BOOK LIST..

Norse series.

(Viking romance).

Norse Jewel, Book 1.

To Find a Viking Treasure, Book 2.

Midnight Meetings series.

(Georgian romance).

Meet the Earl at Midnight, Book 1.

The Lady Meets Her Match, Book 2.

The Lord Meets His Lady, Book 3 (coming Dec, 2017).

Do you like hot, Viking heroes?.

Here's an exclusive excerpt from To Find a Viking Treasure...

A tale of romance between a rough-souled Viking warrior named Brandr and the flame-haired thrall named Sestra.

The two have always traded barbs, but to save the kingdom of Uppsala, they must work together to find a hidden treasure before time runs out. On the trail, their clash of wills escalates to an explosive, sensual heat. Secrets unfold...leading to a heart-stopping sacrifice on their quest to find a Viking treasure.

The fine hairs on her neck stood on end as a pair of familiar black leather boots cross-gartered with frayed leather stepped into view.

Brandr.

Cheeks flus.h.i.+ng hotly, a groan caught in her throat. There was no graceful way out of this.

She released the awkward grip on her bodice and raised her head, meeting the Viking's mocking grin with a tight-lipped smile. Tarnished silver eyes pierced her from the shadows where the savage warrior stood, a thumb hooked in his belt.

"Sestra."

Her skin p.r.i.c.kled. Brandr's deep voice marked her when he said her name, the same way a wild beast's growl did when stalking prey in a midnight forest. Strength rippled under his black tunic stretched across shoulders broad enough to block out the light. By Viking standards, he was barely tame, preferring the woods to Uppsala's people. His edge, born of a near-feral nature or simply hard man, weakened her knees. The warrior rattled her, and he knew it.

And tonight he'd sought her.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped, rocking back on her heels. It was a good effort to restore faltering confidence.

"You." His graveled voice rumbled with humor.

"At least we know your eyes work."

Brandr's grin split wider. "The rest of me does too, but you won't get your work done hiding back here."

She itched to slap the smirk off his face. Of all men, he had to be the one to witness her, ducking behind a barrel, ale-splashed b.r.e.a.s.t.s jiggling as she struggled with ill-fitting clothes.

The Viking leaned against a post, holding a drinking horn casually against his thigh. "Got a problem with your clothes?"

"I'm sure you have better things to do than worry about my tunic."

"Looked like you needed help. You usually do." He took a drink, eyeing the empty pitchers and uncut vegetables.

Her knees hurt, a reminder she was kneeling on the floor. Bellows rose from the crowd and through a crack between two barrels, she witnessed two red-faced men. One banged a fist on the table, sending wooden bowls clattering against empty drinking horns in their stands. Someone needed to fill those drinking horns. Duty called.

"You could be the last man standing," she said, pus.h.i.+ng to full height. "And I'd not ask for your help."

She s.n.a.t.c.hed her ap.r.o.n to her chest. Dabbing the excess ale bothered already sensitive skin. How was it her ears found his voice in all the noise? The Viking was never friendly.

Brandr taunted her most nights in his unhurried way, but she got him back. Spilling mead on his boots at feasts. Serving food to others first, giving his portion last. Or not at all. His self-a.s.sured gaze would follow her before the warrior got off his seat, giving her a slight nod as he ambled off to fetch his food.

Besting him thrilled her, made her blood race at their strange game of cat and mouse. Standing in the smoky longhouse, drying off her skin, she had an inkling Brandr fed on it too. Yet, he'd never groped her and never demanded she lay with him. He'd not touched her at all.

Her hands slowed on tingling skin. Was that why he sought her now?

"Missed a spot," he said, eyeing her low neckline.

She glanced down. Her nipples pinched to hard, pebbled points as a slow trickle of wetness disappeared between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Brandr's grin was a slash of white against black whiskers as if he knew what her body would do and wasn't disappointed. Her mouth opened with a ready retort, but she froze.

Was he the one who'd take her?.

end.