where she wants and needs to be.

Summary:

Elspeth Stewart’s gift of Sight hadn’t warned her of the dark-haired madman who charged into her wedding and bore her away into the wild Scottish highlands. Pressed against his hard chest and nestled between his strong thighs, she ought to fear for her life. But her captor silenced all protest with a soul-searing kiss, giving Elspeth a glimpse of the pain behind his passion—pain only she could ease.

“Mad Rob” MacLaren thought stealing his enemy’s bride would be the perfect revenge. But Rob never reckoned that this beautiful, innocent lass would awaken the part of him he thought dead and buried with his wife. Against all reason, he longs to introduce the luscious Elspeth to the pleasures of the flesh, to make her his, and only his forever.

With two clans against them burning for battle, they must find a way to join—body, breath and soul. Or both will be made to pay for the … Sins of the Highlander.

Chapter One

The peat fire had burned out and the ash gone gray, but Rob MacLaren didn’t feel the least bit cold. Not while his hot-blooded woman writhed under him. Their breaths mingled in the frosty air of the bedchamber. Fiona tilted her hips, welcoming him deeper, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from emptying himself into her.

It was too soon. He never wanted it to end, this joining, this loss of himself in the woman he adored.

Rob raised himself up on his arms and gazed down at her. The candles had burned down to nubs but still flickered enough to cast her in soft light. He could see his wife clearly and loved looking at her.

“What are ye doing, daftie man? ’Tis too cold!” Fiona raised herself up and clung to him for warmth.

“That’s what ye get when ye marry a man on Christmas Day—a cold bridal night.” He gently pushed her back down, and she sank into the feather tick.

“It doesna have to be cold.” Her skin rippled with goose­flesh. “Come back under the covers, love.”

“I canna. I need to see the lass I wed,” he said. “I want to watch ye melt for me, to see your face when ye make that wee kitten noise just afore ye come.”

“Wee kitten noise, is it?” She shook with laughter. “Have a care, husband, lest I bare my claws.”She raked her nails across his chest, and the sensation made his balls clench.

He lowered himself and kissed her, devouring her lips and chasing her tongue. He withdrew for a heartbeat for the sheer joy of sliding slowly back into her slick wetness. Then he raised himself again and reached between them to stroke her over the edge.

“Oh, Rob.” Her inner walls clenched around him, and he felt the soft tremor that signaled the start of her release. “When ye do that, I don’t care a fig if it’s so cold I catch my death…my death…my death…”

Her voice echoed round the chamber and faded into the distant thatch overhead.

Rob jerked awake.

He wasn’t in his bridal bedchamber. He was lying on stone-hard ground with a stone-hard cock still primed to make love to the woman in his dream. Stars wheeled above him in a frigid sky. His band of men snored nearby.

And the fact that Fiona was dead slammed into him afresh.

He’d married her two years ago at Christmas, and she’d been gone by Epiphany. Twelve days, he’d been a husband. Only twelve.

And now a night didn’t pass without his wife visiting him as some phantom, sometimes tender, sometimes terrifying. She lived in his dreams, but always he was powerless to hold her to earth. She was so vibrant, so real by night, he suffered all the more in the waking world with the knowledge that he’d not find her there.

One of the men in the clearing let out a loud snore and mumbled in his sleep. It was hours till dawn, and even more till Rob could accomplish what he intended in the coming day. But he would not seek sleep.

He couldn’t bear to lose Fiona again so soon.

 

Rob narrowed his gaze at the stone kirk across the glen. The bagpipes’ celebratory tune ended with an off-key wheeze. He and his men, concealed on the edge of the forest, had watched the bridal procession and the arrival of the groom’s party. Now he heard nothing from the kirk. The only sound was the harsh cry of a jay from the branches above him.

The ceremony must have been beginning in earnest. Rob snorted, his breath like a curl of dragon smoke in the chilly air.

“’Tis time, Hamish.”

“I wish ye’d reconsider.” His friend shook his head, his scruff of red beard making him look like an alarmed hedgehog. Hamish never let his beard grow beyond the stubble stage. A metal worker couldn’t chance much facial hair. Even his eyebrows were habitually singed off. “If ye go through with this, folk will say ye’re…that ye’re—”

“Mad? They say that already.” Rob mounted his black stallion. The beast sensed his agitation and pawed the dirt, restive and spoiling for action. “I see no other path before me. Now will ye help me or no?”

“Aye, Rob, ye’ve no need to ask, but—”

“Then get the men ready to ride. I hope to be in a wee bit of a hurry when next ye see me.” He shot his friend a mirthless grin and spurred his mount into a gallop across the glen. It was possible the next time Hamish saw him, Rob might be in no hurry at all.

He might very well be dead.

 

The smell of incense was so cloying, Elspeth Stewart feared she might faint dead away. But a bride must stand before the altar. She drew a shallow breath and swallowed hard. That was better. As the priest droned on, she sneaked a glance from under her lashes at the man who would be her husband.

Lachlan Drummond.

Tall and commanding in his dress plaid, he wasn’t altogether unpleasing. His face was tanned, and the lines at the corners of his eyes suggested he’d squinted into countless northern suns. Those lines didn’t trouble her. They proved the laird was a man of action, not like the dainty fops who visited from the English court from time to time.

No, it was the deep grooves between his brows and the hard set of his mouth that gave her pause.

Dinna fret yerself,” her mother had assured her when she complained that she didn’t know her betrothed well enough to even speak to him if she met him in Queen Mary’s court. “An arranged match is a safe match. Yer father has chosen the Drummond for ye, and ye’ll do well to bide by his wishes.”

The queen had approved too. She’d angered so many of the nobles with her other policies, she didn’t dare gainsay two of them on something as inconse­quential as the marriage of one of her ladies-in-waiting.

Inconsequential to everyone but me, Elspeth fumed. An exchange of breeding cattle, a grant of grazing rights, a promise of fealty between their clans; that was really all that was being solemnized now. It was certainly no marriage as she’d ever imagined it.

Or Seen it. Elspeth was gifted with a bit of the Sight, and never in all her prescient dreams had she seen this match on her horizon. This loveless ceremony was as far removed from the tales of courtly devotion in her precious little book of sonnets as the distant moon.

Yet when the priest asked Lachlan Drummond to pledge his faith to her, his voice was strong, the tone pleasing. He even sent her a quick private smile.

Elspeth jerked her gaze back to her folded hands. Her cheeks burned as if she had a fever. She wondered if her mother was right.

“Passion,” Morag Stewart had said, “is a dish that flares hot, but then goes cold as a tomb often as not. An arranged match is like a cauldron set to simmer over a low fire. A nourishing broth heated evenly warms a body from the inside out.”

Elspeth wasn’t sure how she could do the things her mother said her husband would expect of her. Bizarrely intimate things. Of course, she’d seen horses mate, and dogs too, but she never suspected people did something as…primitive as the mere beasts.

And now she’d have to do it with a man she barely knew.

Silence jerked her back from her musings. The priest had asked her a question and was waiting for a reply. She blinked stupidly at him. What had he said?

Suddenly the double doors of the nave shattered. A man on a large black horse was silhouetted in the opening for a heartbeat. Then he urged the stallion into the kirk and charged up the center aisle.

“Mad Rob!” she heard someone call out. Half the horseman’s face was painted with woad, and his cobalt eyes burned as brightly blue. With his dark hair flying and the fierce expression of a berserker on his features, he certainly looked mad.

“The MacLaren,” shouted another. Her bridegroom was silent, but a muscle worked furiously in his cheek.

Her father reached for the horse’s bridle, but the MacLaren shouted a command, and the stallion reared, pawing the air. Then it lashed out with its hind hooves, and everyone scrambled out of reach of the slashing kicks.

Elspeth watched in disbelief as the man drew a long claymore from the shoulder baldric strapped to his back and laid the flat of the blade across Lachlan Drummond’s chest. Riding a horse into the kirk was bad enough. Mad Rob had broken the sanctity of holy ground by drawing his weapon. All the other men had laid their swords and dirks outside the doors, which now hung drunkenly from the hinges. Elspeth half expected the Almighty to strike the blasphemer down with thunderbolts from the altar.

“Twitch so much as an eyelash, wee Lachlan, and I’ll take yer head,” Mad Rob said as pleasantly if he’d offered Drummond a plate of warm scones.

Then he leaned down and scooped Elspeth up with his other arm and dropped her belly-first across his kilted lap.

She was too astonished to be afraid. All the air fled from her lungs with a whoosh. Her head and arms dangled on one side of the restive stallion, and her legs kicked on the other. She couldn’t rail at the man, since she was busy fighting for breath, but she struggled to free herself from such an undignified position.

“Hold still, lass, lest my hand slips and I lop off a bit of your groom.”

Now fear sliced into her. She froze and looked at Lachlan. The madman’s blade had slid up to his chin. Her bridegroom hadn’t taken his black-eyed gaze from Mad Rob’s face.

“I’ll be going now, Drummond,” Rob said in the same reasonable tone a man might use to discuss cattle or the weather. “If ye’ve the stones for a fight, ye may collect yer bride at Caisteal Dubh. But dinna show your face till month’s end. Come for her sooner or try to follow us now, and I might have to kill her.”

Elspeth couldn’t look up at her captor’s face, but she heard a wicked smile in his voice. Kill her reverberated in her mind.

And all she’d thought she’d lose when she woke this day was her maidenhead.

Thanks for having me here today.

As you know, Sins of the Highlander, my first collaborative novel with NY Times Bestseller Connie Mason, is on bookstore shelves now. I’m a firm believer in letting readers “try before they buy” but instead of the usual excerpt, I’m offering a “box of chocolates” sampler of the end of chapters in this story. (Warning: I’m known as a “happy hooker.” Writing hooks, of course. What were you thinking?)

SINS OF THE HIGHLANDER Sampler:

Chapter One ~ When he tried to kiss her again, she delivered a ringing slap to his cheek. Reason flooded her mind again. Perhaps he was called “Mad Rob” because he could entice others to insanity.

“Now get away from me,” Elspeth ordered.

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Lass, I’ve killed dozens of men. Do ye really think ye can stop me from whatever I may decide to do with you?”

He took a step toward her, his eyes glittering fiercely in the dark.

Chapter Two ~ She’d forgotten to breathe as he spoke. Now she sucked in a quick breath.

“Shall I pleasure ye, Elspeth?”

Chapter 3 ~ If Rob could seduce Elspeth Stewart into giving herself to him willingly, his enemy would be thoroughly shamed. The name of Lachlan Drummond would become a byword, held up for ridicule by all as the cuckolded bridegroom. Bards would compose songs about it and folk would laugh at him over many a winter fire.

Drummond would be so furious, he’d respond to Rob’s challenge of single combat at last.

And then Rob would send him straight to hell. Even if he had to go through the flaming gate with him.

Chapter 4 ~ “Trust me, lass. By and bye, ye’ll thank me for keeping from becoming Lachlan Drummond’s wife.”

Elspeth curled her toes inside her slipper and managed to wiggle the left one off without his knowledge. It fell under the stallion’s hooves and was pressed into the path, marking their way as clearly as if she’d stopped and drawn an arrow.

Chapter 5 ~ The numbers in the pack dwindled. As the eastern sky lightened to pearl gray, hope rose in Elspeth’s heart.

Then the largest wolf charged and leaped. His flying lunge knocked Rob from Falin’s back. They rolled together, tooth and claw, man and blade, off the path and into the thick underbrush, disappearing in a growling, swearing mass.

Chapter 6 ~ Wolf song reached their ears, distant, but close enough to be worrisome.

“Come, lass. And step lively.”

This time he didn’t have to tell her twice.

Chapter 7 ~ “Unfortunately, of the two of us, it seems only ye have the honor of always being right. There’s no tree big enough to bear your weight nearby,” Rob said as he put her down. He stooped and pulled out his boot knife, handing it to her haft first. “If they get past me, dinna let yourself be taken.”

Chapter 8 ~ Elspeth stood with her back to him, next to the table. She poured water from a kettle into the ewer. Steam rose before she added cold water from the pitcher. She dipped a cloth into a basin, unaware that Rob was watching her.

He prayed that happy state would continue.

She was naked as Eve in glory.

Hope you enjoyed the Sins of the Highlander sampler. If you’d like a traditional excerpt, most of the first chapter is posted on my website. While you’re there, be sure to enter my website contest where the Grand Prize is a NEW KINDLE! The drawing will be held Jan. 30^th.  I love to connect with readers. You can also find me at my Twitter fan page and my Twitter author page. Hope to see you around the web.

I’ll be around checking the comments all day! Leave a question for me or share your favorite snippet from Sins of the Highlander from the sampler above.

Sandy M’s review of Sins of the Highlander by Connie Mason with Mia Marlowe
Historical Romance published by Sourcebooks Casablance 1 Jan 12

What historical romance reader hasn’t daydreamed of a braw Scottish Highlander abducting her from the altar and a future of boring days on end, racing across the countryside with her in his arms, toward an unknown destiny filled with steamy nights and never-ending love? Come on, ‘fess up. What’s not to love about such a romantic scenario, especially with a sexy, yummy hero like Mad Rob MacLaren.

I will admit this is one my of favorite tropes (I stole that from LynneC!  ) when getting lost in pages of the Highlands. The hero abducts the heroine, of course, for his own purposes, mostly revenge, and over the course of the story his feelings change, as do hers, paving the way for love and romance. It’s what’s in between the bride stealing and the love that either makes or breaks the book.

