9:30 AM |
Author: Susanne Marie Knight
Genre: Paranormal Suspense
Available electronically at Amazon.com and Smashwords.com
AN IMPOSSIBLE MEETING: Vivianne Quinn is staying at her brother’s apartment to recover from a personal tragedy. Her visit is anything but tranquil, for soon a serial killer targets her as the next victim, she has to “babysit” a valuable artifact, and she falls in love with a stranger who is unlike anyone she has ever met. How will Vivianne react when she finds out just how different he really is?
NEANDERTHAL’S NEMESIS: It’s common knowledge that Neanderthals are extinct, vanished from the face of the planet about 30,000 years ago. What remains a mystery is how or why this sudden disappearance occurred. Sometimes, however, common knowledge can be wrong....
Against her own inclination, Vivianne agreed to take care of a cat for the stranger she'd just met, Max.
A knock sounded at the door. Her hand still fanning her camisole up and down, Vivianne stepped over to the entrance and opened the door. “Gosh, Fran, that was quick--”
Instead of Fran, over the threshold stood Maximilian Vogelherd, his deeply green eyes taking in the sight of her exposed, bare stomach.
“Do you like things slow, then?” he lifted his lips in a deliberate smile, which heated her body’s thermostat even further.
“Oh! Oh, hi. I, um, thought you were my neighbor, Fran.” Vivianne hastily dropped her camisole top... and her wits, as well.
He filled the weakly lit landing with his massive form--muscular, brawny, solid, and powerful. Still clad in those stonewashed jeans, he’d changed his tee shirt to a ribbed black sweater. In one hand he held a pet carrier and the other gripped a shopping bag probably filled with cat supplies. His eyes seemed illuminated from the faint overhead bulb, and he leisurely swept his gaze from the mane of her ponytail, down to her collarbones, over her now-covered hips, to rest on the coral-pink polish of her toenails.
“May I come in?”
Unfreezing her limbs, she fussed with her hair to make sure it covered her scar, then she sprang into action because the unmistakable sounds of the bachelors’ door opening rang out into the corridor. If the Pardos had been interested in how she was dressed when Mr. Greenley had called, they’d most likely shake their jowls a-plenty on seeing her scantily clothed with such a virile male visitor.
“Yes, please!” She urged Max inside, then hurriedly shut the door. Outside, the Pardos’ door opened, closed, and the men’s footsteps shuffled past on the tiled floor.
Phew! Just in time.
But now here she was, in close quarters, cramped in her tiny hallway with this colossal hunk of a guy. Her mouth dried, and she swallowed several times before saying, “You’re early.”
Max took a step closer, which caused her to flatten against the wall. Her body temperature rose even higher. “Eins is impatient to meet you, Vivianne.” A “wah” noise came from inside the carrier, as if to confirm.
“Um, why don’t you, um, come into the living room and get the cat out while I, um, change.” Her brain sluggish again, she started fanning her camisole until she saw the gleam in his darkened eyes.
“Don’t bother to change on my account.” He set the shopping bag down, then curved his fingers around her bare, upper arm. “Come, let me introduce you to Eins.”
The touch of his hand actually seared her, only it wasn’t an uncomfortable sensation. She almost felt like she’d been branded by some type of sweet embrace.
How foolish of her. She pulled away and, despite the dry heat still baking the apartment, almost ran down the hallway into the living room.
“Here, you take the cat out and I’ll--”
Somehow, step for step, he managed to keep up with her, which must have been a tricky task for such a large man. He reclaimed her arm, then set the carrier down on the sculpted carpet.
“First you make Eins welcome in his new home, ja?”
Torn on what she should do, she bit her lip. True, she was in her pajamas, but everything that should’ve been covered was covered. However the thin cotton material made her feel like she was wearing next-to-nothing--which she was, for she had relinquished the additional protection of undergarments. Standing next to him, she was aware of her nipples’ hardening and a puddling of moisture between her thighs.
“Um, okay, quickly, then I’ll--”
Kneeling, Max smoothly eased her down so she was also sitting on her heels by his side. “Here, we open together.”
He reached over for the latch, his arm inadvertently--or not--brushing against her breast.
Dizziness rocked her and fuzzy words invaded her mind, this time without the usual headache. As erotic tingles danced throughout her body to settle heavily in her feminine core, she licked her lips. His woodsy scent filled her veins and heated her blood even further, while his glowing eyes seemed to promise an endless pool of delights.
What in the world was happening to her? She didn’t want this attraction, and yet had no power to stop her body’s reactions.
