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Highland Lover by Maeve Greyson

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My Highland Lover
Highland Hearts # 1

By: Maeve Greyson

Releasing March 24th, 2015

Loveswept

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 Maeve Greyson unleashes a thrilling tale of magic and desire as a feisty Southern gal falls into the arms of a rough-hewn Highland chieftain.

 As the proprietor of a homeopathic store in rural Kentucky, Trulie Sinclair knows that her neighbors think she’s strange—but they have no idea how strange she really is. Trulie was born in Scotland in the thirteenth century to a line of time-traveling Highlanders. When Trulie’s grandmother convinces her to return to their homeland, Trulie jumps back in time, right onto the powerful chest of Gray MacKenna. Just as his steely good looks send ripples through her body, their fierce attraction will send ripples through the ages.

After his parents murdered, Gray is consumed by thoughts of revenge. As the new chieftain of the MacKenna clan, he has reason to believe that there’s a traitor in his midst, and nothing—not even the bonny lass who suddenly drops from the sky—can distract him from his single-minded pursuit of the culprit. But when Gray learns that this sassy beauty possesses gifts beyond the sparkle in her eye, he allows his gaze, and his heart, to linger. While he hunts for the murderer, Gray finds in Trulie a precious companion—and a timeless love.

After his parents murdered, Gray is consumed by thoughts of revenge. As the new chieftain of the MacKenna clan, he has reason to believe that there’s a traitor in his midst, and nothing—not even the bonny lass who suddenly drops from the sky—can distract him from his single-minded pursuit of the culprit. But when Gray learns that this sassy beauty possesses gifts beyond the sparkle in her eye, he allows his gaze, and his heart, to linger. While he hunts for the murderer, Gray finds in Trulie a precious companion—and a timeless love.

Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/01/my-highland-lover-highland-hearts-1-by.html

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23167115-my-highland-lover?from_search=true

Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/137240-highland-hearts

 

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Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/My-Highland-Lover-Hearts-ebook/dp/B00N6PD7E2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1419038015&sr=8-1&keywords=my+highland+lover

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/my-highland-lover-maeve-greyson/1120261297?ean=9780553395099

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Note from Aubrey Wynne: Due to my technological deficiencies, I was not able to master Netgalley until this week. I plan on reviewing My Highland Lover but could not finish reading it in time for this post. But if the first few chapters are any indication, I may have a new favorite highland author. My sincere apologies to the lovely Maeve Greyson.  

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About The Author 

No one has the power to shatter your dreams unless you give it to them. That’s been Maeve Greyson’s mantra since she was a girl. When she’s not at the full time day job at the steel mill, Maeve’s writing romances about sexy Highlanders and the women who tame them. Tucked away in a five acre wood, Maeve listens to the wind singing through the trees and hears her characters telling their stories. Her work is proofed by her sharp-eyed dog, Jasper, and her greatest supporter is her long suffering husband of over thirty-five years who’s learned not to throw away any odd sticky notes filled with strange phrases.

 

Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Google+

Website: http://www.maevegreyson.com/

 

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMaeveGreyson
Twitter:  http://twitter.com/maevegreyson

 

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+MaeveGreyson

 

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Hannah Howell: Highland Guard

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Highland Guard

Murray Family # 20

By: Hannah Howell

Releasing March 3rd, 2015

Zebra

New York Times bestselling author Hannah Howell brings back the daring Murray family in a brand-new tale of dangerous love rekindled. . .

Lady Annys MacQueen has no other choice. The deception that enabled her to keep her lands safe is on the verge of being revealed by a cruel kinsman. To shield her young son from the sword and her people from devastation, she must turn to the one man she could never forget. . .

He lives for duty and honor. So the only way Sir Harcourt Murray could repay the laird who saved his life was to agree to father a child with Sir MacQueen’s wife. . .Lady Annys. Now the passion he still feels for the lovely strong-willed widow is as all-consuming and perilous as securing her lands. But to convince her that his love is forever real means confronting her most wrenching fears–and putting everything they treasure most at stake. .

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About Hannah Howell

Hannah D. Howell is a highly regarded and prolific romance writer. Since Amber Flame, her first historical romance, was released in February 1988, she has published 25 novels and short stories, with more on the way. Her writing has been repeatedly recognized for its excellence and has “made Waldenbooks Romance Bestseller list a time or two” as well as was nominated twice by Romantic Times for Best Medieval Romance (Promised Passion and Elfking’s Lady). She has also won Romantic Times’ Best British Isles Historical Romance for Beauty and the Beast; and, in 1991-92 she received Romantic Times’ Career Achievement Award for Historical Storyteller of the Year.