Robin MacLaren – dubbed Mad Rob due to his wild and dangerous behavior since his wife’s death – has hatched a plan to gain some revenge on the man who had a hand in Fiona’s demise. They shared only twelve days of wedded bliss before she was gone, and now all of his scheming has finally come to fruition. What he doesn’t factor into his plans is the woman he plans to abduct. He discovers very quickly she’s more than a possession to be fought over.

Doing her duty of marrying a man to unite their clans is the only reason Elspeth Stewart is standing before God, her family, and the two involved clans. She hopes for love, but her husband to be doesn’t excite her in any way. And when the doors to the kirk are thrown open and a wild man on a huge, black horse plucks her up and tosses her over his saddle while holding a broadsword to Lachlan’s throat, she now understands the vision her Sight had given her . She should feel afraid of this rough and rude warrior, but something about him causes that much awaited excitement to rush through her.

However, Elspeth will do all she can to escape her captor, and Rob will do everything in his power to keep her to make his enemy sweat. She thinks the man truly is mad to do such a thing – in a kirk of all places. His opinion of her changes when she bravely faces him and the dangers they encounter on their journey to his home. Rob now looks at her as someone of worth and definitely not worthy of the man she’s to marry. And as Rob protects her from wolves and even her fiance, Elspeth also sees him in a different light, one that has her thinking perhaps she’s better off with a madman than the evil bore she’s been promised to. Her eyes are now wide open as far he’s concerned.

Upon arriving at Rob’s home, an army is awaiting them, effectively imprisoning his clan. But another plan has formed, and he desperately hopes after all they’ve shared that Elspeth will be in agreement when she learns what his negotiation with her betrothed and her father entails. Another flash of her Sight and Elspeth knows that all will end in disaster, something she can’t allow. Sneaking away and taking Rob’s secrets with her, she tries to save everyone’s lives while leaving her heart behind. Unbeknownst to all, there’s another faction planning Elspeth’s downfall, and now not even her visions will be able to save her.

I enjoyed these characters, even the villain. He’s smarmy enough to be interesting, but it’s still nice to see him get what he deserves. Rob and Elspeth are both honorable and trustworthy. Their love grows steadily and sweetly. This is a couple I could read about over and over again.

From heart-pounding moments to gentle and sensual steaminess, this story of revenge and love moves at a nice pace, keeping a reader’s interest throughout. I’m not sure what I expected with two authors working on the same book, and not having read either of them before, I don’t know whose voice is dominant. Either way, the tone of voice is pleasing and works very well for the genre.

Grade: A

Summary:

Abduction

Elspeth Stewart’s gift of Sight hadn’t warned her of the dark-haired madman who charged into her wedding and bore her away into the wild Scottish highlands. Pressed against his hard chest and nestled between his strong thighs, she ought to fear for her life. But her captor silenced all protest with a soul-searing kiss, giving Elspeth a glimpse of the pain behind his passion—pain only she could ease.

Obsession

“Mad Rob” MacLaren thought stealing his enemy’s bride would be the perfect revenge. But Rob never reckoned that this beautiful, innocent lass would awaken the part of him he thought dead and buried with his wife. Against all reason, he longs to introduce the luscious Elspeth to the pleasures of the flesh, to make her his, and only his forever.

With two clans against them burning for battle, they must find a way to join—body, breath and soul. Or both will be made to pay for the … Sins of the Highlander.

Read an excerpt.

If you have teenagers, you might want to read this book. Then give it to him or her to read. It covers a lot of ground from the perspective of a depressed, post-suicidal teen. From family to school to his own inner thoughts, Try Not to Breathe doesn’t dwell on the negative. The story follows Ryan as he tries to move on, which he does with remorse, a good sense of humor, and more insight into himself and those around him than he had before.

Even if you don’t have teenagers, this is a book worth reading. Young adults today go through so much, and Jennifer Hubbard takes a look deep into that world with emotion and humor. Even a little romance. Yeah, remember those days? And maybe for some you, you might remember a few of the same issues Ryan is living today.

Summary:

Learning to live is more than just choosing not to die, as sixteen-year-old Ryan discovers in the year following his suicide attempt. Despite his mother’s anxious hovering and the rumors at school, he’s trying to forget the darkness from which he has escaped. But it doesn’t help that he’s still hiding guilty secrets, or that he longs for a girl who may not return his feelings. Then he befriends Nicki, who is using psychics to seek contact with her dead father. This unlikely friendship thaws Ryan to the point where he can face the worst in himself. He and Nicki confide in one another the things they never thought they’d tell anyone—but their confessions are trickier than they seem, and the fallout tests the bound of friendship and forgiveness.

It was dangerous to stand under the waterfall, but some kids did it anyway, and I was one of them. The water pounded my mind blank, stung my skin. It hit my naked back, chest, and shoulders so hard I couldn’t think. That water could knock me over, pound me into hypothermia, force the breath out of me, pin me to the rock, and I knew it.

But I kept doing it.

My parents’ heads would’ve shot through the roof if they’d known. They’d done their best to wrap me in cotton since I’d gotten out of Patterson Hospital a few months before. My mother panicked if I missed a dose of my meds, so I sure wasn’t going to tell her about the waterfall. How could I explain it anyway?

Because I needed it. The roaring water shot over the ledge and beat down on my shoulders and head, a thunder I felt even through the slick stones under my feet. My nerves crackled and buzzed. It was all I could do to stand still against the water.

Whatever else I had messed up in my life, I could do that much: stand still. Okay, so I wasn’t setting the bar too high.

There were rumors that a guy had drowned here once, or that he’d fallen from the cliff and smashed his head on the rocks, his brains spilling into the pool below. Each version of the story was bloodier and less believable than the last.

There were rumors about me, about what I’d done back in the spring. Everyone snuck looks at me in the school halls after I got out of Patterson. Sometimes I was tempted to foam at the mouth and babble to invisible people, because the other kids seemed so disappointed that I didn’t. But I couldn’t be sure they would realize it was a joke. The few times I’d tried to make anyone laugh, all I got were nervous glances and squirming. Nobody expected me to have a sense of humor, and it was safer for me to let them think I might be crazy than to give them proof.

So I knew about rumors, how they were 95 percent bullshit with maybe one kernel of truth. I wasn’t sure where the kernel was in the story about the dead guy at the waterfall.

I first went under the waterfall in May, and I kept it up all summer. July was so hot, I imagined steam pouring off me whenever the icy rush hit my skin.

Early in August, we got rain. I watched the waterfall from the stream bank, waiting for the cool stormy weather to pass, for the heat to return.

I was sitting there one day when Kent Thornton’s sister came by. Kent was going into eleventh grade like me, and I knew his sister was a year younger, but I’d never talked to her much. Last year she’d been at the junior high, since Seaton High didn’t start until tenth grade.

“Hey.” I tried to remember her name, but couldn’t.

She stood watching the water charge over the cliff. Ferns waved in the breeze. “Are you going in?” she asked.

“No, not today.” All that rain had swelled the creek and the waterfall. I was tempted to see if I could stand up under the cold weight of that water, but I wasn’t completely insane, no matter what kids at school might whisper about me.

“I do it all the time.” She grinned. “My friend Angie won’t even stick her foot in the water. She says the rocks are too slippery.”

“They are slippery.” Not that it had ever stopped me.

Kent’s sister wiped sweat off the back of her neck. “You live up at the glass house, don’t you?”

“It’s not glass.” I hated when people called it that. It sounded like we were expecting some TV show to feature us in our architectural wonder of a home. Lifestyles of People Who Have Way More Money Than You. “It just has a lot of windows.”

“Whatever. That’s your house, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Her face flushed pink. “Just wondered.” She waved at the waterfall. “Dare me to go under there?”

“Nah, it’s too cold today. And strong. It’s kind of dangerous.”

She stepped into the water. Ripples spread out from her foot. She wore a tank top and shorts, which she didn’t take off. She walked toward the waterfall, slipping once on the mossy rocks.

I followed her with my eyes. Dread squeezed my stomach and wedged a lump at the back of my throat. I didn’t even know this girl, but I had no desire to see her crushed, drowned. She disappeared under the silver curtain of water.

I stood up because I couldn’t see her anymore. I squinted at the foaming water, trying to see into it, through it.

My fingers tapped the sides of my thighs as if counting the seconds she’d been under. How long should I wait before going in after her? If I should go in at all—there being a narrow line between heroes and idiots.

Kent’s sister ducked out, spitting, hair glued flat to her head. I exhaled. She lifted a handful of wet hair off her face, shook herself like a dog, and laughed. She splashed toward me.

“You all right?” I said.

Her lips were purple; her skin prickled with goose bumps. Her teeth hammered against each other.

“I should’ve brought a towel,” she said.

I’d done that before—remembered the towel only after I was wet. “I can get you one.”

“Okay.” She rubbed her arms. “That sounds fantastic.”

My second novel, Try Not to Breathe, was a story that grabbed hold of me and wouldn’t let go.

I’d been working on something else—a book that I’d been writing for quite a while—and I was planning to take a writing break. But Try Not to Breathe had other plans; it refused to wait. It grew out of a verse-writing exercise that I was playing with one day. The main character, Ryan, did not confine himself to a few poems. He just kept on speaking.

I started with the image of a boy standing under a waterfall, and as I wrote, I learned more and more about him: his suicidal past, his secrets, the crush he had. Then a girl burst onto the scene, with goals and secrets of her own, pushing against the walls Ryan had built around himself. She revealed more about herself with every scene, but I didn’t learn her biggest secret until the second or third draft. Her secret shocked me at first, but it fit. It all made sense, and it brought the story back to where it began—the waterfall.

Sometimes it happens that way. The first time I write a scene, it may surprise me, and I get to have the same sense of discovery with it that a first-time reader will have.

Sandy M’s review of Try Not to Breathe by Jennifer R. Hubbard
Young Adult published by Viking Juvenile 19 Jan 12

As most of you who read my reviews know, I’m not a stickler for accuracy or total believability and realism in my romance novels. That doesn’t mean a lot to me when given terrific characters and an intriguing storyline. I have to say, however, in this instance with Jennifer Hubbard’s young adult book, all of those elements are well done when it comes to teen suicide.

The best parts of this book for me are those dealing with both Ryan’s sarcastic humor and his reaction to people, including his parents, when faced with attempted suicide. Then there’s his parents’ reactions to both the attempt and the aftermath. I find these to be quite believable and real. It makes me wonder how close to home the author has experienced these things in her book. It just seems more than good research has put the pain and emotion in this story.

At first I wondered why Ryan’s attempt at suicide is really hardly an attempt at all. He is depressed, has the usual teenage issues, and when he thinks about killing himself, he chooses to do so in the family car in the garage, with a towel wedged under the door to the house to block any effect on his mother inside. But the car runs only a minute, two at the most, and then his father comes home, interrupting Ryan’s plans. All hell breaks loose and he ends up at a mental hospital. It’s later during scenes with his parents, both together and separately, that it becomes clear to me it doesn’t matter to them how long or how half-hearted the attempt was. This is their son. He tried to kill himself. They don’t know why. They don’t know what to do with him or around him after he comes home. Those scenes are intense, especially with Ryan’s mother when she breaks down while talking to him. His father now seems to listen to him more when they sit down together for their father-son ballgames on TV.

Ryan’s favorite place is a waterfall near his home, especially when kids at school back away and stare now that they know what he tried to do. There’s a peacefulness at the falls for Ryan, and it’s where he meets Nicki. She’s the only one who doesn’t sensor what she says to Ryan, doesn’t wince if the wrong is said or implied, doesn’t think he’s that sensitive anymore when it comes to his depression and subsequent decision. In fact, she wants to talk about his suicide attempt, wants to know what he felt, why he did it, did he leave a note. Not wanting to talk about it himself, Ryan tries to dodge Nicki’s questions, but when he learns her father killed himself, he relents and tells her a little, though he knows it won’t be enough for her. His answers are his alone.

Along for the ride to healing with him are Ryan’s friends from the hospital, Jake and Valerie. The three friends have stayed in touch since their releases, and it’s Valerie who Ryan is always thinking about, hoping she feels the same about him. It’s after he accompanies Nicki to see a psychic or two to get her answers about her dad that Ryan finally gets to see Valerie once again. Though she’s too young at fifteen to drive, Nicki handles her brother’s truck like a pro and drops Ryan off to spend a few hours with Val, all of which he wishes never happens after she rebuffs him, thinking they live too far apart for anything to happen between them.

So Ryan turns to the one recent constant in his life – Nicki. Young hormones race and rage, feelings bubble to the surface, more secrets are revealed, and it feels good. For a little while anyway. Just when everything seems to be going right for him, Ryan finds perhaps it was a scam, definitely all a lie. Even his waterfall suddenly becomes tainted by deceit. A friend goes back into the hospital. Will life ever get back on a stable keel for Ryan?

Try Not to Breathe is a very frank look at all sides in the aftermath of a teen suicide attempt, even though it’s from Ryan’s POV. Ms. Hubbard does a terrific job of getting all those sides represented, good and bad. Ryan is a very likable young man, coming out relatively intact after such an event. You feel for him, no matter the situation. A good book to pass to anyone who’s walked in the same steps as Ryan, letting them know, if nothing else, they’re not alone.

Grade: B

Summary:

Ryan spends most of his time alone at the local waterfall because it’s the only thing that makes him feel alive. He’s sixteen, post-suicidal, and trying to figure out what to do with himself after a stint in a mental hospital. Then Nicki barges into his world, brimming with life and energy, and asking questions about Ryan’s depression that no one else has ever been brave enough – or cared enough – to ask. Ryan isn’t sure why he trusts Nicki with his darkest secrets, but that trust turns out to be the catalyst that he desperately needs to start living again.