“Max?” she whimpered, almost pleading for him to stop the assault on her senses.
“Vivianne,” he breathed, turning her face toward him and cupping her chin in his extremely large hand.
It was as if the veneer of civilization had been stripped away and all she had left were primitive, basic emotions. She wanted him to kiss her. And she wanted, needed, even more than that. Her traitorous body eagerly prepared for the age-old union between a man and a woman.
From a distance, she heard a baby’s cry. “Wah,” it insisted, over and over again.
Vivianne blinked, and as if she had awakened from a spell, turned away from Max to focus on a very large, sealpoint Siamese cat rubbing against her hip.
“Wah,” Eins persevered, obviously craving her attention. The cat blinked his own large blue eyes at her and purred with contentment.
Omigosh! This cat saved her from making a horrible mistake!
Susanne Marie Knight
Read outside the box: award-winning Romance Writing With A Twist!
10:21 AM |
WINNER of the prestigious Awe-Struck Regency Award
and EPIC eBook Award Finalist for Best Historical Romance
PAGING MISS GALLOWAY
Author: Susanne Marie Knight
Available electronically at:
A determined young miss, a battle-weary lord, and a reckless masquerade. What will the Earl of Tremaine do when he discovers his page's shocking secret?
More Than She Bargained For--
Danielle Galloway is determined to visit her convalescing brother. She won't let her father's lack of permission stand in her way. Disguising herself as Danny, a servant boy, she takes to the road to begin her grand adventure...only to have her money stolen and her face battered by street ruffians. Now how will she get to the resort town of Bath?
More Than He Bargained For--
The Earl of Tremaine rescues a down-on-his-luck young lad. Against his better judgment, he takes Danny on as his page as he journeys to Bath. But this boy harbors a shocking secret. What's the earl going to do when he discovers his latest act of kindness might hurl him into the parson's mousetrap?
Danielle had a wonderful view of the earl's broad shoulders and his dark hair as he rested his head against the rim back of the hip bath. For a moment she watched him soap up a sponge and lather his muscular arms. The masculine scent of bay rum filled the air.
"Tell me about yourself, Danny. Beside doing odd jobs for the local gentry, what else do you do?"
She wanted to keep her gaze averted, yet, since she was behind him, he'd never know if she did peek.
The plip-plop sound of water dripping back into the tub as he glided the sponge over his skin teased her against all distraction. She bit her lip. Why did her nerves seem to be stretched to the limit?
"Um, some days I pass the time riding, my lord. I, um, fish, as well." Without her father's knowledge, of course. Fine ladies did not indulge in fishing.
"I see." The earl held up the sponge. "You may wash my back now."
Gracious, if her teeth didn't start to chatter! Still behind him, she took the sponge and he leaned forward so she could have better access.
As she lathered his back with fragrant soap, she admired the powerful contour of muscles. She would've stopped at his upper back, but he insisted she reach further down.
She gulped back her unease. She was in heaven and hell at the same time.
Then she noticed a jagged spot of mottled skin, just under the left shoulder blade. She gently ran her fingertips over its ribbed surface.
"My lord, what is this?" As soon as she spoke, she flushed. She had no right to ask a personal question.
Her impertinence didn't seem to bother him. "Shrapnel," was his immediate reply. "Sea battle back in March, near the island of Lissa."
"Where is Lissa?" Geography had never been her strong point.
He tilted his head back to laugh, a rich, baritone sound. "Ironic, is it not? My page has no idea just where in the world it was that I almost lost my life"
"Oh, I am so sorry! I did not--"
He raised his hand, splashing her with warm water. "No matter, halfling. I survived, as you can see. The island of Lissa is in the Adriatic Sea, an inconsequential pawn in our war against the French."
Shrugging his shoulders, he leaned his head forward. "Time to wash my hair. Pour the water."
Danielle struggled with the heavy bucket, and as she poured, he ran the bar of soap over his hair. A sudsy white froth mixed in with the black and grey. Wisps of steam rose up from the hip bath, enveloping them both.
"Use the pitcher now to rinse," he ordered.
The brass pitcher was easier to pour, and soon his hair was clean.
Without warning, he stood, dripping water back into the bath. Then he stepped out. She blindly rushed for a thick Turkish towel and for his dressing gown. Hurrying back to him, all the while averting her gaze, she helped him into the robe.
As he tied the belt, he exclaimed, "Begad! Every blasted bone in my body feels as if I served time on an infamous torture rack. I shall sleep well tonight."
