Monday, June 30, 2014

Third time's the charm at the Last Chance Tavern

Triple Her Chances
The Last Chance Tavern 3
by Erika Reed
a Menage Erotica Romance
from Siren Bookstrand
Pre-order for July 2 Release!

10% discount through July 9th.

Can be read as a stand-alone

Sage Monroe is tired of being stepped on and feeling unloved by the people she cares most about in life. To make matters worse, her ex is trying to extort money from her with a video she knows nothing about. When the attractive Duffey cousins come to her rescue, she’s grateful, especially if they can help fix her problems before word gets back to her father.

Tye, Kash, and Tristan Duffey have been smitten over the sexy little cocktail waitress since the moment they laid eyes on the beautiful blonde. When they discover Sage’s apartment had been robbed and her ex is blackmailing their woman, the three will stop at nothing to ensure her safety. The three cousins take control of the situation and vow to eliminate the problem that is causing chaos in her life.

Can their love for one another overcome life’s obstacles that threaten to jeopardize their future?
[Ménage Amour: Erotic Ménage a Quatre Romance, M/F/M/M, HEA]

Story Excerpt

“Shh…it’s okay, doll. We’re here for you. Everything will be okay,” Tye’s voice whispered against her ear as she lay in his arms. “You know who may have done this?” he asked.

Sage lifted her head. “I have a feeling it was my ex boyfriend Steve Pritchard. He has been harassing me for money lately, threatening me he would get it one way or another.”

“You hear that, Sergeant Matthews?” Tye said as she buried her face in his shoulder.

“Yes, sir. I will note that in the file and try and track down Mr. Pritchard for questioning. Until then I will be in touch if I have any further questions for Ms. Monroe.”

She could hear Kash and Tristan moving around her room putting the last of her belongings into bags. He then picked her up and carried her from the apartment. Sage heard Officer Matthews tell them that he would be in touch with her and for her not to worry.

Tye carried her to his truck and slid in with her. Her tears began to dry up and she noticed that Kash was driving them to a house she had never been to before.

Sage wiped her remaining tears. “Where are we?” she said as she watched a beautiful house come into view as he pulled into a dirt driveway that led to a two-story home.

“You’ll be staying with us for a while until you get back on your feet and we figure out how to find that sleaze ball ex of yours,” Tye said.

Sage sat up in his arms as the truck stopped. “What? I can’t stay with you. Take me back to my place. I just need to get a locksmith out there to fix my lock. I will be fine by myself.”

The passenger door opened and Tristan took her from Tye’s arms and continued to carry her to the house. “Don’t worry about the locksmith. We already took care of that for you. We all think it’s best if you stay here with us for the time being until we get to the bottom of this.” Tristan was always sweet to her.

He then sat her on her feet of the entryway of the house. Tye disabled the security system that was along the wall next to the front door.

“This is a beautiful house. I heard that Tye recently moved in with you. So you all live here now?”

Kash sat the large trash bag of her belongings down on the floor. “Yes, we all live here in the house. We recently finished remodeling. It needed a lot of help when we found it. But Tristan and I knew it was the house we had always wanted to own.”

“What do you say we all go talk in the living room?” Tye asked as he walked ahead of her.

Sage followed him into the living room.

“Come sit down, Sage. You must be exhausted after your trip and then finding out about your apartment that way.” Tye said as he patted the seat next to him on the couch.

Sage was mentally and physically exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and sleep for days. But she knew she had to figure out where she was going to live because she didn’t feel safe at her apartment any longer even when she got a new lock. That’s why she wanted to save for a house in a family-oriented neighborhood where she could raise a family one day with a loving husband that would care for her and love her until the day she died.

“Honey, are you certain it was your ex, Steve? It almost looks like someone had a key, but tried to make it look like they forced their way inside,” Tristan insinuated.

Tye turned to face her as she sat on the couch. “Didn’t you get the key back from that asshole when you kicked his ass out?”

“Yes. He took all his stuff and left the key on the counter.”

Kash walked into the room at that moment. “That doesn’t mean shit. That asshole could have made another key at one time or another.” Kash sat in the recliner across from where Tye and Tristan sat with her. “What the hell did you see in that piece of shit, anyways, doll?”

