Blog Archives

An Excerpt from GOOD EARL GONE BAD!

Good Earl Gone Bad (1)While the rest of the KaT gang is off living it up in NYC at the RWA Conference,  I thought I’d share some deets about my next book with you guys.

Good Earl Gone Bad is the second book in my Lords of Anarchy series,  only this time around the Lord of Anarchy is actually…wait for it…a lady! Lady Hermione Upperton to be exact!

But things aren’t so easy for the first female member of The Lords of Anarchy,  and soon she’s teaming up with the haughty gambler, Lord Mainwaring to clear her name when she’s accused of murder.
Coming October 6, 2015
ISBN-13: 9781250061072
ISBN-10: 1250061075

Audacious, extravagant, indulgent-the Lords of Anarchy live at top speed, with nothing to chase but pleasure…at every imaginable cost.…

TEMPTING FATE

Marriage? To a gambler? You must be joking! Yet Lady Hermione Upperton has never backed down from a challenge. When her spendthrift father offers her at the gaming tables, she is given a difficult choice—wed the Earl of Mainwaring, an infamous gamester with no respect for her skills with the reins, or face charges for the murder of a member of the infamous Lords of Anarchy. Either way she’ll have to clear her name. Can she count on her husband’s help the way she has begun to count on his kisses?

RISKING ROMANCE

All Jasper Fawley, the Earl of Mainwaring, wanted was a night of cards. But by the end of the evening he’s walked away with a fortune—and a bride who’s suspected of murder. Jasper knows Hermione is passionate about her unorthodox membership in the Lords of Anarchy, but he’s certain she would never kill to keep it. Can he protect his headstrong wife from prosecution and a ruthless killer without endangering both their hearts in the process?

EXCERPT

“For a club called The Lords of Anarchy,” said Miss Ophelia Dauntry wryly as she scanned the crowded ballroom of Lord and Lady Payne, “they seem remarkably well behaved.”

As the current president of the once notorious driving club, Lord Payne had done much to repair the club’s image in the eyes of the haute ton. And part of that campaign had been the invitation they club had extended to Lady Hermione Upperton, whose membership was the reason for tonight’s celebration. They had even gone so far as to celebrate her induction with a rout instead of what they might otherwise have done—taken the excuse to drink to excess in their favorite tavern on the Brighton Road.

“I think we all know why they are behaving so prettily,” Lady Hermione said with a speaking look. She was under no illusions about the reasons for her warm welcome into the brotherhood. But as a driving enthusiast with a desire to take her place among the sporting elite, she was happy to take whatever chance she could get.

Especially since her father had done his level best to keep her from fulfilling her dream by threatening every other club with a lawsuit if they allowed his daughter to become a member. Only the Lords of Anarchy had ignored the Earl of Upperton’s threats and extended the invitation.

“I believe you should be chatting with your new compatriots,” said Mrs. Frederick Lisle—more commonly known as the celebrated poet Leonora Craven. “Especially since you are looking so lovely.”

Hermione smiled at her friend’s compliment. It was true that she felt far more fashionable than she was normally accustomed to in her deep blue silk gown. The color contrasted with her creamy complexion as well as bringing out the blue in her eyes. And she’d chosen to have her maid dress her dark hair in a newer, softer style which was more becoming than her usual utilitarian chignon. Though she was now a member of a club that was known for its masculine pursuits, she hadn’t wished them to forget that she was still a lady. And as such she would bring a new sensibility to the membership.

“Thank you, Leonora,” she said, suppressing the urge to twirl about. “I was sure Ophelia would faint dead away on seeing me rigged out in such finery.”

“I always knew you had it in you,” Ophelia said primly. Then in a lower voice said, “I’m just happy you chose to put away your dowdy gowns on an evening when there are so many handsome, eligible gentlemen around.”

“Are we interrupting?”

Ophelia’s consternation was almost comical as she realized that Leonora’s husband, Freddy, was behind her.

“Of course not darling,” said Leonora with a twinkle in her eye as she made room in their little circle for both Freddy and the two men flanking him: the Earl of Mainwaring and the Duke of Trent. Friends from school, the three had once been four—with Leonora’s brother Jonathan rounding out the group.

“I am surprised to see you here, Mainwaring,” Hermione said with a raised brow. “I thought you were firmly against the notion of ladies participating in such rough pursuits.”

