Showing posts with label Excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Excerpt. Show all posts

Friday, 21 June 2024

She Serves the Realm by Lee Swanson. (Romantic Adventure Series)


She Serves the Realm. 

A lady of the London court has fallen in love with who she believes to be a man, and in this book the two are finally co-located long enough to deepen their relationship.

 









SHE SERVES THE REALM

Book 4 of 4. No Man is her Master Series.

Synopsis

London, 1311: Sir Frederick Kohl, a Hanseatic master merchant and English knight, is really Christina Kohl, a woman in disguise. She returns to London to discover her beloved Lady Cecily’s abusive husband is dead.  They now only need the king’s permission to marry. But in the turbulent times of Edward II’s reign, he is much more concerned with making use of Christina’s considerable talents than in bringing happiness to her life.

In She Serves the Realm, Christina is torn from her merchant trade and the woman she loves to become an officer of the king. She is placed in ever-growing danger as civil war seems all but inevitable; the rebellious barons demanding the banishment of the Earl of Cornwall, King Edward just as adamant to retain him by his side. Complicating matters further is the always present peril of her disguise being discovered.

Can Christina succeed in the tasks King Edward sets before her, winning the right to claim Lady Cecily as her bride? And what of Piers Gaveston; can Christina somehow save him from his enemies, and even himself? Rein your palfrey beside Christina’s Pearl and join her as She Serves the Realm.

# LGBTQ

EXCERPT

They rode north at a quickened pace. After a couple of hours, they slowed, believing the immediate danger to have subsided somewhat. As they neared a crossroads, they discovered they were sorely mistaken.

A group of riders, perhaps three times their numbers, burst forth from behind a grove of trees and galloped directly toward them, their evil intent unmistakable. The horsemen’s speed was such there was hardly time to react. Christina slipped from Pearl’s back and drew her sword, as did Reiniken and Jost. They steeled themselves for their attackers’ onslaught.

Not so Gaveston. Unexpectedly, he spurred his horse to charge directly at their onrushing foes as if they opposed him in the jousting lists. A high-pitched scream burst forth from Plantamor, unmistakably a war cry. The attacking formation halted, then split in panic as the earl’s sword flashed first to one side, then to the other. Gaveston hauled back on the reins and the great beast reared, striking out sharply with its forefeet at a hapless rouncey that fell to the ground from the force of the blow, trapping its unlucky rider beneath it. He wheeled the destrier to the left, his sword impaling another man through the chest as he turned. Gaveston relaxed his arm to allow the horse’s impetus to extract his sword from the mortally wounded man. Great spurts of blood cascaded from the man’s chest, but the earl paid him no mind. He was already seeking his next victim.

Many of the attackers gave the earl and his demonic destrier a wide birth, choosing instead to dismount and seek easier prey in the form of those who stood on their feet. Christina had no time to look for Cecily as she steadily gave ground to two swordsmen who sought to engage her simultaneously, her blade flicking out quicker than a serpent’s tongue to parry theirs to the side. Then she darted forward, dancing to the right of her attackers. This left her opponents one behind the other. The hindmost no longer constituting a threat, she brought her weapon diagonally upward in a slash that parted the skin of the nearest man’s face, digging deeply into the skull beneath. As he fell to the side, wailing as he clutched at his ruined visage, Christina took the opportunity to thrust her sword into his friend’s soft guts. Unlike his companion, the only sound he made was a loud “woof” as she drew back her sword from his body. She had no time to congratulate her clever tactic, however. As she tried to reach Cecily’s side, she was thwarted by more men advancing to take the place of those she had just dispatched.

From the corner of her eye, she noted Reiniken and Jost were positioned back-to-back.

Clever fellows, keeping all their enemies to their front!

While it seemed few of those facing Reiniken had the stomach to venture into the range of his weapon, other than those already on the ground before him, the same could not be said of Jost. The boy was sorely pressed by a single harrying foe whose skill clearly surpassed that of her cousin. Already, Jost had been pinked at least twice on his sword arm, evidenced by thin rivulets of blood running downward. If Reiniken had not been slowly rotating to his right as he fought, a fatal blow would probably have been already struck.

Christina had no time to provide assistance. A swarthy man with a hook nose brought his falchion downward from above his head in a heavy cut directed at her left shoulder. Christina parried it with her blade, the impact almost causing her arm to go numb.

“Hold!” a voice cried loudly from behind her. “Hold or, by Christ, I’ll split her from neck to cunt!”

The man before her smirked and backed away a few steps. Still on her guard, Christina turned her head slightly. What she saw chilled her soul.

One of the knaves had circumvented the fighting. He now held his falchion pointed straight before him, at the point of which stood Cecily.

“Now, drop them toad-stickers and back away, if you treasure her life, that is!”

Having no choice, Christina, Jost, and Reiniken did as they were commanded. Gaveston dismounted and joined them.

“This way, you lot!” one of the men said, directing them to the middle of the road.

“What do we do with ‘em now, Alf?” a younger man with a filthy shock of blond hair asked.

“His excellency only said to bring ‘im this one,” the man who seemed to be the leader of the ruffians responded. “I don’t give a hot damn about the others. Excepting that one maybe.”

He pointed toward Cecily.

“She looks like she would be sport enough for all of us.”

Christina’s ire exploded.

“Don’t any of you fucking touch her or I’ll . . .”

Alf’s gauntleted backhanded blow spun Christina’s head around, knocking her to the ground. Ignoring the sharp pain in her jaw, she immediately rose to her knees, fixing the man with a look of white-hot hatred as she wiped blood from the corner of her mouth.

The other men laughed heartily as Alf exclaimed, “So, she’s yours, is she? Maybe I’ll let you live long enough to watch her squirm beneath me as I pleasure her. I’m sure she’s never . . .”

Alf’s words ended abruptly as his throat suddenly sprouted goose feathers. He stood choking as he clawed at the arrow that transfixed his neck.






No Man is her Master Series on Amazon US Kindle 

 https://tinyurl.com/5dsa63pp









Wednesday, 25 October 2023

"Veil of Doubt" by Sharon Virts. (Psychological Thriller)




Synopsis.

When a mother is charged with murder in a town already convinced of her guilt, can defense attorney Powell Harrison find truth and justice in a legal system where innocence is not presumed? 


Emily Lloyd, a young widow in Reconstruction-era Virginia, is accused of poisoning her three-year-old daughter, Maud. It isn’t the first death in her home—her husband and three other children all died of mysterious illnesses—so when Maud succumbs to an unexplained malady, the town suspects foul play. Soon Mrs. Lloyd is charged not only with poisoning the child but also with murdering her children, her husband, and her aunt. 

Enter Powell Harrison, a soft-spoken, brilliant attorney who recently returned to his Virginia hometown to help his brother manage their late father’s practice. Approached to assist in Mrs. Lloyd’s defense, Harrison initially declines, worried that an infanticide case might tarnish their family’s reputation. But as details about the widow’s erratic behavior and her reclusive neighbors emerge, Harrison begins to suspect that an even more sinister truth might lurk beneath the family’s horrible fate and finds himself irresistibly drawn to the case.  

Based on a shocking true story, Veil of Doubt is part true-crime thriller, part medical and legal procedural. Perfect for fans of Margaret Atwood’s Alias Grace and filled with rich period detail gleaned from exhaustive research, Veil of Doubt delves into the darkness of the South during Reconstruction, exposing intrigue, deception, and death. 



Excerpt:


https://sharonvirts.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/Chapter-1-Veil-of-Doubt.pdf 

 

Amazon USA listing

https://www.amazon.com/Veil-Doubt-Sharon-Virts/dp/195941125X/


Amazon UK listinghttps://www.amazon.co.uk/Veil-Doubt-Sharon-Virts-ebook/dp/B0BW65YMXH



Bookpage:

https://sharonvirts.com/veil-of-doubt/

 

Author URL:

www.sharonvirts.com


Blog:

https://sharonvirts.com/blog/






Sharon Virts




 





 

Monday, 14 August 2023

The Snow Bride. A Medieval Beauty And The Beast



The Snow Bride

 

She is Beauty, but is he the Beast?

 

Book One of The Knight and the Witch

 

 

England, winter, 1131

 

Elfrida, spirited, caring and beautiful, is also alone. She is the witch of the woods and no man dares to ask for her hand in marriage until a beast comes stalking brides and steals away her sister. Desperate, the lovely Elfrida offers herself as a sacrifice, as bridal bait, and she is seized by a man with fearful scars. Is he the beast?

 

 

In the depths of a frozen midwinter, in the heart of the woodland, Sir Magnus, battle-hardened knight of the Crusades, searches ceaselessly for three missing brides, pitting his wits and weapons against a nameless stalker of the snowy forest. Disfigured and hideously scarred, Magnus has finished with love, he thinks, until he rescues a fourth 'bride', the beautiful, red-haired Elfrida, whose innocent touch ignites in him a fierce passion that satisfies his deepest yearnings and darkest desires.

 

 

Excerpt                                                             

 

 

Elfrida stirred sluggishly, unable to remember where she was. Her back ached, and the rest of her body burned. She opened her eyes and sat up with a jerk, thinking of Christina.

 

 

Her head felt to be bobbing like an acorn cup in a stream, and her vision swam. As she tried to swing her legs, her sense of dizzy falling increased, becoming worse as she closed her eyes. She lashed out in the darkness, her flailing hands and feet connecting with straw, dusty hay, and ancient pelts.

 

“Christina?” she hissed, listening intently and praying now that the monster had brought her to the same place it had taken her sister.

 

She heard nothing but her own breath, and when she held that, nothing at all.

 

“Christina?” Fearing to reach out in this blackness that was more than night and dreading what she might find, Elfrida forced herself to stretch her arms. She trailed her fingers out into the ghastly void, tracing the unseen world with trembling hands.

 

Her body shook more than her hands, but she ignored the shuddering of her limbs, closed her eyes like a blind man, and searched.

 

She lay on a pallet, she realized, full of crackling, dry grass. When she scented and tasted the air, there was no blood. She did not share the space with grisly corpses.

 

I am alone and unfettered. Now her heart had stopped thudding in her ears, she listened again, hearing no one else. Chanting a charm to see in the dark, she tried again to shift her feet.

 

Light spilled into her eyes like scalding milk as a door opened and a massive figure lurched across the threshold. Elfrida launched herself at freedom, hurling a fistful of straw at the looming beast and ducking out for the light.

 

She fell instead, her legs buckling, her last sight that of softly falling snow.

 

 

 She is Beauty, but is he the Beast?

THE SNOW BRIDE (THE KNIGHT AND THE WITCH 1) USA https://amzn.to/2MZZan0    

UK  https://amzn.to/2H1tYzY                                    

EXCERPT https://bit.ly/2yV95Cb

REVIEW https://bit.ly/38ynFzh



Lindsay Townsend 

Wednesday, 6 November 2019

Sequel to "The Snow Bride". Medieval Romance Novel "A Summer Bewitchment" out now!



A sequel to THE SNOW BRIDE.



Genre HISTORICAL ROMANCE
Publisher PRAIRIE ROSE PUBLICATIONS
Date of Publication NOV 14th 2019

ASIN: B07ZTMNWZ9
 Free with Kindle Unlimited
Buy Links Amazon USA 
Amazon UK  Amazon Canada Amazon Australia
Blurb


Can a knight and his witch save seven kidnapped maidens? Sir Magnus and Elfrida strive to find the girls, but at what cost to their marriage?

When a shadowy piper kidnaps seven beautiful girls, can a wounded knight and his witch-wife save them? Will Sir Magnus and Elfrida find them in time—and at what cost?
Magnus, the fearless, battered crusader knight, and his fey wife, Elfrida, are happily married, but each of them carries a secret. Elfrida believes that being peasant-born will one day undermine her husband’s love for her. Wounded and scarred, Magnus fears nothing—except, perhaps, that he will not be able to give Elfrida her greatest wish—children.
Their fears are sharpened when high-born Lady Astrid appears at their manor and demands their help to find the seven missing girls. Though the lady clearly regards low-born Elfrida beneath her, why has she truly sought out Magnus, a ruthless knight? Which one of the kidnapped girls does she really want to recover so badly—and to what hidden purpose?
In the scorching summer heat, Magnus and Elfrida search together for the missing girls. Will they be able to rescue them in time? And can their own marriage survive?

Here is an excerpt from the opening chapter:


England, summer, 1132

“I am the troll king of this land and you owe me a forfeit.”

Elfrida glanced behind the shadowed figure who barred her way. He was alone, but then so was she.

Do I turn and run along the track? Should I flee into the woods or back to the river? He is close, less than the distance of the cast of a spear. Can I make it hard for him to catch me? Yes.

But catch her he would.

Play for time.

“Indeed?” she asked, using one of her husband’s favorite expressions, then sharpened her tone. “Why must I pay anything?”

“You have trespassed in these woods. In my woods.”

The nagging ache in her shoulders and hands vanished in a tingling rush of anticipation. Elfrida dropped her basket of washed, dried clothes onto the dusty pathway, the better to fight. “King Henry is lord of England.”

“I am king here.”

A point to him. “I kept to the path, and then the river.”

“That may be so, but I claim a kiss.”

He had not moved yet, nor shown his face. The summer evening made his shadow huge, bloody. Her heart beating harder as she anticipated their final, delicious encounter, Elfrida asked, “Are you so bold? My husband is a mighty warrior, the greatest in all Christendom.”

“That is a large claim.” He sounded amused. “All Christendom? He must be a splendid fellow. The harpers should sing of him.”

Elfrida raised her chin, determined to have her say. “I am proud of my lord. He is a crusader. He has seen Jerusalem and he has learning. He can whistle any tune. He defends all those weaker than himself.” Should I say what I next want to say? Tease him as he has teased me? Why not? Are we are not playing? “Go back to your woods, troll king.”

She heard the crack of a pine cone as he shifted. In a haze of motion the troll king was out of the tree shade and into the bright sunset, dominating the path in front of her. Taller than a spear, broad as a door, he had a face as stark as granite, of weathered, broken stone. Heavily scarred—many would say grooved—he had the terrible beauty of a victor, a winner wounded but unbowed.

A ribbon of heat, like hot breath, flickered across her breasts. He was so magnificent , so handsome. She both loved and hated defying him, even in jest. Striving for calm, she said, “You will come no closer.”

“Or what, little laundress?”

That tease irked her. “The clothes and bedding do not wash themselves. Not even for you, troll king.”

He smiled, a daunting unfurling of that scarred, sword-cut face. The churning heat in her belly swept up into her cheeks and down to her loins.

“I am a witch, besides,” she added, though not as coolly as she would have liked. She saw the gleam in his large brown eyes pool into molten bronze.

“You would put a spell on me, elfling?” he challenged.

“Perhaps I already have.” Her tone and mouth were as dry as the summer. How much farther can we stretch this sweet foolishness?

He raised thick black eyebrows, while a breeze flicked and flirted with his shoulder-length curls. “Is that Christian?”

She wanted to cross her arms before herself, to shield her body from his bold stare. At the same time she longed to strip herself naked for him, unlace his tunic and caress him. Unsure how he might react, she armed herself with words instead. “I am a good witch, Magnus.”

“Indeed.” Again he looked her up and down, glanced at her buckets, basket, and clothes. “Should you not have an escort, wife?”

Do I tell him I sent Piers off to help? Are we still playing now or is he truly angry?

Looming over her, he was close enough for her to touch him. To caress his strong body will be like stroking sun-warmed stone. Distracted, she shook her head. “There is the sheep shearing…”

“Done.” He tossed a stack of rolled, lanolin-scented fleeces at her feet. “I did my share and more and, as I have said already, I claim a reward.”

He winked at her and she found herself smiling in return. “Forfeit and reward, too, sire? Is that not greedy?”

“Are we in Lent, that I should fast?” He raised his hand, cupping her face with supple fingers. “But you are too dainty to linger alone, witch or no.”

He traced the curve of her lips with his thumb and, as she trembled, he gathered her firmly into his arms. “Any man will try to spirit you away.”

“Hush!” She made a sign against the evil eye and wood elves, but he shook his head at her caution.

“I have faith in your magic craft, Elfrida. But a passing knave or outlaw? He is quite another matter. He would see you as a tempting piece, my wife, my lovely.”

“I am not helpless,” she protested, but her heart soared at his loving words. His mouth, as crooked and scarred as the rest of his face, stole a kiss from hers.

He smelled of lanolin, salt, and summer green-stuff, and tasted of apples and himself. Elfrida closed her eyes under his tender onslaught, her thighs trembling.

“Troll King?” she murmured, when they broke apart slightly. “Is that how you wish me to address you in the future, husband?”

“‘Sire’ will do, or ‘greatest knight in Christendom.’ Those will do very well.” He kissed her again.

“You rob me, sire,” she murmured, a breathless space later.

“Of kisses?” He sounded delighted at the idea, the beast, and grinned when she pinched him.

“Even one-handed I can do that better than you.”

He demonstrated, squeezing and lightly slapping her bottom, chuckling as she thrust her hips back against his fondling fingers. A shred of modesty remained as her wits dissolved into a sweet blaze of need. “Magnus, what if someone comes?”

Wednesday, 28 August 2019

She is Beauty, but is he the Beast? A Medieval Romance. New excerpt

'The Snow Bride' - Medieval Historical Romance - New Excerpt

Here's a new excerpt from my medieval historical romance, The Snow Bride. The hero and heroine are in a tower belonging to their enemy, the necromancer.

Excerpt:

Making torches, lighting them, took some little time. Magnus could sense Elfrida’s tension and almost see her fears tearing at her like the harpies preyed on their hapless victims in the old tales that he had heard around campfires in Outremer. She stayed within the tower, calling encouragement to Christina and praying aloud, “To cleanse this space,” she told him. She did not attempt to move farther than the few steps they had come from the threshold, for which he was grateful.
“Your sister must be sleeping deeply,” he said when she fell silent and despondent after no replies. “It is the time of winter dark and solid slumber.”
“Or she is drugged,” Elfrida answered.
 Once he spotted her gazing at him, a cool, farsighted, assessing stare. Where he considered pits and traps, she concerned herself with magical dangers. He knew she felt responsible for his safety, a strange and queer reversal of nature to him, but one he accepted that he could not shake her from.
All will be better with more light, he told himself, fending off a vague feeling of being watched.
Baldwin finally brought two spitting torches. Magnus told the youth to keep up and took a torch from him. “Do you stay here?” he asked Elfrida.
She shook her head—he had not expected otherwise—and he put her between himself and Baldwin. Leading the way, Magnus began to pick a careful path across the nails and snares and wooden stakes, walking steadily and lifting his feet high. All the while, puffing like a small, furious dragon at his back, he could hear Elfrida and sense her taut, barely reined-in impatience. She fairly bristled with it. Not far and all will be well, he wanted to say to comfort her, but he said nothing, for they had reached the stairs, and it might not be true.
Gray, narrow, worn, and unlit, the stairs were also slimy on certain treads. Spilled oil or melted candle wax? he speculated, calling out softly in the old tongue and his own dialect, so Baldwin would know, “Grease, here, step over.” He did not lower his torch. Some things were best left as a mystery.
“Christina, you are safe, beloved. Walter is waiting for you, and all is prepared for your return.”
Elfrida was becoming more urgent and desperate in her wishes. He longed to shield her from this trial but knew it was impossible.
She is a warrior of magic, besides, and a warrior always faces things. She would never forgive me if I kept her out of this.
Yet it was so ponderous, step after step, climbing in the dark, with the stair walls and roof feeling to close in around them, pressing down and choking...
Unless that is just me. Since early youth he had loathed shut-in places, which was why in any siege he had always volunteered for any digging or mining. Now the disgusting, spineless fears of his boyhood shook down the backs of his legs.
If Christina is dead, will Elfrida blame me? No, she will not..
He trod on an object that cracked and slithered beneath his peg foot. He checked the cry bubbling in his throat and kicked the unknown thing away, down the stairs. He heard it flopping into the darkness and vowed to burn the whole tower with fire once they were done.
If Christina is dead or alive, will Elfrida return to her village? Will she want to stay there? Ask her, man, and find out!
He was wary of asking and at the same time eager to ask. As much as Elfrida wanted to see her sister, he wanted to know her mind.
It is my future. Have the stakes ever been so high?
He ran up three more steps and reached the first floor. The staircase continued higher, but now there was a tiny, cramped passageway, again unlit, and at its end, a door.
A blue door, he realized, hearing Elfrida’s gasp of recognition. He spun about and gripped her shoulder tightly, in a gesture of warning and support, then let her go.
He reached out and touched the door with his stump. Elfrida said nothing, did not try to stop him, but he glanced at her for confirmation.
She nodded, her own hands clenched in tight fists, her face unreadable.
“Baldwin.” He handed the lad his torch and set his shoulder to the door, drawing out his knife—better a knife than a sword in such close quarters.
Surprise was impossible, for if there was a guard, he must have heard their plodding trail, so Magnus called a final warning.
“Release your prisoners unharmed and you shall not be injured or killed. Yield now.”
He pushed on the stout wood, astonished to find the door unlocked, and entered.


* * * *

The Snow Bride
She is Beauty, but is he the Beast?

From Amazon here
Amazon UK here
Free with Kindle Umlimited.
Part 1 of The Knight and the Witch Series.
Also a sequel, 'A Summer Bewitchment,' coming soon

Lindsay Townsend