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Category: Claiming Her

Excerpts & Eggs

I was here to post an excerpt, but I have to interrupt the except to welcome all Egg Hoppers! 

My egg is hot pink with lots of wavy and infinity-looking designs, as it should be.  Bet you can find it here on this page…somewhere….

But I hope you stick around long enough to read the excerpt
↓↓ below. ↓↓
If you like big adventure, scorching passion, & alpha warrior heroes who meet their match in unexpected women, this one’s for you.
Also, links & instructions are below.

Anyone can join, so if you’re just hearing about it now, join in!

And I’m sending a warm invitation to everyone to sign up for the newsletter & get all the latest news on book releases & special deals!

Onto the excerpt…..

It’s beyond the Pale in Ireland, 1589.

Irish warrior Aodh Mac Con has just returned  home and seized the windswept castle the Queen of England refused to give him.  He plans to conquer everything: the castle, the lands, the lady.  

Unfortunately, the lady has no intention of being conquered…and things don’t always turned out as planned.

(The hero’s name name is pronounced /Ay/–I hear it like you’d say the beginning of “Aidan.” It means fire. It’s a royal name.)

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

…She stepped back, her lips parting. The paleness in her cheeks went even paler. He’d shocked her.

The realization caused a small, strange tinge of disappointment, that a woman who’d held an English castle beyond the Pale with only ten men would be shocked by such a thing. It seemed somehow…diminishing. But then, Aodh had a taste for rebellion today, and nothing but more of the same would serve.

Still.

A movement at the far end of the hall caught his attention. One of his captains, Cormac, poked his head through a door, caught his eye and nodded, then ducked back out. Good. They’d made it to the north side, which meant they’d secured the entire castle. Rardove was his.

And so where was the hot satisfaction of conquest? The rush of triumph? Where was…everything?

Lying at the bottom of the same cold pit that had marked his life for too many years to count, no doubt. Intrigues, battle, courtly maneuvers, it was all the same: naught.

Apparently even coups of castles did not rise to the level of interest anymore.

He turned his attention back to Katarina. “My lady, if you will—”

All he saw was a blur of green silk, then her small, bunched fist smashed into his face.

The impact, hard and square, landed directly on his jaw.

Caught utterly unaware—as he’d never been before, never, not even when his father had his head cut off—Aodh reeled sideways.

The retreat gave enough room for her to launch herself forward and slam her shoulder directly into his ribs so hard and fast, he grunted and stumbled backward and hit the ground, her on top, twisting and kicking.

She jammed a knee into his bollocks, and he doubled over protectively, at which point she grabbed one of his fingers and twisted it back almost to breaking, while her other hand—so sinuous and slender it was all but ungrippable—snaked between their writhing bodies and tugged his accursed dagger out of its sheath.

Disappointed, indeed.

With a roar, he lunged up off the ground, lifting her with him, and backed her up to the wall. Predictably—dimly, he noted he was already predicting things about her—she wrestled like a hellcat. Whirling hair, arms, legs. Kicking, biting, punching, swiping with the knife.

First things first.

He caught hold of the feminine fist snaked around the hilt of his blade and slammed it to the wall above her head, gripping her wrist so hard she cried out, but she did not, of note, stop fighting.

He finally had to pin her to the wall with his entire body, her toes dangling half a foot in the air, their faces pressed together, cheek to cheek, until he stilled everything that was writhing and flailing and kicking on her curving, rampant, berserker body.

Fire burned in his veins, urging him to smash and destroy. He reached over with his other hand and wrenched the blade out of her grip, then tossed it to the ground behind him.

He inhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm. They stood like this for a moment, her body pinned between his and the wall. He supposed she could still kick his shins, but she’d impact against his greaves, and it would hurt her far more than him.

She seemed to agree. At least, she didn’t move.

He pulled back a few inches and let her feet drop to the ground. Breathing fast, she flung her head, spraying hair across her face. It was pale and beautiful, with slim, dark brows arcing over what appeared to be intelligent brown eyes. A shocking discovery.

“If you were a man, I would kill you right now,” he said in a low voice.

He waited for her response—everything now was a test, every moment a potential tipping point. Would she recoil? Be wise and retreat, apologize, surrender, run scared?

