Spotlight: A Summer to Remember by Marilyn Pappano

FIRST LOVE NEVER FADES . . . 

It's been a long time since widow Fia Thomas felt the spark of physical attraction. But from the moment she meets Elliot Ross one stormy night, she yearns for a fresh start, for him to make her feel whole and well again. With his broad shoulders and a warm smile crinkling his dark eyes, he could finally offer her the solace she's been seeking. And she's willing to give him anything in return . . . except a promise that could break his heart.

Now that Elliot is out of the Army, he's looking for a place to call home. Tallgrass was just a stop to stretch his legs, yet one look at Fia halts him in his tracks. In her sweet, sassy company, he finds the soul mate he never thought he'd have. But Fia is holding something back-something that keeps her from making any plans. Elliot's new mission: gain Fia's trust...and convince her that summer's end can mean a new beginning.

Excerpt

“Go on. Sing more.”

He did, and she listened with her eyes half closed. The tones were sweet, the emotion fierce, the quality hands-down better than the singer on the radio. Everything she learned about Elliot was adding up to an extraordinary man.

While she remained plain, average Fia. With “issues.”

“Beautiful,” she responded when the song ended. At about the same time, he turned into her driveway.

He came around and held hands with her to the stoop and up the steps, where he propped open the storm door with his boot while she unlocked the door. She set her purse on the floor inside the door, then faced him. “I’m not going to invite you inside because you’ve got to get up early.”

“Darn.” He moved a step closer, fitted his hands to her waist, and leaned toward her. She met him in the kiss, her mouth parting, her hands sliding around to the back of his neck, combing through his silky hair. Dear Lord, she’d forgotten how good a kiss could be. She nibbled at his lip, pausing only when his tongue thrust between her teeth, invading, exploring, rousing a long-unsatisfied need deep inside. Moving intuitively, her hands glided over soft cotton that covered the lean muscles along his spine. When they reached the rougher texture of jeans and leather belt, the tips tingled, like the briefest touch of a live wire, singeing and searing and sparking pleasure through her body.

When she stroked a few inches lower to slide her palm over his erection, his breath caught, and so did hers. It had been so very long . . .would be so very easy . . . back up one step, don’t let go, take him to the bedroom or, better, the couch, strip off their clothes . . .So easy. So perfect. So wrong.

Even the thought of that last word was wrong. It jangled in the midst of nerves humming with need. It pulled her out of the haze of what she could do, of the incredible satisfaction she could have, and brought back all the ugly uncertainty of her life. Elliot might be Prince Charming, but she was no princess, and her life was no simple, sweet fairy tale with a happily ever after.

Tears seeped into her eyes—disappointment, weariness—and she opened her eyes to blink them away. Apparently sensing the change in her, Elliot ended the kiss with another tiny, sweeter kiss, then clasped her hands in his. For a long time, he studied her face with an intensity that rippled along her skin, then he took a step back, putting breathing room between them.

When he spoke, he sounded as if he’d done a long hump with a heavy ruck on a hot day. “You never did tell me.”

“What?”

“Is Fia short for something?”

“You never did ask.” She didn’t sound much better. “Sofia.”

He laid his palm gently against her cheek, repeated her name, then backed away even farther. “Thank you, Sofia.”

“For what?”

“Being in that parking lot Friday night. For liking me and my dog. For kissing like—” Breaking off, he grinned and shook his head. “Damn.”

“It takes two.”

His grin strengthened, then slowly faded. “Good night.”

Leaning against the door jamb, she watched him go to his truck, get in, and drive away with a final wave. Sighing deeply, she stepped inside the house, closed and locked the door, and stumbled, hitting the floor with a solid thud.

About the Author

Known for her intensely emotional stories, Marilyn Pappano is the USA Today bestselling author of nearly eighty books. She has made regular appearances on bestseller lists and has received recognition for her work in the form of numerous awards. Though her husband's Navy career took them across the United States, he and Ms. Pappano now live in Oklahoma high on a hill that overlooks her hometown. They have one son and daughter-in-law, an adorable grandson, and a pack of mischievous dogs.

Connect:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads

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Spotlight: No One But You by Leigh Greenwood

First Comes Marriage…
Alone in the world and struggling to make ends meet, Texas war widow Sarah Winborne will do anything to keep her two small children safe and her hard-won ranch from going under. She hasn’t fought for so long to lose everything… and if that means marrying a stranger to protect her family’s future, then so be it.
 