Hannah was born and raised in Massachusetts (the maternal side of her family has been there since the 1630’s). She has been married to her husband Stephen for 28 years, who she met in England while visiting relatives, and decided to import him. They have two sons Samuel, 27, and Keir, 24. She is addicted to crocheting, reads and plays piano, attempts to garden, and collects things like dolls, faerie and cat figurines, and music boxes. She also seems to collect cats, as she now has four of them, Clousseau, Banshee, Spooky, and Oliver Cromwell.

Author Links:

Website: http://hannahhowell.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorHannahHowell

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/97228.Hannah_Howell

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Excerpt:

Harcourt looked at Annys and his heart actually skipped a beat. He would have laughed if he was not so filled with conflicting emotions. Such happenings were the stuff of bad poetry, the sort of thing he had always made jest of. Yet, there he stood, rooted to the spot, frantically thinking of what to say and how to hide the tangled mass of emotion that was nearly choking him. He nodded a greeting to her and watched her beautiful moss-green eyes narrow in a look that did not bode well for an amiable talk later. Talking was not what he was thinking about, however. He was recalling how soft that long blood-red hair of hers was, how warm her pale skin felt beneath his hands, and how sweet those full lips tasted. That was a memory he needed to smother and fast.

“Are matters as bad as young Ian indicated?” he asked Nicolas, and inwardly winced when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Annys cross her arms under her breasts.

“Aye,” Nicolas replied. “We can have that talk with her ladyship in attendance as soon as we get all of you sorted.”

Harcourt nodded and turned his attention to seeing to the matter. Once the horses were taken care of, their supplies unloaded and carted away, he knew the time had come to actually face Annys. He took a deep breath and started toward her where she still stood on the steps only to come to a halt when a small child rushed by him and ran up to pull at her skirts.

“Maman! Ye got us more soldiers.”

“I did, Benet. I thought it might help stop all the trouble we have been having.”

The moment the child turned to look at him, Harcourt clenched his fists at his side. The boy’s eyes were a match for his own. Bright amber eyes watched him closely and Harcourt fought against the urge to shout out his claim to this child. He had given up all rights. It had been the debt owed for his life. He could feel the eyes of his companions fixed upon him though and knew he would be facing a lot of questions.

It took every ounce of strength he had to start walking again. He stepped up until he was standing just below Annys and the boy. It was easy to read the fear in her eyes. Young Benet’s eye color was not an exact match with his and could be attributed to the tiny gold specks in her eyes or just a different shade of the brown David’s eyes had been. The boy’s hair was black but so had David’s been. As long as he did not say or do something to give the secret away, all would be fine. Yet, Harcourt knew it was going to be a long hard battle not to reach out and claim his son.

“M’lady,” he said and took her hand in his to brush a kiss over her knuckles.

That tiny soft hand trembled slightly in his grasp and his body reacted to the sign that she was not as indifferent to his presence as she appeared to be. Harcourt knew it would be unwise to try to begin an affair with her but he was not sure he was strong enough to resist if she gave him even the smallest hint that she would welcome his attention.

“Sir Harcourt,” she said and nodded as she almost yanked her hand out of his grasp. “Where is Ian?”

“He was injured in his travels. Nay badly, but I thought it best if he remained at Gormfeurach for a while. He is being given the best of care.”

“Thank you for that. I was most concerned when he did not return.” She turned slightly and took Benet by the hand. “Shall we go to the hall where you can quench your thirst and have some food while we talk?”

Annys fought to keep from racing into the keep, putting as much distance between her and Sir Harcourt as she could. The touch of his lips on her hand had nearly undone her hard-won composure. It had been five years since she had felt his touch yet the moment his flesh met hers, even in the innocence of a proper greeting, her mind had gone back to those nights by the burn.

Guilt left a sour taste in her mouth. David was barely cold in his grave and she was allowing herself to weaken at the touch of another man’s hand. What had happened between her and Harcourt had been wrong, even if it had been condoned by David. She nearly laughed. Condoned? It had been meticulously arranged. David had been the sweetest, kindest man she had ever known but he had also been a man who would not hesitate to do whatever was needed to get what he wanted. He had wanted a son.

She glanced down at Benet who kept looking back at the men following them into the keep. Until she had seen Harcourt again, she had not allowed herself to even think on how much Benet looked like the man. All she could do was pray no one else noticed, especially since there had been the faintest similarities in coloring between David and Harcourt. She would also have to be very watchful for even the smallest possibility that she or Harcourt were giving the secret away in how they treated the boy.

