Bits 'n Bobs Author Blog
Another great 'first kiss' moment for this week's Medieval Monday from Ashley York's book, The Gentle Knight. EXCERPT: "What. Will. It. Be?" He leaned in closer, whispering each word. "Whatever you think best?" She spoke as calmly as she could but the room was getting very hot. He glanced up as if trying to read an unclear sign but then that assured smile returned. A tiny quiver rippled through her. Before she could speak again, he was closing in on her, his body up against hers. "Whatever I think best?" She wavered for a moment, unsure why he answered her with that tone. She wanted nothing more than to melt against him, envelope herself in his heat. This was just like in her dream. Hot and heady. Then his firm lips were on hers. His hard length pressing her into the table, as if trying to meld them together. Her body would gladly have done just that if only it could have turned to pure liquid instead of just a growing warmth where his hips grinded into her. He pulled his head back enough to search her face. He was breathing hard. He looked bewildered. "Is this what you want then?" Her body arched towards his where the pressure had eased. "I…I'm not sure." She should not be feeling this way. "Please." The answering sound from deep in his throat surprised her but then she got what she craved. His lips on hers again, then trailing across her cheek and down her jaw. An intense ripple of pleasure shot straight to her core. His hips undulated against hers, the heat, the dampness. She moaned. He suddenly stopped, his head still dipped into the crook of her neck. She didn't dare breathe. "I do not believe your protector will be happy with the outcome if we continue." His voice was husky, his breath warm against her skin. He shifted away. Her body immediately missed his. Her eyes closed, she took a slow, steadying breath. BLURB: A medieval soldier returns home to find his lover died in childbirth just as his own mother had. Believing he is cursed, Peter of Normandy turns from love. When he must give escort to an Irish princess more noble than many knights, he struggles with his decision to live a solitary life. Can he take the chance that his love won't be a death sentence and possibly make them stronger? Padraig MacNaughton's death bed decree rips his daughter, Brighit, from the shelter of her protective clan in Ireland. Forced to take vows at a Priory in England, she finds herself in the hands of lecherous mercenaries with their own political agendas. Dare she trust the Norman knight to see her safely to her new life as a nun? Even when she finds in him the fulfillment of all she's ever wanted? Or will honor and duty eclipse their one chance for happiness? BUY LINKS: Apple Kobo Amazon Barnes and Noble
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5/24/2015 0 Comments Medieval Monday with Ashley YorkAshley York joins me for this week's Medieval Monday post with book 2 in her Norman Conquest series, The Gentle Knight. BLURB: A medieval soldier returns home to find his lover died in childbirth just as his own mother had. Believing he is cursed, Peter of Normandy turns from love. When he must give escort to an Irish princess more noble than many knights, he struggles with his decision to live a solitary life. Can he take the chance that his love won't be a death sentence and possibly make them stronger? Padraig MacNaughton's death bed decree rips his daughter, Brighit, from the shelter of her protective clan in Ireland. Forced to take vows at a Priory in England, she finds herself in the hands of lecherous mercenaries with their own agendas. Dare she trust the Norman knight to see her safely to her new life as a nun? Even when she finds in him the fulfillment of all she's ever wanted? Or will honor and duty eclipse their one chance for happiness? EXCERPT:. She had dreamed of him! All at once it came to her. He had taken her into his strong arms and held her tight against that hard body. Every muscle pressing into her. Then the touch of his warm lips sliding along her cheek to meet her mouth with a hungry kiss. Brighit had actually felt his lips on hers and that same heat swirled through her now. She sighed. Yes. It was a very nice dream. The shock of cold air accompanied with the sound of the curtain being dragged back had her eyes flying open. There in front of her was the man from the lake... the one in her very real dream. In the flash of a second, his eyes changed from wide with shock to a look she’d swear spoke of pleasure. “And what is this?” He tipped his chin toward her, a knowing smile gracing his pleasing face. Brighit covered herself. One arm across her breasts and one hand over her private parts. She felt like Eve posing in the Garden of Eden. The sudden silence stole her breath away. She refused to confirm it but knew all eyes were on her. “Do you mind?” Ivan’s voice cut through the awkward moment as he stood next to the carriage. He yanked the curtain from the fine-looking man’s hand, dropping it back in place. Brighit was again cocooned in darkness. “Yours?” The man’s voice was low, resonating through her core. It was as appealing as his body. She took a steadying breath, trying to calm her nerves enough to cover herself. She couldn’t have done a better job of calling attention to herself if she’d tried. Just how many men were out there? How many men had seen her without so much as a stitch of clothing? She yanked the chemise down but it refused to cooperate. The sopping material bunched at her hips. She grabbed at her gown, her hands shaking with the rage coursing inside her. That now familiar sound of fist-against-flesh cut through the silence. An unfamiliar laugh. His laugh. A slight tremor responded through her insides. “Mort,” the handsome man called to someone. The indistinct image of a shorter man with a gaping mouth came to mind. “Yes, my lord?” “I believe this man was about to take a terrible misstep with his