No excerpt available.

Sandy M’s review of An Unexpected Gentleman by Alissa Johnson
Historical Romance published by Berkley 6 Dec 11

The elements of this book come together quite nicely to give readers what they’ve come to expect from Alissa Johnson. Revenge against a brother, an attraction that begins from afar, jealousy that leads to false accusations, and a love that grows despite everything working against such emotion.

Adelaide is expecting a proposal from Baron Maxwell, but she’s dragging her feet to face him this night. As much as her family needs his money, this is certainly not a love match. But it is up to her to make the sacrifice – her sister needs a Season, her brother’s debts need to paid, and her young nephew needs a stable home life. But before she makes her way to the house party, she is waylaid by a handsome gentleman and then trapped in his company as they wait for the coast to clear so they’re not caught in improper circumstances. Connor Brice is a charming rogue and has a way of seemingly reading her mind about her reluctance to actually make it inside for the party.

Revenge has been on Connor’s mind for years. He and Baron Maxwell have a very contentious history, with luck not being on Connor’s side throughout. Discovering the baron’s interest in Adelaide, his plans now include her. He slowly seduces her, but Adelaide surprises him. She has a good head on her shoulders and looks at all sides of a situation. So he takes matters into his hands to make sure she’s tied to him. But even compromising the lady doesn’t work as neatly as he figured.

With two men’s proposals waiting for an answer from her, Adelaide is determined to make the right choice, though after all the revealing things she learned about the baron tonight, her choice really is clear. But she’s cautious and intelligent and makes doubly sure the men know she’s in charge, especially because they don’t see her as a person or a woman but more of something to fight over. She accepts Connor’s proposal with her eyes wide open. Too bad her heart doesn’t follow suit.

While Connor keeps his eyes on his revenge plans, Adelaide begins to see him in a new light in this new life they share. The sweet way he makes love to her, the way he cares for her nephew, the revelation of his feelings for her before he even knew she was involved with the baron. Even the way he listens to her when she stands up for herself in their marriage.

But when love enters the equation, Adelaide wants more from Connor. His life has and is consumed with revenge, but if they’re going to have a life, a family together, he needs to step back and see what’s more important to him. And Connor does listen to her, but he’s running on a one-track mind. He decision is made swiftly, however, and to me it’s a little too fast. Seems like to me after fifteen years of nothing in his life but his revenge that it should have taken just a bit longer to whittle it down the way he does. Does he give it all up? Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?

I enjoyed these characters immensely. Connor is the one who must truly change, even though Adelaide is taken with his unexpected gentlemanliness as she gets to know him. There’s more to him than meets the eye, and it all comes out through his growing love for her. I like that Adelaide is not a beguiling beauty, but just your everyday girl next door and she doesn’t leave that behind despite what happens in her life. The baron is one piece of work, and I thoroughly reveled in his downfall.

Alissa Johnson always gives readers a lovely romance featuring charming characters, wicked and handsome heroes, along with intelligent and independent heroines. I enjoy her storytelling and look forward to the next book by the time I’ve finished reading the one currently in hand.

Grade: A-

Summary:

Her heart was a target…

Adelaide Ward has but one goal—to obtain an offer of marriage from the respectable, if less-than-appealing Baron Maxwell before her family is ruined. But it’s the devilishly handsome Connor Brice who captures her imagination—and a kiss in broad daylight—in front of a dozen members of the ton.  Now Adelaide must decide if the charming scoundrel who stole away her reputation might still be trusted with her heart.

His aim must be true…

Connor Brice seeks a long overdue revenge on the baron. And what better way to launch his campaign than to steal the lovely Miss Ward for his own? A quick “compromising” and an even quicker wedding ought to do. But if Connor wants to establish any sort of domestic tranquility, he’ll have to regain Adelaide’s trust and choose what means more to him—his thirst for vengeance, or his need for Adelaide.

Read an excerpt.

This is the second year in a row I’ve not been able to decide which of two terrific books should be my No. 1. So I have a tie once again. Last year it was two fantasies that made the top spot. This year one of those authors has maintained her position, but she’s now sharing it with an historical author who never lets me down in story or character. And who rounds out the rest of my list? Think I can surprise you? Hmmmmm. Maybe not totally, but I think a few of my picks just might!

10. A Forever Kind of Love by Shiloh Walker – emotion is going to be the word of the day for this list. Combined with an alpha hero and a romance to die for, an author has a life-long fan in me if she can pull that off. Shiloh Walker is definitely one of those authors. This book is chockful of emotion, pulling on your heartstrings so much you’re sure they’ll definitely break. Just what I’ve come to expect from her.

9. Saddled and Spurred/Wrangled and Tangled & Chasin’ Eight/Cowboy Casanova by Lorelei James – I’m not sure how she does it, releasing these four books, plus others, in one year, but I’m sure glad Ms. James does. I couldn’t leave any of these books off the list over another, they’re all so good. My favorite, I think, is W&T – I love Renner and Tierney, they’re such fun. Her cowboys from both of her current series will keep you hot and bothered long after you’ve finished reading them!

8. Hidden Embers by Tessa Adams – sigh. Dragons. I love’em. And this edition of Tessa Adams’ Dragon’s Heat series is right on target for me with the emotion the hero goes through and all those alpha dragons breathing fire everywhere. The aerial fight scenes are as intense as the lovemaking, and with a mysterious disease that could end their clan, this is one all-consuming read. And how can you not lust over that cover, for heaven’s sake?

7. Touch of Crimson by Sylvia Day – I so enjoy an author who can write in more than one genre, and Sylvia Day is a master. I love her paranormals every bit as much as I love her historicals. This new series featuring angels is spectacular. ToC is the perfect opening, and I can’t wait for more, especially since next up is a werewolf hero. Shifters do it for me every time.

6. Pride and Pleasure by Sylvia Day – this is the first time an author has made my list in two different genres. Doesn’t surprise me it’s Ms. Day. Both hero and heroine in this book are fascinating characters, something this author excels at like no other. I can’t imagine anyone reading this list hasn’t read Sylvia Day before, but if so, you have to pick up one of her books like yesterday. Seriously.

5. Breaking Point by Pamela Clare – another author who writes alpha heroes and gives them the perfect heroine for our reading pleasure. And who can insert emotion that breaks your heart and then shows you action until you’re ready to collapse with exhaustion. You get everything in a Pamela Clare book. The hero in this story goes through hell, but his heroine, of course, helps pull him through.

4. Hidden Away by Maya Banks – If you’ve read my reviews of Ms. Banks’ KGI series books, you know I love these Kelly boys. They go through hell to find love, but that makes it all the more sweet and pleasurable in the end. It’s also the family aspect of these stories that I love. You mess with one Kelly, you mess with them all. The brothers tease and fight like boys do, but they back each other up no matter what. Heroes, every one of them.

3. The Many Sins of Lord Cameron by Jennifer Ashley – more brothers that have burrowed into my heart. This book is my second favorite so far, right behind The Madness of Lord Ian MacKenzie. We find out what drives Cam, how his past has shaped him. And what a past it is. I also like the father-son aspect of this book. I was hoping that would be a good part of it when we met Daniel in earlier stories, and Ms. Ashley gave me that hope in spades, and then some.

2. Kiss of Snow by Nalini Singh – there’s not a thing about Ms. Singh’s Psy-Changeling series that I don’t like. I like/love certain books over others, especially the ones that made me cry – but every one of them calls to and satisfies the paranormal/shifter fan in me. Hawke and Sienna live up to the expectations in my mind, I loved every single word.

1. Waking Up with the Duke by Lorraine Heath – all three books in this trilogy are wonderful, but this one, this one was the most emotional of all, and that’s saying something after the very talented Ms. Heath turned a not-so-nice character into a hero you couldn’t help but love on the very first page of his book. The untenable situation in WUwtD, the characters who live it, and the love they share is what puts this book in the No. 1 position for me.

1. Haunting Desire and Haunting Embrace by Erin Quinn – this series has been, well, haunting to read. Ms. Quinn has given this reader a whole new lo ok at Ireland and paranormal stories the like of which I’ve never read before. So beautifully written.

The series has ended with Haunting Embrace, so if you’re looking for something different, these books will hit the spot perfectly.

I always give a few honorable mentions, because it’s such a difficult time whittling down the list of all the great books I’ve read in a year’s time. So I want to share those with you too. Here they are in no particular order:

Second Chance at the Sugar Shack/Any Given Christmas by Candis Terry – what fun these books are! I’m glad I discovered Ms. Terry. She’s a joy to read. Great sense of humor and a mama ghost. You can’t go wrong!

A Light at Winter’s End by Julia London – I’m so glad this book was written. I was very upset at the ending of Summer of Two Wishes. The heroine picked the wrong man, as far as I’m concerned. And when he walked off into the sunset, so to speak, with no other information about where he went, what he did, how he coped, well, I wasn’t happy at all. Here we find out. And now I’m happy. (You should read SoTW first!)

The King’s Mistress by Sandy Blair – it’s nice to have a new book by Sandy Blair on the shelves. And she’s done one heck of a job weaving her hero and heroine into Scottish history to give readers a wonderful romance. No one does it better.

Making Waves by Tawna Fenske – I enjoy an author who can make me laugh out loud. There aren’t many out there who can. Tawna Fenske is a new voice on the scene, and she knows how to write humor. Her characters and storylines are just plain old fun! I still chuckle thinking about that black thong…

What I Did for a Duke by Julie Anne Long – this was my first Julie Anne Long book and I can certainly say I’m hooked. I really enjoyed these characters and just had fun with them. I look forward to reading a lot more of her books in the future. With all of the historicals on my list this year, this one didn’t miss the cut by much at all. So very close!

Well, now we go from my Best of the Year to my Worst of the Year reads. I’m teased by some of the reviewers here at the Pond that I like everything I read. Well, that’s not technically true, because there are those books that sometimes don’t do it even for me. So I have a few. One doesn’t surprise me, one does, and the others just surprised me as I read them. And the biggest surprise is they’re all Scottish historicals, which I love to read. Now you know really how painful these were for me!

~ Must Love Kilts by Allie Mackay – I always try to give an author a second chance when one of their books doesn’t work for me. I believe I’ve given Ms. MacKay a third and fourth chance. I doubt there will be another chance in the offing any time soon. So this one didn’t surprise me at all. And that’s really too bad, because I wouldn’t mind getting a look at the covers on her books. Those I love. You can see my review here, if you’d like.

~ In Bed with a Highlander by Maya Banks – needless to say, this one surprised the ever livin’ hell out of me, as much as I love Ms. Banks’ romantic suspense novels. Honestly, I’m still flabbergasted at my reaction to this book. I expected to love it, every last word. But something went horribly wrong for me. I didn’t grade it super low just because of who the author is – at least the characters worked for me – but I just couldn’t get past other things. I feel another tear coming on. My review is here.

~ Captured by the Highlander/Claimed by the Highlander by Julianne MacLean – I’ve not read Ms. MacLean before these books, and I now know I shouldn’t have started here. I have a lot of her books in the TBR mountain, so it definitely surprised me during reading that these books just don’t work for me on any level, except maybe her characters. Despite their sounding like modern-day people and the books being nearly mirror images of each other, I do like the heroes and heroines. It’s everything else that needs work. I have yet to try the third book, and I don’t know how soon, if at all, that’s going to happen. My reviews can be read here and here.

So how do your 2011 reads stack up to my list? Any you agree with? How about vehemently disagree with?

Sandy M’s review of Under the Same Sky by Genevieve Graham
Historical Romance published by Berkley Trade 3 Jan 12

This book poses a huge dilemma for a reader. It’s one you can’t put down. It’s that good. But it’s also one that you have to put down. Just to exhale that breath you’ve been holding, to then inhale and take on a calmness so you can continue on. It’s not that easy, however. The story is that heart-wrenching, so full of tragedy for these courageous, honorable, and so very likable characters.

Maggie Johnson has always had “the Sight.” Whatever she dreams come true. Whatever she sees will come to pass. Among all the horrible dreams there’s been one constant, the boy whose smile and eyes are with her always. They’ve grown up together, seeing one another but never speaking or touching but understanding a look across the span of thousands of miles. As they grow older, Maggie calls this warrior her Wolf, bringing to mind those graceful predators. For Andrew, Maggie is the prettiest woman he’s ever seen and he knows they belong together, that some day they will find a way to each other. He also is able to see events before they occur, and his dreams are as full of Maggie as hers are of Andrew. The way the book is set up, several chapters are devoted to Maggie, written in first person, then several chapters are given to Andrew from his POV, and this continues throughout the book.

Tragedy strikes Maggie and her family after her father has died. She, her mother, and sisters have been surviving the best they can, without letting townsfolk know about the lack of a male presence on the homestead. But that only lasts for so long, and the day comes when men ride up with evil intentions on their minds. One shot is all it takes to leave the girls on their own, at the mercy of these men, their intent to sell them as slaves – after they deliver their own brand of evilness. These are such heart-breaking scenes, especially when it comes to Maggie’s youngest sister, ten-year-old Ruth. Though her scene is not described in detail as Maggie’s, you know what’s happening to the child in the woods, and that fear is confirmed when the men return without her. As man after man has his way with these girls, you want to reach through the pages and choke the ever-lovin’ life out of each of them. Maggie and Adelaide do their best to hold on, knowing the horror has to be over soon and escape is still a possibility.

