Bulled Over by Catalina Ferrer #FREE

by Sarah | Jun 21, 2013 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Writing

I have read this short story, and I’m all to happy to promote it for Catalina during her FREE weekender!!  Pick up a copy and enjoy this sexy little paranormal!!

[amazon_link id=”B00DCCYDV0″ target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]AMAZON[/amazon_link]

Blurb:

What happens when in a weird twist of fate–or karma–the bullfighter becomes the bull?

Conchita Peron, a bullfighter still trying to earn respect in a male-dominated profession, vows to kill Asesino, the bull that took her father’s life. But what she doesn’t know–and may not realize in time–is within the bull’s body resides the soul of the man she once and still desires…that of the very handsome and very dead matador Antonio de le Vega.

Will she set aside her thirst for revenge in time to see the heart under the hide?

Excerpt:

“Senorita, you really should be resting, not drinking. You need a clear head for tomorrow.” Mateo—once mozo de espada to Antonio, now Conchita’s—gave her what had to be the twentieth warning glance in the last hour.

It was becoming harder and harder to ignore him.

“A few shots of tequila never hurt anyone,” Conchita shot back and punctuated her statement by throwing her head back and downing another small glass of the scorching amber liquid.

“Ah. But a few shots of tequila and a pitcher of beer…” Her assistant wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Liquid courage may help you now, but it will not help you tomorrow when you are in that arena facing the most feared bull in Mexico.”

Conchita hated that her friend and mozo could see right through her, and she hated even more that he was right. But she’d be damned if she let him know that.

“Just go. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes. The hotel is not far. I don’t need a chaperone.”

The man hesitated, his hands perched on the edge of the bar, his butt half off the seat. “Are you sure? You promise you are leaving soon? It is already ten p.m. You should get a full night’s rest—”

“God!” Conchita interrupted, slamming her empty shot glass on the bar. “Don’t mother me, Mateo. I’ll be fine. I’ve fought more bulls than I can even remember right now. What’s another one?”

“The streets this late at night—”

“Are fine,” Conchita stated with a warning note in her voice. “If I can fight bulls, I can fight men. They are nearly one and the same. Horny fuckers.”

Mateo blinked in surprise and his lips twitched at one corner, but he rose from his seat. “Till tomorrow morning then. Ten a.m.”

Conchita felt bad for being so harsh with him. In an industry that showed her very little respect, he had been good to her, had stood by her patiently for three years. She’d never regretted hiring him after Antonio’s death and he didn’t deserve her attitude. She needed to get her head on straight and focus her bad attitude where it belonged: on the bull.

“Yep. Ten. I’m leaving soon. I promise,” she said, then added, “Goodnight, Mateo.”

“Buenas noches, Conchita.”

He doffed his baseball cap, nodded one last time, and was gone.

Conchita watched him go, vowed to finish the half mug of beer still in front of her, and then she would leave. She knew better than to overindulge the night before a fight, but she could hold her liquor as well as any man and her nerves were strung tight. No, liquid courage wouldn’t get her far tomorrow, but it would help her sleep tonight.

In the absence of her friend, she became more aware of her surroundings: the tinkle of glasses as the bartenders shuffled, grabbed, and washed them, giggles from women in the corner as they eyed the men playing pool, the sound of balls hitting balls, voices from the men at the other end of the bar.

“I bet you a hundred pesos she loses,” one man said.

“I don’t know. Revenge is a strong motive. He killed her papa and her lover.”

Conchita spewed beer all over the counter in front of her. Her lover? What tabloid had they been reading? Dios!

“Matadoras don’t have lovers. They are all lesbians. They want to be men!” a third man declared drunkenly.

It was a battle not to turn and look at the men having this discussion, but Conchita forced herself to be still. She caught the bartender’s eye as he approached her, a white rag in hand.

The conversation continued, but she feigned disinterest.

“I heard Asesino had to be pulled off a cow, tasered and roped and drugged. His amorousness knows no bounds,” man number two’s voice came again.

His amigos chuckled as though that was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

Conchita gestured for another pitcher of beer, wanting an excuse to stay and listen to the men’s conversation.

“An amorous bull is a fierce bull!”

“His cock was this long!”

More laughter.

Conchita cast a sidelong glance at the men and her eyes widened at how far the speaker held his palms apart. Did he really think it was that long?

“But you see,” man number one said, leaning forward as though he had a secret, “he is full of testosterone and missing his cow bitches. Now that he’s had a taste of cow cooch, he’ll be dying to get back there, bursting with sexual frustration, and this will make him vicious. He will kill her right away!”

