ONE DAY 99c Valentines Day sale!
Feb 14, 2024 2:34 pm
Happy Valentine's Day!
I hope you are doing well and celebrating in your own way.
The last time I emailed, I was traveling my way through Lapland. I am happy to inform that I made it back safely, with no more incidents.
I did ride a dog sleigh, and it was one of my top experiences of the trip! The dogs were so energetic and excited to run around tugging the sleigh. We got to pet them after the ride, and they were the friendliest dogs (and the warmest!)
I did promise you pictures of the snowmobile crash, though! Not the most romantic thing out there, but sh*t happens.
A few of you asked for the story of how I wrecked a snowmobile... and here it is.
It was a lovely winter day when I...
Kidding! Kidding! I won't bore you with the details. Although the day was indeed lovely.
I took a snowmobile tour with a group where we paired up to ride around Lapland, see some reindeer, eat some reindeer, and pet some reindeer.
I wasn't supposed to be driving. I used to be a fine driver, but since my vision got worse a few years ago, I don't trust myself as much.
But as things go, that day was a perfect storm of little things that went wrong.
First, the guy who was the driver of my snowmobile drove us into the snow a couple of times.
Then he refused to continue driving because he became scared.
I didn't have my glasses with me.
The snow was too white and reflected the sun.
Blah blah blah boom! We flew into a tree.
Luckily, for some reason, we fell off the snowmobile before hitting the tree, so the only impact we felt was from falling into the soft snow.
No injuries, but the snowmobile was wrecked.
Pictures for reference.
Anyway, I am back in Malta now! Sitting on my couch, sipping my tea, and celebrating the Valentine's Day by editing my upcoming novel! More about book news later.
For now... well, in the spirit of the holidays, here's a massive event with over 100 books priced at 99c each!
This event includes Secrets of the Wicked Viscount, a steamy friends to lovers romance with a secret identity trope!
So, back to book news!
What book am I currently working on? It's easy. It's the Mad Duke March!
It's a part of the Rake Review set, and since this is a group series, I have already collected the ARC requests before the year started. If you have filled out the form to receive this book as an ARC, there's a high chance that you will receive it a few days before the official release date.
If you haven't requested an ARC, now is the time to pre-order it! (and other books in the series.)
Read on for a sneak peek!
We have some amazing swag you can buy to go along with the books, including but not limited to a hot calendar, mugs, and totes!
That's it from me for now! And as usual, here are some books from my friends.
New Releases from my friends:
The ton thinks Hades is a rake. He’s not.
Before the Brazen Belle’s gossip column named him February’s rake, Dr. Hades Jones was the ton’s most trusted doctor, proper in every way but for his family’s scandalous past. But the rake the Belle named wasn’t him. It was someone wearing his distinctive silk-lined coat, which was stolen from him months ago. Now Hades is on the hunt for the coat thief, and what he finds in a Covent Garden alley is not what he expects—a woman with doe eyes, a steel spine, and a tart tongue he unexpectedly wants to taste.
Everyone thinks she’s Hades. She’s just wearing his coat.
Lady Ophelia Howard has one purpose in life—protect the women of London from rakes, scoundrels, and rogues. Unable to save her father’s mistress, she’ll do whatever she must to keep other women from suffering the same fate, including theft. She stole the devilishly handsome doctor’s coat to hide her identity while sneaking women to safety. She didn’t mean to smear his good name.
And now he’s caught her, and he insists she help restore his reputation. Any way she can. Including marriage. But can marriage to an earl’s daughter bring the ton calling once more? Or will Ophelia’s radical secrets ruin them both?
Mad Duke March Sneak Peek:
A woman stood by the window, her back turned to him, looking out. She turned to face him the moment Tyrone entered the room.
She was a tiny little thing—not much in the way of a bosom—wrapped in a dull green gown and a dirty blue Spencer jacket. The skirt of the gown, which normally clung to a lady’s rounded hips hung shapelessly from her waist. If she were indeed a harlot, she would not be the one he would have chosen for himself. But as long as she was here…
“Good day,” he said and walked toward the side table. He poured himself two fingers of whisky and took a sip before turning toward his guest.
“I apologize for interrupting your day,” she said timidly. Her voice was pleasant and smooth, like the smoky whisky he’d just partaken in. He wondered how she might sound screaming from ecstasy.
“You did not,” he said as his gaze slid down her gown again, imagining that perhaps the atrocious gown was hiding unknown pleasures. “Or at the very least, I don’t mind this kind of interruption.”
The look of confusion passed her pale features. She was not the kind of woman he found attractive. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her brows knitted in a frown, her hair was hidden under the hideous-looking bonnet with a few short curls framing her rounded face. She looked like a prim governess. And while some men enjoyed playing the conquerors of virtuous women, Tyrone preferred his women loose. Unburdened. Passionate.
He would never turn her away, however. She was a woman. And there was no such thing as an unattractive woman to him. Plain looking, certainly. But some primal instinct within him still wanted to unwrap her and see what was beyond those clothes.
He swallowed, his voice thick with rising passion. “Come here and spread your lovely thighs.”
The look of confusion and horror that flashed in her eyes was almost tangible. “Pardon me?” He could’ve sworn she sounded offended.
“Oh, I shall pardon you if that’s what you want. Or I can punish you.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively as he propped his hips against the side table and patted his knee. “Come here.”
“I beg your pardon!” The woman’s pale face turned dark red. Her lips trembled and she seemed incapable of intelligible thought for one long moment. Then her features turned thunderous. “I am not here to suffer your rude behavior.”
Tyrone’s worst fear had materialized. This woman was not here to pleasure him.
He took another sip of his drink.
But that made no sense! Why else would a woman cross the threshold of his house? “Then why are you here?”
She squinted at him, her lips pursed in indignation. “You do not remember me at all, do you? Why should you? You were well into your cups when we met last—”
“Apologies, love,” he cut her off as his nagging headache only worsened from the inflow of her words. “But I am not much into remembering faces. Now if we talk about what’s under those skirts—”
She seemed to choke on air. “How dare you!”
He rolled his eyes and waved a dismissing hand. “Already bored.” He pressed a cool glass to his aching forehead.
“I demand you apologize to me this instant!” she cried.
Tyrone didn’t look at the woman anymore, but in his mind’s eye, he could easily imagine her outraged expression. “I shall do no such thing.”
“I did not come here to listen to your vulgarities!”
Tyrone downed the remainder of his whisky, placed the empty glass on the side table and regarded the seething lady. “If you did not come here to… well, come. Then why are you here?”
She scrunched up her face as if trying to decipher his words, but finally gave up. When she spoke, every word came out bitingly through her teeth. “My name is Miss Emily Fitzwilliam.”
Tyrone watched her steadily. “I shan’t remember that.”
“And I came here to demand you marry me.”
Sadie Bosque
