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CarnalDesire-510 (5)Linda Nightingale is giving away an autographed paperback of her paranormal romance, Cardinal Desires!  Before it was published, Cardinal Desires won the Georgia Romance Writers’ Magnolia Award in Mainstream, and no wonder.  Here is what The Romance Reviews had to say:

CARDINAL DESIRES is an intriguing and entertaining story of romance, suspense
and vampires.  The world the author has created is a captivating story with a steady paced plot, vivid details and compelling characters that grab the reader’s attention
and keep it to the very end. The author portrays the characters’ emotions and
personalities with an intensity and clarity that bring them to life, making it
easy for the reader to relate to them. The conflict with the serial killer is
well developed and the author paints the action and suspense with great detail
engaging the reader’s imagination.

 

Link for Purchase:  http://www.amazon.com/Cardinal-Desires-Linda-Nightingale-ebook/dp/B00FW6HPPK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1387198522&sr=8-1&keywords=Cardinal+Desires

GoodReads Giveaway Link:  http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/74784-cardinal-desires?utm_medium=email&utm_source=giveaway_approved

About Linda:

Born in South Carolina, Linda has lived in England, Canada, Miami, Atlanta and Houston.  She’s seen a lot of this _MG_0021 (3)country from the windshield of a truck pulling a horse trailer, having bred, trained and showed Andalusian horses for thirteen years.  She works in the legal field and has two wonderful sons.  She loves Andalusian and Lusitano horses, her snappy black convertible and her parlor grand piano—and writing, of course.  Visit her at http://www.lindanightingale.com for a free vampire story starring her favorite hero Morgan D’Arcy.  Twitter is @LNightingale, and her blog is http://www.lindanightingale.wordpress.com

 

Header-Ad-for-Linda-Nightingale

Ghosties and ghoulies and long-legged beasties, and things that go bump in the night — not to mention sexy vampires!

Linda Nightingale’s latest release, CARDINAL DESIRES, is a sexy, suspenseful page-turner from Double Dragon Publishing and available on Amazon.  Take a look at the excerpt on the publisher’s web site.  Soon to be released in print, too.  Take a look at this intriguing cover.

From inside the flap

How can Katy McCaully resist Sterling Fox?  In her early teens, she fell in love with a thirteenth century warrior in a painting, and Sterling is the image of that Novgorodian knight.  He definitely has the keys to her chemistry set, but she mustn’t succumb to his charms.  She’s a forensic psychiatrist working with Scotland Yard.  He’s a high-profile journalist who invades the underworld for a story or broadcasts live at the scene of the world’s worst tragedies.  Police and media do not mix.  They are both trying to capture the animalistic killer the newspapers have dubbed the Vampire Slayer.  Modern London doesn’t know that the Slayer has also killed four vampires.
CarnalDesire-510 (5)  Excerpt:

SCENE:    London Hilton, Present Day.  Katy McCaulley, heroine, is attending a formal charity benefit.

“Trust Morgan to find the most beautiful woman in the room.”

The voice flowed as hot as molten silver.  Katy spun to see who’d spoken.  Dreams, past and present, fused.  Her mind reeled under an onslaught of impossibility.  Her soul did a double back flip.  On her thirteenth birthday, Katy had fallen hopelessly in love with a man in a painting.  On the canvas, medieval knights, armed with mace and sword, mounted on massive horses battled on a frozen lake.

The breathing replica of her warrior invaded her comfort zone.  “I swear he’s a divining rod.” A laugh, rich, magical.  “Where there are beautiful women, you’ll find Morgan.”

Rarely did one see a face of such striking beauty, but there was nothing weak or effeminate about her warrior.  In white tie and tails, not armor, he was the epitome of svelte strength.  She itched to touch him, make sure he was real.

“I suppose I must introduce my friend.”  Morgan clapped her warrior on the shoulder.  “Sterling Fox.  Dr. Katy McCaully.”

“Good evening, Katy.”  His eyes were wicked, emerald green.

