7-book set by these award winning and best selling pirate romance
adventurous young runaway and return her home.To do so, he must
retrieve her without being discovered by the most ruthless pirate
hunter on the seas: her brother.
tempting naturalist untouched across the Caribbean or face the
gallows. Can he resist the beauty who’s fallen for him? Does a dead
man walking even have a chance?
Marc Cavalier accepts a pact that could result in liberty or death,
if only he can survive the terms, but at least he will be free.
unlikely band of pirates sailing the seas. If he’s not careful,
he’s going to lose his heart to a notorious lady pirate
determined to destroy both.
handsome prisoner harbors secrets dark enough to change the fates of
nations and threatens their new found love.
paths with a pirate? Can two people whose life paths are at odds find
Bell falls in love with his fellow time traveler, Samantha. She’s a
woman he can’t have, though. Will their presence in the past alter
the future they know and love?
Seated in Markwick’s cutter, cloaked in his clothing, Chloe felt incredibly shallow. To think that she’d cast all inhibitions to the wind and sailed off for an enterprising adventure, only to need to be rescued by the very man she’d set out to find. Though she hadn’t known she’d be finding the Black Regent.
Regent sightings were rare for the average villager. She’d never known anyone who’d actually met the gallant hero that stole from the rich and gave to the poor.
Oh, to be sitting so near to him now, to have touched him, to be in love with him, is even more exceptional than I imagined it would be!
She fought to curb the jubilation pulsing through her veins, igniting her headstrong passions, and forced herself to remember this was all about her devotion to Markwick and the lives lost on the very ship on which she’d obtained passage. To anyone else, the Black Regent might be a dashing pirate who’d just plucked her off the Mohegan’s decks and saved her from certain death, but Markwick was also the man she loved.
She sighed, half trembling, half in despair. Unable to tear her gaze away, she desired to stretch out her fingers and touch the man, to assure herself that he wasn’t a figment of her imagination. What kind of nightmare would that be, to discover she was dreaming and that Markwick really wasn’t there?
Oh, but the blackguard truly was just as she’d envisioned! In her mind’s eye, he’d been a swashbuckling champion born from the pages of fiction and fantasy. Now, sitting before her, was the living man whose very existence defied her infatuations because he was the man she loved. Broad-shouldered, lean, with a firm authoritarian profile, he stood a head taller than she did, and oh . . . when he’d held her in his arms on board the Mohegan, a lightheaded euphoria had immediately stunned her. Markwick had stood behind her before but only to teach her how to shoot a bow and arrow. Not like this. Never like this!
Her gaze lowered to his upper arms. They were thick, flexing muscular limbs capable of sweeping her off her feet at a moment’s whim. And oh, she wanted to be his Matilda. She wanted him to be her Theodore.
Bother. Matilda and Theodore were Horace Walpole’s creations. She and Markwick lived in the real world. She inhaled a breath of frigid, moist, salty air.
Admit the truth, you silly girl. Markwick triggered breathless exhilaration and the unbridled beat fluttering within her breast, not the Black Regent. For her, there had always only been the Earl of Markwick.
passionate about history since she had the opportunity to travel to
various Army bases, castles, battlegrounds, and cathedrals as an Army
brat turned Officer’s Wife. Who knew that an Army wife’s passion for
romance novels would lead to pirates? Certainly not her rogue, whose
Alma Mater’s adage is “Go Army. Beat Navy!” Now enjoying
the best of both worlds, Katherine lives with her rogue in the south
where she writes about rogues, rebels and rakes, aka pirates, spies,
the Royal Navy, and duty, honor, and country and the happily ever
afters every alpha male and lady deserve.
loneliness. Now she hopes to pay it forward, to ease readers’
burdens by taking them on a swashbuckling, adventurous voyage into
historical romance and beyond.
“Where are you taking us?”
Drago looked up into the red-rimmed, grey eyes of the eight-year old girl standing a few feet away. It was a good thing she wasn’t armed or he would have been in trouble. He’d not heard a sound or caught a single movement during her transition from his bed to the area in front of his desk. Perhaps she wasn’t as docile as she’d appeared.
“South,” he answered.
She pressed her lips into a thin line. Her nostrils flared. “South to where?”
“A place called Lamb’s Tail Island,” he answered, studying his chart.
“And where, exactly, is Lamb’s Tail Island?”
He inhaled and let his breath out slowly. “Off the eastern coat of Jamaica.” He turned his attention back to his charts without waiting for her answer.
She leaned forward and mimicked the tone almost exactly. “Why did you make my family steal the Seeker?”