She never expected anything but a business arrangement, but something about Benton Wheeler’s broad shoulders and kind eyes awakens emotions she’d long since buried. He makes her feel beautiful. He makes her feel desired. He makes her feel like a woman again. And even though their marriage was never intended to be more than a matter of convenience, as Benton stands between her small family and the wild and dangerous West, Sarah may just realize that the cowboy she married is the love she never dreamed she would find…

Excerpt

“Do you like Salty?” Jared asked.

The question punctured her thoughts. The unexpectedness of it was like a physical blow. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have married him if I hadn’t.”

“You said you only married because you had to.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t have married a man I didn’t like or didn’t trust.”

Jared had finished setting the table and putting out the bowls for the food, but he hadn’t put out the glasses. “Do you want him to stay after he fixes things so we won’t starve? He said he couldn’t get the land until you divorce him.”

Sarah didn’t know what had prompted Jared to ask these questions. She had always tried to be forthcoming with the children, but maybe she’d told them too much. “That’s a long way in the future.”

“Would you let him stay if he wants to?”

Sarah dragged her attention back to the stove. She moved the potatoes off the heat and checked the bottom of the cornbread to make sure it hadn’t burned. “Why are you asking this?”

“Because I want Salty to stay. Forever.”

Sarah forgot her potatoes and cornbread. She looked at her son. “Do you like him that much already?”

“I wish he could be my papa. Arnie said he wanted to be my papa, but I didn’t want him. I want Salty.”

Sarah pulled her son close and gave him a swift hug. “Honey, I know how important your crutch is to you, but anybody could have made you one.”

“But nobody did.”

And Salty had indeed made one, had made it a priority despite staying up all night. He’d taken them to eat in a restaurant, bought them a dog, and let them stay in a hotel. No wonder Jared wanted him to stay.

“He might decide to sell his land once he gets it,” she cautioned.

“He won’t.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even an opinion. Jared spoke as though his belief were an established fact.

“Why do you think that?”

“He doesn’t like Mr. Wallace.”

“Did he say so?”

“No, but I can tell.”

And that apparently settled the question for Jared, because he started setting out glasses.

Sarah hadn’t let herself think about what Salty might do when it came time to sign over half of the ranch; not lately. He had become part of her plans nearly as quickly as he had done for Jared. She was more attracted to him than ever. But that’s not what worried her. She liked him. That wasn’t in her plans.

It was okay to like him as a co-worker. It was okay to like him as a friend. It was even okay for her to start to depend on him for physical labor, seeing as he was her husband. However, it was not okay to want him around all the time. It wasn’t okay to think of him touching her, holding her, even kissing her.

She’d been on edge so long she probably wasn’t thinking clearly. She was simply grateful to find someone who might actually solve her problems. As a result, she had started thinking she’d like him to stay around forever. But was she so grateful, so relieved, she’d forgotten what her father was like, or Roger? Had she forgotten the men who’d worked for her, who were more interested in getting into her bed than in doing the work they were paid to do? Rose Randolph might have found a man she could love in a fairy-tale way, but Sarah didn’t trust any man that much.

But, maybe she could take him as a lover?

The thought shocked her so much she nearly dropped the pan of cornbread she was taking off the stove. She’d never had such a thought in her life. What was wrong with her? But the thought of being held and kissed by Salty caused her temperature to rise. Something deep inside her longed for the physical contact, and it wasn’t just a sense of safety she might find in his arms. She sought something much more fundamental, something she hadn’t felt with Roger or any other man. It was as though she needed him. She could understand want, could even understand lust, but where had needcome from? It wasn’t physical. She could take care of herself. It was an emotional need, one she’d never been able to fulfill, only deny.

“Hurry up with the cornbread, Mama. Ellen and Salty are almost here.”

Sarah’s impulse was to run to her bedroom. How could she face Salty with her thoughts in such disarray? She stood frozen while the pair entered the house. Then she did something she’d never done before. She fainted.

About the Author

Leigh Greenwood is the USA Today bestselling author of the popular Seven Brides, Cowboys, and Night Riders series. The proud father of three grown children, Leigh resides in Charlotte, North Carolina. He never intended to be a writer, but he found it hard to ignore the people in his head, and the only way to get them out was to write. Visit him at www.leigh-greenwood.com.