War is the tragedy in Andrew’s life – he loses everything and everyone he loves as a result of the battle at Culloden in 1746, fighting with his father, brothers, and other Highland clans. Of course, we all know the outcome of this particular battle, the massacre that is a significant part of the downfall of the clans of Scotland. At first, surviving such an onslaught is not the gift it should be for Andrew. Then finding his home, along with his mother, destroyed, coming in contact with no other person – Highlander or Sassenach – for days on end, he’s more than tired enough to lie down and let this nightmare end, but he fights on.  Finally he discovers the friends that will become his family as they all rebuild their lives. Feeling disconnected from everything to do with his country, wanting to get as far away as possible from the violence, Andrew decides to leave his homeland for good, along with others who feel the same.

Maggie and Adelaide are rescued by a tribe of Cherokee, who take them in and help them heal. The sisters learn the Indians are not the savages they’d always heard about, and they carve out a place for themselves, learning the language and way of life of these people who don’t frighten them as the white man now does. Eventually Maggie is allowed to accompany the men to the closest fort to trade furs and skins, and she does well for them, understanding how the tribe has always been cheated. But meeting Captain Quinn, a respected man about town, once again ends with Maggie bearing the brunt of men and their superior attitudes. She’s accused of and tried for – railroaded, actually – murder.

I kept thinking to myself throughout this book, “When are these two going to catch a break??” I was exhausted after reading these scenes and just had to put the book down to take a deep breath. But then I had to immediately pick it up again to see what happens to them, how they react, how they recover, how they move on. And, because of the era, they, of course, resolutely move on just because they have to, that’s how people of the time lived and died. I haven’t been this emotionally wiped out reading a romance in a long time.

Andrew finally makes landfall in America, receives land given to immigrants willing to work hard, and makes his way toward Maggie. Even that journey is fraught with danger and delays. But all along they’ve had each other in their dreams, and for a while now those dreams have been very real. They now touch, they feel, they talk, and they remember it all with clarity afterward. Though these scenes of them together are nice and frequent enough so that hero and heroine are together at various intervals throughout the book, I wish there’d been either more of those dreams or more of Andrew and Maggie together at the end of the book. After everything each of them have been through, have helped the other through with comfort and strength, even knowing that happily ever after would be upon them soon, I wanted to see more of that happiness instead of being told about it because it’s now time for the story to end. That’s my only nitpick. For me, there’s just not enough. We’re given just enough to let us know their life together is good and gets better as the years will go on, but I wanted to feel it more, to see it happening, to experience a bit more with them after such a harrowing time has been had to get them to this point.

I’m quite impressed with Ms. Graham’s debut novel. She takes a reader on an epic journey that thoroughly engages the heart and gives them characters who defy horrific odds and who never give up. I look forward to her future work.

Grade: A-

Summary:

The year is 1746. A young woman from South Carolina and a Scottish Highlander share an intimacy and devotion beyond their understanding.

They’ve known each other their entire lives.
They live a half-world apart.

And they have never met…

Maggie Johnson has been gifted with “the Sight” ever since she was a child. Her dreams bring her visions of the future and of a presence she knows is not a figment of her imagination. She calls him Wolf, having watched him grow from a careless young boy into a fearsome warrior, and she trusts him with her life and her heart.

Andrew MacDonnell is fascinated by the woman who has visited him in his dreams for as long as he can remember, entranced by her beauty, knowing deep in his soul that she is as real as he. Although he doesn’t know who she is, Andrew believes that destiny will bring them together.

When tragedy and war strike their homelands, both Maggie and Andrew suffer indescribable losses. Separated across an ocean, the bond they share nevertheless grows as they sense each other’s pain, lend each other strength, and embark on a journey of the spirit to find and love one another at long last…

No excerpt available.

Other books in this series:

If you like sinful heroes who fall hard for that perfect woman who pushes all his buttons, you should be reading Alexandra Hawkins‘ Lords of Vice series. The Notorious Lord is Vane, Earl of Vanewright, and he’s as sinful as they come, as Isabel is about find out once she engages him in a game she soon discovers can’t be won.

Vane has never been quite this fascinated with a woman before, he doesn’t know what hits him until it’s too late. Isabel finally acknowledges feelings for the man, even though he’s supposed to be someone else’s.

But fire and passion keep flaring between them, and they become lost in each other  – until secrets begin to unravel the dream that almost comes true.

Summary:

Christopher Courtland, Earl of Vanewright—known around London as “Vane”—is the very picture of a rich, handsome ladies’ man. Why shackle himself to just one lady when he’s free to sample them all? In spite of his own mother’s attempts at matchmaking, Vane has sworn to stay single. Until he has a chance run-in with Miss Isabel Thorne…

A modest and refined beauty, Isabel is a lot more brazen than she appears. When a pickpocket tries to make away with Vane’s bejeweled snuffbox, Isabel attempts to thwart his escape…and manages to steal Vane’s heart. But the harder he tries to seduce the sharp-tongued, strong-willed Isabel, the more she resists. Now it’s up to this tried-and-true bachelor to find a new way to play the game…or risk losing the one woman who’s ever captured his heart.

Enjoy the teaser of their banter, just to whet your appetite for more sin….

“Merciful heavens, what happened to you?”

Isabel smiled wanly at their housekeeper as Lord Vanewright carried her over the threshold and into the small front hall.  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Allen.  It appears you were correct when you warned us that shopping on Bond Street was fraught with peril and unsavory characters.”

Delia focused on what mattered most to her.  “Oh, Mrs. Allen, you should have seen the lovely evening dress we found!  I vow I shall perish if it is sold before we have the opportunity to return to the shop.”  She gave her sister a side glance, disgusted that Isabel had ruined the afternoon by tangling with a pickpocket.

Isabel sighed.  There was no point in reminding Delia that they could not really afford the expensive dress.  Such details mattered little to her sister.  Isabel started when the earl murmured in her ear, “Shall I carry you to your bedchamber?”

A wordless exclamation was uttered by the housekeeper.  Surprised by the brazen suggestion, Isabel turned her face toward Lord Vanewright’s, resulting in her nose brushing against his chin.  “No you shall not!  The drawing room will suffice, my lord.”

Trailing after the trio, the housekeeper said, “Miss Thorne, forgive my impudence, but who is this gentleman?  And why is he carrying you about town as if he has the right to put his hands on you.”

“Not a word from you,” she warned him sternly.  With her arms wrapped about his shoulders, she could feel his body quaking with laughter.  “Mrs. Allen, allow me to present Lord Vanewright.  My lord, this is our housekeeper, Mrs. Allen.  She is looking after us during our brief stay in London.”

“Mrs. Allen, would you mind opening the door to the drawing room?  Miss Thorne had a terrible fright with a pickpocket and I want to see her settled comfortably before the surgeon arrives.”

“The surgeon?” Isabel echoed, struggling in the earl’s arms to be released.

Mrs. Allen stepped around the couple and opened the door.  “A pickpocket?  In a dressmaker’s shop you say?  Is no place safe, I ask you?”

“Isabel stumbled into the thief and rescued Lord Vanewright’s snuffbox,” Delia explained as she retrieved a pillow from a chair and placed it on the sofa.

Isabel marveled that the earl was not winded by his efforts.  He carried her to the sofa with an ease that suggested he appreciated the outdoors and had a casual familiarity with manual labor.  She was almost disappointed when he lowered her onto the sofa.

“When did you have time to summon a surgeon?” she demanded, annoyed by the unexpected expense.

“I ordered my coachman to fetch him.”  His look was inscrutable as it rested on her grim features.  “Are you in pain?”

“As I have told you over and over again, I am fine,” she said through clenched teeth.  “Ow!  Stop that.”  She slapped his hand away when he deliberately probed her wrapped ankle to prove that she was lying to him—again.

“Uh-huh,” he said, his tone suspiciously flat.  He glanced at the housekeeper.  “Mrs. Allen, would be so kind as to fetch a shallow basin of warm water for Miss Thorne’s ankle and a pot of tea to settle her nerves.”

Eyes blazing, Isabel glared at the presumptuous man.  “See here, Lord Vanewright.  You have no right to bully me or my staff!”  Before she said something that she would come to regret, Isabel cleared her throat.  “Yes, Mrs. Allen, I believe a cup of strong tea would benefit us all.”

Rudeness was clearly not the way to get rid of the man.  From the sparkling glint in his eyes, the earl was having too much fun baiting her.

“Nothing else to say, Miss Thorne?” he asked, sitting down in the chair to her left even though no one had invited the arrogant man to remain.

“Not at this time,” Isabel said haughtily.  “I am saving my strength for the surgeon.”

It’s funny how good intentions, routines, and healthy habits seem to fly right out the window when I’m on deadline.  I’d like to blame the sinus infection I was fighting last month when I turned in my latest manuscript; however, I don’t have much of an excuse for the other four books in the Lords of Vice series.  On New Year ’s Eve, I was reflecting on the pattern that always seems to emerge around deadlines.

1)   Slacking off at the gym.  It starts out innocent enough.  I begin to stress about the how much time I have left before I turn in a manuscript.  In those final weeks, every hour counts.  I calculate that I’m spending five hours at the gym a week.  Double that amount to factor in the time it takes me to drive to and from the gym and the shower afterward.  That’s ten hours a week I could be writing!  Forty hours in a month.  I finally convince myself that a brisk walk around the neighborhood a few times a week will suffice, but soon I’ll find a good excuse not even do that.  Last month, I had a pretty good excuse.  I was on antibiotics for two weeks and I had to reduce my exposure to the sun.  Even my husband couldn’t debate me on that one.

2)    Eating healthy is history.  Most of the time, my diet is very healthy.  Lots of fruits and vegetables and lean cuts of meat.  When I’m on deadline, I want carbs.  Bring on the junk food!  Chips, pretzels, sandwiches—anything that’s quick so I can get back to the keyboard.  I also get a weird craving for licorice.  I know I’m close to finishing a book when I have to buy Twizzlers.

3)    Sleep is optional.  When the story is flowing, I begin to cut corners on my necessary eight hours of sleep.  I find myself mentally writing scenes instead of sleeping, and insomnia kicks in because I don’t want to forget all that great dialogue.  I do keep a notebook next to my bed for random inspiration, but if I’m committed to an idea, I usually just get back up and write it.

4)    Pleasure reading.  This one is a difficult one to give up, and it explains why my TBR pile has turned into a small mountain.  When I’m on deadline, the only books I crack open are research-related.

5)    TV and movies.  This sacrifice tends to annoy the family because there are several shows we watch together.  Over the Christmas break, my youngest daughter and I finally made it to the theater to watch Breaking Dawn.  Naturally, when we stopped at the concession stand, the one candy she had to have was—you guessed it—Twizzlers!

Now that I have a little breathing room until my next deadline, I’ve returned to my healthier lifestyle.  I’m back at the gym.  Ugh, that first week was painful.  That should be incentive enough not to slack off again.  These days, I’m eating good carbs.  Twizzlers are off my grocery list.  The insomnia is gone, which is a relief.  I’ve missed my bed.  And over the holiday break, I was able to catch up on some of my pleasure reading and TV shows.

This has all the makings of a New Year’s resolution, doesn’t it?  I’d agree, but I know all my good intentions are going to slip away when that next deadline approaches!

[Ed. Alexandra is giving away two books today - first winner will receive a copy of Sunrise with a Notorious Lord and the second will get their choice of any other Lords of Vice novel - so be sure to leave a meaningful comment or question for her!]

Sandy M’s review of Sunrise with a Notorious Lord (Lords of Vice, Book 4) by Alexandra Hawkins
Historical Romance published by St. Martin’s Paperbacks 3 Jan 12

These Lords of Vice only get more and more interesting as the series goes on. Each man is so different from the other, with only their sin in common. They make sexy and sinful feel like satin sheets you want to roll around in until you’re sated and exhausted. And then there’s that tender side of them, the humorous side, the protective side, even the fiery and explosive side. But when it’s all for his heroine, well, sexy and sinful take on a rather different tone. I’d love to be wrapped up in any one of these men, to be the recipient of such devotion. And sin.

Isabel has been the lady of the house since her father’s death and her mother’s incapacity to get beyond her grief. So when fate smiles on her and her sister, Delia, in meeting a lady of the ton who then invites them to London for the season, Isabel is hopeful, albeit slightly, that Delia might make a good match after all, something the family desperately needs. Delia has other thoughts about marriage, however; she’d rather flirt with every man who steps in her path.

Vane, as the Earl of Vanewright is known to his friends, revels in sin just as the other Lords of Vice, though several of them have settled down recently. There’s too many lovelies and other earthly pleasures to be had for him to ever think of marriage. But when he’s going through a very public breakup with his current mistress, he spies the Thorne sisters in the dressmaker’s shop and moves on to those other pleasures. As beautiful as Delia is, it’s Isabel who garners more interest from Vane, and when she deftly steps in front of the pickpocket who helped himself to Vane’s snuffbox, he’s amazed and irritated she would take such a chance. But she’s all the more fascinating for it.

Thus begins Vane’s attempt to woo Isabel into his bed and her attempt to marry him to her sister. But then Isabel finds her attraction to Vane hard to resist, especially with his onslaught of attention. Plus, her role in his life is not all it seems to be, so how will he react when he finds out what she’s done? Vane takes a little longer to realize his feelings go just as deep. He can’t figure out why it is this particular woman seems so much more to him than any other woman or mistress he’s ever had. I enjoyed watching these two come to the same conclusion, starting from very different beginning points. However, it isn’t as easy as all that. They do hit bumps in the road, but they work it out. Except for those fears Isabel has about Vane learning the truth.

Vane does go ballistic. Through all they’ve shared, she’s lied to him. But when he learns her ruse began closer to home, he has to look at her “lies” differently. I like that he works this out on his own, he doesn’t need help or platitudes to know what he feels for Isabel is real. That’s why it hurts so darned much. He realizes he doesn’t need all those other women any longer. All the sin he needs is in one petite package.