Would she be like everyone else?

She shifted the only thing he didn’t have restrained, her left hand, and laid what turned out to be the cold edge of a blade against the side of his throat.

“If I were a man, sir,” she whispered back, “you would already be dead.”

Goddammit.

It was his dagger, one of many strapped to his body. In the mêlée, she’d succeeded in getting it free. In the distraction of staring into her eyes, trying to ascertain if she was mad, she’d succeeded in lifting it to his throat.

A rush went through him, hot and intense. “You are left-handed,” he observed grimly.

“When necessary.”

A humming filled his stomach. He’d come for battle, and that this slim audacious woman had given it to him, undefended, in a hopeless situation, outmatched and overpowered, bespoke great boldness. Of a kind he’d not seen in a long time.

Either that, or idiocy.

She did not appear idiotic. Of course, she’d not appeared reckless either, out in the bailey. She’d seemed calm, clever, pale, and beautiful. Then she’d launched her body into his and turned into a bold, roaring-mad hellcat.

Perhaps everything in her was latent. Who knew, idiocy might rear its head at any moment. Or more boldness.

Although it was difficult to see how she could be more bold than she was at the moment.

Small wisps of hair brushed beside her mouth. Aodh knew battle and fights; her lips ought to be dry with fear, parched and tight. But they were wet. Parted and wet, her chin up, her cheeks a sort of hot red. Her slim body was pressed hard against his, female curves barely detectable through his armor. But the vivid flush of her was clear. Her mad, energizing, fearless self was the clearest thing on his mind.      

That and the blade pressed against his neck.

He laughed low in his throat. It had been a long time since he’d felt this hum inside him, felt this energized, this vital.

He leaned closer until his mouth was an inch from hers, until he felt the honed edge of his own blade indent the flesh of his throat.

“Do it, lass,” he whispered. “Or drop it. Now.”

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I’m sure that’ll go fine…or will it??

Go find out!

AMAZON | iBOOKS | NOOKKOBO

 

Did you find the egg?? Hint: It’s probably the ‘first’ thing you should do. (First things first…)

Now what?

Egg Hop Info & Links:
Historical Romance Author Easter Egg Hunt

Match the egg to the author by 1) drawing a line between them, or 2) writing the author’s name next to their egg, or 3) writing the number of the egg next to the author’s name.  Whatever’s easiest for you!
 
When you have all 30 matches, either e-mail a picture of the form (2 pictures since there are 2 pages) or send an e-mail with a list of authors and their matching egg numbers.

E-mail to our fearless leader Heather@HeatherMcCollum.com by 11:59 PM on 4/20/19 to be entered into the $150 gift card giveaway! Grand prize winner will be announced by noon on Easter (4/21/19).

While you are hopping, don’t forget to like, follow, or sign up for the author’s newsletter to keep up to date on their new releases and author wanderings.

You can sign up for mine here:

KRIS’S NEWSLETTER SIGN UP

Thanks for hopping!

Here’s the form for marking the matches! https://docs.google.com/document/d/1kK_HmhsP-oYNpVduciIJRYvaOF-4jUGRNv_BXpgZWCU/edit

And here’s the list of authors, all linked up for you to keep hopping.

Annabelle Anders
Lori Ann Bailey
Tammy L. Bailey 
Katherine Bone
Collette Cameron
Jane Charles
Elizabeth Essex
Tina Gabrielle
Samantha Grace
Amalie Howard
Amy Jarecki
Julie Johnstone 
Kris Kennedy (You’re already here. clever reader)
Elizabeth Keysian
Tara Kingston
Eliza Knight
Jerrica Knight-Cantania
Diana Lloyd
Nicole Locke
Alanna Lucas
Deb Marlowe
Madeline Martin
Heather McCollum
Maddison Michaels  
Nadine Millard  
Meara Platt
Ava Stone   
Jennifer Trethewey
Victoria Vane
E. Elizabeth Watson

Excerpt Party: Unwrapping Romance-Claiming Her

Happy Holidays, Historical Romance Lovers!

One of the best parts of the holiday season is gifts. And romance readers know the best gifts often come between the covers of a romance novel.