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Excerpt: Under Your Skin by Shannyn Schroeder

Blood Is Thicker Than Ink. . .

Norah O'Malley has been alone for a long time. It's been ten years since her father and four brothers shipped her off to be raised by her aunt. Seven months since she's seen the guy who got her pregnant--who still doesn't know. And it's two weeks since she came home to Chicago and discovered none of her family wants to talk--or listen.

She never expected to walk into a tattoo shop seven months pregnant and get her socks knocked off by instant attraction. She can't even see her socks. But Kai Ellis is big and gruff and sexy as hell, and if he has a past, well, so does she. Even more, Kai knows how to listen so that Norah feels just a little less alone . . .

All the chemistry in the world can't help Norah make her decisions. And no sizzle of desire will make Kai believe in happy endings. But a little time with someone who understands might just change everything . ..

Excerpt

Jimmy walked up to her and held out a hand to help her up. Instead she flipped her thumb to the spot next to her. He sat, extending his legs out in front of him, the crease in his pants still visible after a day of work.

“I think talking out here would be better. Kevin’s inside doing laundry and I pissed him off again.”

“He’ll get over it.” Jimmy looked at her clothes.

She tugged at the maternity top. “Moira borrowed stuff from her sister-in-law. At least now I don’t feel like an overstuffed burrito.”

“You look good. Happier.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not happy, but better.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

Her hand automatically went to her belly again. She’d always thought it weird when pregnant women did that, but now she understood. You couldn’t really control it. “I’ve done a lot of thinking. And I called Avery—” She stopped with the realization that she let his name slip. But not even Jimmy was good enough to track him down with only a first name.

Another deep breath in and released. Jimmy had stiffened beside her. He was better at covering his anger than Kevin, or any of the O’Malley boys for that matter.

“I think I want to give the baby up for adoption.”

Jimmy ran a hand over his face and then stared out at the street. He said nothing for so long that Norah couldn’t predict his response.

“Are you sure?”

“No.” She almost laughed. “But I talked with a counselor and discussed my options.”

“You want to give up your baby?”

Both hands now rested on her bulging torso. “It’s not about what I want or don’t want. I have to think about the baby and what’s best for him or her. Let’s face it. I’m a mess. I’m not ready to be a mom, definitely not a single mother. I don’t have a job. Crap. I don’t even have a mother to teach me how to be a mom.” The last words caught in her throat.

Jimmy reached out and put his hand on top of hers. “Sweetheart, I told you, you’re not alone. I meant it.”

“I know you did. But this baby isn’t your responsibility any more than I am.”

“You are mine. Mom would’ve expected it.”

“It’s not fair to you.”

“Life isn’t about fair. It’s not fair that we have a whole family full of siblings to look out for each other and some people have no one. We can’t control fairness.”

“I want my baby to have a shot at a good life, one with parents who love and want him or her.” She swallowed hard. She hadn’t voiced these ideas to anyone and they hurt. Feeling incompetent stung.

“It’s up to you and I’ll support whatever you want.”

She blinked away unshed tears. “Who are you? Jimmy O’Malley would never just offer blanket support without telling me what to do.”

“We’ve all done some growing up.”

“Mmm-hmm. I think Moira has a whole lot to do with that.”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Jimmy stood. “I’m going in to see Dad and say hi to Kevin. Don’t rush your decision. You have time. You have to be completely sure.”

She nodded. “I know. I haven’t done anything but think and talk about it, but I like what the adoption counselor had to say and I’m leaning in that direction.”

With his hand on the rail to go up the steps, Jimmy asked, “Do I want to know what the guy’s reaction was to the pregnancy?”

“Probably not.” She couldn’t look him in the eye when she admitted that.

Jimmy bent over and kissed the top of her head. “Say the word.”

He said nothing more, but his intention was there. All she had to do was open the door and he’d go after Avery. He meant for it to be protective and sweet, but it was kind of scary.

About the Author

Shannyn Schroeder is the author of the O’Leary series, contemporary romances centered around a large Irish-American family in Chicago and the Hot & Nerdy series about 3 nerdy friends finding love. Her new series (For Your Love) will release this summer with the first title Under Your Skin. When she’s not wrangling her three kids or writing, she watches a ton of TV and loves to bake cookies.

