Category: book tour

All
I wanted was to find a man I could start a family of my own with, but
I never imagined how quickly I’d fall in love or how quickly I could
lose it all to be his everything.

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When
she’s not steaming up the pages of her next work in progress, she’s
spending time with her family and friends.

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Maddox
I stared at that damn bathroom door until she came back out, waiting for her to walk past me
again. The way she carries herself… confidence and sensuality radiates from her in the sexiest
way I’ve ever seen. I’ve never been so drawn to someone, let alone someone I’ve never even
met.
She’s mine and she doesn’t even know it yet.
When she finally emerges, I almost panic as she takes a different path back to her seat.
Watching intently, I see her talk to the waitress before turning toward her table. Several
executive type guys are clustered around the girls she came with, flirting with them as if they are
God’s gift to women. What a joke. More like a waste of space. I could snap one of them in half
with minimal effort and they’d never even see me coming. They wouldn’t be able to defend
themselves much less protect the woman they’re with. I’ve never understood how men like that
could look at themselves in the mirror every day without being completely disgusted with what
they see. No way is one of these panty wasters, man enough for my woman.
As if taking my thoughts as a challenge, one of those fuckers approaches her. I’m out of my
seat and walking toward them in a nanosecond, ready to beat the guy to a bloody pulp, but then
I hear her beautiful voice for the first time. “Not on your life, pretty boy.” Calmly, she turns to
leave as if she hasn’t just made my night.
I think I’m in love.
My feet move of their own accord. I can’t take my eyes off of her as I follow her outside.
She knows I’m here, I saw her posture stiffen as she felt me watching. Her steps faltering only
momentarily, but she maintains her composure, never looking in my direction. Keeping her
head held high as if she owns the place, I realize, in this moment, she owns me as well. Her
hips sway as she pointedly ignores me. With confident strides, she finds her car and climbs in.
Not wanting to scare her, I stand by the door, just taking her in. What will she do next?
Like a slow-motion video, she raises her eyes to meet mine. My heart races and it’s hard to
breathe. I know she has the most beautiful emerald green eyes, I saw them as she walked past
me in the restaurant, but to see her looking directly at me, even through the glass of her
windshield thirty plus feet away, they are so intense. I’m lost to her. She could ask me for
anything, and I’d get it for her, I’d do anything for her.
Is it crazy? Yes.
Do I care? No.
She’s mine. Secretly I beg her to get out of her car and come and talk to me. I get the
feeling that she is contemplating just that, so I wait. Hours, minutes, seconds later, she shakes
herself slightly before pulling out of the lot. I let out a sigh of disappointment. Reaching for my
keys, there’s no question, I have to follow her.

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Alec,
now The Duke of Wexwood finds himself in need of a bride. One with a
substantial dowry. It needn’t be a love match as Alec doesn’t believelove exists except in rare cases. He needs a woman who can help him
rebuild the dukedom.

Margaret
Douglas is an American recently arrived back in England. She has
fulfilled her late father’s wishes by returning with her mother. Now
she needs to find a husband. One who won’t squander her dowry,
someone who’ll see her as an equal.

Introduced
by her cousin, the Earl of Norwood, Margaret and Alec come to an
agreement which quickly turns into a passionate romance.

Lurking
in the background are secrets—ones Margaret can’t hide from the
duke. Secrets she brought from America. What will happen when Alec
finds out what she’s hiding?

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Amazonbestselling author J R Salisbury divides her time between the U.S.
and U.K. with her aging Yorkie, Rocco.

