Happy Saturday, everyone!!! Today’s Sweet Saturday Sample is from my historical romance, The Notorious Lady Jane. Lady Jane has a choice to make, one that will change the course of her life and possibly the destiny she’d always thought was for her:
Had she turned so cold and hard she would throw a good man’s life away for her own dreams?
Sweat beaded on her brow, but not Parker’s. He watched her with a calmness she’d never seen in a man so close to death. And she’d seen many men close—men who cried and begged, who cursed and wet themselves.
Her gaze went to the paper. Dark smudges of dirt marred its once pristine surface. Like her. She was once pristine, but now her soul was layered in filth.
Revenge? Or Reed Parker’s life? God help her, she didn’t know.
She craved her revenge. But she didn’t want the guilt of an honorable man’s soul resting on her shoulders. Her lips tingled with their remembered kiss. Her first kiss and likely her only. Not many men wanted to kiss her, afraid of what she would do to them if they attempted.
She could choose the paper and fear the wrath of Kenmar and the others who placed Parker on the Pride. She could choose the paper and continue her mission without delay.
Its that time again. Six Sentence Sunday! Because its so cold and windy and, well, cold, I wanted something that will warm us up. A sexy female pirate, a hot nobleman and an even hotter tropical island. This is from The Notorious Lady Jane (as yet unpublished):
Reed sighed and turned to her. The heat was stifling, the breeze non-existent. Sweat dampened his shirt, plastering it to his chest, outlining the chiseled muscles beneath. Muscles she’d laid her hand against for the glorious moments she kissed him.
She turned her gaze back to the blasted barnacles, refusing to look or be tempted.
She closed her eyes at her whispered name, willing him away. Maybe she should build a bloody dungeon to put him in.
From my current work in progress, The Notorious Lady Jane. Enjoy!
Reed paused, caught up in the scene before him. Not of the flowers, though they were a sight to behold, but of the woman. The enigmatic Isabelle Hamilton Sutherland was as beautiful as any of the exotic flowers blooming along the tree line. As beautiful and as mysterious. And like those flowers with their velvet soft petals, he wanted to pluck her, to explore her depths, to hold her in his hands and examine her beauty.