Good question. “I ask myself that question every day.”

Tye grabbed her hand. “Why didn’t you answer my messages?”

That’s when she remembered her phone. “I turned it off last night after Steve had kept bugging me all day with constant text and calls. I guess I forgot to turn it back on. I didn’t want him to ruin my trip with Addison.”

Tye then said, “Has that asshole been bothering you still?”

Sage was embarrassed. She didn’t want to tell them about the sex video Steve was holding over her head, but she was in over her head now and she needed their help. She still feared that the video existed and he would use it to extort money from her because he knew her parents were rich.

“Steve has been trying to blackmail me since we broke up for money that he thinks I can get him for a video he supposedly has of the two of us having sex.” Sage looked down at her hands, feeling a bit embarrassed. “He says if I don’t give him five thousand dollars he will take it to my father, knowing it will jeopardize his position as senator.

Kash then said, “Is there really a video out there or could he be bluffing just to get money from you and your parents?”

Sage was exhausted. “I don’t know for sure. I have never seen it. But he knows who my father is and he is planning on using it to his advantage. He has always been a shady bastard and I don’t know what I ever saw in him.”

Tye nodded. “Don’t worry, sugar. We’ll help you.”


About the Author

Erika Reed lives in Southern California with her hot and sexy husband and two beautiful daughters. When Erika isn’t writing, she likes to read and spend time with her family and friends. She enjoys vacationing in the winter in the desert, playing in the dirt, and relaxing with her family at the river in the summer, having cocktails with her girl friends. Erika is very thankful when her husband lets her lock herself away while writing and holds down the fort with the girls so she can work in peace and quiet. Erika loves writing and will continue to surprise her readers with her exotic stories in the future.
Contact Erika Reed on Facebook at Erika Reed Author



Going where the wild things are


His Wounded Rose
Soul Scavengers #2
by Lisagh J. Winters


Paranormal investigator Sullivan Wilde and clairvoyant Olivia Emerson make it back to New York without killing one another, and are now joined at the hip for better or for worse. Back home again, Sullivan’s deep ingrained inability to make a commitment causes friction between them, almost driving Olivia to the breaking point. Sullivan’s young daughter Sabrina offers invaluable insights, while Olivia struggles to make their relationship work. Fellow investigators Kelly and Hudson Hayze, a brother and sister duo, along with their producer Arnav Bhandari, make up the rest of the Soul Scavengers family. The team members are excited to meet Olivia, and make no apologies for torturing their cranky colleague over the sins of his past, latching onto his obvious attraction to the fresh-faced clairvoyant. When the Soul Scavengers team find themselves called to a mysterious mansion in rural Illinois, they get a little more than they bargained for. Ghostly giggles, squeaky, bouncing beds, clinking champagne glasses and whispers of sweet nothings make it difficult for the team to concentrate, let alone proceed with their investigation. A hundred twenty-five year old love triangle threatens to expose a long-forgotten secret when the ghost of a heartbroken young paramour attempts to shed light on the mansion’s dark history.

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Olivia reveled in the salty-sweet taste of his skin. She mewed against the hardness of his shoulder as his thumb plied her taut nipple through the lace of her bra. The longer his lips lingered over her shimmering skin, the more possessed with desire she became. The hell with Sullivan saying he was addicted to her. She was the junkie and she knew it. Her fingers tucked just inside the waistband of his boxers and she pushed them as far down his hips as she could manage. He took over from there, kicking them off.
 “You make me crazy,” Sullivan murmured between delectable kisses and small, ravenous bites across her collarbone. “My God, I want you so bad.”
Only he was capable of inciting a full-on riot within her body. “You’re welcome,” Olivia rasped, feeling his hands move between their bodies.
He unbuttoned her jeans with one hand, slipping his fingers inside the front of her lace bikini panties. Olivia gasped, her stomach swirling around like fireflies on a moonlit night, and she bit at her bottom lip. He was barely touching her and she was vibrating beneath him.
Olivia squirmed under his hand, lightheaded and delirious. The heat was intense. “Gods…”
“I want you naked,” he demanded, and kissed her on the lips again.
He was gentle, every touch loving and deliberate. Her breath soon grew short and desperate, and she let loose a series of small, urgent gasps. She screamed against his shoulder, convulsing into a string of explosive spasms she couldn't prevent. His strong arms wrapped around her like a life preserver, holding her until she stopped trembling, and he kissed the top of her head.
“I love to watch you, Olivia,” he whispered. “It’s so beautiful.”

