A SESTERCE FOR HER THOUGHTS--new Roman Time-Travel (excerpt PG)



Get ready for a trip back in time nearly 2,000 years to of Rome’s invasion of Britain!

A SESTERCE FOR HER THOUGHTS

Author: Susanne Marie Knight

Genre: Ancient Roman Time-Travel Romance

Available electronically at Amazon.com and Smashwords.com.
Price: $4.99

Buy links:

In Print:

Blurb:
An ancient coin transports Olivia two thousand years back in time to the Roman invasion of Britannia and into the arms of a hunky legion commander!

A SESTERCE FOR HER THOUGHTS:
Olivia Kent knows a brass sesterce is an ancient Roman coin with a value roughly calculated to be one fourth of a day’s pay. What she doesn’t know is that one particular sesterce is going to transport her two thousand years back in time to 43 AD and Rome’s invasion of Britannia. With the help of a Druid priestess, Olivia dresses as a Roman soldier, and meets Emperor Claudius, along with a handsome legion commander. She changes both of their lives for the better... and her own as well. But here’s her dilemma: should she remain back in the first century where she can make a difference? Or should she take a chance and try to return to her own time?

A QUARTER FOR HIS THOUGHTS:
Quintus Antonius Avitus, commander of Legio XX Valeria Victrix, has served Rome faithfully but is weary of war. On this invasion, he comes across a puny, injured soldier, Livius. The soldier states that he is an American from a land to the west of Britannia--which is impossible since there are no lands past Britannia. But Livius is full of surprises, and also turns out to be a comely female named Olivia. Perhaps she is telling the truth? She is unlike any woman he has known. However, she insists that she cannot stay and must return to her home, despite the fact that Claudius wants her to accompany him to Rome. Quintus is torn: omnia vincit amor facit--does love conquer all? Or should he continue to auxilio imperatoris--help his Emperor?

Scene Set-Up:
Quintus Antonius Avitus, commander of Rome’s Legio XX, comes across a puny lad being assaulted by guards. Quintus carries the hurt boy to his own sleeping room so he can tend to the injuries. He has no idea that the boy is really a twenty-first century woman, Olivia Kent, who just time-traveled back to 43 AD.

Excerpt:
Quintus took the few steps over to the fallen boy. He got down on one knee, and then, turning the lad over, he grimaced. Even with the helmet’s chin flap-guards, the young soldier had been cuffed across the face a few times. He looked the worse for wear--eyes swollen shut, cheeks bruised the colors of a rainbow, harsh breathing as if the action of taking a breath could hurt.

Perhaps ribcage damage. This boy had been harmed for the amusement of Quintus’ men.

Damn it to Hades.

Naturally, he felt responsible. Lifting up the boy as carefully as he could, he marveled at how light this willow thin creature was.

With a groan, the lad’s eyes cracked open. His eyes were blue... a bloodied blue, the color of blue-grey storm clouds. On seeing Quintus, the boy’s eyes widened.

Quintus gentled his voice. “Do not be alarmed. You are safe now. A doctor will tend to your wounds.”

If possible, the lad’s eyes grew wider but he did not speak. He did, however, bite his lower lip.

Quintus carried the injured bundle into the tent, bypassing the conference room for his own sleeping room. There was, of course, a hospital, a valetudinarium, based in the camp for the troops. But for some reason he wanted to oversee treatment for this boy. And the very best medical treatment meant using the Emperor’s physician, Xenophon.

Entering the room, he carefully set the injured bundle on the bed. His body slave must have heard sounds for he walked into the room and then spotted the boy. He stared down at him.

“Demetrius, I need some warm water and clean cloths. And fetch Xenophon. Tell him he has a new patient.”

The slave quickly left to accomplish his tasks. Quintus then reached down to unlatch the flap-guards under the chin, but the boy moved away in alarm.

“Do not fear. You will not be harmed. Allow me to take off your helmet so your injuries can be tended to.”

The boy started to sit up, but made a soft groan and fell back against the plush pillows on the bed. Those dastardly guards must have kicked him in the ribs.

Quintus pressed down on the lad’s shoulders. “Stay. Allow me to help you.”

No words but the boy bit his lower lip again.

Taking that response as an affirmative, Quintus then removed the helmet. By the gods, multi-colored bruises, blood flowing freely from gashes, swollen and split lips, and blackened eyes... the lad was so disfigured, his own mother would not have recognized him.

“What is your name, boy?”

In a low voice, the answer came haltingly. “My name is Liv-Livius. And you?”

Not only was Livius’ pronunciation barbaric, but he had to have been one of the few people on this good Gaia who were unaware of Quintus’ name and position. This confirmed the belief that despite the uniform, Livius was not a legionnaire nor a member of auxiliary units.