He sat back in his chair. “If I told you, would you stop asking questions and let me get back to my charts?”
She shrugged, which he took as a ‘no.’
“What’s your name, little petticoat?”
“Jacqueline Louisa Sauvage. What’s yours?”
“Drago Vitieri Gamponetti. You may call me Gampo.”
“Well, Mister Gampo—”
“No. Captain Gampo.”
“Fine. Well, Captain Gampo, why do you want the Seeker?”
Drago took a deep breath to prevent himself from shouting in frustration, which he was absolutely sure would give the little chit a great deal of satisfaction.
“I’m doing my duty to my employer, the king of France, for one. And for two, the Seeker is one of three ships in a certain merchant fleet.” She opened her mouth, and he held up an index finger. “And before you ask, the captain is my sworn enemy.” He switched from an index finger to the palm of his hand, causing her once again to close her mouth. “He knows where my sister can be found.”
The silence following his statement was disturbing.
He looked up.
“How long have you been looking for your sister?”
So family was important to her. Good.
“A long time.” He stared out the window at the wake following the vessel. “She might be dead by now.”
“How do you know?”
She cocked her head to the side and drew her brows together in consternation. “Why don’t you simply ask your sworn enemy?”
He rubbed his forehead with the heels of his palms. He’d once fancied having children of his own, but this little chit was quickly curing him of that affliction.
“Why do you have my family doing your duty?” Again, her arms crossed her chest and she presented him the same type of look his mother would have given him.
Drago put his palms on his desk to prevent himself from putting them around her little neck. He narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice to what his crew would know was a dangerous level. “If you want to see your family again, you’d better mind your mouth, little lamb, otherwise I’ll have you strung up from the yardarm. It’s much harder to talk with a rope around your neck.”
She lifted her chin and threw her shoulders back. “You can’t do that. If you break your end of the bargain, my family won’t give you that ship you want.”
“Aye, I promised they can have you and your brother back, but I didn’t tell them they’d get you back alive.”
and continued with Pirates of the Caribbean and ghost stories about
pirates from the Outer Banks. She listens to Celtic music while she
writes. When life gets too serious, she reads Calvin and Hobbes
comics. She lives in Ohio with her tall, dark and handsome husband,
three children and two rambunctious dogs, Indiana and Luke, who are
named after her two favorite action heroes.
along with working for fortune 500 companies in marketing and
teaching MBA students strategic marketing, she also ran a gourmet
cookie company. Cooking for a crowd runs in the blood, so her fridge
is always full. She deals with stress by baking pies (just ask her
college roommates what it was like for them around exam time).
in her face and wind at her back, and finishing the day in the
kitchen making a fab gourmet meal and sipping a glass of wine.
scoundrels who love them.
Dead Man’s Kiss Excerpts
Bloody hell, these people did not know who he was, what he was capable of doing.
Valeryn rose from his seat, reining in all his will to not break the prick’s neck. “Do you want to know why I am feared across the Caribbean?”
“Feared? I do not fear you,” Fraco said. “You were willingly led by your nose by a woman who had more cojones than you.”
A growl rumbled from deep within his chest. “I have sailed with Ned Low and Charles Vane.”
Catalina blanched. Worry stole her calm demeanor. Nalda also traded her stoicism for alarm. Good. They had plenty to be worried about. Valeryn had been disciplined by the most barbaric, sadistic pirates to ever sail the seas.
“I am well-schooled in vicious, torturous deaths.” He bared his teeth, an old habit when on the edge of unleashing his fury. “You will be fooling yourself if you entertain a mere inkling that I will let a fanciful poppet and a princock take me down.”
Fraco opened his mouth to speak.
Valeryn pulled out his dagger from his waistband, spinning it his hand before pointing it at the wastrel. “This is your one fair warning.”
He strolled to the door and yanked it open. As he expected, Henri fell across the threshold onto the floor. “See the ladies to their cabin,” he said to the eavesdropping old man. “Take the maid’s plate.”
“All of you, get out of my quarters. Now.”
One by one they filed out. Catalina was the last to leave. She paused beside him, close enough to inhale her fragrance—floral, spicy, like the white and yellow petals of the frangipani flowers. Slowly, excruciatingly so, she lifted her inquisitive gaze to meet his. Her beauty could turn a saint into a sinner. Luckily, he already had a place reserved for him in hell. Her plump lips parted to say something. Whatever ’twas, a second thought had snapped her mouth shut and lit a fire in her sable eyes. Valeryn rather liked that tempestuous look. He couldn’t help but wonder if she were a hell cat in the bedchamber. Couldn’t help his craving to stoke that fire. He dropped his gaze to the deep chasm between her breasts. How he desired to get lost in there. Damn, damn, damn.
