I haven't doing my weekly-ish updates because I've been in the thick of writing & edits, getting DECEPTION ready for you, and it's almost there! It's uploaded and just waiting to go live at all bookseller sites.
Smugglers and sword fights and sexytimes, oh my!
It's a long con with a black-hearted warrior on a mission of revenge who's planned for everything…except the one woman who can bring the whole thing crashing down around him.
A second chance romance, it's another hot-hot-hot medieval, and I can't wait to share it with you.
I'll update you as soon as I have links. In the meantime…perhaps an excerpt??
…Kier turned and stared through the open doorway at her.
He looked like sin. His hair was dripping dark and wet over his face. His clothes were molded to him, his tunic slack with rain, pressed to his body, his breeches tight, his black boots gleaming, as were the dark eyes he pinned on her.
“Where were you going, Sophia?”
His words were quiet and low, but they unleashed a shiver through her body, prickling her skin from chest to belly.
He advanced a step. “Where were you going with the ledger?”
“Kier,” she said in a low, warning tone.
He kicked the door shut behind him.
“Kier, stop,” she said firmly, but the resolve in her words was belied by the way she started backing up, one hand stretched out behind her, feeling for obstacles. She bumped into a bench and backed around it.
“Where were you going?” His eyes never left hers as he shoved the bench out of his way. “To Cosimo? Or had you others in mind? Perhaps you meant to sell it to the highest bidder?”
“Surely you could have offered me rights of first refusal, could you not, now?” His Irish was getting stronger as his emotions ratcheted up. Jagged chills raked across her chest, a saw-edge of fear.
She shook her head wildly and tripped backward another step. The back of her knees hit the bed and she dropped onto it. “Kier, no, you must see—”
“See what? Perhaps you were evening the score, aye? I left you, now you leave me?”
She scooted across the bed, pushing with her elbows and heels. “No, ’tisn’t—”
He closed his fingers around her ankle.
“Oh, Jésu,” she whispered as he pulled her toward him, bundling the sheets beneath her, until she was laid out beneath his towering body.
His eyes were like fury, his face like stone. “You erred, lass,” he rasped.
She stifled a scream, kicked hard into him, and launched herself over the bed and took off running for the door. She made it two steps before his arm closed around her waist, stopping her like an iron bar. He yanked her back into his chest and the raw, barely-restrained power of him.
“You wanted to negotiate? Let’s negotiate,” he said, his breath hot in her ear.