While my favorite book in the series is still Till Dawn with the Devil, Vane is a very close second, despite no deep-seated tragedy or the like in his past. But I have a feeling that both of those may lose their standing to either of the next books, most especially Frost. There’s just something about that man. It’s probably his total devil-may-care attitude, what-have-I-got-to-lose look at life. He takes sin to a whole new level, and I am very anxiously looking forward to his story.

Grade: A

Summary:

FOREVER THE BACHELOR

Christopher Courtland, Earl of Vanewright—known around London as “Vane”—is the very picture of a rich, handsome ladies’ man. Why shackle himself to just one lady when he’s free to sample them all? In spite of his own mother’s attempts at matchmaking, Vane has sworn to stay single. Until he has a chance run-in with Miss Isabel Thorne…

NEVER IN LOVE—UNTIL NOW…

A modest and refined beauty, Isabel is a lot more brazen than she appears. When a pickpocket tries to make way with Vane’s bejeweled snuffbox, Isabel attempts to thwart his escape…and manages to steal Vane’s heart. But the harder he tries to seduce the sharp-tongued, strong-willed Isabel, the more she resists. Now it’s up to this tried-and-true bachelor to find a new way to play the game…or risk losing the one woman who’s ever captured his heart.

No excerpt available.

Other books in this series:

A man and his dog. Both with a sense of humor. Both protective of those they love. Angus Wallace – the new Lord Ashby – has just crossed an ocean and half a continent to find his wife. The one who left him. Without a word. As he lay wounded, his military career now over.

A woman left alone in Scotland with a family who has never taken to her. Hardly a word from her soldier husband, a few letters, even fewer visits in years. Really alone after the death of her parents, Maddie Wallace takes destiny by the horns and carves out a life for herself in America, taking photographs of the Old West for English readers who will never experience the rawness and intensity of such a frontier.

Both still have feelings from the marriage they thought dead. But each has a different place in the world to be, a calling and a duty that distance cannot span. Will their reunion give them another chance at happiness? Will their love survive the differences pulling them apart?

This is another lovely story from Kaki Warner. Her characters are the kind of people you want to know. She gives them real issues, heartbreak, happiness, guilt, and through every emotion they follow their heart. We have the first chapter of the book for you today to meet Ash and Maddie. I think you will be thoroughly enchanted.

Summary:

After only three letters and one visit during her six-year marriage to a Scottish Cavalry Officer, Maddie Wallace decides to build a life without him. Accepting an assignment from a London periodical to photograph the West from a female perspective, she sails from England, determined to build a new life as an independent woman.

After injury ends his military career, Angus Wallace returns homes to find his wife gone, his family decimated by fever, and himself next in line to an earldom. His new mission is clear – find his wife and sire heirs. His search takes him across an ocean and half a continent, but he finally tracks her to Heartbreak Creek There his biggest challenge awaits – to challenge his headstrong wife to return home as his viscountess.

Prologue

Lister House, outside London
September 1868

Maddie turned the key in the lock at her parent’s small stone cottage, paused for a moment to gather her courage, then opened the door and stepped inside.
Silence greeted her. That oppressive kind of silence that came when a house has been left empty too long and the life and energy once trapped within its walls was slowly draining away. A fanciful notion. But funerals always made her melancholy.

Still wearing her coat and clutching her reticule in cold, numb fingers, she walked slowly through the rooms.

Everything looked the same, like a tintype frozen in time—her mother’s bonnet draped over the arm of the settee, the same array of photographs lining the walls, a book left open on the table beside her father’s chair. Even the air smelled familiar—a subtle blend of old smoke with a hint of her father’s pipe tobacco and her mother’s sachet. But beneath it, barely detectable, hung the damp mustiness of an empty house and the beginnings of decay.

And they had only been dead a week.

In the kitchen, she dropped her reticule on the table and stripped off her coat and gloves. Moving by rote, she set a fire in the cook stove and lit the lamp sitting on the table, then went through the rituals of preparing tea. Once she had the kettle heating and the tea caddy and sugar bowl on the table, she set out her mother’s favorite cup, a napkin, and a spoon.

Then she sat down in her father’s chair, dropped her head onto her folded arms, and wept.

An hour later, she was still sitting there, her tears long spent, nursing her third cup of tea and trying to decide what to do with the rest of her life. Her parents were dead. Her marriage was a failure. She would probably never have children or a home of her own. Even this house would have to be sold to cover the cost of her parents’ funerals. With no other family and no resources, her future stretched bleak and empty ahead of her.

So what was she to do? Go back to Scotland? To a father-in-law who couldn’t abide the English, and a mother-in-law who rarely left her room? Angus’s sister, Glynnis, was so busy running the Kirkwell lands she had little time for a husband, much less a friend, and his two older brothers were so involved with their own pursuits they were rarely at home, and when they were, they called her the English girl because they couldn’t remember her name. With her husband gone years on end, what reason had she to go back?

She looked down at the heavy signet ring Angus had given her before he rode off to rejoin his cavalry regiment almost a year and a half ago. She hadn’t seen him since. In almost four years of marriage, he had written her two letters and visited her once. Four years, languishing at the family’s remote Highland estate, the unwanted English bride of a Scottish earl’s son, while he played soldier in Ireland.

She had given up her dreams for that?

She almost yanked the ring off her finger and threw it across the room. But she hadn’t the energy for even that. After her hurried dash across half of England to get to the funeral on time, then standing in the icy drizzle as Vicar Collins presided over the small graveside service for her parents this afternoon, she was so emotionally drained just lifting her teacup took an effort of will.

It was all rather meaningless, anyway, if the target of her ire wasn’t even there to make note of it.

Beyond the window, the wind huffed and moaned. Tiny pellets of sleet rattled against the window panes. Gusts sent drafts back down the stovepipe to burp puffs of smoke into the still air.

Perhaps he had died. That’s what soldiers did, especially rash, high-spirited cavalrymen who took needless risks. But she had always thought Angus Wallace was too big, too headstrong, too fearless to die. Besides, if something had happened to him, his family would have been notified—if not his wife, then surely his father, the Earl of Kirkwell.

If not dead, then what?

Utterly indifferent.

The realization left her breathless with despair.

Fearing another onslaught of tears, she looked around the room, seeking distraction. Her gaze fell on the framed photograph hanging beside the door that led into the parlor. A calmness came over her as she studied the smiling faces of her parents, remembering that last holiday at Brighton, and how Papa had cajoled her mother into donning one of those scandalous bathing costumes and testing the waters. Maddie had tried to make them sit still all afternoon. Finally, when they stopped to rest on the wall overlooking the beach, she saw her chance.

It was one of her first attempts at portraiture, and a poor one at that. Blurred lines, misplaced shadows, shoddy composition—all marks of a novice photographer. But it was her favorite, because there was more to it than just an image on paper. For the first time she had captured not just form, but emotion.
There was a story behind those smiling faces. She had seen it, and coaxed it out of the shadows, and trapped it in tintype for all the years to come.

Perhaps she could do that again.

That notion burst into her head, half formed and elusive. But it grew with every heartbeat until it filled her mind. Dare she?

For the next two days, as she set her parent’s house to rights and packed away their things, that thought dogged her footsteps like a lost cat.

It was absurd. So far beyond reason and practicality it wasn’t worth pursuing. Yet, after her third restless night, she surrendered to the lure of possibility and resolutely climbed the stairs to the attic where her photographs and equipment were stored, determined to at least give it a try.

The Scottish had a saying: “Be happy while you’re living, for you’ll be a long time dead.” And Maddie intended to be happy. She deserved it, Angus Wallace be damned.

The next afternoon, she was sitting before Mr. Reginald Farnsworth Chesterfield’s desk at The Illustrated London News nervously clasping her gloved hands in her lap and growing more convinced by the moment that grief had robbed her of her senses.

Daughters of baronets and wives of third sons to earls did not seek employment. They did not set up shop, or peddle their wares, or go into business, especially such a male-dominated business as photography. They stayed at home and tatted and traded vague reminiscences about their absent husbands and childless, empty lives until God finally took pity and allowed them to die.

“Hmm,” the gray-haired publisher said as he pulled another photograph from the portfolio she had brought for his perusal.

Hmm? What did that mean?

She tried not to fidget. A chance. That’s all she wanted. She would work for a pittance—or at least enough to keep her parent’s house so she would have someplace to live. She would even take an assignment on speculation, just to prove she could do it.

Minutes ticked by. Maddie’s confidence dwindled to quivery jelly. After almost a half hour of silence, she was on the verge of snatching up her portfolio and fleeing the building.

This was all a horrid mistake. It was time to accept her fate and go back to Northbridge, and learn to speak Gaelic and eat haggis without gagging.

“I had to look at them one more time,” Mr. Chesterfield finally said as he slid the photographs and cartes de visite back into the heavy canvas folder. “Just to be sure.”

Maddie tried to keep her breathing even.

After tying the closure tabs, he tipped back his swivel chair and studied the ceiling, his brow furrowed in thought, the forefinger and thumb of his right hand idly plucking at the gray hairs sprouting from his top lip. “It’s a rather forward-thinking notion,” he mused, more to himself than to her. “Revolutionary. Still . . . It just might just work.”

Abruptly he swiveled around and stared at her across his desk. “Have you seen the photographs of Matthew Brady?” he demanded. “Those he took in America during their recent rebellion?”

“Y-yes.” Her voice sounded like a mouse squeak, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “They are most evocative.” Astounding. Haunting. Compelling. Everything she wished her photographs could be.

“And those of William Jackson,” he pressed. “And Tim O’Sullivan?”

“The ones of the American West? They’re fascinating. Each image seems to tell a tale all its own.”

“Yes!” The elderly man beamed, showing small, crooked teeth beneath his gray muttonchops. “But they only present one side of the story, don’t you see.”

Maddie didn’t but nodded politely, her fixed smile starting to wobble. “One side.”

“The male side, as it were.”

“Ah. The male side.” She wondered if he was insane. And what he would do if she cast up her accounts on his desk. Perhaps she should leave before she did.

“But to see it from a whole new perspective, that’s the challenge. That would certainly catch your eye, would it not?”

“Indeed.” Clearly insane.

“Of course it would! So what do you think, madam?”

Maddie felt that thickness in her throat again. “About what, sir?”

“The female perspective!”

“Well . . . insomuch as it’s the only one I have, I rather like it.”

He gave a sudden bark of laughter that made her jump. “You misunderstand. I’m asking if you would like to travel to America, Mrs. Wallace, and photograph the West from the female perspective.”

Maddie was too astounded to respond. America?

“I have been wanting to send an expeditionary photographer over there for some time.” His voice grew more enthusiastic with every word. “But a woman! Now that would be unheard of. Revolutionary!” He startled her anew by slapping the flat of his hand down on her closed portfolio. “You have the talent for it, madam. But have you the will? What say you?”

She couldn’t say anything. Her tongue wouldn’t work.

“I would advance you travel expenses,” he added before she could form a response. “And those of your husband, of course, as I assume he will be accompanying you.”

“I . . . ah . . .”

“Unless you think he might object? Shall I contact him directly? I realize this is highly unusual, but if he—”

“There is no he,” Maddie blurted out, astounded by her own audacity and the lie she was about to tell. But how could she not do it? A new start. A new life. A whole new country, even. “That is to say, I’m”—forgive me, Angus—“a widow.”

“A widow?” The idea seemed to delight him. “Well, then, there’s nothing to hold you back, is there?”

“Not a thing.” And for all intents and purposes, she truly was a widow. Angus had left her in spirit almost two years ago. This physical parting was simply the final step in accepting the death of her marriage so she could begin a new life without him.

“Excellent. I’ll book passage for . . . shall we say, two weeks? That should give you time to gather what equipment and supplies you’ll need. Have the bills sent to my office.” He smiled, all but rubbing his hands together in glee. “Any questions?”

Dozens of them. Thousands. “No.”

“Excellent! Then we’re agreed.” Hopping up, he held out his hand.

Maddie rose on shaky legs and placed her fingers in his, hoping he didn’t feel the tremors in her hand. “Agreed.”

And as simply as that, it was done.

Two weeks to pack, put the house up for sale, restock her supplies, and send a note to Northbridge to inform them of her plans in case Angus ever inquired about her absence.

America. Just the thought of it made her giddy.

Chapter 1

Heartbreak Creek, Colorado Territory
September 1870

The Fifth Viscount of Ashby—or Ash, as his new London friends called him—rode slowly down the muddy street, Tricks padding wearily at his side, his rough coat dripping rain and mud.

A sad place, Heartbreak Creek. Judging by the faded store shingles hanging over the warped boardwalk, and the hulking structure perched on the bluffs above the canyon that sheltered the town, it had once been a prosperous mining community. But now the machinery sat silent, the mine dark, and few people walked past the unpainted wooden buildings with their sagging roofs and boarded storefronts. It looked no different from dozen other wee villages he’d ridden through in the last months.

He had seen worse in Ireland—which would probably never recover from the devastation of the potato famine—and in Scotland, where the Clearances had left a trail of empty huts and overflowing graveyards across his beloved Highlands. But it was always disturbing to see a town die.

Yet, despite the obvious decline, there were still signs of life in Heartbreak Creek. Two wagons stood in front of the Mercantile, Feed, and Mining Supplies store, and the hotel looked freshly painted and bore a fine new sign over the front doors. But without steady commerce from mining, timber, or the railroads, the town would soon die.