“Take your leave, Miss Montoya.”
domestic goddess/beach bum with two beautiful daughters. Holding two
degrees, one is Music and Video Business, the other in Liberal Arts,
she has been able to express her creative thinking through countless
questionable, often hilarious, life experiences.
“research”), horseback riding, scrapbooking, shopping,
relaxing at the beach, and dares.
The sun sat below the yardarm, as Jean Marc leaned against the stern rail and admired his new cabin mate. No, they had not discussed her quarters, as he saved that particular joy for later, and he sincerely looked forward to what he anticipated would be a heated but restrained exchange.
A compelling mix of innocence, polite decorum, and fire, Lady Madalene conversed with members of the crew at the waist, without care, given she had no idea what naughty games he planned for her, but she would learn soon enough with whom she tangled. Rubbing the back of her neck, she shifted and peered over her shoulder. When she met his gaze, he smiled, and she dipped her chin.
“The lady is a kind soul, Cap’n.” Tyne scratched his cheek and frowned. “She treats the men with respect.”
“And your point would be—what?” Ah, the curve of her jaw presented a tempting confection he would trace with his tongue, and he would suckle and nibble her sweet flesh that night. “Have the tars completed the task?”
“Aye, but I do not like it, as she is young.” The bosun shuffled his feet. “We could empty one of the storerooms, and create a private lodging for her. Say the word, and I will see to it.”
“If I heeded your advice, how long do you think it would take before I had to kill a horny sea dog bent on sampling her honey?” Jean Marc snickered and descended the companion ladder, with Tyne bringing up the rear. “Now I will approve of the arrangements, ensure everything is as I commanded, and then you will send my guest to my cabin.”
“We could post a guard—”
“Jean Marc, I know you are unhappy with the bargain you struck with the British, but she is a guileless babe.” Tyne grabbed Jean Marc’s arm. “Do not use her as a foil for your frustration, as you will never forgive yourself.”
“I will do with her as I choose, which is none of your affair, and I have no conscience.” Wrenching free, he turned on a heel and stomped into his domain. In the corner hung a small hammock, which had been strung unusually high and taut, to discourage Lady Madalene from using it. As he tugged on the stiff rope, he laughed. “Perfect. Now, bring her to me.
storyteller, but it was a weeklong vacation to Bethany Beach, DE that
forever changed her life. The little house her parents rented had a
collection of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss, which exposed Barbara to
the world of romance, and Shanna remains a personal favorite. Barbara
writes heartfelt historical romances that feature flawed heroes who
may know how to seduce a woman but know nothing of marriage. And she
prefers feisty but smart heroines who sometimes save the hero, before
they find their happily ever after. Barbara earned an MA in English
and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and
Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric
English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into
writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren
of the Coast.
MY LADY PIRATE:
Maeve drew her dagger and flung it at his head, satisfied to see him jerk away so that the vicious blade impaled the wall just above and behind him. “You are disgusting, despicable, and totally without pride!”
“On the contrary, madam.” He reached up, pulled the dagger from the wall, and plucking an orange from the nightstand, began to use it to peel the fruit. “I am quite proud of it, thank you.” Still holding her gaze, he popped a section of the orange into his mouth, eating it with slow, suggestive motions that shortened the breath in Maeve’s lungs and made her realize that he was not the only one who was hot. Her temper rose. Had she had her pistol, she probably would have shot him. Probably. Maybe.
Maybe … not.
Her gaze darted from him to the window. From the window to him. From him to the window … and each time she looked at him, she saw that he was watching her, fully enjoying her discomfort.
He grinned, and suggestively licked at the juices trailing from the sweet fruit, letting his tongue wrap around each section and making sure she saw him doing it. His eyes were dark, laughing, and half-veiled by heavy, thick lashes that did nothing to conceal the wicked expression that lit them.
The suckling noises increased.
“Stop it!” she hissed.
He dropped the orange section into his mouth, licked his lips with a slow, languorous motion, and slowly peeled off another.
The heat rose in Maeve’s blood.
“Would you like … a taste, madam?”
She raised her cutlass. “I’ll give you a taste—”
“No decisive battle was ever fought from afar,” he interrupted on a low murmur, still grinning. “Nay, two vessels must lie alongside of each other in order to best bring their guns to bear.” He bit into the orange, making lewd, evocative noises as the juice trailed from the succulent flesh and dribbled down his chin. There was a dimple in that chin, and Maeve felt her heart skipping, staggering, faltering. “We have a signal for such an engagement in the navy. ’Tis called close action.”