A group of my historical romance author friends & I have collected these fun, exciting excerpts from our stories to help you find great books to kick back with this hectic holiday season.

It’s some of the best historical romance out there!

This one’s from CLAIMING HER, a big, sexy, enemies-to-lovers romp through Elizabethan Ireland.

If you love alpha heroes, fun banter, & scorching hot sexytimes, you’ll love CLAIMING HER.

Here’s an excerpt from the second surprise from the opening scenes.

Aodh Mac Con Rardove has returned to Ireland and taken the castle the Queen of England refused to give him.  He intends to conquer everything: the castle, the lands, the lady. 
Unfortunately, this lady has no intention of being conquered. 

He must find a way to win her…or lose everything he’s fought for his whole life.

(Note: Hero’s name is Irish, and pronounced like the beginning of ‘Aidan.’)

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

…She stepped back, her lips parting. The paleness in her cheeks went even paler. He’d shocked her.

The realization caused a small, strange tinge of disappointment, that a woman who’d held an English castle beyond the Pale with only ten men would be shocked by such a thing. It seemed somehow…diminishing. But then, Aodh had a taste for rebellion today, and nothing but more of the same would serve.

Still.

A movement at the far end of the hall caught his attention. One of his captains, Cormac, poked his head through a door, caught his eye and nodded, then ducked back out. Good. They’d made it to the north side, which meant they’d secured the entire castle. Rardove was his.

And so where was the hot satisfaction of conquest? The rush of triumph? Where was…everything?

Lying at the bottom of the same cold pit that had marked his life for too many years to count, no doubt. Intrigues, battle, courtly maneuvers, it was all the same: naught.

Apparently even coups of castles did not rise to the level of interest anymore.

He turned his attention back to Katarina. “My lady, if you will—”

All he saw was a blur of green silk, then her small, bunched fist smashed into his face.

The impact, hard and square, landed directly on his jaw.

Caught utterly unaware as he’d never been before–never, not even when his father’s head had been cut off—Aodh reeled sideways.

The retreat gave enough room for her to launch herself forward. She slammed her shoulder directly into his ribs so hard and fast he grunted. He stumbled backward and hit the ground, her on top, twisting and kicking.

She jammed a knee into his bollocks, and he doubled over protectively, at which point she grabbed one of his fingers and twisted it back almost to breaking. Her other hand—so sinuous and slender it was all but ungrippable—snaked between their writhing bodies and tugged his accursed dagger out of its sheath.

Disappointed, indeed.

With a roar, he lunged up off the ground, lifting her with him. Predictably—dimly, he noted he was already predicting things about her—she wrestled like a hellcat. Whirling hair, arms, legs. Kicking, biting, punching, swiping with the knife.

First things first.

He caught hold of the feminine fist snaked around the hilt of his blade and slammed it to the wall above her head, gripping her wrist so hard she cried out, but she did not, of note, stop fighting.

He finally had to pin her to the wall with his entire body, her toes dangling half a foot in the air, their faces pressed together, cheek to cheek, until he stilled everything that was writhing and flailing and kicking on her curving, rampant, berserker body.

Fire burned in his veins, urging him to smash and destroy. He reached over with his other hand and wrenched the blade out of her grip, then tossed it to the ground behind him.

He inhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm. They stood like this for a moment, her body pinned between his and the wall. He supposed she could still kick his shins, but she’d impact against his greaves, and it would hurt her far more than him.

She seemed to agree. At least, she didn’t move.

He pulled back a few inches and let her feet drop to the ground. Breathing fast, she flung her head, spraying hair across her face. It was pale and beautiful, with slim, dark brows arcing over what appeared to be intelligent brown eyes. A shocking discovery.

“If you were a man, I would kill you right now,” he said in a low voice.

He waited for her response—everything now was a test, every moment a potential tipping point. Would she recoil? Be wise and retreat, apologize, surrender, run scared?

Would she be like everyone else?

She shifted the only thing he didn’t have restrained, her left hand, and laid what turned out to be the cold edge of a blade against the side of his throat.

“If I were a man, sir,” she whispered back, “you would already be dead.”

Goddammit.

It was his dagger, one of many strapped to his body. In the mêlée, she’d succeeded in getting it free. In the distraction of staring into her eyes, trying to ascertain if she was mad, she’d succeeded in lifting it to his throat.

