Neala Comyn, wife of a powerful laird, wants to end the pain
and suffering of an abusive marriage. She is a woman without hope, believing
God has forsaken her. When she is kidnapped by a rival laird who claims to be a
god himself, her faith is further shaken. Could Lucan Munro be the salvation
she has prayed for? Or will her sins condemn her to eternal damnation?
Lucan Munro, has the power of a Celtic god. He can conjure
his heart’s desire from thin air. But can he save the woman he loves from a
demon hell-bent on claiming her soul?
Excerpt
From his vantage spot he saw her tiny bare feet touch the
floor next to the bed. He crawled backwards in the opposite direction. She
rushed across to the table beneath the window and began an onslaught of such
proportions, he wondered again where she found the strength. He opened his
mouth to speak, but thinking better of it, clamped it shut again. She appeared
completely without reason, lost in her heated rampage. Perhaps it was best to
let her calm down on her own.
“Ye gorbellied,” she threw the box containing his seal,
“toad-spotted,” then the ink vial, “malt worm!” ending with the empty food tray
that crashed against the tub only a breath away from his head.
Lucan had had enough. He was laird of the mighty clan Munro.
He was not about to let some slip of a lass make him cower in his own chamber.
He rose from his hiding place wrapping the plaid around his waist as he did so.
“Now see here -”
They both jumped when the door burst open. Lucan turned to
see Evie standing at the threshold, her mouth open wide in surprise. “Get out,”
he bellowed at her. The maid barely had the door closed before the clay pitcher
Neala had been about to throw at him crashed against it, shattering to pieces.
He took the opportunity of her distraction to close the
distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her, trapping hers against
her body. She struggled like a cat who’d fallen into the burn, cussing and
spitting insults at him that would rival the most battle-hardened soldier.
“Where did ye learn such language?” Lucan fought to control
her, ignoring the effect her squirming against him was having on every inch of
his body. He had not been with a woman since well before he had brought Neala
here, and his cock responded eagerly to the pressure against it.
He fought the sensation, recognizing the debauchery in being
aroused by a woman so obviously without her wits. He twisted away, clenching
his thighs and trying to fill his mind with thoughts of his long-dead mother,
the repairs that need to be done to the kitchens, his prized mare that was on
the verge of birthing a new foal. Anything to take his mind off the increasing
hardening of his body. If only she would stop writhing against him. He fairly
growled when she deliberately pressed her thigh against his groin. He tried to
shield himself, turning his body at an angle, but it was no use.
“What’s yer pleasure t’night, m’laird?
D’ye want me to fight ye?” She pressed harder, painfully against him. “D’ye
want me to play the whore?” She reached between them and boldly grasped his
erection in her hand, squeezing it through his plaid and glaring up at him with
the look of the devil. “Is this what ye want?”
Lucan clamped his teeth together, grinding them until an
ache developed in his jaw. He would have thought her a strumpet of some renown
if not for the tear that trickled from the corner of her eye and slid down her
cheek. His grip around her waist softened. He reached one hand up to her face,
wiping the single tear away with the pad of his thumb. The gesture only brought
more tears. His heart ripped in half.
“Why did ye save me?” Her cracked voice was barely more than
a whisper. “Another month and I would have been dead.” She closed her eyes and
went limp in his arms.
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Tanis: Gods of the Highlands Series Book
3
Tanis Cleary, laird of a small Highland clan, wants to
protect what’s left of his family from the pagan god who hunts them. But even
with his colossal strength, fed by the unholy blood in his veins, he cannot do
it alone. His only ally is an insatiable angel with a chip on her shoulder.
Will he desert his clan to follow the only woman who can save him from eternal
damnation?
Kiah is an angel of God, tasked with guarding one of His
most sacred vessels. Like any woman desperate to win her Father’s approval,
Kiah will stop at nothing to succeed in her mission. Distracted by the lure of
a man more compelling than any other, Kiah soon finds herself battling the
fires of hell, her very existence in jeopardy.
Excerpt
When Tanis spoke, Kiah let his voice wash over her. She
nearly wept, so great was her yearning to feel the vibration of its rich tone,
accented with the lilt common among these Highlanders.