“Quintus Antonius Avitus, commander of Legio XX Valeria Victrix. Why are you here, Livius?”

The boy stammered again. “N-No... harm. I b-bear a gift for Caesar.” He pronounced Caesar incorrectly.” Perhaps he realized that for he then clarified, “For Claudius.”

“A gift?” This ragamuffin believed he had a gift worthy of an emperor?

Quintus ran his gaze over the boy’s inconsequential form. The leather armor and pleated under-skirt was of a pattern common in the days of Gaius Julius Caesar over one hundred years ago. Unusual, to say the least. The cloth tunica underneath was unbleached linen, so that was unremarkable, as was the over-the-shoulder belt--standard issue. But the breeches...

Setting aside the wet cloth, Quintus felt the material on the boy’s thigh. The lad almost jumped in the air.

“Steady on,” he soothed. “Your breeches are made of very fine fabric. Soft and sturdy. How very peculiar.”

Then his gaze fastened on Livius’ sandals. And yet they were like no sandals that Quintus had ever seen before. The entire foot was covered with a material akin to leather, but then not like leather at all.

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

I hope you enjoy Olivia’s and Quintus’ unusual story!

Susanne Marie Knight
Read outside the box: award-winning Romance Writing with a Twist!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


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Ariadne’s Diary: I’m in Love with my Teacher! #Lesbian #Erotica by @GiselleRenarde

Ariadne’s Diary
I’m in Love with my Teacher!
by Giselle Renarde
Series: The Lesbian Diaries
Book: 1


Ariadne is desperate for love, and she wants her teacher to give it to her.

Ms. Bambini’s about as buxom as they come. Just the sight of her in those silky white blouses and black leather skirts sends Ariadne’s brain to fantasy land. How can anyone be expected to concentrate with Ms. Bambini at the head of the class?

When Ariadne’s grades slip into the danger zone, Ms. Bambini offers up some most unusual tutoring sessions. Ariadne never imagined her life would head down such a torrid path, but will Ms. Bambini’s help become Ariadne’s downfall?

Lesbian fiction from award-winning queer Canadian author Giselle Renarde.


Buy Now from Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/958701?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=vOOvDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07XZJ9FBT?tag=dondes-20
BN: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1133609166?ean=2940163338610
...and many more ebook retailers!

Read at Radish: https://radish.app.link/0FAhbwlh6Z

EXCERPT:
Dear Diary,

I did it again.

I said I wouldn’t, but you know how it goes. Happens often enough.

There I was, sitting in class, waiting for Ms. Bambini to hand around our tests, when I got The Need between my legs. You know The Need: the one I can’t ignore, no matter how hard I try?

It doesn’t make sense. By that point in the day, I’d already run home to get off real fast. That was during lunch hour. You know Ms. Bambini’s class is right after lunch.

You’d think if I got myself off good enough, the satisfaction would last for an hour, at least. So why doesn’t it? Why does this keep happening to me?

The Need is ruining my life!

When Ms. Bambini came around with a stack of tests pressed to her big, beautiful breasts, all I could think was: ‘Oh, to be that paper! To be a flat, white nothingness that disappears into the mundane! A woman of Ms. Bambini’s ample assets would press me against her heaving bosom and not think twice about it!’

In my next life, I want to come back as paper.

Ms. Bambini set my test face-down on my desk. She flashed me a sympathetic smile as she walked by. You know better than anyone how crappy my marks have been this year. And clearly it’s not because I can’t write words on a page! Look! I’m doing it right now! I fill you with thoughts every day, Dear Diary: thoughts in word form, from my pen to your ears. Obviously I’m capable of doing it.

Thing is, when I’m sitting there in class and Ms. Bambini’s standing at the board talking about Ma and Pa Joad, it’s like I can’t even force myself to listen. I’m just staring at those gorgeous, golden breasts.

Her breasts are often swaddled in black bras, you know. Black, even when her blouse is light-coloured like it was today: creamy, shot with strands of golden thread. Her black skirt came down to her knees. So tight and form-fitting. It showcased her ass like you wouldn’t believe.
If you want to see a generously-proportioned hour-glass figure, take a look at Ms. Bambini. She’ll put your eye out.

Oh great! Now I’ve got The Need again. I can’t even get through telling you one story without The Need coming back. But you know what? I’m just going to cross my legs and think of England, or however that goes, because I really want to tell you what happened today.

Buy Now from Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/958701?ref=GiselleRenardeErotica
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=vOOvDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07XZJ9FBT?tag=dondes-20
BN: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1133609166?ean=2940163338610
...and many more ebook retailers!