So why had she come to such a bleak place? To hide from him? He had once been a forward rider with the Rifles of the Light Division, and a man never forgot training like that. Dinna she realize that no matter where she went or how far she ran, he could still find her? She had led him a merry chase, so she had. The lass was as elusive as peat smoke, but he sensed that finally after twenty months of searching, he was getting close.

Reining in at the rail in front of the hotel, he stiffly dismounted, twisting as little as possible as he swung down. For the last hour, pain had been gnawing at his left side like the starving hounds of hell, and he knew he would pay a high price for riding so long in the rain. Cold dampness always made his slow-healing wound ache—the crossing had been a bluidy nightmare, made worse by the constant pitch and roll of the ship. But the dizziness had eased once he’d stepped onto solid ground in Boston Harbor, and he hadna suffered a single headache in well over a month.

“Stay,” he ordered Tricks as he looped Lurch’s reins over the rail.

The dog grinned up at him, tongue lolling, his bushy brows spiky with rain and clumps of mud.

“I mean it. You’re bluidy filthy, so you are. And since you willna allow a bath, you’ll stay out here. That’s an order.”

Ignoring the animal’s pitiful whines, Ash stepped through the double front doors and was pleased to see that Heartbreak Creek Hotel was as dapper inside as it was out. Dark paneling gleamed. Lush green plants rose out of tall clay urns. There were no patches or stains on the upholstered chairs gathered around a tufted hassock, and no dusty cobwebs dangling from the sparkling chandelier. Even the bald spot atop the head of the old man at the front desk looked polished, and the brass clasps on the braces worn by the freckled bellboy posted inside the doors would have satisfied the most demanding sergeant.

A well-run establishment. Ash nodded in approval.

“Hidy,” the clerk said as Ash crossed to the front desk. “Help you?”

“Aye. I need a room. One with a big bed.”

The old man’s grin showed a lack of teeth, and those that remained were marred by rusty stains. “Planning a party, are you?”

Ash looked at him.

The grin faded. “All our beds are the same size.”

“Then one without a foot rail.”

The clerk gazed past Ash’s shoulder. His faded blue eyes widened. “Great Godamighty! What is that thing?”

Ash dinna have to guess what had caught the old man’s attention. “A wolfhound. The room?”

Still staring toward the door, the elderly fellow said, “Dogs—assuming that hulking beast is a dog and not a starving, long-tailed bear—ain’t allowed inside.”

“I told him that but he dinna listen. You’re welcome to give it a go.”

Whirling, the old man fled through the open doors into what appeared to be the dining area. “Miss Hathaway! You better come quick!”

Bollocks. Ash felt a gob of mud hit his ear and turned to glare at Tricks, who was slinging water and mud in a ten-foot arc as he wagged his long, thin tail. “Now look what you’ve done,” he accused. “I should sell you to the Chinamen, so I should.”

“Sir!” A woman marched out of the dining area, the clerk hot on her heels. A blond woman, with eyes as green as Ireland and a look on her pretty face that would send the devil into retreat.

“Animals are not allowed in this establishment.” She waved a hand at the double doors. “Take him outside immediately!”

“He willna stay there without me.”

“Then I’ll bid you good day, as well.”

The old man snickered.

Ash sighed. “I’ve come a long way, so I have, and I’m in desperate need of a warm, dry room. One with a long bed, so my feet willna hang off the end. Can you make an exception this one time?”

Her pretty eyes narrowed in suspicion. “A long way from where?”

“Scotland.”

“I told you he wasn’t from around here,” the clerk muttered.

“Yancey, I’ll handle this!”

But Ash could see his answer had startled her, and he wondered why.

“What is your name, sir?” she asked.

“Ashby.”

“That’s it? No first name?”

Ash shrugged. “Some call me lord.”

Understanding came quickly—the woman was blade sharp. “Lord Ashby? Is that a joke?”

“Regretfully, no. I’ll pay double,” he added to distract her.

“Why are you here? In Heartbreak Creek?”

“I’m seeking a woman.”

The clerk snorted. “Aren’t we all.”

With a hiss of exasperation, she whirled on the old man. “Yancey, please assist Miriam upstairs. Billy”—she waved to the freckled boy watching with wide-eyed interest from his post by the front door—“fetch Sheriff Brodie, if you will. Now.”

After the boy dashed out the front door and Yancey stomped up the staircase that rose along the wall separating the lobby from the dining room, she returned
her attention to Ash. “What woman?”

Ash frowned, put off by the challenge in her tone. Not many would dare. Especially a female. But he had no wish to sleep on the ground again tonight, so he kept his tone pleasant. “Madeline Wallace.”

“Why?”

“I have news of her family.”

“What news?”

Bugger this. He started toward the door.

“Ah . . . double, you say?”

He stopped, debated, then thinking of the cold dampness that awaited him if he left, turned back. “Aye. But the bed canna have a foot rail.”

“You’ll bathe your dog?”

Ash thought of the last attempt. “Aye. If you have four stout men to aid me.”

“You can bathe him in the trough around back. I’ll send out Yancey and Billy with drying rags.” Her green eyes flicked over him. “You may use the tub in the washroom off the kitchen. But not the dog. And we don’t have stables here, so you’ll have to take your horse to the livery on the edge of town.”

It took Yancey, Billy, and two lengths of rope to get Tricks into the trough, but the deed was done without loss of limb. When Ash left the washroom an hour later, clean and freshly dressed with his pouting and mostly clean wolfhound at his heels, he found a man leaning against the wall beside the door, working at his nails with a penknife. By his expression when he saw Ash, it was apparent he had been waiting for him.

“Heard you were looking for Maddie Wallace,” the man said, studying Ash through dark eyes from beneath the brim of his black flat-crowned hat. He was even taller than Ash and solidly built, and he would have carried an air of authority even without the sheriff’s badge pinned to his vest.

Ash nodded. “I am.”

“Mind if I ask why?”

Ash did, so he dinna respond. Tricks plopped onto his belly by Ash’s boot, his rangy body taking up most of the hallway, and began licking the dampness from his front legs.

“Impressive dog,” the man said as he folded the penknife. “Is he as dangerous as he looks?”

“Not to me.”

The sheriff nodded and slipped the penknife into his pocket. Bending down, he let Tricks sniff his open hand, then gently stroked the knobby head.

Ash was surprised. Like most of his breed, Tricks was standoffish with strangers. By accepting the sheriff so readily, it only confirmed Ash’s assessment of the man. A reasonable fellow who wore his position well.

The sheriff straightened. “See that table in the back corner?” He pointed across the hall to the open door that led into the dining room. “The one with the ladies?”
Ash followed his direction and saw the blond woman seated with a dark-skinned woman and a pregnant sandy-haired woman. All three were staring their way.

And frowning. “Aye, I see them.”

“The blond is Lucinda Hathaway,” the sheriff explained in a friendly tone. “Owns the hotel. Yankee. Smart. Carries a pepperbox pistol. Far as I know, she hasn’t killed anyone with it. The dark-skinned woman is Prudence Lincoln. She lives at the school the ladies set up for ex-slaves and anyone else who wants to come learn. Whether she likes it or not, she’s under the protection of a Cheyenne Dog Soldier. Ever heard of them?”

Ash had. He’d never seen one, but he’d heard of their legendary fierceness in battle and admired them for it. He was Scottish, after all. But right now he was less curious about Indians than why the sheriff was telling him all this.

“Now that blue-eyed beauty,” the man went on, his voice softening as he looked at the sandy-haired woman. “She’s Edwina Brodie. She might fool some with her southern charm, but she’s pretty handy with a shovel and once even faced down a mountain lion with a bucket of salad greens. And if that’s not enough to give a man pause . . .” Swinging his gaze back to Ash, he gave him a hard look. “There’s me.”

Ash heard the challenge but gave no reaction. “And who are you?”

The sheriff touched the tips of two fingers to the brim of his hat. “Declan Brodie. I’m temporary sheriff here at Heartbreak Creek. And her husband.”

The warning was clear, although Ash had no idea why Sheriff Brodie had issued it. Maddie Wallace was the woman he had come to see, not these females. “Why temporary?” he asked.

“Because I’m a rancher,” Brodie explained, which explained nothing. “As you can see,” he went on, glancing back toward the women, “the ladies are upset. It’s not good when they get upset.”

“Which of us is in trouble?” Ash asked, although he had a fair idea.

Brodie flashed white teeth in a crooked grin that changed his austere face to one that women might find handsome. “Hell, I’ve got four kids and a pregnant wife. I’m always in trouble. But this time, it’s you.”

“What have I done?”

“That depends.” No longer smiling, the sheriff stepped toward Ash.

Immediately Tricks rose.

The sheriff paused, looked from the dog to Ash, but came no closer. He showed no menace, yet Ash sensed an unbendable resolve within the man. He respected that, since it was a trait they had in common.

“Why are you looking for Maddie?” Brodie asked again.

That was the second time the sheriff had casually used the shortened version of Madeline’s name. Ash dinna like the sound of it on another man’s tongue. “As I told the Hathaway woman, I have news of her family,” he said stiffly. “Is she here?”

Brodie remained silent. Ash suspected he was being assessed by the lawman, and although he dinna like it, he withstood it without showing his growing irritation.

The women continued to watch them and whisper quietly amongst themselves. Ash could feel the censure in their eyes and wondered what he’d done to cause it.

“She’s off making pictures,” the sheriff finally said. “Should be back in a week or so, then she’ll be leaving again for the big meeting up in Denver.”

“Meeting about what?”

“Political thing. Statehood. Delegates are coming from all over the territory. Promises to be quite a gathering.”

“She’s a delegate?” That surprised him. Despite her father’s leanings, she had showed no interest in politics before. But then, that she was here instead of Scotland where she belonged showed how little he knew her.

“No, I am. Part of the job. Or so I’ve been told.”

Ash heard the disgust in the man’s voice and guessed the sheriff wasna excited about the trip. But he’d heard enough to know this was the woman he sought, and his natural impatience caused him to speak more sharply than he intended. “I canna wait another week. Where is she now?”

The sheriff reared his head back and subjected Ash to another lengthy assessment.

Ash was weary of it. “It’s important that I speak to her.”

“You’ll not hurt her?”

“I dinna hurt women.”

After more scrutiny, the sheriff sighed, as if he’d come to a decision he might later regret. “She headed up to the Alamosa a month ago.”

“The Alamosa?”

“Alamosa River. Things are hopping up there since the strikes.”

Brodie must have seen Ash’s confusion. “Gold strikes,” he clarified. “Miners are pouring in from all over. She wanted to document it. Photograph it. She’s a photographer. Didn’t you know that?”

Of course Ash knew. It was through her photographs that he had tracked her this far. But he thought the woman had more sense than to go haring off to a place as dangerous as a wide-open mining town. “She dinna go alone, did she?”

“She’s got Wall-eyed Willy with her, not that he’d be much protection.”

Bluidy hell.

“You going after her?”

“Aye. I’m going after her.”

Creating the perfect romantic hero is not as easy as you think, mainly because no such creature has ever inhabited our planet.  So, how—in the odor-free, sweat-free, bodily-function-free realm of romance—does an author create the perfect male hero while still making him at least marginally believable?  Hell if I know.  But I’ve been thinking hard on it, and have come up with some guidelines that might help.

1.  The hero should NEVER indulge in digestive indiscretions of an auditory or olfactory nature.  Or any other nature.  EVER.  I know what you’re thinking.  In Pieces of Sky, a character does just that.  But he’s not the hero and gets killed off later, so it’s okay.  And sure, later in the same book, Brady belches on the heroine, but he does it on purpose to disgust her and run her off.  So that’s okay, too.

2.  The hero is allowed to perspire—odorlessly, of course—but he should have a darn good reason for doing so, such as exertion, nervousness, guilt, etc.  Of late I’ve seen an alarming trend to have the hero work himself into a substantial lather in the bedroom.   I think this is to show how intent he is on his task, and how valiantly he’s struggling to hold back his overwhelming ardor.  But, really.  A little surface glow is acceptable, but if he’s sweating like a farm animal during the love scenes, then maybe something’s wrong.  I know what you’re going to say.  In Open Country, Hank gets sweaty—but he has good reason.  He’s upset, exerting, nervous, and his feelings are hurt, so it’s okay that one time.

3.  Bathing—the hero should do it, even if such wasn’t the normal practice “back then.”   This is a romance, after all, and there’s nothing romantic about a man smelling like a slaughter house.  Granted, it’s not always practical, but even if he has to bathe in used water (like Declan does in Heartbreak Creek) and he comes out smelling like a rose garden, it’s better than the alternative (which in Declan’s case is smelling like rotting meat).  At least he’s clean.

4.  Drunkenness—not very heroic.  But there are times, I suppose, when it’s marginally acceptable, especially for medicinal purposes.  Like Jack in Chasing the Sun when Molly gets out her scalpel, and Ash in Colorado Dawn, when his old injury acts up.  But your characters probably shouldn’t drink to the point of horking.  However, if vomiting is an important plot point, please limit sounds, odors, and visuals.  Granted, in Open Country, the heroine, a reluctant nurse, vomits after surgery.  But who doesn’t?  And near the end of Heartbreak Creek Edwina has to carry a barf bowl around with her, but she had reason.  At least when they hork they’re quiet about it, and never heave hard enough to lift their heels off the floor, and only do it on an empty stomach.  So that’s okay.

5.  Cowardice—not a trait usually attributed to heroes.  I know.  In Heartbreak Creek, Declan was a basket case, but he still did what he had to do to save the day, so it was okay.  Besides, phobias aren’t exactly fears.  Not really.  And who can blame Brady, in Pieces of Sky, for being afraid of crying women?  We can be pretty scary.  Or his brother, Jack, for getting lightheaded at the sight of blood—especially his own?  These things happen.  So in those cases, it was okay to be a little afraid.

