xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Kryssie Fortune: April 2015

Thursday, 30 April 2015

Five Fact Thursday - please welcome Victoria Adams

Five fun facts about my latest – A Guy and A Girl

1. How did Hunter Connolly get his name? When he was born, his mother saw a gleam in his eyes - a look that said I'm here. I'm ready. I know what I want. Plus, he was born in December and the astrological sign for a Sagittarian is the Hunter.

2. As a little girl, Chelsea Henderson, dreamed of being a archaeologist and digging through the sands of Egypt to find ancient Pharaohs.

3. When Hunter takes Chelsea home to meet his parents in Wallace Lake Conservation Park – the park is really Algonquin Provincial Park in Ontario, Canada. A really fabulous place to visit if you want to enjoy nature. Hunter takes Chelsea on a hike to search for moose in the park.

4. Chelsea's dislike of swimming in the lakes of Wallace Lake Park stems from my dislike of it. I grew up in a city. Swimming in pools with clear water and chlorine. The thought of a turtle swimming by freaks me out. Chelsea displays the same fear when a minnow swims past, she's convinced it is some large monster planning an attack. (which is pretty much how I feel.)

5. A Guy and A Girl was written last century. It was written in the middle 1990's and languished on my hard drive until I updated it. (Apologies to Chelsea and Hunter that they had to wait so long.)


Lies, deceits and secrets - not a good way to begin a relationship.
After an ugly past forced Hunter Connolly to escape to Europe, the talented hockey player is back in North America and determined to land a position with a professional team. But he can’t hide from his past forever, especially when his beautiful classmate, Chelsea, forces him to reexamine his life. Soon, hockey is not his first priority anymore.
Chelsea Henderson is a bright co-ed working towards her dream of being a professional dancer. She forms a unique friendship with one of her father’s newest recruits and would love nothing more than to take it to the next level. However, there’s just one small problem. He doesn’t know she’s his coach’s daughter.
Amid the deceptions, danger lurks closer than they could ever imagine. Will fate contrive to rip the young lovers apart? Or will Hunter and Chelsea have their shot at love?


"Come on in." Hunter called from his spot sprawled on the floor in front of his sofa.
Chelsea walked into the living room. "Hey."
He nodded, grabbed the remote and muted the television.
Chelsea spun a kitchen chair around and sat on it. "Okay, the silence's killing me. I'll start with some lame conversation and you just leap in. How was the bio midterm?"
"Passed it. Should write all my exams with a hangover."
She tapped her fingernail on her thigh. "Guess that was the end of the conversation starters."
Hunter levelled a glare at her. "What do you want, Chelsea?"
"I want you to sound less angry. I want to talk. I'd like to try and explain. First off, I'm so sorry the cops hauled you in."
"No?" Her voice squeaked.
"Todd was stalking you. The cops had no idea if it was him or me. And from the questions asked, I'd say some pretty weird things'd been happening."
She shuddered. "I kept thinking I was being paranoid or something. But that's not why I'm here."
Hunter slammed a fist on the carpet. "I damn near slept with the coach's daughter! Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
Chelsea watched the tiredness in his eyes shift to rage. "Because... because...."
"I wouldn't date you if I knew who you were."
"Yea and that's not fair." She sat up taller and matched her gaze with his. "It's not my fault your coach is my dad."
Hunter closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't know what to do, Chelsea. My head hurts too damn much to think."
"Damn it, Hunter, I really like you. I don't want to lose you as a friend. I don't want to lose us."
"I don't know if there's going to be an us anymore." He rubbed his temples.
Chelsea sat behind him on the sofa, slipped her hands under his and began massaging his head.
Hunter pushed her hands away. Although it hurt him to say it, he said, "Go home, Chels. I need time to think."

He refused to look at her. He couldn't. He knew he'd give in, wrap his arms around her and beg her to stay.

Buy link 


Victoria's Pages of Romance – http://victoriaadams.blogspot.com

Friday, 24 April 2015

How to Become a Knight

When a knight won his spurs, in the stories of old,
He was gentle and brave, he was gallant and bold,
With a shield on his arm and a lance in his hand,
For God and for valor he rode through the land.
Jan Struthers
Imagine King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Whether your favorite is Sir Lancelot, Sir Galahad, or Sir Gawain doesn’t matter. Their greatness shines through the ages—but how do you become a knight?