As if he knew how much it would irritate her, Mainwaring raised his quizzing glass and surveyed her with it. When he lingered in his perusal, she found herself blushing.

Finally, dropping the eye-piece, he mimicked her quizzical expression. “I do not believe you are showing any signs of masculinity, Lady Hermione,” he drawled. “So I suppose I must withdraw my objections.”

His sigh, which was heartfelt, only served to further annoy her.

That he was as handsome as he was provoking vexed Hermione even further. With dark unruly curls that cried out to be tousled and the fine boned features of a Renaissance angel, he would have been called pretty if he were a woman. But he was most certainly not—as his wide shoulders and trim waist attested. Yet, Hermione could focus only on his maddening personality.

“You are the most infuriating man,” she said with a scowl. “Do you really have to enjoy setting my back up so much? It’s most unbecoming.”

Mainwaring gave a shrug. “Perhaps not, but it’s far too amusing for me to give up.”

She wondered idly if it would spoil the party in her honor if she were to start a brawl. Likely not, but knowing that the Lords of Anarchy wanted to rejuvenate their image, she could jeopardize her membership. And though it would feel wonderful to snatch away Mainwaring’s quizzing glass and smash it into tiny pieces, she would not risk her new place, even for him.

“There is more to life than amusement,” Hermione retorted. “In fact, I would find it most amusing to…”

“Children,” interrupted the Duke of Trent “I believe our host is approaching his guest of honor.”

Hermione, without the height of the duke to let her see above the crush, stared in the direction Trent had indicated, and soon saw that he was correct. Lord Payne, accompanied by his lady wife, was headed their way.

“My dear, Lady Hermione,” said the viscount, “I hope you are enjoying yourself. I see that you have found your friends.”

He smiled politely at the circle around her, but without warmth. He and Freddy had crossed paths during the tenure of the previous club President, who was also Freddy’s cousin. And it was obvious there was no love lost between the men.

“I am pleased to see so many of the membership came out to support you, Lady Hermione,” said Lady Payne, her hand lying possessively on her husband’s arm. Hermione wondered if that was for her benefit. It cannot have been easy for her to stand by his side through the wilder exploits of the club. “I do wish you will consider me a friend during your membership. As the only lady, I know it will be difficult for you to find your footing.”

Definitely for her benefit, then Hermione thought ruefully.

Aloud, she said, “Thank you, Lady Payne. That is most kind of you to think of me.”

“Nonsense,” her host contradicted his wife. “I foresee no issues for Lady Hermione with the other chaps. We are not the first driving club to admit ladies, after all. So long as she knows her way around a coaching pair, she’ll be fine.”

Lady Payne flushed in embarrassment. Hermione exchanged a speaking glance with Leonora—there was something very unhappy about that match.

Before Hermione could break the awkward silence, Payne gave a brisk nod. “We’ll leave you to it then. I shall see you later this week at the first club muster of the season in Hyde Park. We meet by the Queen’s Gate.”

And just as quickly as the couple had appeared, they disappeared back into the crush of guests.

“Well, that was awkward,” Mainwaring said once their hosts were out of earshot. “I wonder if he is that charming with all ladies or reserves such bombast for his wife.”

For once, Hermione couldn’t argue with him. But if she were going to succeed in the club, she’d need to accept the bad with the good. Even if it meant suppressing her dislike for the way the club’s President treated his wife.

“Once a bully, always a bully,” said Freddy grimly. “I had hoped he’d become a bit less difficult with my cousin Gerard gone, but it would seem that the leopard does not change his spots.”

“Don’t let’s spoil Hermione’s night with all this dark talk,” Leonora said, linking her arm through Hermione’s. “I see champagne over there. Why don’t you gentlemen go fetch some for us.”

“Ahh, I see how it is,” Freddy said with a much put-upon sigh. “Now that we’re wed, you think you can just order me about.”

“Trent and I aren’t wed to her, but she’s ordering us about as well,” Mainwaring pointed out with a shrug. “I think she just wants us gone so that they can talk about lady things.”

And since none of the three ladies denied the accusation, the three men soon took themselves off to find the champagne tray.

“Are you sure you wish to be part of this club, dearest?” Leonora asked Hermione once the men had gone. “I know you are desperate for some place to show your skill with the reins. And I do most certainly think that you are any of these men’s equal, if not superior. But I cannot like it that you will be associating with Lord Payne. He was not particularly blameless in all that went on with the club when Freddy and I were involved.”

