My
medieval historical romance debut, MUSIC FOR MY SOUL, came out in May 2013. I
have two additional western historical romances slated for October (OUTLAW MUSE)
and next January (A GAME OF CHANCE).
I
look forward to meeting fellow readers and writers via this blog. Here’s a
blurb and excerpt from MUSIC FOR MY SOUL – enjoy!
As the third wife of an abusive French vineyard
owner, Madeleine Bouchard hasn’t produced the expected heir after three years
of marriage. Fearing he plans to kill her, she flees during a trip to England.
Unable to make her way home, she joins a troupe of traveling mummers and
reinvents herself as the only woman troubadour in the land, captivating
audiences with both song and story.
Nobleman Garrett Montayne’s fascination with Madeleine causes him to pay the troupe to bypass their next stop in order to journey to his estate. Though he suspects Madeleine of being a thief with dark secrets, love blossoms between them under the magical moon of summer solstice.
But Madeleine’s past is about to catch up with her, as her husband is set to arrive to conduct business with Garrett. Madeleine determines to free herself from her loveless marriage and make a new life with Garrett, no matter what the cost.
Excerpt:Nobleman Garrett Montayne’s fascination with Madeleine causes him to pay the troupe to bypass their next stop in order to journey to his estate. Though he suspects Madeleine of being a thief with dark secrets, love blossoms between them under the magical moon of summer solstice.
But Madeleine’s past is about to catch up with her, as her husband is set to arrive to conduct business with Garrett. Madeleine determines to free herself from her loveless marriage and make a new life with Garrett, no matter what the cost.
Madeleine
knew with certainty that the nobleman would recognize her. They spent too much
time together in one another’s company for him not to know her upon first
sight.
Madeleine
groaned aloud. Where Sir Ashby was, she was positive his friend, the brooding
Lord Montayne, would soon appear. She did not care to see that one face to
face, especially since he had been so angry at her when they parted.
She
decided to skirt around the crowd and make her way back to the performance
area. She would plead a sore throat and have Farley allow her to take York’s
place in the play. York was a decent lute player, though not much of a singer. Still,
he could perform before and between their scenes while Madeleine could be in
plain sight of all, disguised by the heavy costume and mask York wore.
She
moved stealthily through the throng, hoping she would avoid attention. Just as
she thought she’d made her way unseen, she heard shouts headed her way.
“Stop,
thief! Stop!”
The
cutpurse ran by her swiftly, throwing a cursory glance over his shoulder. She
despised people who preyed upon others’ misfortune, and she was ready to see
this shabby scoundrel caught. Madeleine stepped out, ready to give chase after
the fellow when she was blind-sided, being thrown to the ground, the wind
knocked from her.
She
rolled into a ball, her arms instinctively wrapping around her in a protective
mode. She had spent many a time lying on the floor after one of Henri’s swift
punches to her stomach. She knew she
must guard her ribs at all costs. Oh, God, it hurt so much when one broke.
Please, not again. Not again.
A
hand, firm but reassuring, touched her shoulder. A voice came through the fog
rolling through her brain. It wasn’t Henri! She half-laughed, half-gasped, as
she opened her limbs and came to lie on her back. She even reached into her
pocket and stroked Henri the pebble, validating that she was alive and
unharmed.
Yet
who had attacked her? She looked up into the blinding summer sun but could not
see who stood above her. Then the shadow moved, covering her face from the
harsh light.
“Why
if ‘tis not Lady Montayne,” said a familiar voice. “And where the hell is my
favorite cloak?”
Garrett peered into the
angry face of the woman who haunted his dreams by night and left him
absent-minded by day. Their encounter had been brief, but he doubted he had
ever met a more remarkable woman. Not even his petite Lynnette had brought such
a sweet longing to his loins as did the bewitching creature before him.
Her
honeyed hair, loosened from its intricate braid, curled around her shoulders.
Tiny beads of sweat had formed just above her upper lip. Without thinking,
Garrett reached his thumb towards her and wiped it away. She flinched slightly,
her dark, amethyst eyes glowering up at him.
Garrett
smiled in spite of himself, offering her a hand to pull her to her feet. He had
forgotten how very tall she was as she stared at him, her cheeks flushed with
anger.
“Perhaps
we could arrange a trade?” he suggested.
She
eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not sure if I could trust you, my lord,” she
countered.
“Trust
me?” he sputtered. “This, from the woman who traipsed about the countryside
claiming to be my wife?”
She
shrugged nonchalantly, an almost Gallic air about her. She didn’t sound French,
but there was an unmistakable manner to her movement. Garrett spent enough time
in France to recognize the behavior. However, when she spoke, he quickly put it
from his mind.
“I
chose a bloody awful name to scare away anyone who accosted me on the road! How
was I to know I’d run into you?” She
snorted in an unladylike fashion. “I had heard tales of the wicked Lord
Montayne, how he frightened old and young alike and gobbled up babes for his
dinner. Why, the very mention of his name would cause grown men to plead for
their lives and their loved ones. Oh, no, my lord, I was an honest liar. You
were the one who resorted to trickery and hid your true identity from me."
Her
accusation so startled Garrett his jaw flew open. No sound came out for a
moment. The woman lifted her chin high and turned on her heel. That brought
Garrett into motion.
He
grabbed her elbow and pulled her around to face him. “Not so fast, my lady.” He
studied her a second. Her eyes narrowed
at him, but she remained silent. Finally faced with her visage square in front
of him, Garrett was at a loss of what to do. His emotions swirled out of
control as he spoke.
“’Tis
curiosity,” he sputtered.
She
looked puzzled. “Curiosity?” she echoed.
He
nodded, his words spilling forth rapidly. “I know not who you are, nor where
you come from. I’ve dreamed of you since that night only to awaken to an
emptiness.” His voice became low and tinged with sadness. “I don’t even know
your name.”
***
You can buy
MUSIC FOR MY SOUL through Amazon:
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