Every noble’s son learned basic swordplay and archery. They’d ride daily and maybe learn tracking skills. Then, at an age where modern day children are learning their multiplication tables, their family sent them to live with strangers and train as a page.

Homesick and lonely, these boys would run messages or help serve meals. Sounds harsh I know, but in a time of kill or be killed it made sense. As well as attending to his duties, the boy had practice battle skills. In between all that, they learned how to read and write in Latin and French. Then there was the poetry and the dancing. They must have been exhausted. Every night they dreamed of becoming a Knight.

Eventually the boy would become a squire. The word squire comes from the French word for shield-bearer, and that’s exactly what a squire did. He would carry his Lord’s shield, clean his armor, tend his horses, and fight at his side.

Fourteen years after leaving his home and family the boy was ready to become a man. Knighthood loomed, but he still needed to win his spurs. To misquote Shakespeare, Some are born to be knights, some achieve knighthood, and some have knighthood thrust upon them.

Blaxton the Bold had Knighthood thrust on him.
His parents broke with custom and kept him at home until he was twelve. By then he was bigger, stronger, and brighter than any of the other boys. Well trained in etiquette and poetry, he quickly became his master’s favorite page. Even the other boys looked up to him.
At just sixteen, he singlehandedly faced down the mob an anti-semetic mob intent on burning Jews. Unarmored, battle-ax in hand, Blaxton’s courage and fighting prowess won the day.

It was only a couple of weeks after King Henry ordered him to court and dubbed him a knight. Many years later, scholars have suggested Sir Walter Scott based his book Ivanhoe on the legend of Blaxton the Bold.

Blaxton won every tournament he entered, and dominated every battle he fought. Ladies swooned in despair when he joined the Knights Defender—an order of fighting monks who took vows of chastity and charity.

When Blaxton sailed with King Richard the Lionheart on his third crusade, he quickly became the king’s favoured companion. Then his cousin stuck a knife in his back and killed him. That night Blaxton de Ferrers rose as a vampire.
For over eight hundred years, Blaxton has wandered alone and tried to live a good life. He’s forgotten how to laugh or feel, but his current identity is a billionaire property developer with a philanthropic steak.
Underneath the modern veneer, he’s a Knight Vampire

Book Blurb
Betrayed by the Knight Defenders and murdered by his cousin, crusader knight Blaxton de Ferrers rose as a vampire. For nine centuries, he’s preyed on the people he once swore to protect. Gradually, as his emotions leach out of him, he forgets how to feel. Then he meets Harriet.

Harriet Mortlake’s a strong sassy woman who battles her weight and her temper. Her job is to seek out the ancient secrets of the castle that was Blaxton’s childhood home. Instead, she finds the love of her life.

When danger threatens Harriet, Blaxton steps in. Harriet and Blaxton, are a match made in heaven. Except… he’s a vampire and to fully claim her, he’ll have to kill her.

Buy Link

Loose ID                               http://www.loose-id.com/knights-vampire.html
Amazon US                         http://amzn.to/1umoSyY            
Amazon UK                        http://amzn.to/1Ch1LMx
Amazon AU                        http://bit.ly/1BeXhVm
All Romance Books          http://bit.ly/1AOLsm5
Author Links
I’d love to hear from you, or answer any questions you might have.
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Twitter                                                 https://twitter.com/KryssieFortune
Blog / Web site                 http://kryssiefortune.blogspot.co.uk/?zx=ccc4a46fd9391f4c


Mortified, she realized she’d just asked this stranger for his phone number. He wound her up like a clockwork toy, and when she chased after him, he talked with such authority she almost believed him. Besides, even if he’d made his wild story up, she really wanted to see him again. Who was she kidding? She needed to know if he tasted as great as he smelled—all sandalwood and exotic spices. If he did, she’d surely find him addictive. 

Blaxton grinned, pulled out a business card, and scribbled a cell phone number underneath his business contacts. “Here. That’s my personal number.” 

She studied the card and laughed. “It says here you’re a property developer. I can’t see you being able to do much with a twelfth-century castle, even if it wasn’t grade one listed.” 