 About the Author

I'm Lisagh, and I've been writing since I was a kid. My imagination knows no bounds, I've been told. I wasn't sure that was a good thing or not at the time. Turns out, it WAS a good thing. I grew up in and around Vancouver, Canada, and have a fetish for snow. Winter is my season. Being born in the dead of it has something to do with that, I figure.
Social Links
Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads


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Sunday, June 29, 2014

When the damsel in distress comes under His Safe Keeping

His Safe Keeping
Safe series #1
by Tina Bass
from Beau Coup Publishing


Krista Avery moved to the sleepy town of Mt. Eve, Virginia, away from big city life, enticed there by a research doctor that is fascinated with her blood. Trying to build a life for herself after a horrific event in her past sent her into a spiral, she is a woman battling a rare blood disorder and the memories she has never dealt with. Returning home from the hospital after the Doctors experimental treatment, a dizzy spell forces her to pull over to the side of the road.

Lawson “Kade” McKaden is a State Trooper, ready to retire, returning home after a transport to a Federal Prison that wasn’t supposed to be his. After a stint in the Air Force and a satisfying career, he is ready to leave the uniforms behind for the life of a rancher. But a broken down car on the side of the road calls to his sense of responsibility and the sick woman inside calls to his heart. They have more in common than they know.

An escaped rapist turned serial killer is hunting her. She was his first and he has plans to be her last. Together can they beat back the demons from her childhood? Will Krista have to face the demon from her past alone, or is she Kade’s for… His Safe Keeping?


Stepping out of the official cruiser, hand resting lightly on his weapon which was holstered at his hip, Kade walked to the open driver’s side window. Looking into the car, he saw her. She was bent over the steering wheel, her long chestnut colored hair pulled back with a clip.

“Ma’am, is everything all right?” She turned her head and his breath caught in his throat. A beautiful face, streaked with tears squeezed his heart. Without thinking, he abandoned all of his years of training. Without concern for his own safety, he yanked open the door. Squatting down beside the car and balancing on the balls of his feet, Kade spoke to her. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did you have an accident?”

Turning her head instead of raising it, Krista looked into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. They were filled with concern. For her? No, she thought, they can’t be. He didn’t even know her. “What did you say? What accident?” Sitting up, she tried to answer and the whole ordeal came back into her mind full force. The nausea hit and this time it wasn’t going to pass. She was going to be sick.

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed, just before she covered her mouth with one hand and scrambled to get out of the car, knocking him out of her way. As she ran around the car, Krista made it to the grassy right-of-way just as she began heaving. Her whole body was shaking. The weakness brought her to her knees. When she finally finished, she scooted back against the back car tire, drew up her knees which were now throbbing with pain, and laid her head down on them.

“It never affected me this fast before,” Krista murmured to the big man as he knelt down beside her. Her eyes swept over him. Oh, crap! He was a cop! She was so not up for this. With a sigh of resignation, she held out her wrists, waiting for him to put the handcuffs on and arrest her.

Kade looked at her outreached arms and then at her pale face. Too pale. “What are you doing?” “Aren’t you going to arrest me?”

“Why would I do that?” he questioned, confused.

“Well, because I kinda’ knocked you on your booty and you’re a cop. Isn’t that like assault on a police officer or something?” Her voice was weak and she sounded resigned.

“Booty?” He smirked. “No, I’m not going to arrest you.”


Straightening in her seat, looking around and then at him, she gave him a mischievous grin.
 “Always heard Irish cops were the sweetest ones of all.”
“Who said I was Irish?”

Looking right into his eyes, she answered his question, “With those beautiful green eyes, you’ve got to have some Irish in you.” Krista made the statement as though it was a simple fact. Then shrugging her shoulders she added, frankly. “Plus, your name is McKaden.” Kade was at a loss for words.

