Yesterday was the official release day for Unforgettable Sweethearts. Now you can buy the box set or read it through Kindle Unlimited.
This box set has something for everyone, all with incredible couples destined to be together. The book I have in the set is The Captain’s Promise, a historical novel full of intrigue, spies, and there’s even a sea battle. But most of all, there’s a love that transcends time and social status.
Here’s a taste:
“My father has purchased a commission for me. I leave for Marseilles in the morning to join my regiment. There’s been some trouble in the East, and we’ve been dispatched to take care of it. I don’t know when we’ll be back—perhaps a year, maybe more.”
She looked at him as if he’d struck her, all color seeping from her cheeks. Her titian hair framed the alabaster oval of her face, engraving it on his memory.
“No, Etienne, no,” she cried, jumping up, wringing her hands in agitation. “You can’t do this! Tell me you’re playing a prank on me like you used to do. Why do you have to join the army? Why go fight the Turks? What about all the plans we made?” she wailed, tears coursing down her cheeks. “You’ll be killed. How will I go on without you? You’re everything to me.”
Stunned by the fierceness of her emotions and her tears, he stood and reached for her, pulling her into his arms, holding her as the sobs racked her body. The words were the sweetest he’d ever heard, and yet, they opened a gaping wound in his heart which might never heal.
“Mon amie, you’re speaking nonsense, and you know it,” he whispered into her hair. He held her close, at first tenderly, and then with the desperation of a man holding the woman he wanted and needed, but knew he could never have.
“Elle, you know all the grand plans we discussed were just impossible childish dreams. We’re adults now, not children. Look at you. You’re the daughter of a count. I’m the third son of a minor noble—I’ve no title, no fortune, and now I’m a soldier. A lieutenant isn’t always in the midst of the battle. I’ll be safe enough. I’ve no intention of finding myself in an infidel’s prison or an early grave.”
She trembled at his words, but raised her head, her gaze fixing his.
“Promise me you’ll come back to me, Etienne; you’re a man of your word.” Her cheeks were wet, her lips trembled, and her body quaked. “If you say that you’ll come back, then I know I can hold you to your promise.”
“I’ll come back; you have my word,” he said, knowing that it could be many years before he could do so.
Thinking of the oath he’d sworn to her father moments earlier, shook him. Was he doomed to betray his honor to them both? He couldn’t predict the future, and many soldiers did die in battle, some of them officers like himself. Only God knew if he could keep this promise.
Consoling himself with the knowledge that she would understand one day, forgive him, and in time, forget him, he continued to hold her as she wept for her lost dreams of adventure. But he would never forget her. She would haunt him for the rest of his life, and this promise, one he might never be able to keep, would damn him to the fires of everlasting Hell.
He cradled her in his arms, gently rubbing small circles on her back, his chest painfully aware of her young, firm breasts pressing into it. She lifted her arms and looped them around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He tried to move away from her, but she refused to release her hold. His rigid erection, pressed against the stomacher beneath her gown, was bittersweet agony. He crooned words meant to soothe, bent to kiss the top of her head, but she raised hers, so that his lips met her brow. It was his undoing.
He couldn’t fight his sudden need for her. He lavished delicate kisses on her face, tasting her tears, his lips trailing down the curve of her neck to her shoulders. Her skin was silky, sweeter than the sweetest honey, and smelled of the floral soap and scent she used. He raised his head and sought her lips, softly, delicately, and then with a purpose, like a starving man finally being fed.
He ran the tip of his tongue over her moist lips, and although untutored in the ways of the world, her mouth instinctively opened to him like a morning glory welcoming the sun. His tongue probed the sweet depths, tasting, wanting more, and devouring what was offered to him.
Danielle’s response to his kiss aroused him beyond the ability to think rationally. His hands left her back to travel along the side of her rib cage to cup the fullness of her breasts straining against her gown. He tore his lips from hers, and transferred them to the flesh above the lacy edge of her dress where he lovingly rained kisses on her mounds. She moaned and threw her head back giving him greater access.
With trembling fingers, he slid the dress lower, exposing her to his hungry gaze. Her mounds were swollen by her response; the dark pink nipples erect, waiting for his touch. He tenderly kneaded her breasts, eliciting a series of soft moans from her. His mouth replaced his hands as he suckled, causing her to whimper with need. He moved his hand lower rucking her skirt as he sought the hem of her dress.
“Mademoiselle Danielle?”
The sound of someone calling her name dragged him back to reality.
Mon Dieu! What have I done?
He looked at her, and couldn’t ignore the evidence of his lust. Her lips, swollen by the assault of his kisses, were slightly parted, and her dress continued to expose her breasts. In her glazed eyes, he saw wonder and hunger, and he recognized he’d done this to her. He’d taken her innocence, treated her like a trollop, and damned himself. Was this how he honored his promise to her father? He needed to protect her from the eyes of others.
Knowing she was too innocent to realize and understand what her eager response had done to him was cold comfort. With every scrap of decency he had left, he pulled her deeper into the shadows of the arbor, using his body to shield her from prying eyes, although the evidence of his hunger wouldn’t be hidden so easily.
When he was sure the servant had moved on, he turned to help her, but she’d already done what she could to put herself in order. He fought the urge to take her into his arms again, but the look on her face was almost more than he could bear. Tears streamed down her cheeks—tears of shame, tears of need, tears of accusation—tears he’d caused with his boorish and careless behavior.
“You can’t leave me now, Etienne, not after this. You love me. I know you do, just as I love you,” she accused, the words stabbing him as she uttered them. “You can’t leave me now!”
He didn’t look at her; he hung his head. “I’m sorry, Elle. I should never have touched you. I hope someday that you can forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself.”
Without another word, he left her in the arbor, fleeing the manor as if the Hounds of Hell were after him. Just as he reached the stables, a servant waylaid him, as if the man had known he would be there.
“Lieutenant Blouin.” The man spoke softly. “The Comte de Cherbourg asked me to give you this before you left.” He handed Etienne a note.
He opened it. Written on the paper were three words: Remember your promise. Etienne crumpled the message in his hand, mounted his horse, and rode away from the manor, guilt and shame spurring him on.
Don’t miss your chance to pick up this great box set for only 99 cents, USD, or read free in Kindle Unlimited.
Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. This week’s word prompt is BATTERY. I continue with The White Dahlia. Enjoy! WARNING! IMAGES MAY BE UNSETTLING!
Morelli, never one to keep his big foot out of his even bigger mouth, a man whose bark was worse than his bite, claimed she was either damn lucky or cursed. Even she had trouble trying to decide which one it was. She thought of the three dahlias—one for Colin, one for Saul, and one for Ben—three partners she’d lost. The last thing she wanted to do was add to the bouquet.
hybrid, in that area last spring. Maybe the animals had decided to move to Brooklyn. Why not? It seemed all the other predators had.
Romance, mermaids, cursed treasure, and more.
“Reynolds, Homicide.” She choked back a squeal as coffee dribbled across the back of her hand and set the cup down, using tissue to mop up the mess on her desk.
Living the Dream 