He stared out to sea, and for a moment he looked lost. His smile returned so quickly Harriet wondered if she’d imagined his brief withdrawal. 

He finished his coffee and stood up. “Maybe I could demolish the damned temple and replace it with a real chapel. I’m not staying in Yorkshire long, but would you have dinner with me tonight? We can discuss the Knights Defender if you like. How about we meet up in the Italian restaurant by the harbor? I’ll book a table for eight o’clock tonight if you’re free.” 

Harriet blushed, but she smiled back. Tonight she’d be dining with the best-looking guy in the town—if he turned up. She’d been stood up so many times by her ex before she’d stupidly let him share her body and her bed. After the way he’d treated her, dating came hard. 

Blaxton de Ferrers seemed genuine. Part of her wanted to run out and get her nails done right along with her hair. What the hell am I going to wear? She wasn’t some sophisticated London beauty, but she cleaned up okay despite her extra ten pounds. Besides, no way would she miss a chance to pump him for information. And if he wants to kiss me goodnight… Well, I might just let him. 

Thursday, 23 April 2015

Five Facts Thursday - please welcome Martha O'Sullivan

              5 Mistakes I Made On The Way To Publication

1.  I thought I needed an agent.
2.  I thought I had to go through traditional publishing and print channels.
3.  I underestimated how generous, supportive and welcoming writers were.
4.  I should have known the last rejection hurts just as much as the first one.
5.  I knew how bad I wanted it, so I should have known I would do it.

Martha O’Sullivan’s Chances trilogy is available now from Red Sage Publishing. Second Chance, the trilogy opener, is a reunion/love triangle romance that keeps the shores of Lake Tahoe blazing hot long after the sultry summer sun has set. Chance Encounter, the trilogy's second installment, heats up San Francisco’s chilly days and blustery nights with white-hot passion and pulse-pounding suspense. And in Last Chance, the conclusion of the trilogy, lifelong friends-turned-lovers melt the snow-packed Sierras into lust-fueled puddles despite the single-digit temperatures of the Lake Tahoe winter. Here’s a blurb and an excerpt from Second Chance:

Lindsay Foster has convinced herself that marrying Paul Webster is the right thing to do. But she and Brian Rembrandt have some unfinished business. And now that Brian is standing in front of her again, undressing her with his eyes, she finds herself torn between the life she's always wanted and the man she'll always love.
Brian's up for that fight; he's used to getting what he wants. And he's never met a rule, or a 
woman, that couldn't be broken. So when Lindsay won't come to him, he goes to her. 

But it's more complicated than that.

This love triangle has an extra side. Lindsay's best friend Moira Brody has a game-changing secret.  And she's not the only one. The chain of events set in motion on the tranquil shores of Lake Tahoe come to an astonishing end on a foggy San Francisco night. And alters the course of four lives forever...