His name suited him perfectly.  Sterling was six-and-a-half feet of shimmering energy.  Silver blond hair fell in gentle waves to his collar. The tucked formal shirt enhanced a broad chest.  Powerful arms sculpted the sleeves of his jacket.  Struck dumb but not blind, her gaze traveled down his body, savoring the length of his legs to the tips of patent leather shoes.  The journey was a banquet for the senses.

Gentle laughter jerked her gaze back to his face.  The rhapsody of sound and light around them seemed unreal.  The touch of his hand was impossibly real.  Intelligence fell victim to awe.

Katy shook her head.  “You…you…”

Fate was having a good laugh at her expense.  She was never speechless, and here she was stammering, blushing like a wallflower at a high school dance.

“Me?”  He arched an eyebrow, dismissed his formal attire with a wave of his free hand.  “Tuxedos are totally out of character.  I’d rather be in jeans at a Rod Stewart concert.”

The pianist had fluttered her pulse, but this long, cool drink of water named Sterling Fox made her romantic heart thirst.  The man who’d shot her poise to hell was probably ten years younger.  He was handsome, fully aware of his effect on women and knew precisely how to play the game.  In two thudding heartbeats, Katy resolved never to dangle on his sterling chain of hearts.  As if she had no interest in him, she scanned the crowd.

Like a physical blow, a painful realization struck her.  “Sterling Fox, the Night Fox?”

This renowned journalist made her feel positively sexy and she loved his hands—custom-made for loving, not penning true-to-horrible life works.  “I’ve read your articles; wondered what kind of man would disappear into a Colombian cartel to profile the inner workings of a drug lord. You’re nothing like I pictured.”

“Disappointed?”  His voice was hot enough to endanger the ice sculpture on the hors d’oeuvre table—and to melt Katy.

Two tectonic plates collided deep inside.  Sparks?  The man was a bloody sparkler.  Hell, he was an arsenal of fireworks.  Her rabid hatred of the media suddenly seemed unjust.

 

To celebrate, Linda is giving away a download of Cardinal Desires to a commenter on her blog at:  http://lindanightingale.wordpress.com/

Awake and thinking of what to write next.  Nothing is coming to me not even what to write in this post.  It happens.  I don’t call it writer’s block only a blank page.  Tomorrow or later today, perhaps, my muse will return, and we’ll begin our next erotic adventure.  Maybe I’ll do a sequel to Hot Spanish Nights or a prequel.  With Halloween only a few weeks away, a Halloween story would be good.  Hum.  Must ponder.

We Won!!

My book vido for On Wings of Desire won the You Gotta Read book video contest!  http://yougottaread.com/category/video-contest/  Scroll down to September winners.  How awesome is this?  I’m still happy dancing.  Take a look at the snappy trailer created by Blazing Trailers.

Sept Vid 1 (3)

Welcome Michael.  I understand you are a professional horseman.  We share that love of horses.  May I ask you a few questions?

What was your childhood like?

I grew up surrounded by horses. My father was a renowned show jumper in the eighties and horses have been in my life forever. My relationship with my parents was…and still is, strained at best. I love my mom very much but the behavior she’s tolerated from my father is hard for a child to understand or forgive.

Now I’m older, I see she was a woman in love but also a woman who enjoyed the wealth and notoriety being married to my father brought. As for my father…let’s not go there.

You’ve recently spent a lot of time with a local journalist, Caroline James. Do you want to tell us about that?

fidgets before turning steely eyes She wanted a story from me – a story she hoped would catapult her career to the City. We met under tense circumstances. We needed each other.

And now?

And now things are…developing. That’s all I have to say.

What do you do for fun?

Training my horses is my work but also my fun. I’m with them as many hours as possible. Fitness is ultra important to me so I swim and play squash as much as possible. I’m also learning to have some down time recently – let’s just say decent food, great wine and a phenomenal sex life can turn a guy’s head from what he thought important before he met a certain someone.

Do you see children in your future?

Yes. As many as possible. I love kids and have a lot of love to give. If God blesses me and they come along, they will be my focus entirely.

Quickie Questions, Michael.  Don’t think, react.

Favorite food?

Mexican

Favorite drink?

Merlot

Favorite TV show?