Clearing his throat, he spoke gruffly, “Let’s get you inside.” Leaning in, he scooped her up and out of the car.

“I can walk.” She protested.

Holding her tight to his chest, he strode across the yard. “And I can carry you,” he stated firmly.

“Okay,” Krista whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder.

Kade walked into her house and over to the small loveseat and sat down with her in his lap. In just a few seconds she was fast asleep again. He wanted to just sit and cradle her to him for the rest of the day. Or better yet, lay her down in that big king size bed he’d seen when he was checking to make sure her house was safe, and hold her until she woke up. His imagination started getting away from him, because he began picturing all kinds of things he wanted to do to her and with her. His thoughts were just starting to form a complete fantasy when she wiggled around in his lap, trying to get comfortable. Damn, he’d forgotten about his utility belt. Standing up, he placed her gently on the loveseat. She immediately found a comfortable spot and settled in. Picking up the blanket that had slipped off when he was moving her, Kade covered her up. Leaning over, he kissed Krista on the forehead.

“Sleep well, beautiful.” For a few moments he stood over her and just watched her sleep. Honestly, he could stand there forever and just soak in all that she was with his eyes.
Taking a step back, not wanting to leave her, but knowing he had to get back to the station, Kade finally turned and walked out, locking the door as he left.

**Author's Bio*****
I'm a light erotic romance writer, who loves a happily ever after. I lives in a small town in Virginia with my three children. I am your normal everyday mom of one grown and two almost grown teenagers who has recently discovered the joys of writing. When not busy writing, I enjoys reading and shopping for vintage items. I came into writing later in life, after my characters decided to take over and I was able to hear the stories in my head.

When things are divided, there's Hope At Dawn

 Hope At Dawn
by Stacy Henrie
With two brothers fighting in the Great War, her family needing extra money, and her boyfriend's drinking driving a wedge between them, Livy Campbell accepts a job teaching German-American children in a nearby small town. But even there, the effects of the war can be felt as anti-German hysteria divides the town's population.
Friedrick Wagner feels shame for not fighting alongside his friends. Instead, he took a deferment to run his dying father's farm, work as the school handyman, and provide for his younger siblings. With so much hatred surrounding him, he fears God may have forgotten him.
His friendship with Livy gives him hope, but the obstacles dividing them must first be overcome.



After another fifteen minutes had crawled by, Livy forced herself to accept the likelihood that Robert—for whatever painful reason—had chosen to spend her birthday with a bottle cradled in his arms instead of her. Hot tears of anger sprang up behind her eyes and no amount of blinking could keep several of them from leaking onto her face.

            “Are you all right?”

            Livy whipped her chin up and found herself peering into eyes more brilliantly blue than she’d suspected from her seat across the room. Their clear depths exuded friendly concern in a way that made her feel immediately safe, though she didn’t know anything about this young man. Up close, his Sunday shirt and pressed trousers, though worn, accentuated his strong-looking physique. 

