WYNTER'S BITE is here! Excerpt and giveaway!

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

I am so excited to announce that Wynter's Bite is here at last!

You can get it on:

Amazon

iBooks

Kobo

Nook

Google Play

This book was a ton of fun to write. The hero, Justus de Wynter was the villain in the previous book, HIS RUTHLESS BITE. But once I discovered that his motives were out of love, his book HAD to be next!

So far, the advanced reviews have been so wonderful that I am constantly blushing.

This one, over at Reading Between the Wines even has a giveaway!

In other happy news, another book reviewer has listed two of my books in her list of favorite couples! Klement and Katana from WITH VENGEANCE and Rafe and Cassandra from BITE AT FIRST SIGHT! Even cooler? She's having a big giveaway where you can win a $25 Amazon Gift Card and other goodies by voting on your favorite of her list.

Whichever couple gets the most votes gets their book featured for a whole year! I hardly ever win those sort of things, but if you want to head over there and vote for one of my couples, you'd be a darling! Go HERE to enter!

Now I think it's time for a giveaway of my own.

To win an e-copy of Wynter's Bite, simply leave a comment telling me your favorite jail-break/ escape story!  

In the meantime, here's a never before read excerpt!

 Bethany searched the Willoughbys’ drawing room, clutching her reticule so tightly her knuckles went white. Lord de Wynter said he would be here and tonight they would discuss the book… in private. She couldn’t help but tremble at the thought of being alone with him, perhaps anticipating that more than the prospect of literary discourse.

The setting sun shone through the glass of the French doors, casting a tinge of gold to everything, reminding Bethany of her imaginings of the faerie kingdom of Gloriana… though she knew who that character was truly supposed to represent. Still, Spenser’s epic held so much whimsy that she couldn’t help but imagine a truly fey monarch. She kept both the book and that sentiment hidden from her father.

Oh, she could not wait to talk to Lord de Wynter about the book. He’d understand.

As darkness fell and people around her chattered in anticipation of the fireworks, Bethany’s mother dragged her hither and thither through the assemblage, introducing her to every affluent gentleman in attendance.

None of them were interested in spending longer than necessary in her company, and that was quite agreeable with Bethany. There was only one man she whose company she wished to share this evening. Yet the bustling room palpably lacked his presence.

Was it possible that he’d found some other diversion? She’d heard that he spent a lot of time at the Medway Inn, playing cards and dice, as well as attending certain more raucous parties hosted by less reputable members of Society. Why should he decline such amusing pursuits to be with her?

Yes, he’d probably changed his mind about coming. Lord Darkwood’s manor was nearby and would have nearly as good a view of the fireworks. So perhaps de Wynter had—

There he was! Bethany’s heart surged in response to see Lord de Wynter’s lithe form stalking around the masses, pausing to exchange a polite greeting when necessary, while he was clearly making his way towards her. Every other step, he flashed her a conspiratorial glance, as if they shared a huge secret. A delicious thrill tremored through her body.

When he reached her side, Bethany withdrew the book from her reticule and handed it to him. Pleasure curled her toes as once more their fingers grazed each other. “Thank you for loaning me the book, my lord.”

“It was my pleasure.” His eyes swept over her face and form, seeming to caress her with an invisible tongue of flame.

Just then, Lady Willoughby announced that it was time to gather on the front lawn to view the illuminations. Those who were elderly or infirm watched from the balconies, where comfortable chairs had been set out for them.

“Follow my lead,” de Wynter whispered with an impish smile.

With that, he wove through the masses with unobtrusive slowness, excusing himself with a quiet mutter that made people let him pass without truly noticing him. Bethany did her best to imitate him, though for her, avoiding attention was much easier, being a wallflower ever since her first ball.

She caught a glimpse of Rebecca and her friends with their beaux. The group had ignored her ever since she’d told them about her dance with Lord de Wynter. At first, Bethany thought they were merely preoccupied, now she was beginning to suspect that they didn’t like her.

But as she followed de Wynter, casting a shamefully pleasing glance at his backside, snugly encased in buff trousers, Bethany decided she didn’t care what they thought of her.

While everyone else made their way to the front lawn, de Wynter strode off into the azalea garden. After a quick glance over her shoulder to make certain no one was watching, Bethany ducked under a leafy bower behind him. Anticipation flooded her being, making even the air feel alive on her skin.

He sat on a stone bench and patted the marble surface beside him. Bethany joined him, legs suddenly turned to custard. It was so dark in here that they were veritably blanketed in shadows, the intimacy palpable and warm. Even in the darkness, his hair glinted like banked coals. Her fingers twisted in her lap in effort to resist touching those fiery tresses.

To break up the heavy silence, Bethany shakily began the conversation. “I am grateful that you arranged for us to discuss the book, my lord. I finished it only yesterday.”

His arched lips curved with a pleased smile that warmed her to her toes. “Please, call me Justus.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Heat flooded her face at the sound of his name. There was something so beautiful, so noble about it. “My mother would have the vapors if she heard me call a man by his Christian name.”

He nodded in understanding. “At least when we are alone then.”

“Very well, Justus.” Her belly tilted at the sound of his name. “Then in such cases, you may call me Bethany.” The words tumbled out, improper as they were.

“Good. Now that we have that settled, Bethany,” he said, “what did you think of the book?”

“At first, I thought I wouldn’t care for it,” she admitted, shivering slightly at that masculine voice uttering her name. “The incessant and undisguised praise for Queen Elizabeth grew tiresome.”

Justus quirked a brow. “Caught that, did you?” Impatient shouts echoed from the lawn outside their bower as Lord Willoughby’s servants prepared the fireworks.

“Who could miss such sycophantic symbolism? Queen Gloriana?” She chuckled. “I understand that her patronage was needed, but at least Shakespeare managed better subtlety.”

Lord de Wynter nodded. “As well as the love of the commons.” He leaned forward, so close that she could almost make out the vivid green of his eyes. Inwardly, she cursed the darkness even as she knew the shadows kept them hidden. “But you said you thought you wouldn’t care for it.”

Bethany nodded, praying he couldn’t see how his proximity was making her blush. “I greatly enjoyed the magic and the fact that there was always something happening. And the romance…” Heat rose to her cheeks and she quickly changed the subject before he thought she sounded like a silly girl. “Although I confess I felt bad for that blind girl and her mother living alone. I understand why they could not afford to shelter Una and her companions. I was even sad that the church robber was killed by the lion. Although stealing is wrong, that was their only source of support. What?” she broke off as Justus’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“That scene, the whole book in fact, was an allegory. In those days, the Catholic church was the biggest thief of all. Of course, I wasn’t around back then, but my— He broke off suddenly with a frown, then recovered his thoughts with a quick shake of his head. “I’ve read much about the time period.”

“Of course!” Bethany breathed, feeling like the biggest hen-wit. “After what Elizabeth’s sister, Mary, put the people through with her persecution of Anglicans, no wonder Catholics would be painted as villains. You must think me a fool.”

“Not at all,” Justus placed his hand over hers, impossibly warm in the cool of the garden. “I confess that it is a joy to speak with someone who can read a story as a story, not picking it apart for every little symbol and entrenched bias.” He leaned forward on the bench and reached up to cup her cheek. “You are a remarkable person, Bethany.”

“So are you,” she whispered, captivated by his fey beauty and husky voice. The first explosion made her jump and gasp as the sky above them erupted with a halo of red light. Justus pulled her closer and she laughed in embarrassment as cheers echoed from the lawn.

Her heart pounded in her throat as his head dipped lower and his lips brushed across hers.

Heat exploded in her belly at the chaste kiss, every nerve ending singing with pleasure. Head swimming with dizziness, Bethany grasped his shoulders to keep from toppling off of the bench. Justus’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his firm chest, his lips caressing hers with intoxicating fervor.

When he drew back, Bethany felt as if something vital had been snatched away from her. Another firework lit up the sky with a boom and Justus’s eyes glowed like green embers as he suddenly leaned towards her once more. Her breath caught in her throat, a shiver of primal alarm crawling up her spine. But instead of kissing her again, his mouth lightly touched her neck.

She gasped at the sparking sensation and Justus drew back as if burned. His long red hair hung unfashionably loose, hiding his face. His broad shoulders moved up and down with his deep breathing as if he were struggling to tame something savage within.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “That was extremely ungentlemanly of me. Can you forgive me?”

When he raised his imploring eyes to hers, she saw that they weren’t glowing at all. They must have been reflecting the fireworks. What a ninny she was for momentarily thinking otherwise.

“Of course I forgive you,” she whispered. “It is not as if I have been behaving in the most ladylike manner. Besides, I have always wondered what it is like to be kissed.” She snapped her mouth closed at such an outrageous confession, but it was too late.

“And?” he whispered back.

She frowned. “And what?”

His lips arched in a wicked smile. “How was the experience?”

“Incredible,” she couldn’t stop herself from answering. “So much more than what the novels depict.”

His grin broadened, tempting beyond reason. “That tempts me to do it again.”

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