Connect:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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Spotlight: The Secret Life of a Dream Girl by Tracy Deebs

Release Date: June 27, 2016
Genre: YA Contemporary

Disclaimer: This Entangled Teen Crush book contains adult language, references to drinking and drugs, and a kiss so steamy it’ll fog up your eReader. 

Hiding in plain sight is harder than it looks…

Dahlia Greene—aka international pop superstar Cherry—is undercover as a normal high school student. She just wants to experience what real life is like, so when she overhears hottie Keegan Matthews nervously talking about liking a girl, she sees the perfect opportunity to live a real life and play a little matchmaker. What was not part of the plan was falling for a guy she can never tell the truth.

Keegan Matthews has been secretly crushing on Dahlia ever since she started at his school. Sure, Dahlia thinks he’s crushing on some other girl—not realizing his Dream Girl is actually her—but he figures, play along with her tips to woo someone else, let her get to know him, and then make his move. But with so many secrets in the mix, their romance is doomed from the start…
 
Dahlia and Keegan, Book 1 of 3
Dahlia and Keegan Book 2 coming March 2017

Excerpt

“I totally think if you like a girl, you should tell her.”

               He lifts a brow.  “Even if she’s never given any indication that she likes me back?”

               For a second I can’t help wondering who this girl with the super-human self-control is. More than once, it’s been all I could do not to drool when Keegan walked in the room – in a purely platonic fashion of course. It’s not my fault the boy looks really, really good in a flannel hipster shirt.

               “Are you sure about that?”

               “You sound like you don’t believe me.”

               “It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just…girls can be tricky, hard to read sometimes. And I mean, seriously, look at you.” I wave a hand up and down in a gesture that encompasses him from head to toe. “You have to know that you’re kind of a catch.”

               “Kind of?” he repeats with a laugh. “Wow, you really know how to make a guy feel good about himself.”

               “I wasn’t trying to make you feel good. I was just being honest.”

               “Honest, huh?” He steps a little closer, and suddenly I feel a little zing of electricity at his proximity. I mean, of course I do – the guy is one long, lean package of gorgeous. All laser-green eyes and sharp jaw and cheekbones you can hang the moon on. Plus he’s smart. And nice. Any girl with a pulse would feel a zing this situation.

               Still, I tamp it down quickly. A quick sizzle of attraction to Keegan is normal. Letting myself think it matters is something else entirely. And acting on it…acting on it is absolutely out of the question. First off, because he likes some other girl enough to get all freaked out about so much as talking to her, and secondly because there’s no way I’m getting that close to anyone at NextGen. It just wouldn’t be fair when I’m lying to everyone about who I am. Not to mention the fact that Cherry’s life is a total and complete mess right now. The last thing some unsuspecting guy needs is to be a part of that.

               “Cut the crap, Keegan,” I tell him when I have control over my hormones again. “You know you’re hot. Plus, rumor has it you’ve got a pretty good brain to back up your looks. So what’s the problem? The girl would be nuts not to go for you.” But then something occurs to me. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend, does she?”

               “I don’t think so, no.”

               “That didn’t sound very confident.”

               “Yeah, well, isn’t that what started this whole conversation?” he says with a smirk. “The fact that you don’t think I’m confident enough?”

               I roll my eyes. “Nice deflection.”

About the Author

TRACY DEEBS collects books, English degrees, and lipsticks. She has been known to forget where-and sometimes who-she is when immersed in a great novel. She is a writing and literature professor at Austin Community College.

Connect: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

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Spotlight: The Wicked North by Gina Danna

From USA Today bestselling author, Gina Danna, comes a historical romance full of deceit, betrayal and passion that ignite the flames of love between two lovers on opposite sides of a war.

Bound by duty and honor to wear the Union blue, a Southern-born West Point officer fights his own desires and the need to protect the woman he abandoned, he disobeys his orders to find her, as the Army of the Potomac marches toward her family’s home near Richmond.

She has the guts and willpower to protect her home from the hated Yankee aggressors, but when that traitor to the South appears at her door, she’s torn between wanting to shoot him and to be held in his arms again. Can she forgive him for their past indiscretion or does she turn him in to be executed, a traitor to both sides?

In the summer of 1862, her family’s plantation becomes the personal battle ground between them as deceit, betrayal and passion ignite the flames of love and hate that burn brighter than the roar of the guns and rivers of blood surrounding them.