A rush went through him, hot and intense. “You are left-handed,” he observed grimly.

“When necessary.”

A humming filled his stomach. He’d come for battle, and that this slim audacious woman had given it to him–undefended, in a hopeless situation, outmatched and overpowered–bespoke great boldness. Of a kind he’d not seen in a long time.

Either that, or idiocy.

She did not appear idiotic. Of course, she’d not appeared reckless either, out in the bailey. She’d seemed calm, clever, pale, and beautiful. Then she’d launched her body into his and turned into a bold, roaring-mad hellcat.

Perhaps everything in her was latent. Who knew, idiocy might rear its head at any moment. Or more boldness.

Although it was difficult to see how she could become more bold than she was at the moment.

Small wisps of hair brushed beside her mouth. Aodh knew battle and fights; her lips ought to be dry with fear, parched and tight. But they were wet. Parted and wet, her chin up, her cheeks a sort of hot red. Her slim body was pressed hard against his, female curves barely detectable through his armor. But the vivid flush of her was clear.

Her mad, energizing, fearless self was the clearest thing on his mind.      

That and the blade pressed against his neck.

He laughed low in his throat. It had been a long time since he’d felt this hum inside him. Since he’d felt this energized, this vital.

He leaned closer until his mouth was an inch from hers, until he felt the honed edge of his own blade indent the flesh of his throat.

“Do it, lass,” he whispered. “Or drop it. Now.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

I wonder if she’ll drop it….

WANT MORE??

AMAZON | iBOOKS  |  NOOK  | KOBO

Sign up for the newsletter to get release news & special deals on all the books.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Time to check out all the other amazing excerpts!

Hop over to each one and enjoy the romantic surprises.

KRIS KENNEDY-Medieval & Elizabethan Romance
https://www.facebook.com/kriskennedybooks/

ELIZA KNIGHT- Scottish Medieval Romance
https://www.facebook.com/elizaknightfiction/

CATHY MACRAE-Scottish Historical Romance
https://www.facebook.com/cathymacraeauthor/   

ERICA RIDLEY-Regency Romance
 https://www.facebook.com/ericaridley  

COLLETTE CAMERON-Regency Romance
http://facebook.com/collettecameronauthor

TAMARA GILL-Regency Romance
https://www.facebook.com/tamaragillromance/  

LORI ANN BAILEY-17th Century Scottish Romance
https://www.facebook.com/LoriAnnBaileyauthor/

LAUREN ROYAL-17th century Historical Romance
https://www.facebook.com/groups/ChaseFamilyReaders/   

EMMA PRINCE-Scottish Medieval
 https://www.facebook.com/EmmaPrinceBooks/   

JULIE JOHNSTONE-Medieval Romance
https://www.facebook.com/authorjuliejohnstone

CECELIA MECCA-Scottish Historical Romance
http://www.ceceliamecca.com/unwrappingromance/

MADELINE MARTIN-Regency Romance
https://www.facebook.com/MadelineMartinAuthor/

KATHERINE BONE-Pirate Romance
https://facebook.com/authorkatherinebone

Go find some new historicals to love!

 

Elizabethan Slang

I’ve been remiss in sharing some  behind-the-scenes stuff for you.

I do A LOT of research for my historicals. And then use…oh, I don’t know…EIGHT PERCENT of it. 😫

I researched Elizabethan sexual slang for CLAIMING HER, but it turns out Aodh didn’t need it. 

But it’s wasn’t a complete loss, because I came out of it with this Extremely Fun list!

Unnecessary Commentary

Pay her the shot (Okay, well, that might work. Or it might not. This one seems all about technique.)

Put the devil into hell (That sounds exciting, doesn’t it??)

Pup-noddy  (That doesn’t sound exciting.)

Make butter with one’s tail (Um, I’ve got nothing.)

Fucking (Best. Word. Ever. Was there ever a better word in the history of wording? :admires fuck:)

Fucker (Defined for us as “one who copulates.” Ah. So that’s a what fucker is.)

Fadoodling (Light-hearted, yet with an undertone of dirty.)

Sluice (Um, eww.)

Please (I like that!)

Which is your favorite??
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