The only other time she had heard him speak, he had been
bellowing at her. She could imagine what he would sound like speaking of love
play in that sultry voice, whispering her name, expressing his pleasure.
When the others left, Tanis stayed behind. He walked back to
stand by the bed, his expression unreadable as he stared down at the woman
ensconced there. He was the finest example of man Kiah had ever seen. Tall and
broad-shouldered, his body was sculpted from years of fighting and living, and
from the influence of pagan blood in his ancestry. He wore his raven-colored
hair long and wild. He had rich brown eyes, windows to his spirit she longed to
stare into. He was the kind of man who did everything with a fierceness that
made one long to feed on that essence. He was irresistible.
And dangerous. He had an allure that called to her, despite
better judgment. He was proud and arrogant, every bit her equal. She grudgingly
admitted that Tanis was not as weak as most humans. She recognized that.
He was the kind of man Kiah avoided.
I ken yer spirit, lass. Kiah drew up
when he spoke directly to her.
Have ye come to sate yer desire for me?
She was as tempted as if Lucifer himself was standing there. Her wings
twitched, anticipating her transformation. But she resisted, easier for her
than these weak humans.
Do ye have sin on yer mind? The urge
was almost more than she could hold back. She reminded herself of her recent
failure. She was in enough trouble.
Perhaps ye are afraid of me? ’Tis no surprise.
Most lasses flee in fear after just a few days in my bed. Why should ye be any
different?
She could only resist so much. She drifted around the bed
and pressed against him. He was tall and wide. She imagined herself in human
form, laying her head against that broad back, wrapping her arms around him.
Show yourself and learn the true meaning of
sin. Kiah moved away from him, prepared to change into her human
form and give in to temptation.
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Sirona: Gods of the Highlands Series
Book 2
She has the power to heal his body, but can she heal his
soul?
Sirona Cleary tries to hide her unholy healing powers from
everyone around her, denying her divine heritage even as she saves those who
would see her punished. When she is kidnapped by a rival clan, she is sure her
execution is near. Rhain Comyn is dying from a mysterious disease, and he
couldn't be happier about it. After the atrocities he has committed, Rhain
believes he has no right to a decent life and welcomes the ailment that leaves
him with unquenchable thirst and hunger, extreme fatigue, blurred vision and
ultimately drives him into a deep slumber from which no healer can awaken him.
Can a witch from the clan of his enemy save him?
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Excerpt
Alone with her patient, Sirona relaxed a little. She crept
closer to the bed and leaned over him. Rhain Comyn was by far the handsomest
man she had ever seen. Long, thick lashes, dark as soot, laid against
cheekbones made more prominent by whatever ailed him. She wondered if behind
that facade, softened in slumber, was a cruel bully, equally revolting as his
brothers.
Without remorse she realized that if Fergus were lying there
instead of Rhain, she would not hesitate to let him die. She was already damned
to Hell, was she not? Everything about her existence went against God. Saint
Peter would never allow such an abomination past the gate. She tried to deny
the powers that marked her a pagan, in the hopes He would not punish her for
her tainted blood. But in the end, she could no more ignore her gift than she
could refuse breathing.
What if she defied God and saved this man, only to discover
he was the spawn of another sort, evil and deviant, and she had unleashed him
on the world? Was it worth the risk for the promise that she would be returned
to her home? Could she trust that promise?
Sirona eased down on the bed. She took one of his gaunt
hands in both of hers. Warmth spread through her at the touch. Her heart
clenched at the possibility she could not save him. She closed her eyes and let
her thoughts fall away, focusing all her energy on the sensation of his skin
against hers.
His hand was limp in hers, cold and frail. She sensed his
longing for death, born of a sorrow so deep it seeped into his bones. Tears
clogged her throat as she was overcome with profound despair.
What had happened to him to cause such anguish and torment,
such hopelessness? She tried to recall what little she knew of the clan. The
Munro had been feuding with them for generations, but it wasn’t until the
laird, Gregor Munro, had been killed, that the hatred and fighting had
escalated. Now there were skirmishes every few months.
Comyn men were renowned for their ruthless brutality. Legend
stated they came out of the womb filled with bloodlust and savagery. Comyn
women seldom survived childbirth. The laird’s own sons had been born to three
different wives.