Exclusive Excerpt

Rose Hill Plantation, Silvers’ residence. Parlor game of the 19th century called “Kissing the Corners” – a kissing game where a gentleman was stationed in each corner of the room and the ladies went to get a kiss. It was a ‘forfeit’ to redeem for losing in an earlier game. Emma, our heroine, finds herself faced with kissing Jack, the man she so wanted to kiss but this was her first time kissing. Would he kiss her or not?

Next was Jack. She walked to his corner, gazing into his glowing emerald eyes.

    “Emma,” he whispered.

    She heard voices behind her. The others had already finished. She was the last. Turning her head slightly, she looked for Caroline. She caught a glimpse of her sister in her buttercup yellow dress, talking to Abigail, Charles and the twins.

    “I’m right here, Emma,” Jack said, drawing her attention back to him.

    He was too handsome. She wanted to both kiss him and avoid him. A tingle in her belly spread up to her nipples.

    When Jack smiled his devilish smile, Emma felt as though she would turn into a puddle at his feet. Her mouth went dry as she stood there, frozen.

    “Why didn’t you ever write to me?”

    The question rattled her, bringing her back to her senses. “I sent you a letter, but I never received one from you.”

    He quietly chuckled. “I sent you a letter, hoping you’d respond.”

    “I never received any correspondence from you,” she said.    

“Hmm, I never got yours either.” His low drawl reached inside, soothing her. “But,” he continued, “I believe you owe me a kiss.”

    She opened her mouth, but not a sound came out.

***

    Jack stood still. She fidgeted. The silk dress clung to her breasts and her narrow waist. Her cage crinoline maintained a respectable space between them, regardless of how much he wanted her closer. He put his hands at the waist of her skirt and felt her tremble. She bit her lower lip. Oh, how he wanted to soothe that lip.

    With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer. The motion unbalanced her, and her hands sought his arms. When she still didn’t lean up to kiss him, he brought her even closer, his eyes fixed on her lower lip as her teeth released it.

    He wouldn’t meet her halfway. This could be the only time he’d have the advantage, and he didn’t want to waste it. Because Emma’s feet were slightly lifted from the floor, she gripped his arms tightly.

    He brought her to him. As he kissed Emma, his tongue traced her lower lip before his mouth enveloped hers. He wanted her to open her mouth, and he prodded the crease between her lips, coaxing her with his tongue. She parted her lips but pulled her head back as his tongue invaded her mouth.

    She tasted like strawberries and wine. It was an intriguing taste and he wanted more. She felt soft and warm against him. He knew he was pushing the limits of the game and propriety, but when he glimpsed her eyelashes feathered on her cheek, he almost growled. Abruptly, Jack released Emma and set her on the floor, his hands remaining at her waist. He could feel her shiver as she looked into his face, her eyes wide open. He smiled.

    Within a second, she raced away from him as fast as she could in a ladylike manner. Jack smirked. She had enjoyed his kiss. With his head cocked to the side, he walked to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy.

***

    When Emma had stepped away from Jack, she did everything within her power to control her nerves. Her lips felt swollen. His hands had left an impression on her waist—an impression that wasn’t his to make. Her next and last corner was Billy’s. He grinned at her as she tried to maintain a steady gait, but the memory of Jack’s kiss tingled down her spine, making her feel hot and cold simultaneously. Stop it! She gave her head a small shake and stopped, inhaling a large breath before returning Billy’s smile.

    But she wanted to kiss Jack.

    No, what he did was take advantage of the situation. How vulgar of him! Why did she crave more?

    “Is something wrong, Emma?”

    Conflicting thoughts clouded her mind, and she didn’t realize she was already in front of Billy. Politely dismissing his concern, she said, “No, no, nothing is wrong.”

    Billy’s head lowered slightly for her. “Kiss me, or pay a higher price forfeit.”

    Emma was curious about what the higher price might be, but, after Jack’s advances, she ignored it. Composing herself, she met Billy’s lips part way.

    He didn’t play with her lips nor press to enter her mouth. In a very gentlemanly manner, he gave her a quick kiss and bowed away. No fire came from his lips as it had from Jack’s. If anything, she was gravely disappointed that Billy hadn’t tried to kiss her like Jack had. She should have been glad, but she wasn’t.

    Like a good girl, she placed her hand on his sleeve and let him escort her back to the others. Caroline enticed them all to start charades. Jack was with them, a devilish grin on his face that Emma had the sudden urge to slap. When his glance fell her way, excitement raced through her veins, and she had the strangest sensation her nipples were tightening. Tamping down the fury of emotions Jack caused, she spent the rest of the evening at Billy’s and Caroline’s side and away from Jack.