            She blinked, trying to remember what he’d asked her. Something about her being all right? “Yes. Thank you. I’m just fine.”
          She swept away the salty drops from her cheeks. Of course her first real cry in ten years would be witnessed by a stranger, and yet, his self-assured, compassionate manner made her suspect he didn’t find her silly.
          “You look like you could use a dance.” He crouched down in front of her and held out his hand. “How about it?”
Livy darted a quick look at the entrance again. “I’m . . . um . . .waiting for my boyfriend.”
           “Ah.” He let his hand drop to his side. “Seems to be a bit late.”
           She blushed. Who else had noticed her sitting here for over an hour? “I’m sorry,” she offered lamely.
           “No, it’s all right.” He got to his feet and started to walk away.
           Who was she kidding? Robert wasn’t coming. If he happened to, he’d likely be drunk and she didn’t want to be around him .
          “Wait.” Livy jumped up. She could at least have one dance on her birthday. Why should she spend the whole evening hurt and angry over Robert’s absence?
          The young man slowly turned back around.
          She attempted a genuine smile. “I’d love a dance.”
          His face lit up as he smiled in return and held out his hand a second time. Setting her hat on her chair, Livy placed her hand inside his larger one and allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. The band began to play a fox trot—one of Livy’s favorite dances. She and Joel had become fairly adept at the steps before he’d left for the war.
          It felt strange, at first, to be in another man’s arms, but the feeling soon left her. The way he held her hand in a confident but gentle grip, his hand warm on her back, helped Livy relax. He led her around the floor, their feet walking or spinning in time with the music. He was as skillful at the fox trot as her brother, and Livy relished the chance to do more than just sway to the music.
          “Are you from around here?” he asked her after a minute or two of dancing.
          “About an hour away. And you?”
          He shook his head. “I live outside of Hilden. In the county north of here.”
          Livy vaguely recalled hearing the town name. “You drove all the way down here, just to go dancing?”
          “We don’t have a public dance hall in Hilden. So we have to come here, or head farther north or drive all the way to Sioux City. Do you come to this one often?”
          “I used to, before I went to college in Cedar Falls.”
           With slight pressure to her back, he expertly led her through a spin before he picked up their conversation again. “What did you study in college?”
          “Are you a teacher now?”
          Livy frowned, doing her best to tamp down the seeds of resentment the question unearthed. She loved her family and wanted to lift the burden her brothers’ absence had created, but she missed college and the chance to pursue her own dreams.
          “I was only able to attend for a year before I was needed here.” Her words drew a look of sympathy from him.
           “I know what that’s like,” he murmured. Before she could ask what he meant, he poised another question. “Would you still like to be a teacher?”
          “Very much. I’m hoping someday I’ll have the chance.”
          The understanding in his blue eyes changed to enthusiasm. “That might be sooner than you think. The teacher at one of the township schools outside of Hilden was recently . . . .” He shot a glance at the floor, his jaw tightening. Livy wondered at the change in his mood. Then he guided her through another spin and his expression relaxed. “Suffice it to say, she’s gone now and I don’t think they’ve found a replacement. It’s a little far away, but you might want to inquire about it.”
          A possible teaching job? A flurry of anticipation set Livy’s pulse moving faster at the possibility. She tried to squelch it with the reminder she wasn’t likely to be hired with only one year of schooling completed and no teaching certificate, but she couldn’t destroy the hope completely. How wonderful it would be to be on her own again, and not learning how to teach this time, but actually being the teacher.
          Livy met his open gaze and found her thoughts moving from his idea to the man himself. She didn’t even know his name, and yet, she felt comfortable enough in his presence to share some of her regret at having her dream of teaching cut short. She hadn’t even voiced those feelings to Robert yet.
          “Thank you,” she said, hoping he sensed how much she meant it. “I may look into it.”
          “I hope you will.” He smiled in a way that made her stomach twist with unexpected pleasure.
          She searched her mind for a more neutral topic, one that wouldn’t mean spilling more of her secrets to this stranger. “Do you live with family, up there in Hilden?”
          He nodded. “I’ve got my father, stepmother and two half-siblings. What about you?”
          “I’ve got a few more than two siblings.” Livy laughed. “I’m the third of seven. Five boys and two girls.”
          She studied the firm shoulder beneath her hand. He appeared quite fit and healthy, so why wasn’t he a soldier? “Can I ask you something?”
          “How come you’re not wearing a uniform?”
          Livy wished the question back at once when a shadow passed over his face, erasing the easy camaraderie between them. Before he could answer, the song ended. He released her hand at once, though he didn’t join her or the other couples in clapping.
           She gnawed at her cheek, embarrassed at her apparent mistake. He’d been so kind to notice her distress earlier and suggest the teacher position in his town, and she’d repaid him by bringing up something he clearly did not wish to discuss.
           "I’m sorry. It’s none of my business,” she said, rushing her words in an effort to keep him from disappearing into the crowd. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
          He watched her, his expression guarded. What could she say to erase the awkwardness her inquiry had caused? They’d been having such a lovely time talking and dancing.
          “I appreciate the dance. You see it’s my birthday and I adore the fox trot. So you’ve saved my evening, Mister . . .” She waited for him to fill the pause with his name.
          The corners of his mouth worked up into a smile. “How about you call me ‘the birthday rescuer?’”
          Livy chuckled. She wasn’t sure why he refused to give his name, but she wouldn’t press it—not after her blunder about the uniform. His kindness had completely changed her botched evening. “Thank you for the dance, birthday rescuer. And for telling me about the teacher position.”
         “You’re welcome. Do I get to know the name of the birthday girl?”