Danielle kept quiet. She'd managed to accomplish her tasks without violating Lord Trelaine's privacy. She congratulated herself.
He rubbed the towel over his head. When his hair was sufficiently dried, he threw the towel on the floor. Then he strode to the bed. "I shall retire now, Danny, even though the hour is still early. No doubt Raleigh plans to carouse until dawn. It is the curse of the young to be so foolish."
She rushed over and pulled back the bedsheets.
"Be a good lad and dispose of the hip bath. The remaining bucket of water is for you to wash off your travel dirt. Or use the hip bath, if you prefer."
Danielle eyed the water bucket, then the earl. She desperately needed a wash, but however could she manage it?
Before she could blink, he slipped under the covers without the benefit of his dressing gown. Nor a nightshirt. He rested matter-of-factly, on the mattress, in only the clothes God had given him.
Goodness! She couldn't help a fierce flush from burning her face. In all her twenty years on earth, she never had such an excessively bizarre day as she had today.
Then again, she'd never been dressed as a boy before.
Susanne Marie Knight
Read outside the box: award-winning Romance Writing With A Twist!
10:08 AM |
Let's start at the beginning... the very first book I wrote!
SOJOURN THROUGH TIME
Author: Susanne Marie Knight
Genre: Time-Travel Regency
Available electronically at Amazon.com and Smashwords.com
As recently divorced Alexandra waits for her flight to London, she has no idea her actual destination will be in the past. Will she be able to overcome her culture shock and learn to entrust her future to a most persistent duke?
When Malcolm, the Duke of Milcaster, finds Alex on his estate, he immediately intends for her to be his new mistress. Alex, however, has other ideas on the subject. Can he overlook her peculiar ways and convince her that they are meant to be as one?
Malcolm looked up as his intended mistress had the effrontery to enter the state dining room. The cabernet wine, dry and fruity, almost caught in his throat.
Good Lord, the woman was beautiful, he could admit that. Her eyes, heavy and sensuous, had a sultry quality about them. Yet her tentative demeanor as she stood by the doors reminded him of an innocent fawn, unaware of the ways of the world. A delicate flush of pink graced her still pale cheeks, and other than a slight swelling at her jaw line and white bandage peeking out from under her hair, she appeared the picture of health.
Miss Stanford wore one of his late wife's gowns, a simple unbleached muslin dress completely unsuitable for dinner attire. Indeed, it was more appropriate for a walk about the gardens. The hem of the gown, designed to brush the floor, swayed uneasily by the woman's ankles. A modest sight, to be sure, however his pulse began to race.
But the audacity of the woman consumed him. For her to take it upon herself to actually consider dining with him and his virtuous aunt was exceedingly improper in the extreme.
"Hello," murmured his predestined light o'love. "I'm sorry I'm late. Mary and I had a tough time picking out a dress that would fit."
The thought of her revealing apparel when he had found her teased him as a side of beef teased a hungry dog. However strict decorum had to be maintained. He quickly squelched his unseemly desires.
"Miss Stanford, what is the meaning of this--"
"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed Olivia. She stood and escorted the woman over to the table. "Come, you must sit and rest yourself. We did wait for you, but Malcolm tends to become irritable if he has not eaten, you know."
The devil! "Indeed, Aunt?" He spoke slowly, to convey his displeasure. "Am I to understand you invited Miss Stanford to join us?"
Olivia signaled to a footman for another place setting. "Yes, of course, Malcolm. Miss Stanford is our guest, is she not?"
There could be no polite rejoinder to his aunt's question so he refrained from commenting.
The woman flashed an expressive glance from him to Olivia, then lowered her gaze to concentrate on the soup.
"Thank you for your kind hospitality, um, sir. Unfortunately, I still can't remember what happened to me. Could you please tell me how I got here?"
Olivia strained his already waning patience by speaking first. "Quite a story that is, am I not correct, Malcolm? Your arrival has certainly thrown this household in an uproar! Gracious me, whatever were you doing, you poor dear, dressed so outrageously?"
To give the woman credit, she blushed furiously. "Please, I must know what happened. This is all so strange."
As they ate, her dark eyes pleaded with him, once again to come to her rescue. The first time was with the bloodletting episode; evidently the feel of leeches against her smooth skin did not agree with her. Intelligent woman. Personally, he thought it an abhorrent practice. Now this, her appeal for information.
He would humor her. After all, not only was she pleasing to look at but she was also well behaved. If he had not seen her previous attire, he would have believed her to be a lady.
"A thunderous noise attracted my attention, Miss Stanford, coming from the outlying lands of my estate, in the woods. I found you almost buried under some rubble."
"Bleeding profusely, you know," Olivia interrupted. "And, I might add, scarcely clothed! My, my yes. Sara said your bare legs were--"
"Aunt." Malcolm's voice brooked no argument. "You are making Miss Stanford uncomfortable."
He was rewarded for his efforts with the woman's demure smile, and for some peculiar reason, his heart beat faster.
"Did you find anyone else?" the woman questioned.
"Only you, Miss Stanford."
"I see." She dabbed at her lips with a napkin, obviously finished with her meal. "So you put me in your car and brought me here?"
"Time was of the essence, Miss Stanford. Rather than return to the Manor for a carriage, I carried you on my horse." Odd the way she abbreviated the word "carriage." Indeed, most everything about her was odd.
"Carriage!" she repeated, turning a weak shade of green.
"Tsk-tsk! Now we have done it; overtaxing poor Alexandra so. I have an excellent idea. Let us leave Malcolm to his port while you and I make ourselves comfortable in the blue salon. Then, when you are done, Malcolm, you can join us."
She stood and held out her hand to the woman. "Come along, dear."
His aunt, always a goosecap, was certainly in rare form tonight.
He took his aunt's suggestion about the after-dinner port, but that would be the extent of his acquiescence.
"I have business to attend to, this night, so I shall forgo the pleasure, Aunt."
Accepting a glass from the footman, he sipped the sweet, fortified wine and gazed down at his visitor's trim ankles. "Miss Stanford, if it would not tire you overmuch, you and I have a few matters to discuss. I will have Treadwell show you to the library presently."
Perhaps she had an inclination of what he wished to discuss for she blushed again before she left. Now alone in the dining room, he polished off his port, then poured another glass. Since Miss Alexandra Stanford had been so obliging as to arise from her bed sooner than expected, he eagerly anticipated not having to wait any longer to sample her tempting wares.
Susanne Marie KnightRead outside the box: award-winning Romance Writing With A Twist!
1:10 AM | Labels: Canadian, falling in love, family drama, forbidden love, grief, novel, Paranormal, psychological fiction, small town romance, stepbrother, travel
New Fiction from Award-Winning Author Giselle Renarde!
In Shadow: A Novel
As far as Clover’s concerned, she’s got two choices: remain an outcast in the small town where she’s lived her whole life, or move clear across the country like her prodigal stepbrother Mason. Clover is forever paying for her father’s sins at home, but the idea of leaving is too daunting to imagine.
When Mason comes home for their sister’s wedding, his presence reignites Clover’s past. A dark force follows her everywhere she goes.
Even in dreams, there’s no escaping a hungry shadow...
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01M9DY0D2
Amazon Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01M9DY0D2
Amazon Australia: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B01M9DY0D2
Large Print: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1539578232
Read an excerpt from In Shadow:
This is the point in the story where you’re either going to think I’m lying or I’m crazy, or maybe both. Well, I’m not lying, so I guess that leaves you with your answer.
The afternoon sun was streaming in through the window above the door. It cast long shadows across the fabric dividing my studio from Gord’s portion of the garage. That wasn’t the weird part. In fact, I hadn’t even noticed our shadows until they started to move.
At first, I thought it was the fabric moving. I thought maybe Brooke had snuck in and got behind it. I thought she was trying to scare me like she used to do when we were little.
But the fabric wasn’t moving. The fabric stayed absolutely still while my shadow started bending forward.
That might have been the weirdest part, because I knew for a fact I wasn’t bending. In that moment, I don’t think I could have budged if I’d tried. My feet were two blocks of ice frozen to the cement floor, and my arms were like dead weight at my sides.
But my shadow’s arms? That was another story.
They rose at my shadow body’s sides, then wrapped ominously around my stepbrother’s shadow.
I was so sure Mason would whip around and be like, “Hey, get your hands off me!”
But he didn’t seem to feel it. He couldn’t seem to sense my shadow wrapping itself around his.
His shadow’s head turned to mine. I swallowed hard, because I could feel everything. Feel his head, his breath, his hardness. I could feel it all when his shadow kissed mine. I could feel the hugeness of his tongue in my mouth.
A warm flush whipped through me like lava, filling my cheeks with crimson heat before sliding down my throat. I felt him all over me and inside me as my shadow attached to his.
The real Mason talked the whole time, but I couldn’t hear a word. I couldn’t draw my gaze away from his shadow lifting my shadow off its feet, slamming its back against the wall, hiking up my skirt and…
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