fist. Does it seem to you these men have a certain…lack of knowledge?” he asked. What arrogance! Ivan’s angry face came to mind. She shivered. The handsome man did not know who he was dealing with. “I would say that it does.” The shorter man was closer now. “Mayhap some learning is required?” “Do you believe it’s possible, my lord? Are they trainable?” “They have a naked woman in a carriage while they fight out here over who will get her.” She gasped, a soundless intake of air. Like a standard being dropped, the men talked at once. Tears threatened and a few leaked down her cheek. She wiped them away. She was only trying to clean herself not be fought over. Who was he to say such cruel things about her? The morning had started out so promising. They’d had a nice time breaking their fast with very little interaction at all. Cole’s offer of extra water had come as a surprise but not one she wanted to miss. Sudden silence. Brighit held her breath. “And what would your name be?” “I am called Ivan.” “And this…young lady?” This was just getting worse and worse. His words fairly dripped derision. “Brighit.” She answered for herself albeit through a clenched jaw from within the carriage. “Ireland? You’ve taken her from Ireland?” Brighit was surprised at his ability to name where she’d come from. She wished she were still there... any place but here. This was infuriating. She could not go out there now. They may have imagined her naked and their occasional lustful glances assured her that they did. But to have them actually see her was beyond embarrassment. Embarrassment only increased by the fact that at least two of them weren’t even known to her. “That I have.” Ivan’s smug voice drifted to her. Whoreson! “Please clothe yourself forthwith.” He must be facing her now for he sounded very close. A warmth tingled up her spine. No! His voice may be low and quiet but there was nothing intimate about this situation. She struggled with the ties up the front of her dress. “It’s what I’ve been trying to do.” Her irritation came through in her tone of voice. Good! “And I wonder why you have not been successful thus far.” He had the nerve to sound irritated? “Just do it... and be quick about it.” Arrogance oozed from the man! “Yes, my lord.” She clipped her words, struggling with her wimple, and hoped her sarcasm carried through the curtain. “Hurry up.” “I am hurrying!” Her thick hair refused to cooperate but she was not about to go out there with so much as a single strand visible. The man cleared his throat. Brighit would like to take a knife to it. He may be pleasant to look at but his manners lacked even the slightest courtesy. Buy links: Apple Kobo Amazon Barnes and Noble 1/19/2015 2 Comments Medieval Monday with Ashley YorkToday on Medieval Monday, I have Ashley York, featuring the first book in The Order of the Scottish Thistle Series – The Bruised Thistle. Blurb: Iseabail MacNaughton, the orphaned daughter of a Scottish laird, is forced to flee her home and seek assistance against her lecherous uncle who has usurped her family’s land. When she meets Seumas, a strong and valiant mercenary, she cannot help wondering if he could be the one to stand with her again her uncle. But with a price on her head and enemies on all sides, her trust is not something she can afford to give lightly… Seumas MacDonell is a man wounded in body and soul, driven by guilt. When he rescues Iseabail from one of his own men, he cannot deny the attraction he feels for her, despite the wound that left him unable to act on it. In the hope of finding redemption for his sins, he agrees to help Iseabail…but will his feeling for her prove to be the ultimate obstacle to his salvation? EXCERPT: “Methinks ye wish to place a curse on me with that look of yers… What is yer name?” Though she jumped at the sound of his voice, she could not help watching as he poured water from a pitcher to a bowl sitting on the table beside the fire. Mesmerized by the motion and the play of firelight over his expansive chest, she did not notice right away when he stopped his movements. She met his eyes. Her heart beat faster and that strange heat centered in her belly again. He quirked a brow. “I asked ye a question and I expect an answer…or do ye not know how to act with yer betters?” Her better? Though she seethed inside, Iseabail bit her tongue before she gave herself away. If he but knew how much land her clan called their own… Nay, Iseabail. Remember the part you play here. Lowering her eyes, she quietly answered him. “Forgive me, m’lord. I forget myself.” Unsure what else the charade called for, she curtseyed slightly. “Yer name?” He still didn’t move. His brows were raised in expectation yet again. “My name is Iseabail.” He nodded, apparently appeased. “And my name is Seumas.” His face settled into a slight smile and he continued with his washing. His muscles flexed as he rubbed across his chest and down his arms, scrubbing the soap into lather then rinsing it clean until his skin glistened. When he finished, he reached for the cloth beside him but turned his face to her. She exhaled slowly. “Come here, Iseabail.” His tone was coaxing, as if speaking to a newly harnessed foal. She took the few steps toward him. When he reached for her face, she tensed and her mouth went dry. He was no better than her uncle, after all, and disappointment washed over her. She glanced down, steeling herself for the imminent assault, before facing him. His hand stopped just short of her face. Their eyes met and she could tell he was insulted by his tight lips and furrowed brow. He wiped her cheek with a wet finger. “Ye’re filthy,” he said with disgust. “Make use of my water and be quick about it.” Seumas walked away, rubbing his hands dry. Available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Apple Join me on Ashley York's blog for a special Scottish Christmas offering, and a beautiful poem by Alexander Grey called Christmas Carol.