          Two can play at his game, Livy thought with a smirk. “How about ‘the girl I danced with once?’”
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About Stacy Henrie:
Stacy Henrie has always had an avid appetite for history, fiction and chocolate. She earned her B.A. in public relations from Brigham Young University and worked in communications before turning her attentions to raising a family and writing inspirational historical romances. Wife of an entrepreneur husband and a stay-at-home mom to three, Stacy loves the chance to live out history through her fictional characters, while enjoying the modern conveniences of life in the 21st century. In addition to author, she is a reader, a road trip enthusiast and a novice interior decorator.
Stacy’s SM:

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Saturday, June 28, 2014

Finding love is no game


Outback Hearts
Beyond Reality Series #1
 by Susan Stoker
from Beau Coup Publisher


Sam travels to Australia to take part in a reality show to find her true love. She doesn’t expect to find that the other contestants are all model-beautiful and ready to lie their way into the bachelor’s heart. Sam desperately wants to be loved for who she is, plain and simple.

Alex never expects to find his one true match on a reality show, but figures he’s got nothing to lose. Spending a few weeks with beautiful women won’t be a hardship. At least, until he meets the contestants and realizes things will be harder than he thought.

Sam struggles through the Australian wildlife and crazy competitions while Alex struggles to figure out what is real and what isn’t when dealing with the contestants. Sam and Alex struggle to find true love while beating back the odds, producers, contestants, and deadly animals to find each other and their destinies.


“And what is it you really want?” Sam asked, turning her head around to look at him.

“I want someone I can laugh with. I want a woman who I can sit on a park bench and not speak, but still be comfortable with. I want a woman who wants me for who I am, not for what I can give her. I want a woman who can be my friend as well as my lover. I want a woman who will stand in the rain with me just because it’s there and not worry about her makeup or her hair. I want a woman who’s strong, but who can still lean on me. I want to look forward to going home because I know that she’s there. I want a woman I can take care of. Who will let me pamper her just because I want to.”

Alex took a deep breath and looked down at Sammi. “I want a companion. I want someone to call my own and a woman who can call me hers.”

Alex saw a tear fall from Sammi’s eye. He reached up with his finger to brush it away. “I want this,” he said softly and dipped his head to her lips. Alex’s hand went to the back of Sam’s neck and tightened, drawing her to him. His lips moved on hers. Sam let out a short moan.

**About the Author**
Susan Stoker currently lives in Texas, but over the last fourteen years has also lived in Missouri, California, Colorado, and Indiana. She met the love of her life on “Hotmail classified” before such a thing as online dating and sites like even existed!

Being the spouse of an Enlisted Army man was an experience, and spending four years apart while he was stationed in Korea and then sent to a different State then she was living was not fun. But now that he’s retired HE gets to follow HER around the country!

Susan and her husband are passionate about adopting dogs from rescue groups and shelters. They’ve had a total of nine “rescued” dogs in their brief 14 year marriage. Mainly basset hounds and bloodhounds, but they’ve recently branched out and adopted a basset/terrier mix.

As a type A person, Susan has two master’s degrees and her PhD, but tells people that all having a PhD means is that she can write really long papers. She’s been reading romances since middle school, even once crossing out all the names in a book and changing them to her own and to the name of her crush. She’s been writing scenes for years, thinking about what she likes, and recently tried stringing the scenes into a book. Her first series, Beyond Reality, will be a trilogy, with all three books in the series having HEAs. Happy Reading!

twitter= @Susan_Stoker

When the dream is threatened....

