Above painting: Louis Jean Francois - Mars and Venus an Allegory of Peace


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Tuesday, March 17, 2015


I'm so excited today for the release of HIGHLANDER'S TOUCH! The 4th book in the Highland Bound series! I fell in love with Emma and Logan from the first three books, but there was another character who kept speaking to me. He wanted a story of his own--to find love and romance and himself.

Meet Ewan Fraser, sexy Scottish warrior and second in command to Laird Logan Grant at Gealach Castle. And introducing Shona our feisty, independent healer heroine!

Ewan is a bad boy. A naughty warrior with a healthy appetite for lassies and battles. He's got a few demons lurking inside that seem to be tamed when he falls under the care of Shona.

But Shona has a secret, a secret she's not even fully privy to. Ewan makes her dream of things she didn't think she'd ever have, including his steamy kisses.

Here's a little excerpt... A first kiss. My favorite!

Finally finished caring for his wounds, Shona cleaned up the extra linens and medicinal salves. She glanced at her patient and was startled to find that his heavily-lidded blue gaze was fixed upon her.
“Ye’re beautiful.” A genuine smile curled his lips.
“Thank ye,” Shona murmured, heat filling her face.
Goodness, but was the warrior going to flirt with her while he lay injured upon her bed?
“Where am I?”
She flicked her gaze back to him again, noting that he was attempting to sit up, his brow wrinkled and lips turned down. Hands outstretched, she rushed forward and gently pressed him back onto the bed, trying to ignore the strength in his shoulders, despite his current condition.
“Do not move. Ye are safe here,” she soothed.
“Is this your home?” He coughed then grimaced, the movement obviously causing him pain.
“Aye.” She brushed his hair from his forehead. “Ye should lay still else your bandages come unraveled.”
“What is your name?” He touched the bandage wrapped around his forehead and then the ones on his chest.
She watched him, prepared to swipe his hands away if he tried to undo the bindings. “Shona. Yours?”
“Ewan.” His voice was stronger when he said his name.
Confident he’d not try to sit up again. Shona fixed him a soothing tea that would help ease his pain, keep fever at bay and make him sleep. She carried the cup forward and spooned drops into his mouth slowly so that he didn’t choke. He parted his full lips, taking in the drink she offered.
“I’m not a bairn, I can drink on my own,” he grumbled after the fact.
“Aye, I know ye can, Ewan,” she said in a mollifying tone, then guided his hands to grip the cup, though she stayed close in case he needed her help.
As she’d noticed with some of her past charges, they didn’t like to feel as though they’d completely lost all their faculties. What harm would it do allowing him to feel he had some strength left?
She studied him while he drank. His skin was pale, his lips white. He’d lost a lot of blood and the only thing that would bring it back was sleep, her herbal tisanes, and, when he was strong enough, some food.
“Rest well, warrior,” she whispered, taking the cup from him.
But as she backed away from him, he gripped her arm and tugged her forward, his fingers sending a sizzle of something exciting rippling through her.
The cup fell from her hands hitting the floor and she gasped as he pulled harder, making her sprawl over his chest. Lucky for him, at the last minute, she was able to brace herself on either side of his arms so she wouldn’t injure him further. Daft man!
Intent darkening his roving stare, a wicked tendril of heat shot through her, hitting every part of her body that she yearned for him to touch: lips, neck, breasts, thighs… slick sex.
“I’ll rest better once ye kiss me,” he rasped.
Her gaze met his cloudy one. The man was feverish. Mad from his wounds.
“We canna. Ye’re hurt,” she tried to argue, even as she leaned closer.
“What will a kiss do?” he asked.
But Shona wasn’t sure if he, or even she, really understood the depth and breadth of that question. What would a kiss do? So very much.
Shona pressed her lips together, prepared to tell him nay, that they would never kiss, but he didn’t wait for her to respond.
Warm lips brushed over hers. Soft and sweet. And even in their softness, something intense flared inside her. She gasped, and that moment when her mouth opened, he slid his tongue along the seam of her lips and then inside to tease the tip of her own.
“Ewan,” she murmured. “We—”
But the stubborn man didn’t let her finish. His hand threaded through the hair at the back of her head, holding her prisoner as he deepened the kiss, tangling their tongues and not allowing her to speak.
It was beautiful, delicious, so wanton. And she loved every single wicked stroke.
She would have kissed him all night into the next morning if she could.



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