http://www.ashleyyorkauthor.com/blog/a-special-christmas-offering-from-cathy-macrae/ Here is the last verse of Mr. Grey's poem- check out the post on Ashley's blog for the entire poem, or visit the site below "...For the bairn that was born that nicht i’ the sta’ Cam doon frae Heaven to tak awa’ Oor fecklessness, and bring us a’ Safe hame in the hender-en’. Lord, at this Yule-tide send us licht, Hae mercy on us and herd us richt. For the sake o’ the bairnie born that nicht, O, mak us better men!" www.Scots-Online.org Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and blessed holiday season! 10/6/2014 0 Comments Medieval Monday with Ashley York#medievalmonday The Saxon Bride Historical Romance writer Ashley York loves history and intrigue. Her latest book, The Saxon Bride, is the first in her Norman Conquest Series. Here is a little about the book: In war torn England the battle lines between Saxon and Norman are clearly drawn. The Saxons must fight for everything they have in the hopes of winning their country back from the Normans who are determined to break their resistance. Rowena Godwinson, the sole remaining member of the defeated royal family, stands proudly against the Normans that would trample them underfoot but her nobility and grace make her an ideal pawn in the Norman King William’s play for power with the Saxon people. When he decrees she marry a powerful Norman knight, her subjugation appears to be complete. The handsome soldier with the kind brown eyes and gentle touch is a threat to her determination to defy the interlopers. Can she hold firm to her Saxon heritage and refuse to give in to his advances? John of Normandy wants only to prove himself worthy of the king’s trust. He is rewarded for his service and loyalty with land, titles and a Saxon beauty for a bride. John balks at the marriage, driven by the secret guilt of knowing Rowena’s father died at his sword. However, John’s reluctance is soon replaced by a burning desire to please this woman and win her over as well as her people. As their people look to them for guidance and peace, can John and Rowena find a love that unites all of England? Excerpt from The Saxon Bride: Pacing the small area like a confined animal, she finally paused to look out the window. The dreary day reflected her feelings, rain threatening at any moment. “Do you know when my husband will be returning?” “I am back now.” John stood in the doorway handsomely dressed as befit the new Lord of Essex. Rowena’s breath caught in her throat. She looked away before the immense pleasure she felt at his return showed on her face. Joan quickly gathered her sewing and removed herself from the room, closing the door behind her. “Will you attend me, my lady?” Rowena went to him and helped him remove his surcoat before seeing to the heavier chainmail. He smelled of horses and leather. Manly. Rowena tried not to close her eyes as she drank in the intoxicating smell of him. Why would a dirty, sweaty man make her feel so light headed? She stepped away when she realized why, the chainmail slipping forward off his arms. His hooded eyes told her that he knew what she was feeling. “Is there a problem?” His deep voice seemed to reverberate through her body. Quickly putting the heavy material down, she headed to the door. “I will order a bath for you.” “Wait.” Rowena froze with her hand on the latch and heard him coming toward her. He stood close behind, his breath soft against her cheek. “Yes?” Be done with this. Her body yearned for his arms to pull her against him, to feel his kiss again. She licked her lips. “Why are you leaving in such a hurry?” His hand lightly touched the side of her head as he spoke, pushing her hair away from her face. He leaned in closer to her exposed ear. A responding shiver ran down her body. “Are you afraid of me?” She backed up to the door with a thud and faced him. Her pulse was racing as she lied. “No, my lord. Methinks you have a rather strong odor about you and I would have you take a bath before the evening meal.” John backed away quickly, his eyes flying open. “I am sorry if I offend you. Please see to the bath.” Rowena felt only slightly guilty when he turned away from her, standing like a lost little boy in the middle of the room. * * * Buy link: The Saxon Bride available now. Ashley York loves to hear from her fans. Visit her at ashleyyorkauthor@gmail.com, Facebook, Twitter: @Ashley1066York,, and her website www.ashleyyorkauthor.com |
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