Dreams Within Dreams
Cate Parke
an Historical Romance
from Turquoise Morning Press
Richard Berkeley has won his treasure and so has Alexandra, but Lord Thomas Graham is back, and Richard is on his home turf now. Laughable fop or a menacing foe? No matter which it is, Richard will be damned if he lets himself become a Rob Roy for yet another Marquis of Montrose.
War looms on the near horizon, forcing Richard to make difficult choices—either support his firmly held principles…or those of his English family. Nothing will be safe, nobody will escape. If means exist to prevent disaster from striking his wife, children, home, and people, he’ll find it. Worse yet, Alexandra believes he’s wrong. Will he lose her if he persists with his choice?
Courage, Alexandra Berkeley’s special gift…is also her curse. Lord Thomas Graham’s presence in their midst frightens her, enrages her, turns her to ice. He lurks in shadows, behind doors…and among strangers paid to accomplish his treacherous bidding. He’ll stop at nothing to ruin the Campbells—nothing, Richard and Alexandra included. He’s struck at Richard—once…twice…three times. How long before his malignant influence knocks at Oakhurst’s great front door? It will not. Not if she can prevent it.
Dreams Within Dreams sweeps the reader from the glittering Court of St. James, to Inveraray Castle in Scotland’s Highlands, to the elegant drawing rooms of Charlestowne, of the South Carolina colony during the years immediately preceding the Revolutionary War in the South.



“Mr. Richard Berkeley and Lady Alexandra Berkeley,” proclaimed the queen’s chamberlain in stentorian tones. Sharp pounding resounded throughout the noisy chamber when he struck his long mace against the marble floor once…twice.
Heads swiveled their way. Painted and many-patched men and their ladies, garbed in gorgeous court clothes and dripping with jewels, thronged St. James Palace on this Thursday evening for the queen’s bi-weekly Drawing Room. Word of the Berkeleys’ appearance had spread through St. James District like fire through a ramshackle barn stuffed with dry hay bales. Richard’s and Alexandra’s sponsors, her grandmother and aunt, flanked them. Two duchesses as sponsors—such had never before been the case to everybody’s certain knowledge.
Richard led Alexandra forward through crowds that parted like the Red Sea before Moses when they passed down the center of the mammoth room. Halting before the pregnant queen, Richard swept his grey tricorn from his head, extended a foot and bowed from his waist while his wife sank into a deep curtsey.
Waves of murmurs swept through the assembly behind them, scarcely audible confidences, overheard by Richard’s keen ear. One of them, a girl born with every advantage, had allied herself to a mere gentleman whom nobody had ever heard of before, nobody would distinguish with an invitation anywhere, and nobody wanted to know. Yet from the number of invitations flooding in to Her Grace of Argyll’s secretary, everybody most plainly did. From the corner of Richard’s eye, he glimpsed several short men and a few women clamber onto chairs to capture a better view of them. One elderly dame even lifted a lorgnette containing pink glass to match her silk gown. Richard successfully stifled a smirk. For somebody nobody wanted to acknowledge, he’d garnered enormous attention.
“We have not enjoyed your presence in our Court for the past year and more, Lady Alexandra.”
Queen Charlotte’s gaze swept her from bright red, high-piled curls to the hem of her magnificent embroidered cloth-of-silver wedding gown, the only acceptable attire for her appearance today.
“We hear you have given birth to a son, Lady Alexandra. What did you name him?”
“Edward Thomas Rutledge Campbell Berkeley, Ma’am. He was born last December.”
“We are pleased to see you in good health, for you appear well, indeed. You give no evidence of your recent travail. And you are happy, we see, for you are aglow with it. Very well, very well,” she smiled, a rare occurrence during one of these tedious events, and waved her hand in dismissal. “Now step aside, gel, while we acquaint ourself with your gentleman.”
Richard snapped to attention and bowed his head. “Your servant, Ma’am,” he drawled. His accent, with its long, slow, in-gliding vowels   brought a smile to the queen’s lips. Those near enough to witness her open appreciation gasped, their eyes widened with amazement.
The small woman before him lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. He’d come to recognize such smiles. He’d seen them since he was a boy, fighting off advances from flirtatious females.
“We are charmed by your distinctive accent, Mr. Berkeley. You are from Charlestowne of our South Carolina colony, are you not?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I am.”
“Yet you spent a number of years in England.”
“That’s true, Ma’am,” he grinned, impressed she knew anything of him. Of course, Alexandra had written her and, doubtless, explained. “I attended school in England. Lord Edward Campbell convinced my father to send me to Eton when I was eight years old. Later, I entered his alma mater, Christ Church, Oxford. Afterward, I trained in the law at London’s Inner Temple.”
“Is that when you met Lady Alexandra?”
“No, Ma’am. I didn’t have that privilege until several years later.”
From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Alexandra slanting a glance at him while he stood at ease, with hands folded behind his back, and flashed a grin at the queen. The small brown-haired, sallow-skinned woman with striking turquoise eyes lifted her chin. He suspected nobody ever presumed to grin at her. But Her Majesty was a woman and, he supposed, from her widened eyes and the flirty grin playing on her lips, he’d surprised and stricken her, as he had most women all his life.
“How was that, Mr. Berkeley?”
“Lord Edward Campbell, Lady Alexandra’s father, was my mentor and, later, my business partner, Ma’am. He and my father planned a betrothal between us since we were children—though, they didn’t bother to share the information with either of us until the spring of 1768. Since I was soon to embark upon a voyage to England, His Lordship sent along a letter of introduction to the Duke of Argyll, in Inveraray, Scotland. After I saw to my affairs in London, I travelled north—and met my wife.”
“I see. Yet, Lady Alexandra failed to mention it to us during the following year when she served us as a Maid of Honor.”
Richard grinned again, amused. Her Majesty gasped and leaned toward him, her eyes widened further. He doubted any gentleman had ever been so audacious as to display genuine friendliness toward Her Majesty during all the years she’d sat beside her husband on his throne.
“A delicious tale, Mr. Berkeley. We have always been fond of your lady wife, and are pleased you make her happy.”
“I’ve tried, Your Majesty, but I’ve not always succeeded.”
“And why is that, sir?” By her alert posture and the crinkling of her eyes at the corner, Richard knew laughter lurked while she awaited the outcome of his anecdote.
“You see, once I refused to burn a house down for her. On another occasion, I forbade her to ride. I recall even threatening to post guards on her. She was remarkably unhappy with me on both occasions, Ma’am.”
“And why were you commanded to burn a house down, Mr. Berkeley?”
“It contained a nest of snakes, Ma’am.”