“M’lady,” Joan whispered in her ear as they entered the hall and pulled away from the men who went to wash their hands, “it is not as clear to see as ye think it is.”

“I pray ye are right, Joan.”

“I am. I only see it because of what I ken and I have ne’er heard a whisper that would tell me anyone else here kens the truth or that those who may would e’er say a word. So, ye just be careful in what ye say and do and all will be weel.”

Annys wished she had the confidence in that that Joan had. The looks on the faces of the men who had come with Harcourt, looks the men were doing a pitiful job of hiding, told her that they noticed something already. She prayed Harcourt would have a stern word with them all.

“Allow me to introduce my companions, m’lady,” Harcourt said once they were all seated. “This is Sir Callum MacMillan, Sir Tamhas Cameron, Sir Nathan MacFingal, Sir Ned MacFingal, and Sir Gybbon Murray.”

Annys nodded a greeting to each man as he was introduced. Two redheads, a brunet, and three raven-haired men. All handsome. All warriors. All tall and fit. It was not going to be easy to stop the maidens of the keep from seeking them out. They were, however, a treasure of skill and strength she could not turn away, no matter how much she worried over the chance that her secret might come out.

“I thank you all for coming,” she said. “Please, eat, drink, and we can talk once ye take the edge off your thirst and hunger.”

The only conversation that ensued as the men ate concerned the journey they had taken. Gormfeurach was not as far away as Annys had thought, although far enough when one half of the partners in a huge secret were concerned. She ate very little, her stomach tied in knots, as she struggled to push aside all worry about what might or might not be exposed by Sir Harcourt’s presence. The people of Glencullaich needed these men. They had to take precedence over all of her fears.

As she sipped her wine she glanced between Harcourt on her left and Nicolas on her right. Both were extraordinarily handsome men yet she experienced not one single twinge of womanly interest when she studied Nicolas. Hair the color of dark wood, gray eyes, and a strong body were all things that could please a woman but, although she did like the look of him, nothing else stirred inside her. Harcourt stirred everything inside of her and not all of it was good. The warmth was side by side with the chilling fear of secrets being uncovered. The need was side by side with the guilt for having given in to it even with the urging of her husband. The pleasure of seeing him again sat side by side with a lingering anger over the way he had left her. Somehow she had to clear her heart and mind of all the confusion.

Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/01/highland-guard-murray-family-20-by.html

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22459021-highland-guard?from_search=true

Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/41630-murray-family

Tarah Scott's To Tame A Highland Earl

TARAH SCOTT

tscott@tarahscott.com

 WEBSITE | BLOG | FACEBOOK | TWITTER

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 Award winning author Tarah Scott cut her teeth on authors such as Georgette Heyer, Zane Grey, and Amanda Quick. Her favorite book is a Tale of Two Cities, with Gone With the Wind as a close second. She writes modern classical romance, and paranormal and romantic suspense. Tarah grew up in Texas and currently resides in Westchester County, New York with her daughter.

 

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 To Tame a Highland Earl

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 A man torn between two worlds. Both need him…neither wants him.

 Groomed for a life amongst the English aristocracy, Lord Erroll Rushton is unexpectedly thrust back into his father’s Scottish world when the Englishwoman he compromises refuses to marry him.

No gentleman breaks into a lady’s bedchamber…but then, no lady sleeps with a pistol under her pillow.

 Miss Eve Crenshaw will marry for love or won’t marry at all. When London’s most notorious rakehell breaks into her bedchamber in the dead of night and compromises her beyond repair, Eve plans a daring escape that shocks even the Earl.

 

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To Tame a Highland Earl

My newest book, To Tame a Highland Earl: A MacLean Highlander Novel, is now available for preorder for the sale price of $2.99.

 Excerpt–

March 1807

Manchester, England

If ever a woman deserved to be shot, it was Miss Crenshaw. But dawn appointments weren’t meant for the weaker sex. Weaker sex. The lady was anything but weak, which is why Erroll intended to throttle her.

Erroll laid a shilling in the innkeeper’s palm. “You understand the need for discretion.”

“Indeed, I do, my lord,” the man replied. “Your betrothed’s reputation is safe with me.”

Erroll managed to maintain a bland expression as the innkeeper handed him the key to the lady’s room. So news of his impending nuptials had sped from Coventry to Manchester even quicker than he had—which meant London society would hear the news by morning light and the story would cross the border to Edinburgh just as quickly.

Which of the gossipmongers had he to thank for that? He was grateful to the heavenly powers that his mother had remained in Scotland and not accompanied his father to England this month. God help him if she got wind of this entanglement before he had a chance to extricate himself from the tenacious claw of the husband-hunting wench.

“A beautiful woman is hard to resist,” the innkeeper said.

“Indeed,” Erroll murmured, glad the man had interrupted the mental picture of his mother outfitting the deceitful huntress in her wedding dress. No bachelor’s mother was more determined to see her son wed than Erroll’s own dear mamma, and since his return from the navy, his father had put his considerable weight behind her efforts.

He whirled toward the stairs, climbed to the second floor and made a left down the hall. At the third door on the left, he stopped. Erroll had endured his father’s hour-long diatribe that ended with the command to marry the woman who had accused him of compromising her—a woman he’d never laid eyes on—before he finally broke away to discover his accuser had fled Coventry. The hard five hour ride to catch her before she reached her father’s estate would have been in vain if not for the fact a wheel on her carriage broke forty miles distance from Manchester.

This experience would teach him to dally with the women outside of London. Had he satisfied himself with the eligible ladies in Town—if those females could be called ladies—he wouldn’t have gone to Coventry and attended the damn house party that had gotten him into trouble. The fact he’d spent a pleasurable hour with a lady in the hostess’ gardens had only served to put him in the very place his accuser said he’d been. Erroll felt sure the cunning creature was well aware he’d been in the gardens, and therefore claimed to be the object of his attentions.

Erroll quietly unlocked the door, slipped into the darkened room, then eased the door shut and slipped the key into his pocket. Faint moonlight filtered in through thin curtains and outlined the sleeping figure in the bed. Erroll crept forward until he reached the bed. He braced a knee against the side of the mattress, then placed a hand on each side of the woman and brought his face to within an inch of hers.

She shifted in her sleep and lush breasts grazed his chest. He wondered how long it would be before she became aware a man was in her bed, then concluded that since she hadn’t awoken with a shriek she must be accustomed to having a man in her bed. He should ravish her as she’d said he had just for good measure. The thought froze at the pressure of a pistol jammed against his abdomen.

“I am a crack shot.” The feminine voice was steady—as was the hand holding the gun. “But even the worst shot in Great Britain couldn’t miss.” The gun dug deeper into his belly. “Move away.”

Erroll considered. Her calm response to his presence almost made him think she’d expected him. “If I’m to be shot, I should at least commit the crime for which I’m accused.” The click of the pistol’s hammer being pulled back was his answer. “I see you do not agree.” He straightened off the bed.

“Step back,” she ordered.

He retreated two paces.

“More.”

He moved back another two paces.

“I promise you, sir, my aim is as true at such short a distance as it was when you were an inch from my face. Back against the door.”

Erroll complied. A light click indicated she had released the hammer back into place. She rose, a small figure in the shadows, and picked up something from the night table. The clink of glass was followed by the scrape of a match on wood, then light flared and he got his first look at the woman who claimed he had ravished away her innocence. Dark brown eyes pinned him with a hard stare. Honey-brown hair tumbled down her shoulders. The top of her head was no higher than his chest.

The muff pistol remained pointed at him as her attention shifted to the lamp on the nightstand. She bent slightly and her full breasts strained against the nightgown as she lit the wick. His cock jerked and he couldn’t deny his good fortune in not having met her at Lady Baldwin’s party. He very well might have fallen prey to her charms and been guilty of her accusations.

She blew out the match and tossed it onto a metal tray, then took a step toward him. The lamplight illuminated the outline of her body through the nightgown. The curves he discerned were fuller than were fashionable and the kind he’d sought without success. His cock began to lift. He might end up shot after all.

“You are no common housebreaker,” she said. “Who are you?”

Erroll’s mind snapped to attention. The wench didn’t recognize him. Fury doused his lust. He gave a mocking smile and bowed. “Lord Erroll Rushton, at your service.”

Shock registered on her face, then an answering fire appeared in her eyes. “I see we shall have to break you of the habit of entering a lady’s room uninvited.”

“You use the term lady too loosely.”

“That is the pot calling the kettle black.”

He nearly laughed.

“One would think a prospective groom could keep his cock in his pants with his wedding but two days hence,” she said.

“Three days,” Erroll corrected. That was how long it would take him to get the special license his father ordered him to procure. “Pray tell, what sort of lady carries a gun?” He didn’t ask what lady used the word ‘cock’ as easily as the word ‘groom?’ That was perhaps too obvious.

“The sort who knows what to expect of a man,” she replied.

“The very sort who understands a man might object to being forced into marriage?” he said.

She gave a derisive laugh. “You are a rakehell, sir.”

“I never denied being a rake, madam, but I am no liar.”

She wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d been told this was to be her second season, but this woman was no debutante and, given the way she unabashedly stood before him in her nightclothes, he would wager she was no virgin.

“Surely, you’re a little old for this game?” he drawled.

Her brow knit, but he detected no shame. She was too collected. But a level head—along with a liberal dose of nerve—is exactly what it took to accuse a complete stranger of compromising her.

“Did you really think you could get away with it?” she asked.

The question startled him.

“Now who is the pot calling the kettle black?” he said. She shifted and Erroll could have sworn he discerned a dark patch between her legs. “A shame we met under these circumstances.” He flicked a glance at her breasts. “We could have been friends.”

Her mouth thinned. “By God, I really should shoot you.”

“Tut tut, love, not until the vows are said and I claim what is left of your virtue.”

She drew in a sharp breath.

“Your righteous anger is completely undone by the fact that you’re nearly naked.”

Her mouth twisted in a derisive smile. “Forgive me, my lord. Had I known you were coming, I would have dressed for the occasion.”

“You are impeccably dressed for the occasion.”

Did she have any idea how visible the contours of her body were with the lamplight behind her…or how her nipples pressed against her nightgown? She shifted, widening her stance slightly and his cock jerked harder. Oh yes, the witch knew.

“I should send you to hell this instant,” she said.

He lifted a brow. “The marriage vows will take care of that—had I any intentions of marrying.”

“My father will ensure that you do not escape this time.”

“That sounds as though you think I am getting what I deserve.”

“You do not deserve such a good and innocent wife.”

Erroll laughed. “Innocent? A woman who puts herself in such a position is no innocent.”

“How dare you?” she hissed.

“How dare I? I understand there were several suitors for the honorable Miss Crenshaw’s attentions at Lady Baldwin’s party. I wager none of them were as good a prospect as I, which is why you gambled that no one would notice if I was included on that list.”

He didn’t miss the way her fingers flexed on the gun.

“Everything I’ve heard about you is true,” she said. “You have no conscience.”

“In that we are alike. Should my father succeed in coercing me into marriage, I will make the worst sort of husband you can imagine. I will not settle down and sire an heir as he expects. Instead, I will send my wife to the family estate in Scotland while I go about my pleasures in London.”

“So the choice is desertion or ruination?”

“Be honest, the ruination was done long before you concocted this plan.”

“Plan?” she repeated. “I feel certain I can convince the magistrate of self-defense. After all, you broke into my room.”

“Think again.” Erroll reached into his pocket.

“Beware,” she said.

He slowly withdrew the key from his pocket and held it up. “The innkeeper was very obliging. He feels nothing should stand in the way of true love.”

She frowned, then comprehension cleared her expression. “I should have guessed. You think you can browbeat me into helping you avoid the marriage vows. You, sir, are the worst sort of knave.”

“So we do understand one another.”

“You are a fool,” she muttered.

He’d had enough. “You are the fool if you believe I will marry you.”

“Marry me? What—”

Erroll started toward her.

She took a faltering step backwards and he lunged. She gave a startled cry. He seized the hand holding the gun and shoved it upward in their tumble backwards. They landed on the bed, him on top of her. Her lush body yielded beneath his hard planes—his stiffening cock in particular. To his surprise, she didn’t struggle, but released the pistol. The weapon bounced off the mattress and struck the carpet with a thud.

“Is this how you described my having ravished you?” he demanded.

Shock registered on her face. He blew out a frustrated breath. He’d come ready to battle the vixen and she was already crumbling. Moisture appeared in her eyes. Ah, there it was. She was simply moving onto another tactic.

“Lies, pistols, tears, and…” He moved suggestively against her breasts and felt the rigid nipples beneath his shirt. “Your arsenal of weapons is impressive, madam.”

“I tell you, mamma, I heard a scream.”

A woman’s voice penetrated the door on the right wall. Erroll jerked his gaze in that direction as the door swung open. Two women stood in the doorway staring, one young—in her second season, he would guess—the other, the mamma the girl had addressed.

Erroll looked at the woman lying beneath him. “I thought that was a closet.”

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Happy reading!

Tarah