CSI

Favorite Book

Anything by Dick Francis

Favourite Artist/Band

The Killers

Thank you, Michael.  I hope things go perfectly for you.  As a horsewoman, I understand your passion.  Michael and Caroline’s story!

TeachMeToRide_w7805_750 (2)BLURB:

Caroline James wants to be the best investigative journalist London has ever seen. But until she has the money to leave the small town of Fayre Mead, she’s stuck and her resentment is building. So when she’s assigned to cover the Lakeland Horse Trials and meets sexy, dark-haired, and astoundingly fit horse trainer, Michael Canton, she is happy to vent some sexual and emotional frustration…and write the story of her career. But after getting personal with Michael, can she remain impersonal with the article?

Michael Canton will do anything in his power to silence his tyrannical father once and for all. Under extreme pressure to compete in the countries show jumper trials and prove his worth, Michael’s fiery emotions are running high. Caroline’s beauty and sexual confidence stokes an inner strength and determination he never knew he had. But can he trust her to know the difference between fact and fiction? Together, they are a formidable team…but will their burning ambitions ultimately blow them apart?

Buy Links:

Amazon US:

http://www.amazon.com/Teach-Me-To-Ride-ebook/dp/B00EPQPNMU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1378280072&sr=8-1&keywords=teach+me+to+ride

Amazon UK:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Teach-Me-To-Ride-ebook/dp/B00EPQPNMU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1378280101&sr=8-1&keywords=teach+me+to+ride

EXCERPT

Still sitting in his lap, she reached behind her and lowered the zipper of her dress. It fell down over her shoulders, revealing naked breasts. His erection ached at the sight of her creamy white, perfect tits with nipples big and dark. He licked his lips and moved forward to suck one hard tip into his mouth. Her gasp sounded above him.

Her skin smelled of something sweet and sexy, innocence mixed with danger. He inhaled deeply as he grazed her pebbled nipple with his teeth before reclaiming her mouth. Her tongue was rigid and demanding against his as they fought for supremacy.

Rolling her over, he shimmied the dress down her body and tossed it to the floor. Naked, but for tiny satin panties, darkened by juices at her clit, Michael didn’t think he had ever seen a woman look more beautiful. He drank in every inch of her, knowing deep inside that this might be the only moment he’d ever see her like this. The only chance to take her, to watch her enjoy unadulterated pleasure. God, he wanted to give her pleasure.

“Michael…”

He snapped his gaze to hers. She watched him. Her eyes were heavy lidded, screaming for him, wanting him. Male pride surged like a fireball behind his ribcage. He crawled up beside her and kissed her, his fingers trailing over her breasts, lower over her torso before diving into her panties.

She was wet. Soaking wet.

His hand glided over her narrow strip of pubic hair to her rigid clit. He circled, stretched, and teased, then moved lower until his fingers found her slit, his blood roaring in his ears. He felt alive, masculine and powerful. Her legs opened and he thrust two fingers deep inside.

HotSummerSands_w7160_750 (2)MEET THE AUTHOR:

Rachel Leigh lives in the UK and has been married to her own sexy hero for fifteen years.

With four novellas contracted with The Wild Rose Press, Rachel is busy plotting her fifth, sixth and seventh. She plans to venture into the historical genre for the first time and write a trio of novellas set in a small English village in the early1900s. The characters we meet aren’t quite as prim and proper as they seem…

When Rachel isn’t writing, she’s reading, watching TV, running around after her two daughters….or playing with her husband.

links:

http://rachelleigh.co.uk/

http://rachelleighromance.blogspot.co.uk/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rachel-Leigh/266044849655?ref=ts&fref=ts

https://twitter.com/rachelwriter

Happy Weekend Everyone!

I’ve been buying things, lovely things–some that I needed, like the red leather desk chair and some that I merely desired!  My treasures:

Sterling silver sugar tongs – Louis Benoit Paris 1830′s:

The sweet little coffee pot to match my china pattern, Royal Doulton Sherbrooke:

And lastly but not leastly salt and pepper shakers to match my crystal pattern, Waterford Lismore:

 

Item picture

I must go to Ebay Anonymous and overcome my addiction!

