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Archive for August, 2018

Silver sweater.1

Have you ever had an idea in the middle of the night, written it down, and placed it in your ideas folder? And then forgotten all about it?

Yeah. One of those ideas.

While sorting through files yesterday, I came across a folder with book ideas in it, but it wasn’t in the place it should have been. Opening the file, I recognized the other ideas, but I couldn’t remember the last one.

Turns out it was another story line for the Speranza Series. Idea title–An English Werewolf on Gambler’s Folly.

Like I didn’t have enough on my plate from Gambler’s already…

Watch for The Russian later this year. It will be Book 3 from Gambler’s Folly, in the Speranza Series.

Next up after that will be a book in the Esperance Series–Talents–the continuing story of Viviane and introducing the new heir of Belfort. Connell is a ten year old little boy who must now train to become ruler of his clan. And he’s not happy…

Looking for something to read? Fantasy romance, paranormal romance, or a touch of magic?

Amazon

http://bit.ly/Mellie_Am

Audible

https://www.audible.com/author/Mellie-Miller/B00954K2C8

Smashwords

http://bit.ly/MellieMiller_SW

 

Books.1Talents

MOF Woman Rules his heart

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I know, I know.

It has been a while.

But I have been writing. Honest!

How about an excerpt from Master of the Fleet? And maybe a snippet from a WIP?

MASTER OF THE FLEET

Anne-Marie was tired from the trip, but where was she to sleep? They’d brought Richard to the first

room they could reach when he’d collapsed. This was a single room, with one small bed

and a sofa.

Richard was stretched out on his back taking up the whole bed. There wouldn’t have been room

for her, anyway, in such a tiny bed. His feet were sticking out the end and his right arm was on the

verge of falling off the bed. Everything from his elbow down hung out in mid-air.

Rummaging in the wardrobe, she found a blanket she could use. Maybe she could get another

one from the desk. Carefully closing the door, she went  to ask the clerk for more blankets,

which he generously provided her.

“I am sorry about the room, Madame. We had a different one reserved for you on the second

floor. The men who carried your husband from the coach didn’t know who he was, so we put

him in there. I’d no idea he’d still be sleeping. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Back in the room, she made up the sofa, changed into a nightgown, and went back to sit

with Richard. His arm over the edge of the bed couldn’t be comfortable. As she tucked it

back up under the covers, she remarked on how heavy an arm is when it’s totally limp.

She knew he’d have been more comfortable if he’d had time to change out of his travel clothes,

but doubted she could undress him. Instead, she unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt,

loosened his belt and trousers, and tucked the covers around him again.

Why was she so concerned? She wasn’t in love with the man. True, he had been

very kind to her, both before their marriage and since. Maybe she simply needed him

to get back home. Once there, they would have to sort out a lot of things,

but they had to get there first.

It couldn’t be love. That door had been closed for ages. She had given up all hope for love

a long time ago. When she fell asleep and nearly toppled off the chair, she crawled under

the blankets on the sofa. Richard still lay as one dead. What would he be like

when he finally woke up?

 

THE RUSSIAN–Book 3 from Gambler’s Folly

If it hadn’t been for her scent, he would have been fine. Lilacs with honeyed-

vanilla and white musk had wrapped around him softly. Hazel eyes under blonde curls had

drawn him in. He’d thought, after all this time, he had control over his urges.

What had possessed him to kiss her?

Her mouth now, there was a treat. Fresh raspberries and sweet white wine still teased

his palette. Between her scent and her taste,he was one messed up wolf. He wanted

to run through the forest, roll in the leaves, and howl to his pack mates

about this delicious female he’d met.

No, he wouldn’t see her again. He didn’t need a relationship.

Life around him was too uncertain.

Besides, he’d had a mate long ago and, when she’d died, she’d taken his heart to her grave.

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