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Re-Release of A CONTINENTAL MARRIAGE (PG excerpt)




Golden Wings Award WINNER--Best Overall Historical Romance Read


Re-Released! A Regency Romance Family Favorite!


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

Buy link:

Available electronically at:



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 is 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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Re-Released: The Science Fiction Romance ALIEN HEAT (PG excerpt)



Re-Released! A Futuristic Science Fiction Romance Family Favorite!

ALIEN HEAT

Author: Susanne Marie Knight

Genre: Science Fiction Romance

Price: $3.99

Buy Link:
Available electronically at:

Blurb:
All women love these flowers... but the feeling's *not* mutual.

AN ALIEN INVASION
A cataclysmic bombardment by meteorites drastically alter Earth's atmosphere... and bring strange alien plants that have a mind of their own. Because of “mutant” powers, only Glyneth recognizes the threat these Venusian flowers pose not just to humans, but to Earth itself.

AN HONORABLE DILEMMA
Major Lucas Jefferson reluctantly abducts Glyneth as a breeder for his country. But "Lady Bulldog" teaches him that might is not always right. Can he learn from this villager to fulfill the ancient prophecy of uniting the old ways with the new?

Scene Set-Up:
Major Lucas Jefferson's mission is to invade a "primitive" village and abduct women. In this scene, Glyneth, the unwilling victim, escapes, but then returns to help him after he has been knocked unconscious by an outside force.

Excerpt:
When Glyneth reached for the binding cloth, the man held onto her wrist with an unrelenting grip. “No. Stay. I must... thank you.” His uniform shirt was tight without the armor, and through the thin material she saw bulging biceps, powerful pectorals, and a host of manly muscles.

She gulped down hard. She felt so strange around this man. Unfamiliar emotions stabbed at her, causing confusion.

No! This won’t do. I must control myself.

She took a deep breath, then glanced at her hand, neatly imprisoned within his grasp. “Perhaps you can thank me by releasing me?”

He let her go, but continued to pinion her to the spot with his mesmerizing gaze. “This much I can do. As for allowing you to return to your village, no. That would not be for the best.”

“It would be best for me.” Warily eying him, she took a chance on his weakened state and sat a yard away from him.

“No,” he repeated as if his word was law. “You will be honored in my province of Columont. Doubly so because you rescued an heir of the ten sons of Canusa.”

The ten sons of Canusa. Glyneth scratched at the fake scar on her forehead, then released her hair from the restricting ponytail. Not having her head covered in a man’s presence made her feel extremely vulnerable.

Canusa, he had said. Somehow, that word sounded familiar. “Who is Canusa? Does that mean you are a prince?”

“The original Canusa was the most holy of holies. Out of the ten sons--or the ten ruling families--one is elected to reign as the new Canusa.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, then winced with pain, probably because of his upper arm. “It is true, I am nobly born.”

“Not a true warrior then.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I thought so.”

His eyes narrowed, glittering dangerously. “You wound me again, woman. Make no mistake, you shall not escape me a second time.”

“You’re in no condition to threaten me! Sweet Christmas, I saved your life! Allow me to return home and we can call the debt paid.” Standing, she pointed her finger at him in an accusing manner. “Believe me, I don’t want your double honor.”

Before she could blink, he was on his feet, towering over her. With one quick movement, he twisted her arm against her back. “We shall call it paid now. By rights I should kill you for your insults.”

Oh, how her arm did hurt. But she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. “Kill me because of words?” Due to his superior height, she lifted her head up to stare long and hard at his cold, blue eyes. “You come from a savage people.”

“Savage?” he shot back. “That is ironic coming from an uncivilized villager.”

“Well, if being civilized means going around stealing women, you’re right. We’re not civilized.”

The man paused. Raking his gaze over her, he released her arm, then did a quick walkabout where they stood, scanning the rock formations in the dark. “Raiding your village is not something we wish to do but it is necessary for our survival.”

“And so that makes it acceptable, hmmn?” For some perverse reason, she was enjoying herself. Fighting with words was far more exhilarating than thrusting with swords.

He ran his hand over his unbandaged hair and changed the subject. “You look different, woman.”

If she wasn’t scared before, the peculiar gleam in his eyes scared her now. “It’s nighttime, in case you haven’t noticed. Everything looks different in the dark. “If you’ll excuse me--”

Cold metal snapped painfully hard against her left wrist. It was a silver bracelet, cruelly imprisoning her. He snapped a duplicate one, connected by a chain, on his own wrist. “Handcuffs,” he explained. “So you cannot refuse the honor waiting for you back at my province.”

