Saturday, April 01, 2006

The End of the Earth!

Yes, folks there is one. I know because I fell off of it and have been missing for six months. My nose is just peeking above the horizon, but I am not breathing yet. So please forgive me and bear with me as I try and dig myself out of the hole I fell in. I have several appearences on the docket. Heart of Dixie Luncheon in Huntsville Alabama in May! The Romantic Times Convention in Daytona Beach Fla. May 16-21! Las Vegas Nevada June 10th at the Sahara Hotel! Romance Writers of America Conference Atlanta Georgia in July!
On a good note, My third gothic will hit the shelves in May!
Midnight Secrets has a Four Star Fabulous Review from RT Book Club
May 2006

“When two are born together, one will die by the other’s hand…”
This is the Dragon’s Curse that has plagued the Killdarens for generations and continues on in this tale set on the Cornish Coast of 1879 England. Sean and Alex thought they’d escaped the Dragon’s curse until in a rage of suspicion and accusation the twins come close to killing each other the night the woman they both loved was murdered. Eight years later, the only thing they agree on is to remain unwed and childless, to never pass on the Dragon’s Curse. Then another woman disappears. This time from Sean Killdaren’s castle and his reclusive world is shattered when Cassie Andrews, a journalist, goes undercover as a downstairs maid. He can no more ignore her than he can ignore the murderer hiding behind the secrets of Killdaren Castle’s stone walls.
Berkley/Jove Publishing ISBN# 0425209628

Here's an Excerpt!
A leather gloved hand clamped over my mouth and nose from behind. An arm wrapped around my stomach and arms, trapping me, and jerking me back against the hard body of a large man. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t reach my pistol. I could barely move. Terror flamed in my breasts and fired through my veins. The man pulled me deeper into the darkened room, shutting the door. And I wondered if this was how Mary disappeared.
Wrenching violently, I tried to free myself, but the man clamped me tighter to him, crushing me with his strength. I pressed my head back, fighting to ease the pressure on my face enough to breathe. In my panic I remembered the size of Jamie Frye, his anger, the veiled threat that if I were to die none would care. Then the hand covering my mouth and nose loosened enough for me to suck in blessed air. I smelled leather, mint, and something frighteningly unknown, but compelling enough that I drew another needed breath.
“The scent of roses,” a deep, cultured voice with a hint of an Irish burr whispered close to my ear, and I knew it wasn’t Jamie. “The feel of a woman.” As he spoke, his arm about my stomach slid higher, pressing beneath my bosom, almost caressing the undersides of my breasts a moment. I rammed my spine back, lifting myself to my tiptoes, trying to keep from knowing the warmth of his muscled arm so intimately against me. This brought his mouth closer to my ear, and the heat of his breath.
“The actions of a thief,” he said softly, his tone more menacing. My heart thundered harder, more painfully. “Will you come to such an ill fate, lass? ‘Like a rose, she has lived as long as roses live…the space of one morning?’ or will it be even less for you?”
Any affinity I had for Malherbe’s poetry met a quick death at that moment. I shook my head, trying to speak, but only managed a muffled squeal.
“Let’s see what you’ve stolen, my rose.”
I didn’t understand what he meant to do until he moved his gloved hand from beneath my breasts, sliding downward, pressing firmly along the contours of my body all the way down to my hips, then brushing over my intimate flesh as he slid from one dress pocket to the other, finding my father’s pistol. His body jerked with surprise and he drew a sharp breath.

It's good to be back! Many thanks for stopping by!
Jennifer St. Giles


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