The bartender placed the pitcher in front of her and Conchita quickly poured herself a mug, downing it as quickly as she could as the man’s words roiled with the yeast in her belly.

“Jorge, you saw him today, didn’t you? Didn’t you see the bull?”

“Si! Si! I saw him arrive yesterday. He’s in the barn! Massive, fierce, angry! The poor matadora. Let’s hope she’s been practicing.”

Conchita gulped, swallowing more beer as she did so. And she continued to drink and listen, drink and listen, as she clutched the red sachet under her shirt.

“Two hundred pesos says she defeats him.”

Gracias a Dios! At least someone had faith in her.

“No, no,” another man protested. “One hundred pesos says his cock is this big!”

Conchita summoned the bartender for a shot of tequila.

Catalina Ferrer lives in an undisclosed location and prefers to remain mysterious. She loves readers, however, and invites them to like her Facebook page to stay up to date on further releases from her. She promises not to spam you to death.

More than a Job by Lynette Endicott

by Sarah | Jun 19, 2013 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Writing

| Trailer | [amazon_link id=”B007F4D0CO” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | Desert Breeze Publishing |

BLURB:

Paige Hamilton is forced to seek a new life when her consuming, 24/7 job ends at the hands of a new company owner. But Paige is a survivor, and begins to build a new life, one that may even have room for romance. When the handsome stranger is the first to help her through the transition she falls fast and hard for Joshua Robinson.

Then she discovers he is the cruel owner, and that the company she’d loved — the company that cared so much about the adults with disabilities who lived in their homes — is in a downward spiral that puts the life of one of her friends at risk.

Romance, job loss, life coaching, hidden family treasures, and a secret about an uncle she’d never met — Paige learns that life is More Than a Job.

 *~*

EXCERPT:

Paige rounded the corner and jogged toward the Elm Street house at a steady pace. She felt great. She was breathing, zoning into the rhythm of her steps, head up, taking in the blue sky, the leaves with their fall colors, the mums bright splashes against the green lawns. The tension from her most recent separation from Josh began to recede.

Suddenly her heart pounded at a more rapid pace. She couldn’t register, couldn’t accept, what her eyes told her was true. Don sat on the porch in his wheelchair. Someone she didn’t recognize stood behind him — as the chair rolled toward the steps. Not the ramp. The steps.

Don waved his arms frantically.

She lengthened her stride and shouted with all her breath, “Wait! Stop!”

I will never make it in time. Pounding faster than she’d known she could run, she closed in on the house. The man in the gray sweat suit behind Don looked up, paused.

Maybe she would make it after all.

The man turned and went back into the house. He must have pushed away from the chair as he moved. He certainly hadn’t set the brakes. The chair rolled forward in slow motion, tottering at the top of the three steps, then turning, tumbling, crashing upside-down at the bottom as she arrived at Don’s side.

I can’t panic. She peered into Don’s startled, pale face while she fished out her cell phone. She knelt beside him, twisting around so he could see her face from his crumpled position on the ground.

“Hey, guy, this is no way to start the day.” She kept her tone light while checking him visually for injuries. No blood except for a scrape on his forehead. Good. She dialed 911. “I’m not going to move you, Don.”

Alert, he looked into her eyes.

“This chair is too heavy for me. Anyway, I want a doctor to check you over. Okay?”

Don blinked twice, his signal for yes. She covered his hand with hers while she talked to the dispatcher, giving the address, stating the nature of the injury, keeping her voice calm and steady.

Where were the staff? She plugged her headset into the phone and dropped it into her pocket.

“I’m going to talk with this man while we wait,” she told the dispatcher. “Yes, I’m trained in first aid, but I don’t think I should move him. He fell on his neck and head, and I don’t want to cause more injury.” She turned her attention back to her friend.

“Don, I know you must hurt.” Several minutes had passed since his fall. Why hadn’t anyone in the home noticed he was gone? “Does your head hurt at all?”

One blink. No.

“How about your neck?”

Don hesitated. Maybe.

“Your legs?”

Two blinks. Yes.

She looked closer. He’d skinned one knee in the fall. At least he’d been buckled into the chair, controlling the injuries some. Maybe.

Sirens blared in the distance, and a female voice emanated from inside the house. “Bert, where’s Donnie?” Without waiting for an answer, the woman commanded, “I told you to wait with him by the front door.”

Suddenly a young woman appeared at the door and screamed out, “Bert, what have you done?”