But Hermione had already made up her mind about the group. And though she too found Lord Payne troublesome, she had decided that until she saw evidence that the club was sliding back into its former bad habits, she would give them the benefit of the doubt.

“I know it’s difficult for you to understand,” she said aloud. “But I am doing this wish my eyes open. At the first sign of trouble, I will sever my ties, I promise. But until then, I would like the chance to determine whether a club like the Lords of Anarchy can give me what it is I’m looking for.”

“But what is it that you’re looking for?” Ophelia, who had remained silent until now, asked. “What do you want from them?”

“What every woman wants.” Hermione smiled sweetly. “To win.”

Thanks for keeping me company while I’m holding down the fort! Just for fun, tell me about your favorite romantic suspense series. It can be contemporary or historical or paranormal.  One commenter will win a digital ARC of Good Earl Gone Bad! 

Darcy Burke Winner and a Sinful Seconds Teaser!

First I want to thank my wonderful friend, critique and plotting partner, Darcy Burke, for letting me post our IM chat on Tuesday. Before I name the lucky winner of Darcy’s SCOUNDREL EVER AFTER, I want to share with our readers the latest release from Darcy and my plotting partners (and also IM buddies) Elisabeth Naughton and Joan Swan

sinful-secondsfinalcover

From the six New York Times bestselling authors who brought you WICKED FIRSTS, an all new sinful anthology: SINFUL SECONDS

SINFUL SURRENDER by Elisabeth Naughton

He’s been watching her, and now he’s here, in the dimly lit bar of the swanky Vail resort, pretending not to notice her. Songwriter Grace Ryder has never liked the spotlight, but her skin tingles whenever his sexy gaze drifts her way. Only one night will prove whether he’s safety or sin.

Aegis operative Brian Walker’s orders are clear: observe, but don’t touch. Things change, though, the moment the leggy brunette makes him an offer he can’t refuse. Desire leads to seduction, but it comes at a price. Because someone wants her dead, and if Brian’s not careful, his obsession for a woman he never should have touched could get them both killed.

SINFUL RAPTURE by Alexandra Ivy

Holly Sullivan has always been the good girl, but when her fiancé jilts her at the altar she spends her non-wedding night at The Playhouse indulging her deepest desires.

Liam fell in love with Holly at first glance. Unfortunately, she hates him for buying her father’s business. Following her to The Playhouse, he devotes the night to fulfilling her fantasies. But will she forgive him when his secret is revealed?

SINFUL SECRETS by Cynthia Eden

One year ago, Catherine Donnelly spent a wild night in a stranger’s arms. Sexy and mysterious, Jason August broke through all of Cat’s defenses. But when dawn came, she ran from his bed, and she never looked back, until now…

Catherine vanished from Jason’s life before, and he isn’t about to let her escape again. Cat will discover that the only man who can truly keep her safe in a world gone mad…well, that would be the man she married a year ago, on one hot Vegas night….

SINFUL IN SPURS by Laura Wright

Champion bull rider, Sawyer Black has one goal when he isn’t competing in the arena: watch out for his best friend’s little sister. But Keely is turning out to be anything but cooperative. The once shy, small town girl has turned into a gorgeous and very stubborn hellcat with big city excitement on her mind. And when Sawyer returns from a rodeo to find her gone, he knows he will do anything it takes to bring her home.

Keely O’Hare is sick and tired of her brother’s best friend babysitting her. It’s her final year of college and she’s ready to explore the dark sexual needs she’s been keeping secret in her heart. So when Sawyer goes away for work, Keely escapes to the city and to the notorious sex club, The Playhouse. But when Sawyer finds her there, unexpected and explosive sexual tension flares hot and heavy between them—and Keely refuses to return home with him until he spends two nights in The Playhouse with her. If he wants to bring along his bull rope? Even better.

SINFUL SEDUCTION by Katie Reus

As an heiress from a prominent family, Mina knows the pain of living under a microscope. Which is why she loves her sleepy Key West home where nobody knows her name. She’s determined to make her way without being coddled—and no mugging is going to change that.

