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elainelowe
February 18th, 2008, 03:15 PM
Ah, I hope everyone got some sleep and that the accountants were kind! I love all the chatter here - definitely a great place to have a nice cup of coffee or tea.

I'm going to be posting from blurbs and excerpts of my books, for those that requested. Here's Scandalous Profession (http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419911521):

The day-to-day expenses she earned with her imagination. And no matter how she loathed the leering ass who was her publisher, the lustful stories she wrote did well enough to keep them in bread and milk and firewood. And it allowed her dreams to run wild, dreams she’d thought broken and dead when she was sixteen. Yet at twenty-one she was wise and world-weary and her dreams had simply turned naughtier.
She shook off her maudlin thoughts and bent down to retrieve the ball Andrew had tossed in her direction when she felt her bonnet being torn unceremoniously from her head with accompanying giggles. Laughing as hairpins were lost irretrievably in the grass, she chased after her silly son, her hair flying behind her. She stopped dead when she caught sight of the tall man who’d stepped out from behind a high hedge. He wore a heavy greatcoat but it was open, and charcoal trousers encased what promised to be hard thighs. Her eyes took in the tall hat of a gentleman, the brilliant red hair, the strong chin. And the piercing blue eyes that seemed ready to consume her.
She didn’t dare breathe. The stare was broken only when he bent, retrieving her abused bonnet from the grass where Andrew had dropped it upon spotting Theo. He rose slowly and she could feel his eyes on her body, her cloak sadly swept behind her, revealing her sorry mourning dress, one of her few gowns suitable for walking in the winter. But when he reached her face, she could only feel heat in his gaze, not the disgust she’d feared. Still silent, unwilling to break the spell, she opened her mouth slightly, moistening lips suddenly turned dry.
He swallowed and she felt warmth within her flare at this simple action. He held up her headgear and in a deep voice that traveled down her spine and flooded her core, he said, “I believe this is yours, Mrs…”
She blinked for a moment and realized he required a response. Forcing her voice to work she replied, “Mallory. Mrs. Charlotte Mallory.” She took the proffered bonnet and placed it on her head, dreading the state of her hair, her flushed cheeks, her ancient dress. This time, she didn’t notice how he stared at her hands and then at her full lips that she bit while she tied the rust-colored ribbon firmly under her chin. “And your name, kind sir?”
He smiled, revealing a dimple in his left cheek and beautiful white teeth. She thought she would faint with longing, though she had never been the fainting kind. “Richard Wilcox, at your service, ma’am.”
She tried to think of something else to say and moaned internally when the words fell from her lips, “Do you make a habit of rescuing ladies’ bonnets perchance?”
But instead of running away from her crazed conversation he chuckled and she felt her knees go wobbly in response. “No, it is a very new pastime I assure you. But,” his eyes swept over her and she felt her cheeks turn pink once again at his appraisal, “it has been most enjoyable so far.” He paused for a moment and took in the sight of the two boys chasing after the ball. “You are Master Andrew’s mother, yes?”
“Yes. And you are Master Theodore’s father, I presume?” Daft woman. What other man would be with the child, she berated herself.
“Yes,” he paused again and turned back to her. “They seem to be getting along. I am very glad for it. Theo doesn’t have many other children to play with.”
“No siblings?” Or mother? Oh much too inquisitive! She tried to reign in her curiosity.
He looked hard for a moment, a combination of regret and wistfulness and anger that she found eerily familiar. Then he sighed. “No, just Theo and myself, I’m afraid.”
She hated herself for it but her heart surged in hot happiness with the news. She was deluding herself that this man would ever even consider… But oh how she wanted him. What was winter weather to bear when she was awash in visions of her thighs wrapped around this glorious man’s waist, his cock so deep inside she would ache from it. Or of her hands tied tight to a bed frame with his silk cravat, as he buried his head between her thighs, showing her what she’d only read of, what it felt like to have a man’s tongue stroking her. She was sure she must be bright red by now, between the look of those eyes and the randy thoughts swirling in her head. Overheated and short of breath, unable to think of a word to say, she silently prayed for help.
The heavens opened up and cold rain began to fall. An answer to her prayers.

elainelowe
February 18th, 2008, 03:17 PM
And here's Match Made by Moonlight (http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419912016):
Blurb:
All alone, Marianna Sanderton runs a household, cares for her sick mother, avoids her matchmaking aunt and manages to play nursemaid to an entire village. In the daylight she is Anna, known by all to be caring, responsible and hard-working. But in the night, she is known only as Maria to the mysterious man who shares her dreams.

Brandon Kelsey is a doctor, a gentleman and a soldier at war far from home. His dreams of a captivating woman named Maria fill him with something he's lacked for years—a sense of hope.

Marianna made a wish to a brilliant moon and now they both share in the strange magic that results. The night of each full moon, they meet in their dreams and delve deeper into each other than anyone else has ever been. For both of them, the journey leaves them longing to find their other half.