She stayed on the porch, but turned to Paige. “Is he all right?” She didn’t move from the door, as if afraid of the answer.

Paige kept her voice calm to keep her anger at bay. “I don’t know yet. I called an ambulance.”

She didn’t know the staff person, and the staff person didn’t know her. For all she knew, Paige was a stranger kneeling on the walk with a man the other woman was supposed to assist. Why didn’t she assume some responsibility?

“I need you to page your supervisor — and bring me Don’s medical book,” Paige said, hoping her no-nonsense tone resulted in quick action. “It’s the red one with his name on it, in the medicine cabinet.

“I don’t know how to page my supervisor.” The girl looked young and scared and had to be brand new. Her small, frightened voice confirmed Paige’s fears. “This is my first day alone. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

The ambulance turned the last corner. Paige stepped out to the curb to signal the driver, but directed her words to the girl. “The list is by the phone. Call the on-call pager. Tell the person on call that Don fell and needs to go to the hospital. Get someone here to help you right away.”

She didn’t have time to worry about the young woman for the next few minutes. She ended the call to the dispatcher with thanks. She briefed the paramedics and showed them how Don communicated. When they finally had him on a stretcher, a neck brace in place, she realized someone needed to go with him, and no one had come. She would have to go.

The ride to the hospital lasted just long enough for her to make three important phone calls. She called Don’s mom first.

“Meg, it’s me. Paige.” Before Meg could chitchat, she hurried on. “Don fell at the house. I’m taking him to the hospital to make sure he’s okay. He’s conscious and giving me a hard time as usual, so I’m sure he’ll be fine. He has a couple of scrapes. But I knew you’d want to have him checked over.” She didn’t explain how she happened to be at the house. Meg didn’t ask.

“Oh, Paige, I’m in St. Louis. It will take me three hours to get there. Tell him I’m on my way, okay?”

“I’ll tell him, and I’ll stay with him until you get here. We’re going to Community Hospital, so you can check at the ER there.”

“Let me talk to Don before I leave, okay?”

“Sure.” Paige held the cell to Don’s ear. “It’s your mom,” she told him, and was reward with a smile as he listened to Meg’s encouraging words.

When Paige couldn’t hear the rumble of a voice, she took back the phone.

“Anything else, Meg?”

“No, I’m on my way. I’ll see you as soon as I can get there. I know he’s in good hands until I can be there in person.” Meg sounded rushed but not panicked. Good.

“Drive safe, then. We’ll be waiting as patiently as we can.”

Paige’s next call was to the on-call pager. “This is P.J. Fields. Hopefully by now your staff person’s told you Don’s wheelchair rolled down the front steps at Elm Street.” She wondered if her frustration came through her voice. Part of her hoped so. Maybe she could stimulate some action. “Since no one else was available to do it, I got his mom’s permission and I’m taking him to Community. Someone needs to meet us there.”

Finally, she called the Day Program, explaining that Don would not be in today and that they would have to check with his case manager for more information….

Then they were at the hospital. Paige climbed from the ambulance and walked beside the cart on the way to an examining room. A paramedic described the injuries to the ER doctor while she made small talk with Don. The EMT had dressed his scrapes, but he’d had no other treatment. The doctor listened, made some notes, and turned to leave the room.

Paige put her hand on the doctor’s sleeve to get her attention. “Wait, please. What are you going to do next?”

The doctor frowned, tapped her foot, seemed uninterested and in a hurry to leave. “We’ll observe him for awhile, see if anything becomes apparent.” Paige had seen such disinterest, heard the bored tone, far too often when seeking medical care for people who couldn’t speak for themselves.

She’d learned to be persistent. “It was a nasty fall. I saw it happen. The risk of both head trauma and neck injury are there, don’t you think? He’s at very high risk for osteoporosis. Anyone who can’t bear their own weight is at risk. Any bone could be broken.”

“Yes, either is possible. We’ll watch him for signs of head trauma.” The doctor looked at her with a little more attention, but said nothing about a possible neck injury or broken bones. Paige bit back her anger. The doctor probably didn’t think a spinal cord injury would make much difference in Don’s quality of life. His chart said he was quadriplegic already, so the doctor probably had no idea he had full sensation. He wasn’t paralyzed; he just didn’t have full control of his muscles.

“He can’t respond easily,” Paige persisted. “Probably only a CT scan will tell you want you want to know. Won’t you consider it?”

The doctor really looked at her now. “Dr. Curtis,” she said, extending her hand, “and you are…?”