Former Marine Alexander Blue has seen enough bloodshed to last a lifetime. When he sees a mysterious brunette attacked by a mugger, his need to protect kicks into overdrive. Mina brings him home and bandages him up, but her gaze cuts clear to his soul. An intense connection isn’t all Blue feels—he’s convinced Mina needs his protection. Just one problem: Mina doesn’t want saving.

SINFUL DECEPTION by Joan Swan

In need of fast cash to help her brother sneak into the US, Tova Sorenson takes a job as a sexcam operator, sparking an unlikely friendship with her very first customer. When Marcus Lucero’s border patrol teammate suggests a sexcam site for female companionship without heartache, Marcus figures he’s got nothing to lose.

While danger from Tova’s dark side brings them together in the flesh where their chemistry burns hotter than hell, it also exposes their divergent loyalties which could end not only their newfound desires, but their lives.

Purchase:
Amazon | B&N | Kobo | ARe  

And WICKED FIRSTS, the first anthology, is available everywhere for 99 cents for a limited time.

 <><><>

Excerpt from Elisabeth Naughton’s SINFUL SURRENDER, book 1 in the SINFUL SECONDS anthology:

She set her glass on the coffee table in front of her and leaned forward, all confidence and seduction, contrasting again with her youthful face and quirky movements. That fresh, alluring scent of hers drifted over him once more, bringing awareness to the forefront of his mind and his blood back to pounding. “And a professional athlete hanging out at a trendy ski resort. So tell me, Brian, why did you come up here with me instead of going with that voluptuous blonde at the bar who was hitting on you before we started talking?”

Her eyes were like warm pools of dark chocolate, and when she leaned forward like that, her arms pressed her breasts together, forcing them outward, drawing his attention straight to her cleavage, advertising the fact she was anything but a young girl.

“Because I know girls like her. They’re fake and immature. I’m not interested in that.”

“What are you interested in?”

You. Though I shouldn’t be. “I don’t know. Something different, I guess.”

Her top teeth sank into her bottom lip, and his gaze followed, his mouth remembering just how she’d tasted, his body vibrating with the memory of how she’d felt pressed up against him. And damn, but he wanted to experience that again. Right now.

“Different is good,” she whispered. “I’m definitely different.”

Get up. Leave. Go now before you fuck up your career.

She scooted closer, and her bent knee brushed his thigh, sending tingles all through his lower body as if he’d been shocked by a live wire. “The question is… What are you going to do about it?”

Something he shouldn’t. Something that was going to screw things with his boss for good. “Samara…I’m bad news.”

“Maybe.” Her gaze locked on his mouth, and slowly she ran her tongue over her bottom lip like she couldn’t wait to take her own sinful taste again. “But I doubt it.”

<><><>

SEA-600x922-195x300

Whew! I’ve been so excited for this anthology to release and can’t wait to real all 6 novellas!

And now for the winner of

SCOUNDREL EVER AFTER…

JDH2690!

Congrats! To claim your prize, please contact us within 10 days of this post.

AFlynnShoes

Join us next week at Kiss and Thrill, when Sarah Andre hosts Avery Flynn!

A Secret Worth Dying For ~ Withholding Evidence by Rachel Grant

WE-front-cover-final-72ppi

WITHHOLDING EVIDENCE, the third book in my series of romantic thrillers that explores the intersection of archaeology, politics, and war, released late last week. I had a blast writing this short novel. I loved finding Trina’s voice and Keith’s… well, I pretty much love everything about Keith.

Like all books in this series, this story can stand alone, but the characters from the previous books are present in WE, and I really enjoyed writing the friendship between Trina, Mara, and Erica, as they all work together at Naval History and Heritage Command. Years ago my husband worked for NHHC’s underwater archaeology branch making writing about the organization especially fun.

Today I’m excited to share with our Kiss and Thrill readers the first scene of Withholding Evidence.

<> <> <>

Trina Sorensen stiffened her spine and rang the town house doorbell. She couldn’t hear a chime, so after a moment of hesitation, she followed up with a knock. Seconds ticked by without any sound of movement on the other side. She rang the bell again, and then repeated the knock for good measure. The front door was on the ground floor, next to the garage. Glancing upward, she checked out the windows of the two upper floors. No lights on, but at nine in the morning on a hot August day in Falls Church, that didn’t tell her anything. If the man she hoped to meet was home, he’d have to descend at least one flight of stairs, possibly two.