Excerpt:
He abandoned his post at the wall and moved to find her again. He couldn’t see her at the refreshment table and not with any of the groups of chattering biddies that ringed the end of the ballroom. He managed to skillfully avoid being brushed into by several ladies who had tried to catch his eye throughout the evening and spent several minutes slowly circling the entire room, searching futilely for the girl in green. As he passed the bank of windows, a slight breeze touched his cheek and he turned. She was outside, on the balcony, looking down at the moonlit garden. The pale light shone on her hair and made her rosy skin glow softly like the pearls at her ears.<o></o>
He followed her outside and suddenly the world seemed to shift slightly, almost to blur around the edges. She turned to face him and smiled. The moon still shone brightly but she had changed. Her eyes still danced but her hair fell loosely around her bare shoulders and instead of a ribbon in her hair, she wore a crown of white flowers which shone in the moonlight against her dark hair. Her dress was still green but it was simple gauze and flowed around her ankles like a soft breeze, her feet bare. Her hands, once adorned in proper gloves, were deliciously bare. She reached out toward him, beckoning. Then smiling mischeviously she turned and scampered over the grass.<o></o>
He looked around for a moment in bewilderment. Gone was the balcony, even the ballroom. He was standing somewhere in an open meadow, rolling hills and trees surrounding him. It was not so different from the hills he had galloped across as a youth on his father’s <st1></st1><st1><st1:city w:st="on">Cheshire</st1:city></st1> estate. It certainly had the mark of the wilds of the Welsh border country. He wore a simple, comfortable dark shirt and trousers and something that tickled his face, a mask! He brought his hands up to touch it and felt what appeared to be feathers of some kind. The girl, some yards ahead now, turned to him and called in a rich soprano, “Cannot you keep up with me, or are you even trying?”<o></o>
He took off after her at a steady lope, intent on seeing where the girl would lead him. As they crested a hill, he heard music again. Not the proper, restrained tones of the ballroom they had left somewhere behind, but the wild tones of fiddle and drum, flute and lyre, all wound together in the wild music of another age. She had stopped at the top of the hill and as he caught up to her, he impulsively captured her hand in his. Turning her head, she gave him a shy smile and returned her gaze to the players in the field before them.<o></o>
It was a celebration of some kind but the attendees were different from anything he would have imagined past the age of ten. The wild music was accompanied by a rousing dance and the participants were enthralling to watch. There were tall elegant gentlemen and ladies in clothes of dazzling, shimmering greens and blues, with skin so pale it was almost transparent and an odd cast to their features. And then there was the matter of their ears. Were they pointed? There were short, round little men who wended their way between the other dancers while playing on tiny flutes. There were animals that moved among the crowd as well, seeming to take their part in the dance as well. Large birds, a few dogs, even a goat. The women all wore crowns of flowers, as his partner did. There were others in masks as he wore, brilliant scarlet made orange by the moonlight, or more of the greens and blues. His mask, as far as he could tell from the edges around his eyes, was as black as his hair. Even the trees in the glade seemed to sway with the hypnotic beat of the drums.
He was dreaming, that was for certain. A dream unlike any he had ever had. The girl next to him seemed utterly content and happy watching the dance and her eyes held no sense of the oddness that surrounded them. She squeezed his hand and the simple contact seemed to fill some hole in his heart. Mayhap this was her dream and he was merely a player in it. A thought to fill a philosopher’s thesis, he supposed. He smiled to think himself a hero in some girl’s dream, as she had been a heroine in his to rescue him from the boredom of that ballroom, or the hell of his life on the battlefield. Somewhere in <st1><st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region></st1>, if his hazy brain could but remember. But some hero he made, wrapped up in his own thoughts.<o></o>
“Would you care to dance, my Lady Spring?” he turned to her and gallantly bowed over her hand.<o></o>
She curtsied and answered in that same smooth voice that had enchanted him upon his entrance into this fantastic vision, “Why of course, milord Raven. I thought you’d never ask.” She gave him a wicked little grin and clutched his hand, pulling him toward the circle of otherworldly dancers.<o>

</o> She paused at the edge of the group and he took the lead, clutching his arm about her waist in a way that felt so familiar. He smiled down into her eyes and after half a moment of shock her mischievous glint returned and a smile graced her features. Without knowing the steps of the ongoing dance, he whirled them about in his best approximation of that scandalous dance, the waltz. Whether the dancers altered their path for them or they themselves unconsciously knew the patterns by instinct, Brandon and his lady seemed to flow in among the others with ease. The world flew by, reds and greens, duns and yellows bathed and altered by moonlight to an ethereal glow. He was reminded of the stories his mother had told him, of the faerie under the hill and how on the full moon they came out to dance again in the real world. This lovely woman in his arms must have held her share of faerie magic. She felt so right in his arms, like she had always belonged there.

Dani
February 20th, 2008, 12:37 AM
Elaine, these excerpts are wonderful! I enjoyed both of them a lot. Thanks you so much for posting them for us to read. :notworthy:

hollie
February 20th, 2008, 01:24 PM
wounderfull Elaine i enjoyed both of them