I moved to Belgium when I was in my early twenties and fell in love with European life. Lazy afternoons spent sipping aromatic coffee at a sidewalk cafe, the pure adventure of exploring a different culture, and historical monuments at every turn made for a fairy tale existence I will never forget. I developed my love for all things medieval while I lived there, so it was no wonder that many of my books are set during that time period. Here is a look at one of my early medieval romances, Broken Armor.
EXCERPT: When he brushed his lips over hers, she closed her eyes against the sparks shooting behind them. His kiss was gentle, too gentle. She longed to throw her arms around him, press her body to his and devour his mouth with the hunger burning inside her.
But she reluctantly obeyed his command. She balled her hands into fists at her sides, a frustrating effort to remain still. It took every bit of strength she possessed to do so. He continued to rake his lips back and forth across hers, nothing more demanding even though she silent begged him to take, take, take.
With the lightness of a feather, he slid the calloused tips of his fingers up her arms, leaving a trail of gooseflesh that caused her to shiver. The ache betwixt her legs intensified, throbbing so she feared she would lose her mind from the sheer pleasure of it.
Kier grasped her shoulders in his strong hands. He flicked his tongue over her closed lips, parting them slightly and licking round the inside. He smiled against her. “You’re trembling.”
She held strong to the contact with his mouth. “What is happening to me?”
A rumble of laughter vibrated in his chest. “Give me your tongue.”
She did not hesitate to slide her tongue against his. He curled his lips around it, sucking her into his mouth. With small back and forth movements, he simulated the acting of…
God’s eyes! I’m fucking his mouth with my tongue!
Her heart soared at the intensity of her feelings. A raging fire fairly boiled inside her now. To hell with not moving. She could not stand it anymore. She reached betwixt them, intending to massage him through the front of his breeches. Mattie did that all the time, especially during negotiations with a customer.
Kier grabbed her wrists. “I told you not to move.”
“I-I can’t.” She could hardly speak past the tightness in her throat.
Her pulled her arms around his waist then took her face in his hands. Tilting her head back, he covered her mouth, opening her wide and invading her with his velvet tongue. He alternately sucked at her lips, her tongue, then laved his own around inside her mouth. His lips became hard, demanding. “Open wider.”
She did as he commanded. She could not get enough of him no matter how wide she opened her mouth. She should have been sickened by the wetness of the kiss. But far from it. Instead she mewled a little whimper, craving more. She sighed at the delicious taste of him. She loved the way he devoured her, as a man ravenous with hunger. She loved the way he made her feel. Wanton, desirable.
She loved everything.
She leaned against him, savoring the way her body melded with his. A perfect fit. Her soft, full breasts contrasted with the hardness of his chest. Ignoring his earlier command, she slid her hands up his torso and snaked her arms over his shoulders, tangling her fingers in the long silky strands of his ebony hair, still damp from the exertion she had caught him in when she arrived. She tugged at him, deepening their kiss further still. Her head swam with his scent of smoke and leather. He was all man.
She groaned her disappointment when he dragged his lips from hers. He slid his hands to her shoulders and pushed her away, but not before planting a few linger kisses along her jaw, her closed eyes, once more on her lips.
She peeled her eyes open, anxious to see what would happen next.
Ivelisse Sterling would rather become one of her father’s whores than marry a man of his choosing. But he and the women who helped raise Ivy want a different life for their little girl. The company’s plans are thrown into upheaval the moment Ivy sees the local blacksmith, Kier Dufrance and decides he will be her first customer. But Kier shows no interest in her attempts to seduce him. Ivy has grown up with this troupe of prostitutes, so she is not ignorant of relations between men and women. Imagine her disappointment and frustration when she finds it impossible to seduce the man she has chosen to be her first.
Kier, reluctant to explain his impotence, tries to discourage Ivy. But he underestimates her determination. Without benefit of a modern day sex therapist, it is up to these medieval lovers to find a cure. Ivy’s antics while trying to learn all she can from her friends will have readers laughing out loud before racing for a cold shower.