She was about to ring the bell again when the door whipped open, startling her. She stepped back, then remembered she needed to project poise and straightened to meet her target’s gaze.

Keith Hatcher was even more handsome in person than in his official navy photo, but she couldn’t let that fluster her. It just meant he’d been blessed with good genes, a rather superficial measure of a person, really.

She took a deep breath and held out her hand. “Mr. Hatcher, Trina Sorensen, historian with Naval History and Heritage Command. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Somalia.” She cringed as she said the last part. Too perky. Too eager. That was not how to approach a former navy SEAL when asking about a mission.

Sporting tousled dark hair that suggested he may have just gotten out of bed, and wearing low-rise jeans and nothing else, the man leaned an impressive bare bicep against the doorframe and raised a quizzical thick eyebrow. “Trina? Cute name.” He smiled. “It fits.” He reached out and touched the top of her head. “But I think you should go back to the day care center you escaped from and leave me alone.” He stepped back, and the door slammed shut.

She jolted back a step. He did not just pat her on the head and slam the door in her face.

Except that was exactly what Senior Chief Petty Officer Keith Hatcher had done.

She was aware she looked young, but dammit, she was thirty-one freaking years old—the same age as Hatcher. She squared her shoulders and rang the bell again. Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. She pounded with the side of her fist.

Finally the door opened. “Yes?” He leaned against the doorjamb again, this time stretching out an arm to touch the hinged side of the opening. His body language conveyed amusement mixed with annoyance.

“Senior Chief, I’m Dr. Trina Sorensen”—she never referred to herself with the pretentious title of doctor, but figured his crack about day care warranted it—“and I’m researching your SEAL team’s work in Somalia five years ago for Naval History and Heritage Command and the Pentagon. You must answer my questions.”

“Dollface, it’s Sunday morning. The only thing I must do today is jack off.”

She crossed her arms. “Fine. I can wait. It’ll be what, one, maybe two minutes?”

The man tilted his head back and laughed. She saw her opportunity and ducked under his arm, entering, as she’d suspected, an enclosed staircase. The door to the left could only go to the garage. She went straight for the stairs, heading up to his home. Her heart beat rapidly at her own audacity, but she was never going to get the information she needed to do her job from the SEAL without taking risks.

“What the hell?” he sputtered, then added, “Who do you think you are, barging into my home?”

“I told you. I’m Dr. Trina Sorensen from NHHC,” she answered as she reached the landing that ended in the most spotless mudroom she’d ever seen. She crossed the room and stepped into his kitchen. She leaned against a counter as he paused in his own kitchen doorway. His mouth twitched, but his jaw was firm, making her think he couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or amused.

“I’ll wait here while you masturbate. We can start the interview when you’re done.”

Amusement won, and a corner of his mouth kicked up. He took a step toward her. “It’ll go faster if you help me.”

Her heart thumped in a slow, heavy beat. Barging into his home might’ve been a mistake. She frowned. Of course it was a mistake. “I’m good to go. Already took care of business this morning in the shower. You go ahead without me.”

He barked a sharp laugh, then shook his head. “What do you want, Dr. Sorensen?”

“As I said already, I’m here to ask you questions about Somalia.” She pulled her digital recorder from her satchel. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

His brown eyes narrowed. “Hell, yes, I mind. More importantly, we aren’t having a conversation. You are leaving. Now. Before I call the police.”

“Please don’t be difficult. I’m just doing my job.”

“SEAL ops are classified.” All hint of amusement left his voice, leaving only hard edges.

She sighed in frustration. Hadn’t he bothered to read any of her e-mails? “I sent you what you need to verify my security clearance in my e-mail. And my orders came directly from the Pentagon.”

“I don’t give a crap if the pope sent you on orders from the president. I’m not telling you shit about a place I’ve never been.”

He expected her to accept that and walk away? She’d never have gotten anywhere as a military historian if she allowed the men in her field to brush her off. “Oh, you’ve been to Somalia all right. You were there on a reconnaissance mission, gathering data about a rising al Qaeda leader who was taking advantage of a power vacuum created by ongoing interclan violence.”

He crossed his arms and spoke softly. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

The man had a solid poker face; no hint that she’d surprised him with the paltry facts she knew. So he was handsome and big and had the most gorgeous sculpted pecs and abs she’d ever seen, and he was sharp to boot. “I’m researching various SEAL actions in Somalia over the last two decades, starting with Operation Gothic Serpent and ending with yours.”