“I’m Paige Hamilton, a friend of Don’s.” Time to bluff if he was going to get any attention. “I’ve been on the phone with his guardian and mother. She’s on her way, but she wanted me to tell you she hopes you will do a scan.” Well, if she knew the details, Meg would certainly require a scan.

“His guardian has requested it?”

“I’m worried, too,” Paige pressed on. “He seems less responsive than usual, and I’ve known him for ten years. Aren’t you concerned?”

“How is he less responsive?” Finally she had some attention.

“He keeps dozing off, and he doesn’t open his eyes to answer my questions until I’ve asked two or three times. He could be in pain, of course, but it could be caused by something more.”

Dr. Curtis sat down and wrote the order, and within minutes Paige sat in the waiting room outside the x-ray area, where they would check Don for broken bones and other injuries.

Paige sat back to relax, to close her eyes for a moment. Only a moment, because suddenly everyone around her moved very fast. First the technician told her the doctor needed to talk with her right away. Then the doctor who came wasn’t the first one, but a neurosurgeon.

“He has a bleed on his brain,” he told her. “We are going to do emergency surgery to evacuate the blood. If we don’t, the pressure can cause serious injury or even death. We are taking him to prep him now.”

Meant to Be by Jennifer Labelle – #FREE

by Sarah | Jun 7, 2013 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Writing

Who Wants a FREE Book?

FREEBIE Over HERE…

Have I got your attention yet?

It’s my birthday week, and I’ve decided to give you all a present to help celebrate my 33^rd this past Tuesday June, 4^th. What better way than to have my very first release up for FREE on Amazon for the entire weekend! (June 7^th, 8^th, and 9^th)

I’d like to thank everyone for joining me here, and I hope you enjoy it! *coughs* Don’t forget, I’m always up for some new reviews too. If you have the time that is, in the meantime please check out the blurb and excerpt below and get your very own copy today before time runs out! J Spread the word…

[amazon_link id=”B004OYTSHE” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]GET IT HERE (AMAZON)[/amazon_link] 

Book blurb:

Jenna Baker is shaken up after her recovery with a near death experience. As if, being haunted with visions and losing her husband in a car accident weren’t hard enough. Could she be losing her mind? She finally moves on, only to have the husband she thought was dead suddenly reappear.

After the shocking task of convincing Jenna that she’s not seeing his ghost, Tyler becomes overwhelmed with guilt for saving himself and leaving her to almost die. Jenna’s recovery takes its toll while Tyler’s vulnerability gets the best of him. He’s harboring secrets that will devastate her and as Jenna unravels the truth her life takes an unexpected journey.

Excerpt:

He smiled again, taking the last plate from her to dry and shook off the extra suds. Drips of water and soap suds flew through the air getting her wet in the process, and he laughed at her shocked expression.

“Oh, really,” she said in the mood to play. Taking the sprayer hose from the faucet, she turned it on and gave him a squirt. She laughed, and it was his turn to pause in shock.

She could tell by his expression that this meant war and made a run for it, laughing the whole way. She made it into the living room before he extended his arm to catch her, swooping her up as if she was feather light.

“Got ye.”

They both laughed, but when she turned to face him, he became serious suddenly. She knew then that the games were over. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and pulled her towards him. Slowly moving his face closer, his eyes sparkled and completely absorbed hers.

The kiss started out slow, and she wanted him to take his time with it. She held back a groan when his mouth pulled away and pulled him tighter against her. Her adrenaline pumped faster, and she could feel the warmth coursing throughout her body. There was no thinking twice about it; her desire consumed her.

Pushing him against the wall, she kissed him hard, wanting him in that moment more than she’d ever wanted anything. She liked where this was going, liked being in control, needed it in that moment.

Placing her hands on his chest, she slowly moved them down his beautifully sculptured abs. “Stay,” she whispered, taking a step back so that he could watch as she unzipped her dress. It slowly slid to the floor exposing her bare breasts and the sexy black thong she wore. She kicked it out of the way, pulled his shirt off, and pressed herself against him again, flesh against flesh.

Author bio:

Jennifer Labelle resides in Ottawa, Ontario Canada with her husband and three beautiful children. After her third child she became a stay at home mom. In her busy household Jennifer likes to spend her down time engrossed in the stories that she creates. She is an active reader of romance (especially historical), mystery and anything paranormal. With an education in Addictions work she’s decided to take a less stressful approach in life and hopes that you enjoy, as she shares some of her imagination with all of you.