“What you need, Wexwood, is a wife. One with a decent enough dowry,” the Earl of
Norwood said, stretching his long, muscular legs out in front of his chair as he lit a cheroot.
Alec ran his hand through his thick black hair, unfolded his lanky frame from behind the
large mahogany desk, and wandered over to the table placed against the wall nearest the desk. He
picked up a decanter of whiskey in one hand and two glasses in the other. Though it was late
afternoon, now was as good a time as any to get foxed. It wasn’t as though he could show his
face in White’s.
“That would certainly solve a great deal, but I don’t see a line of young women queuing up
to marry a disgraced duke.”
He poured Norwood a glass full of whiskey and handed it to him. Pouring one for himself,
he drank it down in one swallow before throwing the glass, slamming the crystal against the
hearth. The sound of the remaining liquid hissed in retaliation.
“That’s not going to solve anything,” Norwood said, sipping his whiskey.
“No, but it certainly felt good.”
“Back to your troubles. Pity Rebecca didn’t work out.”
Rebecca, the one woman he thought loved him and whom he would marry, had left him.
Departed for Italy to join her mother and aunt. The two months she was to be gone had now
turned into six. Her last letter, dated over two months prior, indicated she had no idea when she’d
return. It seemed her mother and aunt had convinced her that marriage to a duke with such a
sullied reputation was not in her best interest.
“Yes, it would have solved many problems.”
“I may be able to help.”
“Help, how?” Alec asked, pouring himself a fresh glass of whiskey. This time, he sipped the
amber liquid before setting the glass on his desk.
“I think I know the perfect woman.”
“I thought you might know of some young woman somewhere. France, perhaps?”
“Nothing that exotic. I do know such a lady, though she’s not French.”
“Do tell.”
“Her name is Margaret Douglas. Though her father moved the family to America some
years ago, Miss Douglas recently arrived in London with her widowed mother. It seems her
father had a horrific accident.”
“All that’s sad, I’m sure, but how would she be able to help me?”
“Her dowry is probably the fattest in all of Great Britain. On top of that, the young woman
refuses to marry anyone chosen for her. She trusts few.”
“How am I to get past her fear?”
“Miss Douglas is my cousin.”
“Your cousin?” Alec said in disbelief.
“Yes, on my mother’s side. From the few times I’ve been able to talk with Margaret alone,
she very much wants to marry, but on her terms.”
“I don’t understand. Does she want a marriage of convenience? Is that what you’re saying?”
“She wants someone who will take the time to get to know her, manage her money well, and
give her a couple of children. Love isn’t necessary.”Alec stared at his friend in disbelief. “When do I meet your esteemed American cousin?”

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Enchantment

binds them. Will duty part them?

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For the first
time in his life, Loyal is unable to rise and follow his mistress.
When he appeals to the Goddess for mercy, she grants him leave to
return on one condition: it must be in the form of a man. And only if
Barta recognizes him for who he truly is will he be permitted to
stay.

Loyal never suspects that, as a man, his
connection with Barta will deepen, becoming passionate enough to
transcend nearly any change. Will Barta recognize him before he’s
lost to her forever?

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She seemed to measure him from the top of his head down to his toes. She scowled. “Here, let me
help you.”
Before he could draw breath to object, she stepped in and propped her shoulder beneath his.
The action brought her body up against him, her side pressed close, one of her arms wrapped
around his body in a supportive gesture. He could feel the heat of her, could feel one small breast cleaved
to his chest. Sensation slammed through him, stealing what breath he’d managed to hoard. Softness.
Warmth. Strength.
How could all these things be present together, in one woman? She proved smaller, there beneath
his arm, than she’d appeared, given her staunch stance—the top of her sleek black head barely reached his
ear. And he could smell her—spice, old leather, and the intimate, arousing scent of woman.
Could she smell him, also? By the goddess, he must reek of filth and blood.
“All right?” she puffed. “Don’t go down, or you will surely tear that wound open.” Her fingers
dug hard into his side, and he felt her body flex. He closed his eyes against a fierce wave of desire, and
she looked at him doubtfully.
“Perhaps we should return you to the bed.”
Perhaps they should.

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A
nice girl. A nice girl who has recently figured out that nice girls
get the shaft. So, I’ve decided to become Carly 2.0 and say buh-byeCarly 1.0, the doormat.

There’s
a problem, though. An alphahole is my new roommate and my CEO’s
son. He’s also my boss and the alphahole is gunning to ruin
me.

The
epitome? Aiden Carmichael.

Aiden
wants to give me the shaft. In multiple ways, if you get my
drift.

Good
thing the new me has decided to fight back and if push comes to
shove, fight dirty.

Or
so the chick my father put in my corporate apartment and my
department at the office calls me. Whatever. She’s got spunk. And a
great rack. She tries to come off as a badass, but I see right
through the act. If she’s gonna tangle with me, she’ll be the one to
get tied up in knots. It won’t be me.

I
have no problem fighting and as far as I’m concerned, the dirtier the
better.

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After two miserable Seasons, Miss Marianne Covington is determined not
to
have a third and enlists the help of longtime friend William Stanley
to assist her. Will wagers he can find her a husband before
Christmas. But when none of the suitors suit, he is ready to do
something drastic for the woman who’s become more than just afriend.

Boughs of Folly by Anna Bradley

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Jenna has been reading and writing historical romance since she was
a teenager. A romantic herself, she has always loved a dark side to the genre, a twist, suspense, a surprise.
She tries to incorporate all of these elements into her own stories. She lives in Virginia with her family
and a small menagerie of pets. When not reading or writing, she indulges her passion for the theatre,
working with local theatres as a director. She often feels she is directing her characters on their own
private stage.

Angelina Jameson

And then my dog

died.

 

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