Despite the frailty of their women, the boys grew strong and
healthy, populating the clan with a merciless fighting force. Their only
weakness was their small number.
Rhain, the youngest of the laird’s sons, was rumored to be
the most ruthless of them all. He had hired himself out as a mercenary, it was
said because there weren’t enough Munros to quench his thirst for blood.
Sirona shuddered and opened her eyes. Her heart tripped when
she found him staring at the rafters over the bed. She dropped his hand as if
it burned and shot to her feet. She took several deep breaths as she watched
him. When he did not move, indeed he did not even blink, she inched closer.
“Can you hear me?” she whispered.
No reaction.
She pressed the backs of her fingers against his cheek. No
fever. With one finger beneath his chin, she gently turned his face toward her
until she was in his line of vision. She stared into rich brown eyes, windows
to a deep, dark abyss that promised endless suffering.
“Rhain?”
His eyes focused on hers when she whispered his name.
“I’m here to help. Can ye speak to me?” His eyes wavered
back and forth between hers. “D’ye want something to drink?” She surveyed the
room for the first time. Near the hearth stood a table, laden with food and
drink. She crossed to it and poured a cup of water from a flagon.
Returning to the bed, she sat next to him and slid her free
arm beneath his shoulders. With her help, he sat up enough to the drink from
the cup she held for him. When he’d drained it, he fell back, what little
strength he had depleted from the exertion.
Sirona cradled him against her. She brushed silky locks from
his face and spoke to him in a soothing voice. “I need you to tell me what you
feel. Do ye ache?” He was weak, but did not seem to be in any pain. She cast
relief over him just the same. “Can ye speak to me?” she asked again.
He seemed to be trying to say something, but his voice was
so faint, she had to lean close to hear him. His breath was warm on her ear,
but sent a cold shiver down her spine.
“Let-me-die.”
Camulus: Gods of the Highlands
Series Book 1
Camulus Vass wants a simple life, absent the power and
responsibility that can consume a man. But being laird of a clan as large as
the Munro does not offer such luxury. Always under the domineering heel of his
uncle, Cam has allowed himself to become a pawn. But the arrival of a
mysterious newcomer awakens a beast within him that will not be tamed.
Màili has been given the task of rooting out the spawn of an
ancient god. It’s the only way to take her revenge against the man who betrayed
her. But getting what she wants means taking the life of the man she loves.
Will her hunger for a mortal man wreak further havoc on her already bleak
future?
FIRST KISS:
Cam pulled the linen from his shaggy, ebony mane and locked
his rich brown eyes, glistening with excitement, on hers. He stepped out of the
tub, dropping the linen to the floor. "Come to me, woman." Cam
wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He claimed her
mouth with his, prying her lips open and invading her with the sweetest tasting
tongue she had ever known.
Màili lost herself in that kiss. The power of it sent jolts
of pleasure to every pore in her body. She tingled all over, her senses melding
until she could no longer remember anything other than the man before her. She
kissed him back with all the self–pity of a woman who had been betrayed by love
and yearned to get even a piece of herself back.
The power of her desire for Cam surprised her. Màili was
certainly no stranger to the ways of men and women. She had learned a lot over
the centuries. This was the first time she had found anyone she thought could
teach her anything. A nagging possibility tickled the edge of her thoughts, but
she pushed it aside.
Màili dragged her mouth from his, nibbling along his jaw and
across the pulse at his throat. With her hands on his chest, she urged him back
toward the bed all the while trailing her lips, her tongue down his body. He tasted
like nectar and all Màili could think of was more, more,
more.
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Author Bio:
Yes, Bambi is my real name.
I grew up on a farm in South Georgia. My high school was
very small with a graduating class of less than 100 people. Shortly after high
school, I met my wonderful husband who took me to Belgium, where a three-year
tour turned into fifteen. While living in Europe, I nurtured my love of all
things medieval. I often get homesick for Belgium, but with the world wide web,
I'm home with the click of a mouse. I now live with my husband and son in North
Alabama.
When not plugging away at my keyboard, I teach World
History. I love to ride my big, black Tennessee Walker, Jamaica. My husband and
I each have a Harley to go with our collection of classic cars and hot rods.
Website: http://www.bambilynn.net/home
Twitter: https://twitter.com/hot_historicals
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