Author contact links:

Website: http://www.jenniferlabelle.com

Blog: http://labellebooks.blogspot.com

Twitter: http://twitter.com/1JenniferLabell

Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Jennifer-Labelle/168414043184292#!/pages/Author-Jennifer-Labelle/168414043184292

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4649930.Jennifer_Labelle

Best wishes,

Jennifer Labelle

Lapses of Memory by M.S. Spencer

by Sarah | May 22, 2013 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Writing

I’d like to tell you about my new romance, Lapses of Memory, a novel in which two romances intertwine as a mother recounts her life-long love affair while her daughter juggles two lovers.  Sydney Bellek’s love for Elian Davies is reignited each time they meet, but in the long years following each encounter she forgets him. For his part, Elian knows from the age of seven that they are meant for each other, but when she finally understands, he has lost his memory—literally.  Can she make him remember her? Will their new love be enough to replace the old one?

Meanwhile,  her daughter Olivia chronicles the ups and downs of her parents’ romance, making it difficult to concentrate on her own dilemma—how to choose between the rich and dashing Rémy de Beaumec, who wants to take her around the world, and the strong, silent, American-to-the-core, Benjamin Knox, who only wants to make her happy.

As journalists, Sydney and Elian fly a lot. Since in the story they only meet every few years, the date of their meeting on a plane coincided strangely and wonderfully with new aircraft designs coming on line. Research on the development of flight technology led me to learn a couple of interesting facts. First, the early commercial airlines were designed for comfort rather than speed. The Boeing Stratocruiser that Sydney takes when she is five had sleeping berths and a lounge, and meals were served on china plates with fine wines in etched crystal goblets. As with most advances, luxury was soon sacrificed to speed, and by the 1970s we had the SST Concorde, which made the flight from New York to London in three hours. Second, I was blown away by the amazing growth in customers. In the 1950s air travel was limited to a few adventurous souls and planes carried 100 passengers. The total number of passengers went from 17 million in 1950 to an estimated 2.75 billion by 2011. That’s only sixty years!

I hope you enjoy the excerpt. One lucky reader will win a pdf of one of my last four romantic suspense novels—your choice. Be sure to leave your email address in your comment.

Lapses of Memory, by M. S. Spencer

Secret Cravings Publishing (May 10, 2013)

eBook, 70,000 words

Romance, Action/Adventure, M/F, 3 flames
Buy Link: http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=595
EXCERPT (PG): The Lady Doesn’t Remember

Several beers later they wobbled out to the lobby holding hands. Sydney had learned enough to know this Elian was a complex person and really, really cute. When they reached her room he backed her against the door. She could feel his penis throbbing through his jeans and took a minute to revel in the desire the friction ignited before pushing him away. He set his arms on either side of her, and regarded her with serious eyes. “You still don’t remember me, do you?”

She shook her head. She didn’t really want to recognize him. Placing him in some other context could only be deflating. She liked him now, a tall, thin, russet-haired man with a pulsing member and inviting mouth, currently blowing a tidal wave of pheromones in her direction.

He continued to stand there, making none of the moves she wished he’d make. Finally she took a step toward him and held out her lips. Leaning in, he took them with his. The link pulled the rest of their bodies together. Arms went around waist and neck, bellies ground against each other, thighs intertwined. Sydney fell into a long, dark, winding tunnel that squeezed her, taking her breath away. She no longer felt corporeal, but more like a soft piece of quivering tissue, the bones dissolving, reduced finally to a pool of liquid heat.

He broke away, panting. “Now do you remember me?”

Her arms empty, she tried blinking to drag herself back to the present. Elian swam into view. His azure eyes shot signals, signals that she couldn’t decipher. What does he want of me? Why can’t we live for the moment? Just be in the here and now? For an instant she thought of lying, but somehow she knew he would see through it, that it would only push him farther away. “I’m sorry.”

He lifted his arms, and dropped them in frustration. He gazed at her, pleading. She couldn’t help him. Bits of him seemed familiar—as though those features belonged to someone else she’d known a long time ago. Other bits, like his deep, gruff voice and his air of insolence, were strange and new. A fleeting sense of abandonment passed through her. Whoever he reminded her of had left her once before. She didn’t want that loneliness again. She turned from him and put the key in the door. He caught her arm. “We’ll meet again, Sydney.”

She tried to match the hope in his voice. “Perhaps we will.” She ran inside and threw herself on the bed. After a good cry and a call for room service, she paced the room, trying to get a grip on her emotions. Something deep in Elian’s eyes drew her. She didn’t recognize his face, but she felt a linkage, a bond with him. An affinity shared, but long ago. She understood him, knew him. A face rose before her, but all jumbled as though she looked at it through a kaleidoscope. Eyes, chin, nose, cheeks, all split up into triangles and rhomboids, making the face as inscrutable as a Picasso painting. She gave up.