6.  And finally, using the bathroom.   This is another situation to avoid if possible.  We all know it happens—even to heroes—but we don’t need to see it, do we?  Yeah, yeah, I know.  In Open Country, there’s an entire scene when nurse Molly tries to help the injured hero relieve himself and they get into a wrestling match over a chamber pot (he wins, just so you know).  But neither the heroine nor the reader is required to be on hand (so to speak) when the deed is accomplished, so it’s okay.  As for any other potty situations, don’t even go there.  Ever.

So there you have it.  A few ideas for creating the perfect romantic hero while still staying within the bounds of quasi-reality.  Got any ideas of your own you’d like to share?

Sandy M’s review of Colorado Dawn (Runaway Brides, Book 2) by Kaki Warner
Historical Western Romance published by Berkley Trade 3 Jan 12

I love it when an author adds humor to her romances. When it’s the hero with the sense of humor, it makes him that much more irresistible. Angus Wallace is now one of my favorite heroes, and that’s saying something when he’s in the company of Drustan and Daegus MacKeltar and Jamie Fraser.

And the fact that Angus has come to America in search of his wife, thinking only to take her home to Scotland where she can deliver a few heirs for him but instead falls in love with Maddie and the magnificent Colorado wilderness, well, that’s a man after my own heart. You see the change in Angus – now Lord Ashby, one of the reasons he now needs his wife – slowly take place as he watches his wife enjoy her passion of photography, revel in the new, deep-seated friendships she’s found, and, lastly, comes to realize she’d give all of that up just for him. He knows what he’s got, what he almost lost, and he plans to keep her by his side forever this time.

Maddie’s life takes huge turns when she meets career soldier Angus Wallace. She marries him and then loses him to his military service almost instantaneously. She receives very little contact from him in the years she’s in Scotland. So when she has word that her parents have been killed, Maddie heads home to England. There she talks herself into a new life and goes after it with guns blazing. Her interest in photography takes her to the American wild west, where she finally settles in Colorado, happy in that new life.

Angus’ life also goes through some unexpected turns. He’s seriously wounded in battle and his military days are over. He returns home to find his wife gone and his life changed further with the death of his older brother. It’s through her photographs that Ash, along with his loyal friend, Tricks, an Irish wolfhound, is able to trace Maddie across the American continent, locating her at last on her way home to Heartbreak Creek after a successful photographic mission -, with only Wall-eyed Willy as protection, much to Ash’s consternation. Thus begins their dance of reacquainting themselves with each other, their feelings, their love, their duty, their lives – all so different than before.

Unknown sadness on both sides is revealed, making each of them look at their anger and perceptions differently from what they’ve known before, hence making them realize more care of the other should have been taken so they wouldn’t end up where they are today. But life has taken them on this journey, and now one of them must sacrifice all for the other. Will Maddie be able to leave her new, hard-won life behind, never to take another picture again, something a noble woman would never do? Can Ash turn his back on his duty, say no to the one thing he never thought would be his anyway? Does he even have that choice?

These are two very multi-layered characters, both charming and flawed. It takes everything Maddie’s got to strike out on her own, away from the familiarity of home. Just when she finds her place, the one and only thing that can endanger that happiness is the person she never thought to see again. Ash is as honest and honorable as the day is long, he takes his duty seriously, whether to Maddie or his family – and he comes to realize that’s the same thing in his heart. No matter how hard life is, now or then, these two exemplify what it is to sustain a relationship after mucking it up the first time around. Granted, they have matured a few years and have gone through so much to get to that place, but when they do, it’s wonderful to see.

We also get to catch up with all the characters from the previous book. I especially had fun with the scene between Ash and Declan when the sheriff tries to ascertain why Ash is looking for Maddie. More humor, but family looking out for family, no matter how you look at it.

I love Kaki Warner’s writing, her characters, her storylines, everything about her books. You go through every emotion imaginable and then some. She portrays the American west vividly and accurately. You need to pick any of her books up and start reading, if you haven’t so far. Believe me, you’re missing out if you’ve never read a Kaki Warner book.

Grade: A+

Summary:

After only three letters and one visit during her six-year marriage to a Scottish Cavalry Officer, Maddie Wallace decides to build a life without him. Accepting an assignment from a London periodical to photograph the West from a female perspective, she sails from England, determined to build a new life as an independent woman.

After injury ends his military career, Angus Wallace returns homes to find his wife gone, his family decimated by fever, and himself next in line to an earldom. His new mission is clear – find his wife and sire heirs. His search takes him across an ocean and half a continent, but he finally tracks her to Heartbreak Creek There his biggest challenge awaits – to challenge his headstrong wife to return home as his viscountess.

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

We enjoyed having Melissa Mayhue with us to remind us how important holiday memories are. Thank you, too, to those of you who stopped by for the day.

Without further ado, our winner for a copy of Melissa’s latest book in her Warrior series, Warrior’s Redemption, is:

#1 – Tammy VanScoy

Congrats, Tammy! Please send your snail mail addy to lighthousetagger at gmail dot com and we’ll let Melissa know to have your book on its way to you!

Sandy M’s review of Whispers in the Dark (KGI, Book 4) by Maya Banks
Romantic Suspense published by Berkley 3 Jan 12

Hi, my name is Sandy. And I’m addicted. To Maya Banks’ Kelly boys. Hooboy. I was a goner with the first book, and now with the fourth? Needless to say, I’m not coming up for air anytime soon.

This time it’s Nathan, one of the two youngest Kellys, twin to Joe, who goes through hell to find love. As we learned in the previous book, the twins were finally leaving their military service to come home and join their brothers at KGI. Before that could happen, they are both severely injured, Nathan taken hostage in Afghanistan. He’s beaten and tortured, forced to watch his brothers-in-arms also being tortured, even ultimately killed to try to force him to talk. It’s during a rare moment of solitude that an angel comes to his aid. She soothes his soul, takes his pain away, boosts his spirits – all in his mind, of course. Which can’t be. Has he finally gone around the bend?

Shea is telepathic and has been on the run for a year now. Separated from her sister by necessity of protection – information concerning each other that they don’t have can’t be shared – from those who want them both for their powerful abilities. But when she hears a man in pain, needing comfort, she can’t leave him to suffer alone. Stealing into his mind, she bolsters him enough to give him that extra spark he needs to keep going, enough hope that he’ll make it out alive. Shea stays with Nathan until he’s able to escape his captors and his brothers arrive to take him home. Then she’s gone. Totally. No matter how he calls for her, Shea doesn’t answer.

Bereft at the loss of his angel, Nathan is back home, healing. At least physically. It’s his spirit and mental capacity that he doubts. Was she real? Or just his imagination, a way his brain needed for him to survive his ordeal? And though it was thoughts of his family that kept him going while in captivity, now that he’s with them, he seeks solitude more and more, confusing and worrying his loved ones even further. Then everything changes when Shea reappears, her lovely voice echoing through his mind. But just as quickly her pain and fear overwhelm him, and Nathan knows he has to get to her soon. Wanting to include his brothers but knowing that will take too long, he commandeers a KGI jet, but even that seems to take forever to find Shea.

Once Nathan has Shea in his arms, he knows she’s the one for him. They share a bond like no others. They’ve seen and felt each other’s pain and fear and hopelessness, given each other the will to go on. Shea feels the same, she trusts Nathan and it’s heaven to trust someone again. She’s been on her own for far too long. Now her only concern is to find Grace, her sister. But Grace has gone silent after one last, very cryptic telepathic communication, and now Nathan and Shea are on the hunt to bring her to safety.

Maya Banks is another author for me who makes me feel everything her characters go through. Nathan’s pain and anguish in the beginning are palpable. Shea’s connection with him screams of hope. The love between them when they finally meet in the flesh is electric and soul deep. Then there’s all the intermediate emotions of the Kellys when Nathan’s fate is unknown, Shea’s fear for her sister, and then her own terror when all their plans are thrown into the wind by someone they thought they could trust. There isn’t a page in this book that doesn’t radiate with some type of feeling, even laughter, which is always a must when the Kelly family is together.

While the emotion in these books is what draws me back to them – well, besides the alpha, sexy heroes anyway – the heart-pounding action of ambushes and rescues and the like is also habit-forming. The scenes at Shea’s family home with the panic room never slow down until you’re about to jump out of your skin. There’s a few scenes like that, in fact. The helicopter scene later in the book is the same. It’s shorter but packs the same punch. I also enjoy Nathan and Shea’s telepathic communication with each other, especially in a car full of his brothers and other team members. There’s plenty of surprises throughout this story, fun and otherwise.

We’re now down to two Kelly brothers, Donovan and Joe, and this series will be over. Withdrawal will then be imminent for me. I’m not sure what I’ll do after that. I know I will be lost for a time. Maybe the Kellys have some cousins or other relatives – long-lost brothers? – who will save me. Yes, reaching for straws is a bad sign. I know I don’t want this addiction to come to an end.

Grade: A+

Summary:

She came to him when he needed her the most

She came to him at his lowest point. The voice of an angel, a whisper in the dark. She’s the only thing that gets Nathan Kelly through his captivity, the endless days of torture and the fear that he’ll never return to his family. With her help, he’s able to escape. But he isn’t truly free, because now she’s disappeared and he’s left with an all-consuming emptiness as he struggles to pick up the pieces of his life. Did he imagine his angel? Or is she out there, needing his help as he’d once needed hers?

Now he rushes to save her before it’s too late

Shea has been on the run from people who will stop at nothing to exploit her unique abilities. She never wanted to drag Nathan, who’d already suffered so much, into danger, but she doesn’t have a choice so she reaches out to him for help. Finally face-to-face after having already formed a soul-deep bond in hell, their emotional connection is even more powerful than their telepathic one. Nathan refuses to consider ever letting her go again, but she worries they can never have a life free of the dangers that dog her every step. He’ll protect her with his every breath, but can he convince her that they are meant to face these threats together?

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

Sandy M’s review of The Departed (FBI Psychics, Book 2) by Shiloh Walker
Paranormal Romance published by Berkley Trade 3 Jan 12

This is the second book in Shiloh Walker’s FBI Psychics series and I’m hooked. Along with her characters, it’s Ms. Walker’s ability to make the reader feel emotion that draws me back to her books time after time. Add in the paranormal element, and these books are awesome.

Taylor Jones and Desiree Lincoln work together in a special branch of the FBI. He’s her boss. They’re attracted to one another, but they’ve kept that attraction under control for quite a while now. Dez is able to communicate with the dead, try to help them overcome whatever issue it is keeping them from crossing over. Taylor has no psychic ability, he’s just always honed in on what to do and how to do it when a case comes to his attention. And he has ghosts of his own, the tragic loss of his young sister so many years ago, something that still haunts him to this day.

Everything changes between them in the blink of an eye – or the speed of a bullet. Dez is shot just as she and Taylor are about to make their escape with a child they’ve rescued. The image of her lying on the floor bleeding tears Taylor apart. His determination to take care of her after being released from the hospital goes south. They spend a night of passion together, but afterward Taylor puts distance between them again. Dez has no success in breaking down his barriers, so she walks away from it all – the job and Taylor.

Working on her own, Dez takes cases wherever spirits call her. Then she meets Nathan, a young ghost who needs Dez to help him save a girl in Taylor Jones’ hometown. As she discovers more about the girl and the boys who want to hurt her, Dez calls for backup – the only man she knows who will drop everything to help. Heading home for an anniversary he dreads but gets through every year, Taylor is close by when he learns Dez needs him. It’s been more than a year since he’s seen her, and not one thing has changed when he gets his first glimpse of her.

Taylor and Dez work together to solve her case, all the while an underlying smoldering surrounds them. When they finally come together again, it’s as raw and intense as the first time. Now Taylor is determined to keep Dez in his life, no matter what he has to do. Breaking through the field of feigned indifference will be the most difficult. Dez has learned not to hope where Taylor is concerned. Even when it seems he’s sincere and wants her with him, she has a hard time letting go to believe him.

The emotion in this book is spectacular. From the exhaustion that dogs Dez as she goes from case to case for months to the fear of the victims she helps to the confusion of the spirits who need her to the sensuality and longing between Taylor and Dez, nearly every page tugs at your heart, drags you deep into despair, tosses you into the throes of passion, pulls anger and grief in equal measure from the depths of your soul. Especially after all is said and done in Dez’s current case but another spirit is keeping her nearby, and this time it’s Taylor who has to live through tragedy and heartache once again.

I hope this series goes on for several more books, that Ms. Walker has plenty of stories in mind for these FBI psychics. It’s intriguing as hell and I love it all. I’m very anxiously awaiting the next book, though this one just hit the shelves and it’s going to be a long wait. It’s definitely worth the wait, however.

Grade: A+

Summary:

A LIFELONG OBSESSION

FBI Special Agent Taylor Jones has made it his mission to save those in harm’s way by any means necessary—including employing psychic agents like Desiree “Dez” Lincoln, who can communicate with the disembodied spirits of the dead. Taylor is haunted by his own ghost, his kid sister, gone missing at age six. For a quarter of a century he has been tortured by her loss and the mystery of her disappearance.

A NIGHT’S INDISCRETION

When Dez is seriously wounded, Taylor can no longer hide his feelings for her. Getting involved could spell disaster for both of them—not to mention those who rely on them for help—but once Dez lays her hands on him, he can’t resist the fierce attraction. But after giving in to his desires, Taylor pulls back, and Dez strikes out on her own.