“The work I did when I was in the navy is classified. Not only do I not have to tell you about an op I was never on in a country I’ve never visited, but I could also get in serious trouble if I did tell you a damn thing about the places I have been.”

She handed him her card. “But you do have to answer me. The Pentagon wants this report. Your input is necessary.” This project was her big break. Future naval operations could depend on her findings, and the biggest of the brass were eager for this account. She was already having visions of moving out of the cubicle next to cantankerous Walt. She could have walls. And a door.

“But, you see there, dollface, that’s the problem. I’m not in the navy anymore. I don’t take orders from the Pentagon. I don’t have to follow commands from anyone, least of all a five-foot-nothing librarian who invaded my kitchen without my permission.”

She straightened her spine and threw back her shoulders, determined to reach her full height. “I’m five foot three. And I’m an historian.” Her glasses slipped, and she nudged them back to the bridge of her nose.

He chuckled, and she flushed. She’d have been better off if she hadn’t corrected him on the librarian label as she adjusted her glasses.

“Whatever, doll. Listen, you have one minute to get out of my house, or I’m going to assume you’ve decided to watch me jerk off after all.”

She couldn’t look away from the brown eyes that held hers in a tense gaze. Just her luck that he was so frigging gorgeous. Attractive men made her self-conscious. Especially ripped, half-naked ones. “I’m not playing games, Senior Chief. I’m just here to do my job.”

He smiled slowly and reached for his fly.

<> <> <>

Withholding Evidence is a short novel – approximately 50,000 words/150 pages.
Amazon | iTunes | Kobo | Barnes & Noble

Today I’m giving away a signed print copy of WITHHOLDING EVIDENCE. To enter the drawing, tell me: are you are willing to read books in a series out of order, or do you always start with book one?

Dreaming of the Waltz & Robin’s Winner!

Diana at the Viennese Waltz

     I’ve always dreamt of being at a grand ball and waltzing.

     The image of tall, mysterious men circling a floor to the strains of Strauss, while their partners’ dresses billow behind them, is incredibly romantic – like a music box springing to life.

     Too bad it only happens in novels.

     So, when the invitation came for a true Viennese Ball at the National Museum for Women in the Arts, I begged my husband to go.  It was a wonderful cause and the fairytale event every girl dreams of.  Poor guy never stood a chance.  Imagine, a beaux art mansion in the middle of D.C., a candle-lit dinner on the mezzanine, overlooking the marble dance floor where a twenty-piece orchestra played.

     Sigh.

     My imagination has played this scene for so long it morphed into the first chapter of my spy novel.  My heroine sneaks into a very fancy, very private ball in modern day Budapest in a mansion overlooking the Danube.  (excerpt)  The adventure takes her to Hong Kong where she battles traitors and falls in love.  So, even if  the view was that of

Guests beginning to waltz. Later the floor was completely full.

New York Avenue, instead of Strauss’ famed river, last Saturday night really was a fantasy come true.

     It’s amazing how plots get inspired by these kinds of settings.  While other people worried about dance steps, or romancing their partner, my husband had to deal with me checking out alternative exits, stairwells, and figuring out who might make a good villain in my next book.  It’s wonderful when every event takes on the nuances of a Bond film.  Too bad it is more exciting in my head than in real life.

     And, oh the beautiful people!   Everyone wore black tie.  Some women went for full ball gowns, and military men, in perfectly fitted dress uniforms, sparkled with medals.  There were couples who put Fred and Ginger to shame, and then there were couples like my husband and me – let’s just say my toes will never be quite the same.  Still, I wouldn’t have traded him for any other guy in the room.

     By the time the evening was over, we’d met some lovely people, got the hang of dancing counter-clockwise, participated in the grand march, and learned the quadrille.

     And every now and then, behind billowing ball gowns and marble pillars, I may have seen my hero and heroine laughing, as they danced in the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Now without further ado, the winner of Robin Perini’s new release, Finding Her Son, from Harlequin Intrigue is … Rebecca York!  Please contact us within ten days with your preferred email address.

Stop by tomorrow because Roxanne St. Claire will be back with an exciting announcement on behalf of her fellow authors from the MurderSheWrites blog: Their exclusive e-book anthology Guns and Roses. And she’ll be giving away a free copy!

%d bloggers like this: