The books I feature are from authors who were not afraid to be soulful, sappy, and/or suggestive when it came to their heroes. So grab a cup of coffee, sit back, and fire up those eReaders so you can add these new releases to your TBR collection.
I hope you like my sentimental choices for this month. Happy reading!
“And why were you masquerading as your sister, my dear?”
“I wanted adventure,” she mumbled.
“You intended to take a lover?” His brows rose in surprise.
“No! You see, I am supposed to marry Ste—Lord Denonshire. But he is—or I thought he was—so staid and dull and boring that I just wanted to experience some excitement.”
His brows rose a notch higher. “And you did not expect to see him at Ivory’s?”
“No. I can hardly credit it. The man is being unfaithful to me.”
“You presumed Denonshire did not pursue the activities that can be found in brothels?”
“I can’t imagine him being like you.”
He laughed. “And what am I like, my dear?”
“You…you’re…” Her gaze swept helplessly from his glittering eyes to his sensuous mouth then down to his crotch. She could not begin to describe what he was. Skilled? Seductive? Tempting?
“I do not think you need worry that your fiancé is like me. But some men, before marriage, are tempted to have on last chance at sensual excitement.”
His words made her blush. That was exactly what she had wanted. She had no right to blame Stephen—but did it mean he was bored with her? He thought her passionless? Well, if he’d ever tried to rouse her passion, the dolt, he would have learned exactly how heated she could be.
His lordship’s fingers rested on her chin, and he tipped her face up so her gaze met his. The touch sent a ripple of excitement through her. She rubbed against the soft seat, trying to ease the hot tension between her thighs.
“Ah, sweeting, if he can have his little adventure, why should you not have one to?”
Sharon Page, A Gentleman Seduced
Calin held the auctioneer’s stare as he spoke with contempt. “My seneschal has finalized the sale. I demand ye relinquish this woman unto me!”
“She’ll be delivered accordingly, but as clearly defined the precepts of your bill of sale, nay woman leaves Tigh Diabhail with her maidenhead intact.”
Akira inhaled sharply, drawing Calin’s attention. The hot color of fury drained from her face and was replaced with pale-white terror. She wavered slightly before she closed her mouth and regained enough wit to glare at him. Although he didn’t feel he deserved such a fierce look, Calin held eye contact with her as they pulled him to the dais.
Her guards doubled in number to hold her limbs immobile while Nattie reached beneath Akira’s flimsy shift with a small sponge to wipe oils between her legs. With her hands still bound behind her back, Akira was defenseless against the bawdy woman’s boldness.
Two more henchmen carried the bed to the platform’s center. Despite Akira’s resistance, the guards placed her on the mattress. She tried to bolt, but they flung her back atop the soiled tick and tightened a leather strap over her ribs.
Calin’s muscles clenched. He wanted to kill every one of these bastards. He could reveal who he was, but his status as laird held no esteem amongst these swine. He would only be inviting trouble. Knowing he had little choice other than to proceed with the deed, Calin held his arms outstretched and allowed the guards to divest him of his plaid and Leine shirt. Much to the old crone’s apparent disappointment, he declined Nattie’s administration of oils and accepted a white cloth as he approached the bed.
He crawled atop Akira on all fours, covering her from head to toe. Mocking their privacy, the guards lowered a gauze canopy—caging them like breeding animals on public display. She violently thrashed her head side to side, whipping a black web of hair to veil her features.
“Imigh sa diabhal, bastún,” Akira cursed at him in Gaelic. And then in French. “Focal leat! Retournez á la pute qui t’a accouchée!”
“I am nay a bastard, and my mother wasnae a whore.” Calin calmly corrected her expletives. Her obscene vocabulary both shocked and impressed him.
“To the devil with your black blood. May ye rot alongside the bitseach that birthed ye.”
“Nor was my mother a bitch.” Although Calin knew little about the woman who died giving birth to him, he felt a sense of honor to protect his mother from such heinous names. He exhaled dramatically, shook his head, and tsked. “How can such a vulgar tongue be placed betwixt the lips of such a bonnie fine mouth?”
Kimberly Killion, Highland Dragon
“You’re a romantic. You’ll marry for love and flowers and fireworks and all that other girly crap.”
She eyed him. “And you’re a judge of this, how?”
“I’ve seen you in love before.” He bit the words out, a sudden storm flashing in the murky depths of his eyes.
She instinctively fought for air, but the moment passed—a glancing blow, this time around.
Hutch recovered and flashed a come-hither look that might have worked on another woman.
One who hadn’t loved his brother.
Sarah Balance, Run To Her
The Sergeant took a few steps closer and stopped two inches from the toe of my boot. It was an intimidation tactic. I stood firm.
“All right, let’s replay your actions today,” he began. “You arrived in white, first mistake. We were told you were an Army brat, so you should’ve known not to wear visible colors in a combat zone. Second, you left your bags in the jeep. This isn’t a hotel, it’s a Marine camp. Take care of your own belongings. Third, you gave every tongue-wagging, over-hormoned private here a sweet little smile as you were introduced. Now, you ask why we aren’t taking you seriously. Give us a reason to and we will.”
Eryn LaPlant, Beneath the Wall
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Renee Vincent is an award-winning author of historical and contemporary romance.