Best-seller
soon available in print!
Temptation in Tartan by Suz deMello
One of my more popular books, Temptation in Tartan, will be available in print as well as digital
formats on September 24. This book sat at #1 on its list at All Romance Ebooks
for a week! If you’re intrigued by the idea of sexy vampires in kilts, this is
the book for you. Here’s a snippet to sharpen your appetite:
Stop! You
cry. What’s it about?
Okay—here’s the blurbage:
She had to marry a
monster…
Rumors had followed
the chieftains of Clan Kilborn for centuries. Said to be descended from the
Viking Berserkers, they were ferocious in battle, known for tearing off the
heads of their enemies and drinking their blood.
But English
noblewoman Lydia Swann Williston would marry Kieran, Laird Kilborn, to bring
peace to the Kilborn lands after the horror of Culloden and the brutal
pacification. A widow, she also brought needed wealth to Clan Kilborn. For her
part, eighteen-year-old Lydia wanted children. With her husband killed at Culloden,
she would make a new life in the Highlands.
The old chieftain
of Clan Kilborn also died in battle, and she hoped that the new young Laird
would lack his ancestors' ferocity.
She was wrong.
And now, here’s the excerpt:
Edinburgh, 1747
The dark, mysterious stranger took Lydia’s free
hand and led her into the garden surrounding the Menhardie mansion. The broad
summer moon cast shadows that shifted with the breeze, so she could see little
but could scent much—the fragrance of plants and newly turned earth, the attar
of roses she’d touched to her pulse points and, daringly, between her breasts.
Most of all, she drew in the male aroma of the stranger who’d taken possession
of her hand, a scent reminiscent of midnight and secret longings.
He led her deeper into the knot garden. Trees,
swishing in the breeze, blocked the manse from her view. She inhaled sharply,
realizing she’d walked willingly, alone, with a man she knew nothing about,
into what was not only a compromising position but possibly a dangerous one.
As though he sensed her fear, he released her hand.
“Would ye wish to sit?” He waved his hand at a stone bench.
She touched it with a forefinger. Moisture seeped
through her glove.
“Dinnae fash yerself.” The stranger sat and held
out his arms. “Come here.”
She hesitated. “I’m affianced. ‘Twould offend my
new husband.”
“No one can see us, and I’m just asking ye to sit.”
His gaze was not merely open and guileless, but oddly compelling.
He seemed so kind, and her worries so silly, that
she complied, moving closer. He reached for her waist to help her arrange her
skirts and panniers. Finally she’d settled onto his lap, sitting crossways so
she was looking at his chiseled features, distinct in the moonlight, as pale as
new milk.
A strange energy thrummed through her body. She was
acutely aware of the firm, muscular thighs beneath her, for she had never sat
on a man’s lap before. Neither her father nor her husband had asked for or
taken this intimacy. Did she like it? She wasn’t sure and became even less sure
when the stranger, who had one arm touching her waist already, slid his other
wide palm up her calf toward her knee.
Though his touch sent a tremor of desire shafting
through her being, it unnerved her even more. She squirmed but he held her
fast.
“Lassie, what worries ye?”
“You are taking liberties, sir, and we…haven’t been
introduced.” What a stupid thing to have said. He must think her a fool. But
what did it matter? She’d never see him again.
He chuckled. “Let’s just say that I’m a man who
finds you quite alluring.”
Alluring. Lydia blinked. William had never said
that.
“Remember, I’m affianced.”
“Ye’re here with me. Do ye love him?”
She cleared her throat. “We’ve never met.”
“Then ye’re sharing a stolen moment with a man
you…dare I say a man you like?” He flirted, but his voice held a dark timbre
that seduced her soul. And yet a note of humor, kindness even, tinctured his
tone.
She hesitated, then looked into his eyes and was
immediately calmed. She said, “Yes. You may dare.”
“And what else may I dare?” The hand on her leg
rose to her face to play with a curl, stroke her cheek. She quivered and her
breasts swelled, her nipples rubbing against the lawn of her shift. Flesh for
which she had no words, the secret place at the junction of her thighs, heated,
tightened, moistened.
She shifted on his lap, opening her legs and
leaning forward a trifle, and that sensitive, secret spot rubbed against his
leg, bringing a charge of pleasure she hadn’t known before. She hid her gasp
behind her fan.
He smiled at her, his eyes knowing… Did he
understand how powerfully he affected her?
This was wrong, wrong. She had to stop.
“Your eyes are warm chocolate on a chilly day.” His
voice was as soft as the breeze, as soft as his caress down her cheek to her
mouth, which he traced. “Your lips are a temptation that I cannae resist.”
“You presume much, sir.”
“Aye, I do, but I feel I know your heart.”
If he knew her heart, then he knew it beat faster
than a racing stallion’s hooves.
He inclined his head toward her. His lips were
carved marble in the moon’s silver rays. “Ye desire me, do ye not?”
“Desire isn’t enough.” She’d desired William, and
her marriage bed had been either empty of her husband or the scene of brief
trysts devoid of pleasure. She wouldn’t be seduced by a handsome stranger. What
for?
“Please.” He asked, but then he took. His mouth
felt cool on hers but with a touch of fire beneath. That fire raced through
her, igniting parts of her she hadn’t known could feel such heat, such rapture.
She gasped again from sheer surprise, and something intruded between her lips…
Before heaven, was that his tongue?
No, Lydia thought. This isn’t me.
She reached for his wrist to slide her fingers
toward his elbow. She wrapped her hand around his arm and dug her thumb into
the muscle just in front of the joint.
He yelped and jerked away, dumping her off his lap.
She landed gracefully, stood and stepped back a pace.
“Good,” she said. “I must have hit just the right
spot.”
His eyes were amazed. “Where did a lady like ye
learn such a trick?”
“My brother taught me.” She couldn’t help shooting
him a triumphant smile as she tucked her fan into her reticule.
He shouted with laughter. “Ye’ll do, yes, ye will!
Ye’ll make a fine wife.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said stiffly.
He grinned at her. “I’m Kieran.”
She gaped at him.
“Kieran Kilborn,” he added helpfully. “The man
ye’ll marry.”
*****
If you like what you read, buy it
here in print on September 24:
And here in digital, available
now!
*****
About the
author:
Best-selling,
award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written seventeen romance novels in several
subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and
suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A
freelance editor, she’s held the positions of managing editor and senior
editor, working for such firms Total-E-Bound, Liquid Silver Books and Ai Press.
She also takes private clients.
Her books have been favorably
reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two,
attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.
A former trial attorney, her
passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including
lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning
her next trip.
find Suzie’s books here:
