New Release: Contemporary Romance: THE TWO OF CUPS IS FOR LOVERS (excerpt PG)

Touchdown! Polar opposites--Drew Gavin, high-profile star quarterback, and Isabeau Delaney, low-key Tarot advisor, go head to head when the Tarot card of lovers and soul mates keeps reappearing in their readings.

THE TWO OF CUPS IS FOR LOVERS

Author: Susanne Marie Knight

Genre: Contemporary Romance with a Paranormal Twist

Available electronically at Amazon.com and Smashwords.com

Price: $3.99

Buy link:


Blurb:
NOT GONNA HAPPEN
Fame. Money. Booze. Women. It’s just another ho-hum day in the life of retired NFL star quarterback, Drew “The Cowboy” Gavin. But Drew’s one love is his young child, Elena. For months she’s refused to talk, and he’s in desperate need of help. He’s exhausted every avenue in conventional medicine; now he’s considering something different. Something unconventional, alternative. His manager sets him up with... what? A Tarot advisor? Not gonna happen! Can Drew put aside his prejudice against metaphysical matters and give his earth angel, Madame Laney, a chance?

NOT GOING TO HAPPEN
Isabeau Delaney, a.k.a. Madame Laney, has big expenses and responsibilities. A beautiful house, a beloved grandmother in a nursing home, and a slew of Tarot clients that depend of her to help them navigate the shoals of life. She has no time for a chauvinistic skeptic who turns his nose up at her life’s work. Drew Gavin just isn’t in the cards... Tarot or otherwise. Not going to happen! But if that’s the case, why does the persistent Two of Cups--the card for lovers and soul mates--keep reappearing in the readings she conducts for Drew?

Excerpt:

Drew took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. In his career as a star quarterback he’d faced bulldozer-sized men from opposing NFL teams who had been determined to inflict maximum pain. He’d weathered those bison stampedes; surely he could handle a supposed psychic.

The door opened to reveal... an angel. An ethereal, ponytailed, slender young woman with a form-fitting tee shirt and a flowing layered long skirt. Damn, she was beautiful. She couldn’t be the psychic, could she?

He blinked away his surprise. “Er, I’m here to see Madame Laney?”

Not losing her poise, she held her slim hand out for a shake. “Hello. You must be Mr. Gavin.”

Truth be told, at the moment he wasn’t sure of his name. At all. He quickly pulled himself together and shook her hand. “Yeah, Drew Gavin, here. I’m pleased to meet you, er, Miss...?”

“Madame Laney.” She disengaged her hand. “Please, come in, Mr. Gavin.”

All business, that was what this little package of femininity was. Turning on the charm, he smiled. After all, his fans expected smiles. “Thank you kindly, er, Madame Laney.”

He stepped into the beautifully decorated entryway. It was cool, thankfully air-conditioned against the heated day.

A certain fragrance greeted him, relaxing him, invigorating him. He couldn’t place the scent but whatever it was, he felt better than if he’d just had a professional massage.

Then it came to him: lavenders. Sometimes his physical therapist put lavender oil into his whirlpool bath. So not only was this young thing easy on the eyes, she knew how to quickly take the edge off a man without being obvious about it. Lavenders, yeah.

“This way, Mr. Gavin.” She gestured to the right and followed him into the living room. “Please have a seat.” She indicated a curved chair stationed in front of a cherrywood table.

The table was set in between two matching clamshell chairs. Soft music played in the background--loud enough to fill the quiet and low enough to ignore.

This house of hers really felt like a home. He didn’t know about any of this hocus-pocus stuff, but as a hostess, she was first-rate. He appreciated the soothing atmosphere. Hell, most days he had to deal with pushy women doing anything and everything to attract his attention. Sex, sex, and more sex, along with money, money, money. Sure, those chicks were fine, but as phony as hell, too. They wanted the high profile Cowboy, not Andrew Gavin from Small Town, Montana.

And they definitely did not want a package deal with his three-year-old. Truth be told, after a while the mating games got old.

She waited until he got comfortable. “Would you like a bottle of water?”

“Thanks, a cup of coffee would be nice.” He flashed his standard grin.

She shook her head, sending her dark tail of hair brushing against her shoulders. “Sorry, caffeine isn’t recommended for the type of work we’re doing.”

Well, that was strange. “Okay, sure. Water. So what kind of work are we doing?”

After lifting a feathery eyebrow, she got a bottle from a small cooler nearby. She handed him the water and then sat across from him. “Why are you here, Mr. Gavin?”

Her dispassionate stare bore a hole in him. He wasn’t used to being looked at like he was some kind of germ under the microscope. Frankly, he wasn’t used to being looked at as anything but prime beef.

“I’ll be honest... Madame Laney.” What the hell was her first name? “I’ve never done anything like this before. See a psychic? Hell no, not in my playbook, darlin’.” He shrugged. “My friend thinks you can help me, so here I am.”

“I see.”

Even her voice was detached, unemotional. It actually gave him the willies.

“So let me clear things up, Mr. Gavin. I’m not a psychic. My gift is reading cards. Tarot cards.” She folded her hands on top of the table. Her fingernails were short, unpolished. “Your friend, Mr. Folsom, told me that you could use some guidance. That was all he said. To get a feel for what your concern is, I did a quick reading. The information I received is this: Your question concerns a love interest--in your case I believe it is a young girl. Perhaps a daughter of yours? Something is happening with her and because of this you feel trapped. Your daughter is very important to you. In fact, she’s your world. So you are distressed because you don’t see a way out of the situation affecting her. And this is a heavy weight you’re carrying around.”

Damn. Drew gulped down some water. He was literally without words.

“Does any of that resonate with you, Mr. Gavin?”

“Oh hell yeah.” Although the temperature in the room was pleasant, sweat beaded up on his forehead. He took another, a more discriminating look at the woman.

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

Hope you enjoy!

Susanne Marie Knight
Read outside the box: award-winning Romance Writing With A Twist! 

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Re-Visiting the Classic Regency Time-Travel Romance LORD DARVER’S MATCH (excerpt PG)


LORD DARVER’S MATCH

Author: Susanne Marie Knight

Genre: Time-Travel Regency

Available electronically at Amazon.com and Smashwords.com

Price: $4.99

Buy link:


Blurb:
AN INNOCENT WISH--Little did modern day Hillary Logan realize when she made her innocent wish for a happy marriage, that she’d be waking up in bed next to a handsome nobleman--in 1815. Struggling to adjust to Regency England, she teaches the dashing marquess a thing or two about love and “a woman’s place.”

A PLEASANT DIVERSION--Seeking a diversion from the ongoing horrors of the Napoleonic Wares, Simon Altmont, looks forward to a liaison with the attractive woman in his bed. She would make a perfect new mistress! He soon learns just how different his mysterious Mrs. Logan really is. Has the Marquess of Darver finally met his match?

Scene Set-Up:
On assignment in the past, Serenity attends her first “haut ton” ball. As she studies the notorious rake, Nicholas Wycliffe, Lord Brockton, she finds him studying her.

Excerpt:
Hillary’s cheeks radiated heat. She knew her face had to be the color of her nightshirt--shocking pink. She was standing there half-naked in front of the most desirable man she’d ever come across--and a stranger to boot.

She fingered the long line of buttons at her bodice. “I wish you’d hurry. I’m uncomfortable enough as it is without you eyeballing me.”

Her frankness surprised her. She shrugged it off as a case of the nerves. Who, in her position, wouldn’t be nervous? Who, in her position, wouldn’t be nervous?

The man unsuccessfully turned his laughter into a cough, and then he gave her that lopsided grin again. “Certainly, my dear. Although I must say I have never heard such a quaint manner of speaking. I find the term ‘eyeballing’ quite expressive, to be sure.”

She tapped her foot. How dare he make fun of her speech when he sounded so... so British!

His eyes gleamed with mischief. “And such unusual night attire. I have never seen the like. Not that you do not look fetching.”

Hillary wanted to strangle him. Through clenched teeth, she commanded, “Hurry up!”

“Impatient, m’dear?” He completed his task and, properly covered by the robe, sauntered over to the door. “May I suggest you take position behind the door? When it comes to females, Finch can be disapproving. He does not understand that women can be necessary at times.”

The man knew he was infuriating. He knew it. Hillary frowned but followed his suggestion. His gaze moved over her bare feet, lower limbs, knees, and partially exposed thighs. She tried to pretend his scrutiny didn’t bother her but if her face got any hotter, she’d scorch her eyebrows.

He chuckled. “By the bye, shall I have a bottle of champagne sent up? To celebrate our good fortune? Or rather, my good fortune.”

She balled her fists. What she wouldn’t give to floor the man. But she was in no position to argue.

Eyeing her combat-ready hands, he raised one eyebrow. “No champagne? Perhaps you do not favor things that are French?”

“If you please.” She spat out the words.

Hi grinned, opened the door, and called out into the corridor. “Finch. Finch, old boy, are you up?”

Hillary heard a shuffling noise down the hallway. The shuffling stopped at the door. “Did you require me, my--”

“My good man,” her bedfellow interrupted. “I have a commission for you this early morn. I have an unexpected companion with me--a charming one, I might add. It seems she has misplaced her husband, Jim.”

He turned to her and used the door as a barrier to hide her from Finch. “Jim what, my dear?” he asked, not bothering to hide his amusement.

His eyes crinkled merriment at her predicament. Damn the man! Hillary concentrated on keeping her voice cool. “Jim Logan,” she said succinctly.

With his back to Finch, her tormentor curved a finger under her chin. “I have been remiss. We have not introduced ourselves. Simon Altmont, at your service.”

She met his gaze and ignored the fluttery sensations that zigzagged down her backbone. Hoping she showed no emotion, she raised her chin. “And I’m Mrs. Logan.”

His hearty laugh shook those massive shoulders. Releasing her chin, he bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, my dear.”

Finch’s shuffle announced that he still waited. Mr. Altmont turned back to him. “I need you to ferret out this Jim Logan--discreetly, of course. If you have no success, then you must find some suitable clothes for Mrs. Logan to wear.”

As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, her stomach decided to roar. Even Finch must have heard it.

“Oh, and Finch,” Mr. Altmont drawled, “do bring Mrs. Logan and me some breakfast. We have worked up an appetite!”

Speechless, she stared at him. Had she heard right? How dare he imply....

In that moment, there was nothing Hillary wanted to do more than to murder the man.

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

Happy Reading!

Susanne Marie Knight
Read outside the box: award-winning Romance Writing With A Twist! 

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Just Released!

Book #3 of Phantom Riders MC Trilogy!
Standalone romances
No cliffhangers ever!


Get it here!

Big John is the club enforcer. He's big and scary and he sets his sights on Daisy the instant he locks eyes on the curvy beauty. Daisy's the new girl in town. She's grown strong and independent since leaving an abusive marriage, but nothing prepares her for the hulking, sexy biker who wants to claim her when trouble comes calling!

Excerpt -
“Open the door.” I cringed at the harsh demand passing through my lips, and couldn’t blame her for slapping her hands onto her hips and refusing my request.

My gaze fell to the deep V that putting her hands on her hips had caused. Plenty of smooth, creamy flesh was revealed, but I wanted to see it all. My dick had a one-track mind when it came to Daisy and what he wanted, jerking strongly behind my zipper.

“Do you want to rephrase that?” she scowled.

Fuck, I liked her fire. But I wasn’t about to turn all syrupy and say please. She should have known better. “Open the door, babe, or I’ll open it for you and I guarantee you won’t like how I go about it.”

She weighed my words, as if trying to decide if I’d follow up my threat. “Nice, Big John.” She reached up and turned the lock. “I told you to leave me alone. I don’t want you here.”

I yanked the door open and stepped inside. “I don’t care what you want.” My nostrils flared, taking in the enticing scent that trailed behind her as she moved away. I wanted to lick whatever the hell it was off her body. “You’re coming back to the club with me.”

She paused and turned back around to face me, disbelief on her face. “No. I’m not connected to you or the club in any way, so I’ll stay right here where I’m safe.”

I snorted. “Safe, babe? Do you know how easy I could have broken through that glass door? And I bet the back door to this place isn’t any better, unless you had it replaced when you moved in.” Her deflated expression revealed that she hadn’t. “Get dressed and pack some shit.”

She held her ground stubbornly. “Why? Because your club is on lockdown? That means nothing to me. You can’t come in here and tell me what to do. You’re nothing to me.”

Christ, that hurt. I forced myself not to move, not to reach out and just make her do what I wanted. I didn’t expect her to understand, our worlds were different. She was a civilian, lived by the rules and laws that society dictated. We did, too, in a way, but our rules and laws were dictated by the members of the MC. We voted on what worked for our club, we had each other’s backs and stood together as a team. We didn’t get the law involved in club trouble because we took care of shit on our own. It was the way most hardcore MC’s worked.

“You’re stubborn, woman,” I growled. “And I don’t have time for this shit.” I bent at the waist, caught her in the belly with my shoulder, and swept her off her feet. I heard her outraged humph as I continued to the back where I knew the stairs led to the second story.

“Put me down!” Daisy screamed, beating her little fists against my back as I easily carried her upstairs. “This is crazy, Big John! I’m not going with you and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

That’s what she thought. If I had to drag her ass back to the club the way she was dressed I would. I opened her door and plowed through the room, following the layout of her apartment until I reached her bedroom.

“Put me down!” she demanded angrily, wiggling wildly against me.

I dropped her down onto her bed. She bounced a few times before coming to rest on her backside.

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Revisiting the Award-Winning Regency: A CONTINENTAL MARRIAGE (PG excerpt)


Golden Wings Award WINNER--Best Overall Historical Romance Read

Here's a little known bit of trivia: the model for A CONTINENTAL MARRIAGE's lovely cover is none other than my very own lovely daughter!

A CONTINENTAL MARRIAGE

Author: Susanne Marie Knight

Genre: Regency

Available electronically at Amazon.com and Smashwords.com

Price: $3.99 electronically and $12.95 print

Buy link:

Available electronically at:
Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0037UY484 and Wings Press http://www.books-by-wings-epress.com/a-continental-marriage

Available In print at:
Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/dp/1597058823 and Createspace https://www.createspace.com/6291460

Blurb:
AN AMERICAN ROSE

American Nicolette Turner has a bone to pick with the British. Not only is her country’s maritime rights being violated, but her English grandfather, Lord Eldredge, demands that she travel across the Atlantic to visit him. What she doesn’t know is that he intends for her to marry, thereby staying in England and having lots of babies.

The most eligible suitor is neighbor Victor Kincaid. Victor has severe money problems. Lord Eldredge offers to take care of the debts... if Victor marries Nicolette. At first Victor believes she’s a fortune-hunter, but soon becomes captivated by her. Can he convince her he wants more than a marriage of convenience?

Scene Set-Up:
The financial arraignments have been made. Victor decides it’s now time to propose to Nicolette. 

Excerpt:
Damn. Asking for this woman’s hand was going to be deuced awkward, to say the least.

Inhaling deeply, Victor walked into the drawing room and scanned its yellow interior. A cheerful fire crackled in the fireplace which stood between two immense paintings. Just beyond the hearthrug in the middle of the drawing room, a table displayed the nuncheon meal. Cold meats, cheeses, pickles, jellies, breads, and fruits--everything a man could want to assuage his hunger. But more important than food, a crystal decanter of sherry beckoned to him.

It would have to wait. Where the devil was Nicolette?

The two settees around the table were empty and not a sound other than the snapping and popping of flames disturbed the tranquil air.

He released his breath. Was he supposed to seek her out? “Damn,” he repeated, this time out loud.

A movement by the large wing-backed chair near the fireplace caught his attention. It was Nicolette, so curled within the chair’s comfortable borders that, from his vantage, he had not seen her.

“Is something wrong, Lord Cushing? Is the food not to your liking?”

She looked an odd mixture of mischievousness and grandeur. Her delicately arched eyebrows were lifted in an indifferent manner, however, the twinkle in her grey eyes revealed amusement at having caught him in an unguarded moment.

“Er, no, not at all.” He cleared his throat, then gestured toward the table. “Shall we?”

Nodding, she left the chair to pick up a dish. She must not have been very hungry for she chose only a few cubes of cheese, a biscuit, apple slices, and strips of pineapple. “I find our host’s hospitality most agreeable. I never expected to feast on pineapple, quite a costly fruit in these parts Margaret tells me.” Nicolette chose one of the settees and sat.

He made a move to pour her a glass of sherry, but she declined the wine.

Pity. It would have made his ordeal easier if she were a trifle elevated.

He sat opposite her on the other settee and balanced a full plate on his lap. How should he begin? “Lady Nicolette--”

“Perhaps it’s time we called each other by our Christian names.”

He smiled. She was going to make this easy for him. “Yes. Yes, certainly, Nicolette. I realize we have not known each other long, however, our families have been neighbors and friends for close to two hundred years.”

“My father’s family,” she corrected.

“Yes, of course.” Why would she even mention her mother’s connections? He ran his hand over his hair, then took a drink of sherry. “I would have preferred for us to get better acquainted before...”

“Before what?”

He glanced into her earnest eyes. So, she was not going to make it easy. “Nicolette, as you are aware, shopping is not the sole purpose of being in London today. It is your grandfather’s wish to bring us... together.”

She met his gaze unflinchingly. “And he uses his wealth to achieve his ends.”

Victor’s sentiments exactly, but why protest when he had already agreed to the arrangement? “As I am in need of funds, as are you, I see no reason to quibble about the circumstances that unite us in marriage.”

Her nostrils flaring, she straightened her back. In truth she looked as formidable as an avenging fury. “Marriage? I must have missed something important. When did you propose?”

“Damn.” He did not mean to swear; the word just slipped out--again.

Uncertainty assailed him. Perhaps she was not as amenable as Lord Eldredge believed. And yet marriage to Nicolette was a tolerable solution to his dilemma. His sister Leticia had not registered dissent when Victor had broached the subject, which was quite a relief, considering her sensibilities. Her departed Stanley had been close to the poor house, and news of the dwindling Kincaid finances must have been a topic of great concern to her. With the earl’s backing, Leticia need never worry about monetary matters again.

Which was a moot point unless he could win over this termagant. So how should he handle Nicolette?

Hoping to gain insight from the sherry’s potent, fortified fumes, he refilled his glass, then took another sip. As the wine warmed his insides, he thought of her father, and how Ian would on occasion turn mulish when forced to act contrary to his inclinations. Victor’s job then, was to convince her that this marriage was in her own best interests.

“My dear Nicolette, if I may.” Victor set aside his glass and his plate, then sat next to her. “You are right. I did not propose--properly or otherwise.” He held her hand, and was amused to note a pink blush covering her cheeks. “It is my fervent hope that my offer of marriage will have a favorable reception. I confess it quite impossible to conceal the anxiety with which I await your reply.”

She pulled her hand away. “I-I find that difficult to believe.”

He reclaimed it, not only to exert control over her, but to be truthful, he enjoyed the softness of her skin. “My sentiments are bona fide, Nicolette. It seems my future lies in these delicate hands. As you pointed out at last Saturday’s dinner party, I have been neglecting my duty to unite with a gently bred lady in matrimony.”

Her comment was most unexpected. “Piffle,” she said as she turned away.

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

Hope you enjoy!

Susanne Marie Knight
Read outside the box: award-winning Romance Writing With A Twist!


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Revisiting the Murder Mystery Romance: THE BLOODSTAINED BISTRO (PG excerpt)



THE BLOODSTAINED BISTRO

Author: Susanne Marie Knight

Genre: Murder Mystery Romance

Price: FREE electronically!!

Buy Link:
Available electionically at:


Visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIPP0MJtnTs to see a trailer of THE BLOODSTAINED BISTRO.

Blurb:
Eating at the Bloodstained Bistro can be hazardous to amateur detective Minx Tobin’s health. So why does she continue to dine at this restaurant?

TO LIVE... AND DIE IN L.A.
Newly relocated Minx Tobin likes to help her friends. She also has a knack for solving puzzles. A huge puzzle in the form of a dead body soon gets dropped into her lap. Did waitress Brandi Evans murder her ex-boyfriend? Minx doesn’t think so, but can she crack the Case of the Bloodstained Bistro?

Overworked homicide lieutenant Gabe Harris has his fill of women... and dead bodies. The women he can handle. The dead bodies-- unfortunately they keep piling up. But on this particular case he meets a young woman that not only impedes his investigation, but she also has no interest in him. A healthy ego like his can’t handle that. He’ll have to keep an eye on Ms. Minx Tobin.

Scene Set-Up:
On a whim, Homicide lieutenant Gabe Harris offers to take Minx Tobin, a woman involved with a murder suspect, to dinner.

Excerpt:
The Tobin woman had been surprised by his offer of dinner, but not as surprised as he was himself. Gabe drove onto Santa Monica Boulevard all the while wondering what the hell he had been thinking.

She'd been right; strictly speaking, about fraternizing with a suspect. He was mixing pleasure with official police business. Dynamite that was guaranteed to explode in his face.

He glanced over at his reluctant passenger. Sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, she held her handbag against her chest as if it were a shield offering protection.

Not that she'd need it against him; she wasn't his type. She was lean and athletic. He preferred his women to be of the buxom variety.

And, come to think of it, he might not be her type either. She seemed to have a preference for Brandi Evans' company.

"Where are we going to eat?" Minx asked, turning her dark eyed gaze on him.

Minx. What a helluva name. She hadn't like it when he used it. Her plump lips had turned down imperceptibly. He'd noticed though. It was his job to be observant.

He stopped at a light and looked over at her again. "I thought since we both seem to gravitate toward Valentin's, we'd go there."

She didn't comment. By the narrowing of her eyes, he could tell she was in a snit. Perhaps he couldn't blame her. She'd just eaten at the bistro last night, although she wasn't aware that he knew that fact.

He parked alongside Valentin's and turned off the engine before noticing the sign on the door proclaiming the bistro to be closed.

"That's strange," he said, more to himself than to the woman.

"It certainly is," she agreed. "I was just here last night. I sure hope it's not closed permanently."

Gabe started up the car again. "Maybe Valentin had an emergency." Whatever was the reason, he'd have to check it out. Later.

So now what? This little tête-à-tête with Minx Tobin was turning out to be a really lousy idea.

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

Hope you enjoy!

Susanne Marie Knight

Read outside the box: award-winning Romance Writing With A Twist

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