About the Author

A USA Today Bestselling author, Gina Danna was born in St. Louis, Missouri, and has spent the better part of her life reading. History has always been her love and she spent numerous hours devouring historical romance stories, always dreaming of writing one of her own. After years of writing historical academic papers to achieve her undergraduate and graduate degrees in History, and then for museum programs and exhibits, she found the time to write her own historical romantic fiction novels.
 
Now residing in Texas, under the supervision of her three dogs, she writes amid a library of research books, with her only true break away is to spend time with her other lifelong dream - her Arabian horse - with him, her muse can play.

Connect: Website / Facebook / Twitter

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Excerpt: Once a Soldier by Mary Jo Putney

ROGUES REDEEMED

As heir to a title and great wealth, Will Masterson should have stayed home and tended his responsibilities. Instead he went to war. Now, after perilous years fighting the French, he intends his current mission to be his last. But all his plans are forgotten when he arrives in the small mountain stronghold of San Gabriel and meets her.

Knowing herself to be too tall, strong, and unconventional to appeal to a man, Athena Markham has always gloried in her independence. But for the first time in her life, she finds a man who might be her match.

Two of a kind, too brave for their own good, Athena and Will vow to do whatever it takes to vanquish San Gabriel’s enemies. For neither will back down from death, and only together can they find happiness and a love deeper than any they'd dared imagine...

Excerpt

Portugal, 1809

Chaos, the screams of women and children floundering

desperately in the water. An absurdly tall nun with

a rifle slung over her back as she tried to save a gaggle

of schoolgirls. Brutal French soldiers closing in. . . .

“Is he dead?”

Hard fingers pressed into Will’s throat. He tried to shake them off, and was rewarded with stabbing agony in his head. The pain cleared his wits a little and he realized that someone was checking his pulse.

“Not yet,” a vaguely familiar voice responded. The fingers disappeared. “Bashed on the head. Not sure how serious it is. I recognize him, though. The name’s Masterson.”

“Let him sleep,” another voice said gruffly. “If he’s not awake, he won’t want a share of this deplorable brandy.”

Thinking he had a fierce-enough headache without drinking bad brandy, Will opened his eyes to find that he was in a damp, dark place, a cellar maybe, with cluttered racks covering most of the stone walls. A lantern hanging from a ceiling beam cast enough light to show the face of the man leaning over him. Tangled blond hair and a scruffy beard several shades darker. Shabbily dressed, but alert, wary eyes.

Will squinted at him. “I know you, don’t I?”

“The name’s Gordon. We went to the same school long, long ago. How is your head? You took quite a blow.”

Will touched his aching temple, wincing at the pain. There was sticky blood, too. But his brain seemed to be working. He now recognized Gordon, though that wasn’t the name the fellow had used when they were students at the Westerfield Academy. Given his bad behavior then, it wasn’t surprising if he’d decided to change identities.

“Where am I?” Will’s voice was rusty.

Gordon sat back on his heels. “Vila Nova de Gaia, in the cellar of a house overlooking the Douro River,” he replied. “Do you remember the bridge of boats? People drowning as they tried to escape from Porto to Gaia and the improvised bridge breaking up under them?” His voice turned dry. “You were very heroic. Led the charge to rescue a group of nuns and schoolgirls from being raped and possibly murdered.”

The tall nun. Frantic, wide-eyed girls. Remembering now, Will asked, “Did they escape?”

“Yes, at least for the moment.” The reply came from a dark-haired, hard-featured man who leaned wearily against the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “No idea what happened once they were out of sight.”

Hoping that at least one group of innocents had managed to survive the carnage, Will shakily tried to push himself up. Wordlessly Gordon helped him sit against the damp stone wall. Every inch of Will’s body ached, but he didn’t seem to have any major injuries.

No uniform. He was dressed like a Portuguese man of modest means. Since he was fluent in Portuguese, Spanish, and French and he’d spent time in Porto, his commanding officer had sent him to learn what was going on in the city. Nothing good, he’d discovered.

He surveyed the shadowy room, which contained three men besides himself and Gordon. All looked as battered as he was.

Gordon made a courtly gesture. “Allow me to introduce our fellow English spies. That’s Chantry against the wall, Hawkins swigging from the bottle of brandy, and Duval to the left.”

