Today I’m thrilled to be helping my fellow author Rachel Rossano welcome her next book baby into the world. Rachel’s books are sweet medieval romances, or as I like to call them, “Game of Thrones for those who don’t like graphic violence and graphic sex.” They are just as complex and emotionally satisfying, if not more so.
Today is release day for Honor, the second book in the Novels of Rhynan series. I discovered Duty (the first book in the series) through one of the review services that I write for and fell in love immediately. While Rachel was kind enough to send me a review copy, I haven’t had a chance to read it yet, but I have no doubt I will love it just as much as the first. And so will you.
The Earl of Dentin excels in his position as Securer of the Realm. But the king’s order to pluck an orphaned child from a loving home unsettles Dentin. When a dark-eyed woman challenges his honor regarding the mission, Dentin finds himself unable to justify his actions or get her out of his mind. Something about her lack of fear intrigues him.
Lady Elsa Reeve attempts to avoid the marriage of convenience her brother and mother demand of her. She understands the need to pay off her brother’s massive debt. She only wants her family to consider her wishes in the process.
As Elsa becomes further entangled in a snare of her brother’s creating, only one man defends her. But can she trust Dentin, her unlikely champion, and his motives? With a murderer on the loose, Elsa’s fate in jeopardy, and a traitor plotting against the king, Dentin finds his priorities shifting in an unexpected direction.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/0yLAD5dcySg
Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00S7IX63K
Barnes & Noble – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/honor-rachel-rossano/1121133015
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/513502
The trunk made it onto the wagon, but not until breakfast was half over. I left him strapping it into place at the top of the load and rushed back inside to find something to eat. When I entered the hall, most of the places at the tables were empty and the servants and pages were clearing away the remnants. I slung my cloak over one arm, and claimed hunks of bread and cheese from one of the trays moments before a servant walked off with it.
“Just ask for them to bring more.”
I turned around abruptly at the sound of Lord Dentin’s voice and lost my balance. He caught my elbow through the layers of my cloak and steadied me.
“Not so fast. Come and sit. You have a long day ahead and that is hardly enough to feed a bird.”
Before I could protest, he was leading me to the head table and my usual place. He signaled one of the servants as we walked.
“My mother is going to be angry if I am not waiting at the wagon when they reach it.”
“Let her be angry.” He pulled out my chair, guided me into it, and claimed my cloak from my arm in a smooth series of motions. “You can blame it on me.”
“That will just make it worse.” Despite my protests, it did feel wonderful to just sit.
He sat down next to me as a servant set a trencher and a platter on the table before me. The steaming stew, a remnant of supper from the night before, wafted a savory essence into my face.
“Now.” Dentin offered me a spoon. “That is much better than cold bread and cheese.”
“You don’t know my mother.”
He grunted, placed the spoon into my limp hand, and closed my fingers over it. Then leaning close enough that I could smell the basil-scented soap he had washed with that morning, he whispered, “Eat.”
My breath caught as our gazes locked. The whisper of his breath on my cheek and the warmth of his large hand enclosing mine made my heart beat unusually fast. Part of me wanted to look away, turn my face, and break the hold he had on me. But, I couldn’t gather the will to do so.
I enjoyed the sense of security he represented. Despite his reputation for coarseness and caustic responses, he treated me with respect and honor. Something many of my other relationships lacked in recent months. After years of being ignored, overlooked, and taken for granted, the sudden sense of being admired and desired was heady. The allure both scared and fascinated me.
Still, I could not linger here for long.
“I need my hand to eat.”
The moment was broken. With a muttered apology, he released my hand and leaned away.
Ignoring the sudden sensation of cold, I filled my spoon. The stew did little to dissipate the sense of loss.
About the Author
Rachel Rossano balances her time between the chaos of raising and homeschooling her three children and the world of drama and high adventure in her head. With her faithful husband and chief consulting editor by her side, she dreams of many more adventures to come.
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