Halfway through the chicken cordon bleu she stopped, fork stalled two inches from her mouth. Why does he care whether I recognize him? What is this rapport I sense? Is there some deep, dark secret I should know? Oh my God, is he my long lost brother?

Biography
Although I’ve lived or traveled in every continent except Antarctica and Australia (bucket list), the last 30 years have been spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director and parent. I’m about to heave the entire ho to Florida, leaving behind the cherry blossoms, the monuments, and the political hacks.

Contacts:

Blog: http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/msspencertalespinner

Twitter: www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/
Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/M.S.-Spencer/e/B002ZOEUC8/

GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/msspencer

The English Lily by Kae Elle Wheeler

by Sarah | May 16, 2013 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Writing

| [amazon_link id=”B00B5LB0JS” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | The Wild Rose Press |

 Blurb

Lady Kendra Frazier is devastated. The love of her life just married another, and now all she desires is to be as far away as possible. Viscount Lawrie, Joseph Pinetti Gray, is facing financial ruin and needs a wealthy heiress.  Luckily for him, Kendra’s impetuous nature has handed him the fortuity he requires to save his family’s downfall. But Joseph’s carefully cultivated plans come to a grinding halt when he finds himself falling in love for what should have only been a marriage of convenience. And how can an old cursed doll help?

Excerpt

 

He rushed over.  “Thank God,” he whispered.  He crouched down next to her.  “Thank God,” he said again, touching his forehead to hers.

“Joseph?  Lord Lawrie?”  Her voice cracked.  Her white glove was no longer white.  He wished he could have protected her from that.

Leaning back, he peeled the stained fabric away.

Her hand clenched.  “My hands—”

He brushed his lips over the tiny scars. “Your hand is perfect,” he said.  “We’ll have to marry, you know.”

“Married.  I’ve dreamed of marrying,” she whispered, smiling.  Her eyes were dry, but in them he read the shock and fear.

Something tight squeezed Joseph’s chest, he found he could hardly breathe.  Death hovered over them.  While he might fail in creating bliss for Kendra’s last moments on this earth, he could offer her the whimsical fairytale.

Joseph dropped her hand and cupped her head with both hands.  “Lady Kendra Frazier, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, mademoiselle, s’il vous plait?”

With a stately incline of her head, she replied with a trembling smile.  “I shall be honored, Viscount Lawrie, Chevalier Joseph Pinetti Gray.  Lord Hardwick’s Marriage Act was enforced in Scotland, in fifty-four, so we’ve no need to post the banns.”  A small hysterical laugh erupted.  “Shall we escape to Gretna Green, my lord?”

Her spirit touched him as nothing else could. Even in the throes of shock and danger, she managed to recall his full proper name and title. He pulled her to him as heavy steps echoed on the wooden planks just beyond the door.  But for a moment he could pretend they would live a long and fruitful life together. “Oui, Gretna Green suits my purposes, perfectly, love,” he whispered against her lips, before crushing them beneath his own.

The door crashed back.

Author Bio

Kae Elle Wheeler has a BA degree from the University of Central Oklahoma in Management Information Systems that includes over forty credit hours of vocal music.  As a computer programmer the past fifteen years, she utilizes karaoke for her vocal music talents. Other passions include fantasy football, NBA &  musical theatre season tickets, and jazzercise. Because to quote Nora Roberts to a one time question, if she worked out? Her reply, “You have to get off your ass.”

Kae Elle began has been a member of the Oklahoma Chapter of Romance Writer’s of America and the RWA since March of 2007.  She grew up in the Dallas area and definitely considers herself a city girl.  She does not limit her travels to Writer Conferences in San Francisco, Washington DC, Seattle, Dallas, New Jersey, New York City and Atlanta because Jazzercise has fun conferences too (Denver, Palm Springs and Orlando). You can’t keep her at home!

She is a member of several RWA Chapters, including DARA, The Beau Monde and Passionate Ink. She has held several positions in the OKRWA Chapter, currently serving as Programs Director. As an avid reader of romance and patron of theatre, her main sources of inspiration come from mostly an over-active imagination. She currently resides in Edmond, Oklahoma with her musically talented husband, Al, and their bossy cat, Carly.

www.klwheeler.com

www.kathylwheeler.com

www.twitter.com/kathylwheeler