“I dislike being grouped with you English spies,” Duval said in a languid voice with a faint accent. “I’m a French royalist.”

“But a spy?” Will asked.

“I might be considered that by narrow-minded French officers,” the Frenchman admitted. “In truth, I’m merely an irredeemable rogue.”

“Irredeemable? This is a good time to talk about redemption,” Hawkins said thoughtfully. He was the man with the gruff voice whose shaggy brown hair half obscured his face. “If we weren’t going to die in the morning, would we attempt to make up for our past sins? Or shrug and return to them?”

Gordon frowned. “I think I’d try to be better. I’ve always assumed that there would be time to become an honorable man. I didn’t expect to run out of time so soon.” He took the brandy bottle from Hawkins and swallowed deeply, then passed it to Will.

“I don’t know how to be good,” Chantry said, his voice edged. “I’ll go to hell no matter when I die. Which is going to be in a few hours.”

Will wondered if he’d misheard. “What’s this about dying?”

“We’re all to be shot at dawn,” Duval explained. “So say your prayers and hope that le bon Dieu is in a merciful mood.” His mouth twisted. “I expect no such mercy. But given the chill of this cellar, roasting in hell is not without appeal.”

Will tasted the brandy warily. Wretched indeed, but he welcomed the throat-scorching kick as he tried to absorb the knowledge that he was about to die in front of a firing squad. He’d faced death in battle often enough, but the cold-bloodedness of an execution was . . . disturbing.

After a second swallow of brandy, he handed the bottle back to Gordon. “There’s no way out of this cellar?”

“We searched. At the least, we hoped to find more drink on one of the racks, but there was nothing useful, and the only way out is that door.” Hawkins gestured. “That very heavy door, which is locked and barred from the other side.”

“There are also two armed guards out there,” Duval added. “Not such bad fellows. They gave us two bottles of brandy because they thought a man shouldn’t go to his death sober.” He smiled crookedly and reached for the bottle. “They apologized for the quality of the brandy, but, in truth, I no longer care. We finished the first bottle while you were unconscious, so we’re all ahead of you in drunkenness.”

    “‘In vino veritas,’” Hawkins murmured. “As I look at the rapidly diminishing moments of my life, I think of all the people I hurt being careless or selfish.” He retrieved the brandy from Duval and took a swig. “If by some miracle I survive this sentence of death, I vow to do better. To pay more attention. To . . . to be more kind.”

“That’s a good vow.” Gordon frowned. “If I survive, I swear not to sleep with any more married women. They’re nothing but trouble. “

That produced a couple of chuckles. “If you’re not going to sleep with married women, you might as well be dead,” Chantry pronounced. After a few moments’ thought, he continued, saying slowly, “But if I chance to survive, I vow to take up the responsibilities I’ve been avoiding. A safe promise that allows me to greet the firing squad gladly.”

“What about you, Masterson?” Gordon asked. “Unless you’ve changed greatly, your soul shouldn’t be imperiled by death in the morning. At school, you were damnably well behaved and good-natured.”

“Don’t confuse good manners with blameless behavior,” Will said dryly. “I’ve been working on redemption for my sins for years, and I’m nowhere near balancing the scales in my favor.” He wasn’t sure if redemption was even possible.

Hawkins sighed gustily. “Unfortunate that the guards didn’t give us more brandy. A bottle each would have been welcome. Even with only two bottles, we’d have\ had half a bottle each if you hadn’t woken up, Masterson.”

“Sorry to deprive you,” Will said apologetically. Hawkins regarded the bottle solemnly, then leaned over to give it to Will. “In fairness, you should finish this bottle, since we all had a head start.”

Dreadful though the brandy was, Will accepted the bottle and emptied it with one long swallow. There was nowhere near enough to become drunk, alas.

He hoped again that the nuns and schoolgirls had escaped to safety. That would give some meaning to his death. God knew he’d seen enough meaningless deaths.

About the Author

Mary Jo Putney is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has written over 60 novels and novellas. A ten-time finalist for the Romance Writers of America RITA, she has won the honor twice and is on the RWA Honor Roll for bestselling authors. In 2013 she was awarded the RWA Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award. Though most of her books have been historical romance, she has also published contemporary romances, historical fantasy, and young adult paranormal historicals. She lives in Maryland with her nearest and dearest, both two and four footed.

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