Until August 20th, you can enter to win a print copy of Linda Nightingale’s paranormal romance, Sinners’ Opera.  The book is getting super reviews.  Here’s the link:

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18109222-sinners-opera

sinners20 (2)Excerpt:

Chapter 1 – Sangreal

Charleston, South Carolina, May 29th

 

“Dear Lord,” a woman called to heaven, “such a young man.  So near death.  What could have happened to you?”

My body was one long, cold ache, but a hot center throbbed in my chest.  Wet and shivering, I craved only sleep and the blackness that held me.

Sirens wailed to a crash of thunder.  Somewhere, someone was in trouble.

I drifted on the ebb and flow of pain until the woman gave me a gentle shake.  Forcing my eyes open, I blinked to focus on the indistinct shapes materializing from fog.  Rainbow angels battled demons in a stained glass window.  Marble statues leered at me from the shadows.  An ornate crucifix cast its silhouette on the ebony saint bent over me.  Her countenance was round and full, her nose broad.  Pity glistened in her dark eyes.

“You’re awake.”  A smile trembled on her lips.  “Thank you, Jesus.”

She seemed to be in close communication with the man on the cross.  My upper body rested on her lap, my legs stretched on a shiny wooden floor.  Lush breasts cradled my head.  Her red blouse smelled of fresh baked bread, the tiny pearl buttons mesmerizing.

“I do declare you had me worried; you been so still-like.”

Her thick dialect called to me from the past, but I didn’t know if it was yesterday or years ago.  I don’t know who I am.  I frowned, trying to remember.  A trill of music scrolled through my mind.  The woman gave a tentative smile.  I started to smile back, but the scent of fear distracted me.  My clothes reeked of fear.

Another fragrance—dusky red and delicious—sent a shiver through me.  The rich aroma of her blood appealed to me on levels I didn’t understand.  The sensation was raw hunger mingled with passion.  Beyond the blood-scent, the musk of old wood and incense, the perfume of religion, summoned a vision of a blond boy in blue velvet and white lace kneeling at an altar.  As I grasped at the memory, like a wave retreating from the shore, something important slipped away from me.

The woman’s admiring gaze drifted over my face.  I wanted to touch her, tell her how much…how very much…I ached to kiss her black satin throat, but when I tried to lift my hand nothing happened.  Terrified, I glanced at my hands.  The bleached fingers were curled into dead claws.  The hands once considered magic and beautiful were horrible.

Panic drew my knees toward my chest.  “Oh, God, my hands can’t be paralyzed.”

The blow was physical, knocking the breath from me.  If I’d been struck blind, even deaf, I could still play, but if my hands were paralyzed—I was lost.  Music was my beloved mistress.  My piano alone stood between madness and me.

My companion shook her head, refusing to meet my wild-eyed gaze.  “Shush now, you going to be all right.  Mother Superior’s gone to call for help.”

“Mother Superior?”  Was I lying in a nun’s lap?  I was in a church, and that seemed totally absurd for some reason, but I was too terrified to laugh.  Crisp dark curls peeked from beneath a blue bandana, not a wimple.  “You’re not a nun.”

She stiffened as if I’d offended her.  “I come help the sisters out.  I might be a nun some day.”

The woman’s expression softened.  Lips pursed, she shook her head, dark eyes sad.  Her pity mortified me.  No one, since I’d been that boy in velvets and lace, had seen me cry.  Swallowing tears, I squeezed my eyes closed.  The other feelings she excited, I couldn’t deal with now.  She stroked my cheek, and I remembered to breathe but refused to open my eyes.  I couldn’t bear the sight or the scent of her.

An internal map—an anatomical image of flesh, muscles and veins—spread across my eyelids.  Hours, days, years might have passed, but it was probably only a moment or two.  Tingling needled my numb arms, swept into my fingertips, relaxing the ugly claws.  Holding my breath, afraid to hope, I willed my right hand to lift, felt the sensation of movement and opened my eyes.  The hand rose, hovered, flopped on my abdomen.  Dried blood crusted a jagged hole in my black velvet coat.  Fresh blood warmed the center of the wound.

Ah, another shade of the dusky red fragrance.  My blood possessed a wild bouquet, almost feral, and completely different from the woman’s blood.

 

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