Excerpt (R) from Second Chance, Chances Trilogy #1, by Martha O’Sullivan

           “You missed your flight.”
         Lindsay’s hand froze on the brushed nickel door handle and after counting to five to collect herself, she remarked neatly, “I left you a message.”
         The hand attached to the voice gripped her arm and swung her around. “Your message thanked me for the flowers.  It said nothing about the flight. Or the weekend.”
         The steel blue eyes staring back at her were as cold as the choppy gray peaks pummeling the shore.  “I thought you understood. I couldn’t come.”
         “You said you’d think about it.”
         “And I did,” she attested, lifting her chin. “I decided it wasn’t a good idea.”
         “I disagree.” Brian braced his hands on the door jam, trapping her between his arms, and spoke in a low growl. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get a flight to Reno on a Friday afternoon in July?”
         She sucked a breath. “No.”
         “I had to buy my way on or wait until morning. Luckily, I found an entrepreneurial minded college kid who likes to drive.” Hedging her in, he paused for a moment and then asked, “Do you know why I did that?”
         Knowing he didn’t expect an answer, Lindsay merely gulped.
         “Because I was already at the airport,” he continued satirically “And,” he slanted his
mouth over hers, “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to do this.”
         Breath hitching, he crushed his lips to hers. They were white-hot. Burning as intensely as the fire he’d stirred within her.  Resisting glimmered, dulled, then dissipated in her mind. Instead her arms linked his neck and she melted into the heat.  He tasted rugged, felt rough, like the end of a long day. Their mouths collided, parted, rejoined, until they found that familiar crescendo and began the climb. The flame caught, flickered, combusted, as Brian’s tongue snarled with hers and his hands combed her back. And then a flare began to kindle in another chasm, deep within her.
         Even through the denim, Brian was rising to meet it, fill it. Rigid against her, he released her mouth and buried his face in her hair. “When I told you I wasn’t giving up so easily this time, I meant it.” He stepped out of her embrace and taking her hands in his, demanded, “Should I leave?”
         His eyes had softened to make room for his heart, she realized. And she could deny hers no longer. Throat swelling, she shook her head from side to side.
         The corners of Brian’s mouth curved, but his expression remained tight. “Then we need to get something straight. If I come in, I’m going to stay,” he informed her in a disturbingly reasonable tone of voice. “And if I stay, I’m going to make love to you all night long.”
         She should tell him to go. Ignore the ripples in her stomach, the way her heart was
chasing them. Instead she surrendered to them. “Promise?”
         He pushed away the windblown tendrils that had fallen into her face. “Promise.”
         Pine cones screeched across the asphalt and winter’s forgotten leaves danced on the grass as he opened the door and led her up the stairs.  No words were necessary; he knew the way. To her bed, her heart, her soul.
         Telling rain began beating against the roof as he laid her on the soft down. Sitting next to her, he swept his fingertips across her lips.  “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he avowed with a kiss. “Even you.”
         Pulse leaping to join his, she ordered in a husky voice, “Show me.”
         They exchanged a look of portentous understanding. Then Brian rolled on top of her, seamlessly moving his body into hers. Positioning himself between her legs, he framed her face with his arms and in a voice as thick as honey, confided, “Linds, I haven’t been with anybody else.”
         Lindsay was dumbfounded. “You haven’t?”
         “Neither have I.”
         That seemed to shock, then please him. Immensely. “But what about…” he faltered.
         She shook her head from side to side, noting the hint of prayer in his voice. “You were the last man to touch me,” she told him honestly.
         The weight of her words filled his lustful eyes with delight and appreciation.  “I’ve waited sixteen months to make love to you again. I can’t wait much longer,” he gallanted.
         She lifted her arms to his neck and skimmed her lips across his. “Who’s asking you to?”
         The challenge registered in his eyes as his mouth pounced on hers.  He set his sights on her bottom lip and pulled, as if to tease, before kissing her with his whole body. His tongue meandered up and down her throat while his thumbs traced the thin cotton of her shirt until her nipples stood on point. Finally he unhooked her bra and slipped the v-neck over her head. 
         “You are so beautiful.” He allowed himself a few seconds to wallow in her heaving breasts. Then he cupping her, he gushed, “How have I gone this long without you?”
         She’d lain in bed many a night dreaming about this. Remembering the way her head bowed back as Brian kneaded her breasts with his sure hands. The way her gut coiled into a spool of yen when his tongue did laps down her abdomen to her bellybutton and back again. The way the euphoric swooning in her head became a creamy deluge between her thighs. 
         He reacquainted himself with her curves as he inched her jeans down. Holding their weighted stare, he knelt above her, unbuttoning his tailored shirt from the top as she worked from the bottom. When their hands met, he stilled hers on this virility. 
         “Ooh,” she growled blissfully. He was as hard as she was wet. And she couldn’t wait until his billowing cock was between her legs. 
         Unbuckling his belt, he kicked off his jeans. Fully aroused, he glided all that separated them over her hips and crawled back to her. His seeping erection nudged at her as he scooped her dewy triangle. Every cell in her body was on high alert now, in anticipation of what was to come. She spread her legs in wholehearted invitation. 
         She whimpered when he found her moist creases. His fingers knew each tuck, each fold, each pleat of her center. His thumb settled on the fleshy nub at her core and he began to coddle her. She trembled, purred, pleaded, until finally he plunged into her saturated reservoir.  His fingers thrust in and out as she squirmed beneath him, digging her nails into his back as her sharp, short gasps of baiting pleasure filled the air. 
         But that was nothing compared to the drone that escaped Brian’s throat when he entered her. She tightened around him, dripping as he grew inside her, grinding against him as he rode her. She lifted her buttocks and brought him deeper still, raising her hips to increase the friction, pushing him farther into her as his abdomen sailed over hers. Lindsay could count her stable of lovers on one hand, and Brian was by far the best of the bunch, she recalled as the tip of him pounded the remotest part of her. The orgasm built, retreated, then roared back in full force. It ripped through her with such wielding power that she howled once, then again and begged for more. 
         And just before Brian filled her, he obliged.    