Wild, fiery fury consumed her. “How dare you--”

“I dare anything to bring my prize back to Columont.” With his free hand, he rubbed his forehead. “Good offensive move, by the way. Called a head butt, I believe. By thunder, it still hurts. But not as much as the blow....”

He yanked on the handcuffs, pulling her along. “Never mind. Come. We will find a spot to rest for the remainder of the night. I could use a good sleep.”

Trailing behind like a stubborn mule, she dug in her heels, but it was no use. She was no match for his strength, even in his weakened, fevered state.

The man headed for an area soft with undulating sand. “Your actions do your village proud. Plucky little thing.” He sat down, giving her no choice but to follow suit. “I was not wrong to select you. Quite an improvement without those bulldog cheeks. Your color has also improved, but you could use more padding on your bones.”

She flared her nostrils. “Let me go.”

Instead of answering, he reached over and flattened his palm against her breast.

“Get away from me, you... you beast!” Tears springing to her eyes, she shoved him away with her unshackled hand. 

Surprisingly, he did not pursue her, but settled down into the sand. “That is rather difficult to do with handcuffs binding us. No matter. I am relieved to know you have more padding on your chest than I originally thought. Your future mate will be pleased.”

How could she lie down next to this monster? Imbuing her words with all the venom she felt, she hissed, “I hate you.”

Although his eyes were closed, he curved his lips into a smile. “I know. Good-night.”

And blast the man, but the next minute, he started snoring!

Glyneth chewed on the fingernails of her free hand, trying to figure her next move. She raised her left arm, only to drag his arm up, too. There was nothing else to do but ease down on the sand and close her eyes. The man had won this round. But, she still had hope. As the ancient saying went, tomorrow was another day.

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

Hope you enjoy!

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

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(PG Excerpt) Promo: Revisiting THE RELUCTANT LANDLORD



Re-Released! A Regency Romance Family Favorite!

THE RELUCTANT LANDLORD. New Cover!

Author: Susanne Marie Knight

Genre: Regency

Available electronically at Amazon.com and  Smashwords.com

Price: $3.99

Buy link:
Available electronically at:

Blurb:
A BATTLE OF WILLS
Impoverished Katrina Jones is determined to earn a living by pursuing a career. Her landlord, The Earl of Udall, has other ideas for her. Can she set aside her fears about marriage and learn that trust goes hand in hand with love?

A THORN IN HIS SIDE...
Quentin Thornhill, the Earl of Udall, is used to having his own way. When the delightful Katrina inadvertently thwarts his plans to install his latest mistress at his newly-won lodging, he begins to realize that not all females are as devious as the women he has known. Can he overcome his cynicism and give his heart to this young and innocent silhouettist?

Scene Set-Up:
The Earl of Udall is inconvenienced when he finds Katrina and her great aunt living in the rental house that he just won. He arrogantly believes Katrina will take his money and go elsewhere.

Excerpt:
Reaching into his waistcoat, he pulled out a small blue pouch. So intent was he with the pouch, that he did not notice he also pulled out a black velvet box. It dropped to the uncarpeted floor without making a sound.
She pointed to the box. “You drop--”
“These guineas will reimburse you for any hardships you believe you have suffered.” The Earl jiggled the blue sack.
With a shrug, he threw the pouch next to her feet.
He obviously thought his business was concluded, for he strode to a looking-glass on the wall, then adjusted his cravat.
Katrina narrowed her gaze. So Lord Udall thought he had disposed of her, hmmn? Neatly bribing her so that he could install his latest mistress at this address. Taking a look at her mother’s portrait, Katrina straightened her shoulders. I think not.
Picking up the coin sack, she sauntered over to the Earl. After rearranging his cravat, he realigned the stripes on the painted buttons of his tail-coat.
She raised her gaze. Faith, what a dandy!
Preoccupied with his image, he did not see her. She hurled the bag at his chest.
He flinched from the blow, then caught the coins. “What the devil!”
“Lord Udall.” She gave him a smile of her own, albeit a little shaky. “I am not accepting your money for a simple reason--my great aunt and I are not leaving this house.”
Balling his fists, he tightened his square jaw, giving her a stare that would quell the dead. “Indeed?”
Behind her back, Katrina crossed her fingers. She would not let him intimidate her! “My great aunt and I signed a lease with the Dowager Countess of Udall in good faith. As far as I am concerned, it is a legal document. I am afraid you will have to evict us.”
“By God! You cannot be serious!”
His disbelief amused her. Obviously this man rarely faced opposition. It would do him good to experience a setdown or two.
She tried to keep her lips from curving upward. “Oh, but I am, my lord. Quite serious.”

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

Hope you enjoy!

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

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