“You are no longer in the navy, and I am not a ship!”
“Nay, you are not …” His voice grew low, dangerously seductive. “But I like the cut of your jib, the trim of your sails”—the dark gaze slid over her breasts, the gentle flare of her hips—“the shape of your hull.”
“Get out of my bed.”
“Why? I really am most comfortable. Not as comfortable, of course, as I would be if you were to drop anchor beside me….”
Her skin tingled and flushed crimson. “I said, Get out of my bed!”
He suckled the juice from his fingers. “What, would you prefer to do it on the floor?”
“I’d prefer that you shut your mouth before I shut it for you!”
“Now that,” he said wickedly, “could be interesting….”
Danelle Harmon has written sixteen books, with many distributed in
various languages throughout the world. She and her family make their
home in New England with a menagerie including four dogs, an Egyptian
Arabian horse, and pet chickens.
Captivated by the Captain
She stilled before the ladderway. A large man with dark blond hair and crisp blue eyes filled the exit, casting a tall shadow down on her. Bright sun filtered in around him, making him appear like a dark angel. She studied the crescent shaped scar on his cheek for a moment before meeting his gaze.
Heart racing, she held the knife out in front of her. “I will kill you before I allow you to touch me.”
“I mean you no harm, Miss.” He started down the ladder toward her.
“Stop where you are,” she demanded, thrusting the blade in his direction.
The man smiled. “I am Captain Blackmore of the Marion.”
She swallowed back the urge to trust his friendly smile. He could be tricking her into a false security. She tightened her hold on the knife and took a step backwards. Something in his tone told her she should care about his declaration. Still, none of what he said made sense to her. She only wanted off this bloody ship before she lost the ability to breathe. This man did not wear a navel uniform. All the same, he called himself a captain… “Are you here to rescue me?”
“Yes. If you care to be rescued.” He descended another step.
She backed away. “Then you are with the navy?”
He chuckled. “Gads, no. I’m a pirate.”
Her blood went cold, panic over taking her. Pirates had caused all of her troubles. They murdered the people she loved and took their ship. At this very moment she was a pirate’s captive seeking to save herself from whatever horrible fate he had in mind for her. She could not allow another pirate to take her. Would not allow it. She stiffened her stance, drawing a deep breath. “Then you can scurry back above deck. I will not be going anywhere with a pirate.” She tightened her grip on the blade.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as his gaze perused her bloody feet before traveling slowly up to meet hers.
He jumped from the ladder and snatched her wrist before she could move. “You will not be gutting me today. As for pirates, it appears you are already with one.”
“Not by choice.” Prudence struggled, jerking her arm and kicking at him. “Unhand me, you brute.”
He leaned in until his breath fanned her cheek. “I intend to sink this ship. You can either come with me, or go down to the ocean floor.”
life moved at a slower pace. She enjoys taking pen to paper and
exploring historical time periods through her imagination and the
written word. When she is not writing she can be found reading,
crocheting, traveling, practicing her photography skills, or spending
time with her family.
clutch her very own novel to her chest, tears brimming over the rims
of her eyes as she thought about how she’d written it herself,
finally! In fact, anything remotely like that didn’t even happen
until she was actually holding her first book in her hand, amazed
that she’d written it and wondering how on Earth she’d managed to do
it when it hadn’t ever occurred to her to write one until months
before. Surprisingly, though, it was just what she never realized she
perform on Broadway. She loves music and acting very much, while she
and dance have a love/hate relationship; she would love to do it and
every form of dance decides it hates that about her, haha! The one
constant she always had between the performing world and the book
world were the stories, tales that transported her to other worlds
and made her feel like she really could do anything. Finally, she
decided she wanted to do that for someone else and sat down to write.
really liked writing and wanted to do more, but the love that
blossomed in that moment has only grown. Currently, Kamery works from
home in Arizona, while taking care of her two adorable kids, a girl
and a boy, and talking her sweet husband Jake’s ear off about the
insane amount of characters in her head who are ready to fight to the
death for a chance at their own novels. It truly is a wonderful life!
coasters, a Root candle, Pirate bandana, playing cards, autographed
copies of pirate romances by the authors of the boxed set, and other
booty! Valued at $175
nautical fun pirate booty!
line of the story will be revealed on the Romance on the High Seas
page on each blog on the tour. At the end of the tour, simply answer
the question: “What started it all?”