Excerpt (PG-13) from Second Chance, Chances Trilogy #1, by Martha O’Sullivan

“Married?” Brian was still on top of Lindsay, rising and falling with her shallow breaths. And hard as a rock. He had never been so aroused without making love before. “To Webster?” The words burned his tongue and he jolted back, repulsed.
Lindsay’s nod was swift and, he told himself, the least bit reluctant. As if suddenly modest, she began fumbling with her top. “I should have told you before.”
Brian sat on the edge of the sagging cushion and ran a dumbfounded hand through his hair “Yeah,” he huffed out, “that would have been nice.” He was thoroughly spent, all the life suddenly drained out of him. And his erection. “Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know.” She finished tying and stood. “I guess.” Her eyes went hollow. “I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
She searched the air for the words. “No, of me. Of it. Once I tell you, it’s real. No going back.”
It was frighteningly real to him already. He stood and took her hands, grazing her fingers with his thumbs.
“It needs to be sized,” she ground out with a gulp, reading his mind.
“The setting has to be rebuilt—” “No. When?”
Her eyes softened with understanding. “We haven’t set a date. Before the end of the year.” She withdrew her hands and started to walk away.
Brian grabbed her arm. “Why?”
“Why?” Her expression became strained, puzzled. “Why are you getting married?”
She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then replied inadequately, “Paul and I have known each other forever. We want the same things. We are...familiar.”
“That’s qualified. Why?”
Her face bore more struggle than strain now, which pleased Brian. “Because he asked me and there’s no reason not to.” She tried to shake him off, but he tightened his grip.
“I can give you a reason.”
Her mouth parted slightly, allowing a short gasp of air to escape. “You can?”
He whirled her around and bringing their mouths within inches of each other said, “Yeah, I can.” He could see the fear in her eyes but it was laced with hope, so he continued. “But first things first. Do you love him?”
That stung, especially since she didn’t hesitate. “Did you run away because of him?”
She deadpanned him. “What?”
Narrowing his eyes, he clarified, “Did you leave me for him?”
She shook her head incredulously, as if no farther-fetched words had ever been spoken. “No! Brian, I didn’t leave you. I left San Francisco,” she explained, looking away. “We were unraveling. You didn’t want to make a commitment; I couldn’t go on without one. Gram’s illness precipitated the inevitable.”
“I was committed to you. There was no one else. I—”
“I know that,” she broke in. “I mean marriage, a family. You’d already done that.” Her shoulders stiffened as if to summon courage before she faced him again. “It hurt too much to keep pretending.”
“Were you pretending when we made love the night before you left? Or had you been pretending all along?” His attempts to stay hinged were proving increasingly ineffective.
Unceremonious teardrops were gliding down her cheeks now, leaving behind threadlike, sooty tracks. “I couldn’t have pretended that. Any of that. I mean pretending that we had a future.”
“So you left, cut me out of your life and found someone to give you that future,” he argued in a voice colored with indignation.
“It wasn’t like that. It just...” She settled on the word. “Happened. Paul was very supportive when Gram died.” The pain was etched in her eyes now, tearing at Brian’s heartstrings.
“And I wouldn’t have been?”
She dropped her broken gaze. “I wanted to call you a hundred times. But it wouldn’t have changed anything. Other than both of us ending up even more hurt.”
“It would have changed everything,” he surprised himself by saying and tilted her chin. “The end of the year, huh? That gives me a few months to change your mind. Looks like I got here just in time.”

Second Chance and the Chances trilogy by Martha O'Sullivan is available at: marthaosullivan.com