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Author Bio:

I am a writer of historical romances. As a member of Romance Writers of America, Celtic Hearts Romance Writers and Celtic Rose Writers, I write historical romance. I’ve been an avid reader all my life and began writing seriously over eight years ago. In my day job, I am a registered nurse. It has been my privilege to practice pediatric nursing during my entire career. I’m also the wife of a retired U.S. Navy Officer. I've lived and travelled with him for the twenty-six years of his career. With him I've visited England, Canada, Mexico and all but four of the United States. Thanks to him, I've dipped my toes in every body of water that washes America’s shores, including the Gulfs of Mexico and California and even the Arctic Ocean (br-r). I’ve travelled over, under and on both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. After many journeys across this great nation and back again, I now live, love and write among the foothills of the Smoky Mountains in lovely Northeast Tennessee.
My blog is called Tuesday’s Child. As it happens, I was born on a Tuesday. I'm convinced my mother made a big mistake, though. I believe she meant to give birth to me on the previous Thursday. According to the old Mother Goose tale, which says Thursday's Child has far to go, my life would have been far better defined. I would also have been born under the sign of the lion, which would have reflected my redheaded temperament much, much better. It's true. What could my mother have been thinking??? (I really had red hair once upon a time. I was born with it and had it all my life--until not long ago...but that’s another story. But it’s true, too.)

According to that dear old Mother Goose tale, I should have been born full of grace. So very sad, but nobody ever, ever attributed that particular virtue to me. After only college class in dance, I was convinced of the unfortunate truth. I can’t sing, either. True. Nobody would ever ask me to do more than hum or add volume to a chorus. Nor can I paint, or even draw a picture. My mother was an artist. Dear Mom didn’t pass along a single shred of her skill. So what does a girl do whose soul demands expression? She becomes a writer to fulfill its burning need. That’s also a true story.

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