AN INESCAPABLE PASSION

Responding to the call of another anguished spirit, Dez is led to Taylor’s old hometown. As the two are forced to come together to save a girl in peril, Dez may be able to help Taylor finally find the answers he’s been looking for…

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

A huge thanks to Catherine Mann for spending the day with us recently to chat about how important memories are to us. And thanks to those of you who shared yours with us.

And now to our winners, who will receive a copy of Catherine’s latest in her Elite Force series, Hot Zone.

#9 – Kristy

and

#11 – Maureen

Congratulations, ladies! Please send your snail mail addresses to lighthousetagger at gmail dot com and your books will be on their way to you!

Sandy M’s review of 10 Ways to Steal Your Lover (Love by Numbers, Book 1) by Dee Tenorio
Contemporary Erotic Romance short story published by Dee Tenorio 15 Dec 11

Well, I just have to read Dee Tenorio more often. That’s all there is to it. She intrigues me with her characters and storylines, makes me laugh, her heroes make me sizzle and burn, and she packs so much into a shorter length book. But you know what’s almost better than all that?

I like the fact she can put two characters together in a room or any other small, enclosed space for pages and even chapters and never once do those scenes get boring. She did that quite successfully in Shaken, which I really enjoyed. (If you haven’t read that book, you should!) And she does it here just as successfully, starting the book off with our hero and heroine, Kane and Delilah, waking up together, naked, and with very hazy, nearly non-existent memories of the night before – Delilah’s wedding night – to Craig. Not Kane. Oh, boy.

So between touches and kisses and lots of steaminess in their Las Vegas hotel room, they try to figure out how the hell they ended up together like this. Each remembers a different portion of the previous evening. First order of business is to start investigating to see what they can find out about the happenings of last night, along with figuring out where the bag of money in the hotel closet came from. Did they rob a casino? Not once are these scenes mundane in any way. Kane and Delilah go from bewilderment to hot and bothered to guilt and a few other emotions, all wrapped in a sensuousness in those very close quarters.

And thus begins their trek of talking to whoever they can to discover how their world woke up feeling so right in and among the guilt – not the feeling of settling for something less. They get a lot of discovering done before they have to face Delilah’s parents – and Craig. Kane, Jesse, and Craig have been best friends for years, the unlikeliest of friends you’ll find, but the friendship works and is quite special to each of them. You can imagine then how Kane must feel to face Craig, knowing what he’s done to this man who’s also like a brother. The same goes for Delilah, but she has the added stress of also facing her military father – the booming drill sergeant type man who expects to be obeyed, no matter what.

I have to tell you, the way the story unfolds, bit by bit, the haziness clearing away, the sacrifices and pure friendship that are revealed are just wonderful. Dee Tenorio always gives readers these little romantic jewels that never disappoint. Try one of her books and you’ll know exactly what I mean.

Grade: B+

Summary:

His best friend’s wedding just turned into the craziest hangover ever…

Kane Wilkensen’s buddy was about to marry the girl of Kane’s dreams. Which would have been fine—heartbreaking but fine—if Kane hadn’t woken up in a Las Vegas honeymoon suite with her, a giant sack of money and a great big blank spot in both their memories first.

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

5 Secrets You Never Tell – 2012

Fae magic and guilt. Malcolm MacDowylt has both in his life much more than he wants. One he can ignore until a later time, the other he has to face day in and day out. Especially when that magic tosses Danielle Dearmon right smack into the middle of his world, which is now tilting every which way, forcing him to look at a future he never imagined.

Dani, on the other hand, is finally where she belongs. Despite Malcolm wanting her to return where she came from. All the years of trying the gain the good graces of the fae and now thrust seven hundred years into the past to a man who is her destiny is more than she could have ever dreamed of.

Together they must fight the evil that no knows no bounds in a war to conquer them. Is love enough to help them survive?

We have the first chapter of Warrior’s Redemption for you today. Get ready to trek down to your local bookstore after this! Or navigate over to your favorite online bookstore. Or enter the contest included with Melissa’s guest blog today. Good thing there’s a few options today. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Summary:

Will the magic of modern romance help him defeat an evil ancient power?

Malcolm MacDowylt sees himself a failed warrior, haunted by the death of the woman he married to become laird of Clan MacGahan.  Neither his Viking heritage nor his claim to descend from Norse gods can restore his confidence in his ability to protect his people.  His sister is held captive, her life in jeopardy, and his Magically powerful half brother wants him dead.  The last thing he needs is more responsibility, but that’s exactly what he gets when his Faerie mother-in-law arrives seeking justice for her daughter in the form of an enticing woman from seven hundred years in the future.

Danielle Dearmon has waited fifteen years to discover the life she is supposed to live.  She just never dreamed she’d end up in the thirteenth century with a handsome Scot bent on saving everyone but himself.

With the lives of those most dear to him hanging in the balance, Malcolm sets out to battle a powerful evil Magic, only to learn that the redemption he seeks exists only in the arms of the woman he loves.

PROLOGUE

Tom Green County, Texas
Fifteen Years Ago

Fairies absolutely were real. Dani didn’t care what her Aunt Jean claimed.

After Mrs. Palmer down at the new library had loaned her those wonderful books this past summer, she’d known it wasn’t just her imagination. Lots of people believed in them. She’d spent the entire vacation between fourth and fifth grades reading all about Faeries.

“Dani?” Aunt Jean’s voice carried all the way down to the chicken coops. “Dani! You better hurry up with those eggs, little girl, if you expect to get breakfast in you before the school bus gets here.”

Dani grabbed the one egg that had been laid already, dodging the grumpy old brown hen’s beak, and hurried back toward the farmhouse. She’d have to gather again when she got home from school, but at least Emma Hen had come through early, as usual.

A furtive glance to the empty corner next to the steps as she approached the house warned her of what was to come.

“Get your hands washed and sit yourself down.”

Aunt Jean’s no-nonsense expression was firmly in place and Dani quickly did as she was told, slipping into her spot at the old kitchen table as her aunt slid a warm plate in front of her.

“What did I tell you about setting a saucer of milk out by the steps?” Aunt Jean waited, arms folded in front of her.

“Not to,” Dani mumbled around her first bite of thick toast. “Draws snakes.”

“So it’s not that you forgot. You’ve just decided you’re not going to mind me, is that it? You’re just trying to be bad?”

“No ma’am, I’m not trying to be bad. I promise.” The Faeries liked milk and bread. It encouraged them to stay. “My book said –”

“Nuh-uh,” Aunt Jean turned back to the stove, scrambling Dani’s egg, her gray curls swaying with the stubborn shaking of her head. “I don’t want another word of that fairy nonsense, you hear me? There’s no such thing as a fairy, but rattlers are real enough. Those damn snakes will smell that milk a mile off and next thing you know, you or me one will be getting ourselves snake bit. And then what?”

“The Faeries would keep us safe, if you’d let me feed them,” Dani muttered, tearing a corner off her toast and dropping it into her lap. If her aunt would just believe, the Faeries would hear all their wishes and make them come true. “I read that in one of my books.”

“Danielle Faye Dearmon!” Aunt Jean turned around from the stove and leaned across the table. “I’ve had just about enough of this nonsense from you. Not everything in books is true just because somebody wrote it down. I’m serious as a heart attack about this, little girl. I want your promise right now that you won’t put any more milk out by the steps for these damned imaginary fairies of yours or else I’m going to have to paddle your butt, you understand me? I want your promise on it, Dani. I want it now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dani didn’t hesitate with her response. She had no choice. Her aunt was really serious this time. She almost never pulled out the ‘paddle your butt’ threat. “I promise.”

She meant to keep the promise, too. No more milk by the porch steps. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t hunt down a new spot to feed the Faeries when she got home from school this afternoon. A better spot. One that Aunt Jean wouldn’t find.

Because no matter that Aunt Jean was the best substitute mama on the face of the planet, in this one thing, she was completely wrong.

Faeries were absolutely real and Dani meant to make sure she stayed on their good side.

CHAPTER ONE

Land of the Faerie
1294 [as calculated by Mortals]

Howls echoed through the forest of Wyddecol, so protracted and pain-ridden they tortured Elesyria’s eardrums. Like some animal in its death throes, the screams pitched from fury to terror and back again.

She ran faster through the trees, seeking in vain to escape the torment of those sounds. Knowing she could never outrun that which came from her own throat.

It was her agony, her torment that tore the screams from her lungs as if the pain were a living creature eating at her innards.

Her daughter, her only child, her beautiful Isabella had disappeared from the World of Man.

On she ran, unseeing, dodging by instinct the low-hanging branches and fallen limbs. On, deeper into the forest until at last she broke through into a clearing. Ahead lay the Temple of Danu, golden in its perpetual shaft of sunlight, encircled by its ring of massive stones.

Elesyria pushed herself harder, maintaining her pace up the long marble staircase. Not even at the doorway did she slow. No stopping to shed her sandals, no washing her feet, no bending low to show reverence at the doorway to the inner sanctum. Not this time. This time, for the first time ever, she simply didn’t care.

Her precious Isabella was gone from the World of Man.

“Show yourself, I demand it! How could you allow this to happen?” she accused, ignoring the hysterical echo of her own words in the cavernous rounded room. “You promised. She was to be cared for if I would but leave her with the Mortals and return to your service. You promised!”

She screamed the final words, her voice cracking as she sank to her knees. The until-now strangely absent tears at last found their release, rolling down her cheeks to splatter on the white stone floor at her knees. “You promised,” she accused one final time, her words no more than a whisper against the canvas of her grief.

“You would demand my presence in your world, Daughter of Danu?”

The words echoed off the arc of the room’s high ceiling, bouncing, tumbling in a harmonious melody of sound.

“I do,” Elesyria answered without hesitation. She had no care for the ancient protocols. No time to travel to the trance world. No desire to honor the bitch-Goddess who had betrayed her.

In front of her a pale green mist coalesced, writhing and bubbling, shifting from one form to another until at last a tall, beautiful woman emerged. The Goddess, the Earth Mother, had arrived.

“Then I can only assume these are the direst of times. What troubles you, my child?”

“The loss of my child.” Elesyria rose to her feet, well aware she breeched all acceptable behavior in doing so. Eye contact with the Goddess was too painful, so she fixed her gaze on the other woman’s chin. “Isabella is dead. You’ve broken your promise to me.”

The Goddess lifted her hand as if to catch a handful of air in the room before rubbing her thumb against her fingers, much in the way a merchant might sample the feel of a fine silk.

“Isabella lives.”

“Impossible!” Elesyria had been to the curtain between the worlds this very morning. She’d stood there as so often she did, stretching out her magic to caress the essence of the daughter she’d left behind. Only this time, there had been nothing. “She’s not in the World of Man. I felt for her myself. That which had been her is gone.”

“Nevertheless, Isabella’s soul has not returned to the Fountain. She lives.”

“How can that be?” Elesyria’s legs buckled, too weak to hold her weight and she dropped to her knees. “The place where I felt for her is as empty as my heart.”

The Goddess lifted both arms and the mist returned, swirling in a sphere between her hands. It moved as if alive, frantic with a billion life forms, its color shifting from the palest green to a brilliant emerald and back again. Then the Goddess clapped her hands together and the mist disappeared as quickly as it had formed.

“Not only does she live, she has joined with her SoulMate. Though, as you say, she is not in the time and place where you left her.”

“What does that mean?”

The Goddess shrugged, palms held upward. “I cannot yet say. I know only what I feel when I search the Myst.”

Elesyria’s mind reeled in confusion. Isabella’s space on the Mortal Plain was empty. She’d felt that for herself. And yet, the Goddess claimed her daughter lived. Lived and had found the one happiness every Fae sought: her own SoulMate!

“I need answers,” she whispered, as much to herself as to the Goddess standing nearby.

“Indeed you do. Go with my blessings.”

Her blessings? Not enough. Not by half.

Elesyria raised her head, coming as close to meeting the Earth Mother’s eyes as she dared. “After all the years I’ve dedicated to your service, Goddess, I want more than your blessings. I want to travel through the curtain with the power to punish any who harmed my child.”

“Crossing over with your Magic intact is forbidden by your High Council.”

If the Goddess thought to dissuade her with something so trivial, she was seriously mistaken.

“I’ve no more care for the politics of Fae than I have for those of Man. I care only for the child grown to woman who I left behind when I returned to my service in your temple. I must know the truth of her fate. I want to travel through the curtain. With my Magic.”

“And if you find your daughter has not been harmed? If you find it is as I have indicated?”

If, pray the Goddess, Isabella lived happily joined to her SoulMate as the Goddess insisted? “Then I want the power to reward those who aided her.”

The visage in front of her shimmered from green to gold and back again.

“In offering reward as freely as you threaten punishment, Elesyria, you demonstrate your wisdom. So be it. You may retain your powers to use for this purpose and this purpose only. Your years of faithful service watching over my followers have earned at least this much from me. As you go forth, I will set in motion what I can to assist. Travel to the place where your daughter should be. Seek out the Tinklers when you arrive. They are my eyes and ears in the World of Man. If any can guide you to the truth, surely it will be they.”

“Thank you, Earth Mother.”

Elesyria bowed her head, honoring the Goddess before her. When she lifted her eyes once again, she was alone.

Rising to her feet, she squared her shoulders and hurried from the chamber, already seeing the spot she would cross over in her mind’s eye.

She would find the Tinklers the Goddess had spoken of and she would know the truth. She prayed the result would require her to use her Magic for the benefit of one who had helped her daughter, but if not?

Woe be unto any who had lifted a hand to bring harm down upon Isabella. They would feel her wrath even if it should shake the very foundations of the Mortals’ world.