Run Wild (45 page)

I’d like to express my deepest gratitude to my critique partners LaVerne Coan, Beth Manz, and Linda Pedder for their creative insights and steadfast support while I wrote the original manuscript of
Run Wild
.

And above all to my husband, Mark, who has always held me through the darkness and helped me find the light again. Every day, you show me the true meaning of the words
love
and
hero
.

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed spending time with Nicholas and Samantha in the pages of
Run Wild
. I’d love to keep writing books that touch your heart for many years to come. Readers like you make it possible, and I’m so thankful for your support and enthusiasm.

If you enjoyed
Run Wild
, could I ask you for a small favor? I’m just getting started in indie publishing, and with hundreds of new books published every month, it’s difficult to stand out in the crowd. I need a little help (actually, a lot of help) getting the word out about my books. If you’d be willing to share your enthusiasm with other readers, I’d really be grateful.

The easiest way is to post a reader review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, the Apple iBookstore, or wherever you bought the book. Just visit this book’s page on that site and scroll down to where it says “Customer Reviews.” Your review doesn’t have to be long. Short and sweet is fine—just a line or two about why you enjoyed the story. The more reviews a book has, the more it encourages other readers to sample an author they’ve never read before.

If you’re active on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, book sites like Goodreads or Shelfari, or review blogs, those are also great places to post a little note about the author you just discovered and the book you enjoyed.

Thanks so much for your support. I really appreciate your kindness!

Warmest wishes and happy reading,

Shelly

~ ~ ~

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Sneak Preview Excerpt from MIDNIGHT RAIDER

(Escape with a Scoundrel Series)

Dear Reader,

If you enjoyed
Run Wild
, I think you’ll love my next book,
Midnight Raider
. I’m currently working on a new, fully revised edition of this award-winning historical romance about a lady highwayman and her handsome rival who form a dangerous alliance to defeat a powerful mutual enemy. The odds of both of them surviving the scheme are not good—and falling in love was never part of the bargain. Enjoy this exclusive, advanced sneak peek!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

London, 1735

“Lord Pierce Wolverton, fourth Earl of Darkridge. So pleased to make your acquaintance.”

He spoke with the smoothness of a man born and bred in Cavendish Square, but Elizabeth got the impression he would be more at ease trading curses with a Thames ferryman. If he were truly a lord, he was strangely attired, for he wore neither wig nor hat nor any face powder. His hair was tied in a simple queue at his neck, one dark brown lock straying over his right eye.

“I... I am...” Trapped by that unyielding, dusky gaze, Elizabeth could not remember by which name she should introduce herself. He was studying her face, her chin, and most of all her eyes. She found the intense interest both odd and disturbing. He still held her wrist, and the sensation of his strong fingers clasping her bare skin filled her with the strangest prickly warmth. “I am—”

“Lady Elizabeth Barnes-Finchley,” he said with a cynical bite to his voice. He released her at last, seeming satisfied with his perusal. “I was told you would be here tonight.”

Elizabeth felt unsteady on her feet, but a rising sense of alarm quickly cleared her head. “By whom? And how do you know who I am?”
Had Arkwright said her name?
She couldn’t remember.

Lord Darkridge wandered to the edge of the pond. “You, my lady, have swept London society off its feet. Every drawing room and concert hall is abuzz with talk of the beautiful young woman who arrived with her aunt from the Continent, three months ago. When I heard you had the most striking violet eyes, I simply had to meet you.”

Elizabeth’s heart began to pound. Was this merely a wealthy nobleman interested in seduction? Or did he somehow suspect that she was not what she seemed? “My eyes have brought you all this way out into the country? To attend a party where you are obviously not wanted?”

“Yes.” He said the word harshly, and when he turned to look at her, Elizabeth thought she saw a flash of some emotion in his eyes—anger, or perhaps hurt. But when he spoke again, his voice returned to its rich, low tones. “I am something of a poet, you see. I asked where I might find you because I am currently working on a volume of odes to London’s great beauties. I should like to include you.”

She blinked at him in disbelief. As he stood at the edge of the water, framed by the light of the lamps and the moon, he looked like a dark god of war, just arrived in a new land, ready to conquer all he surveyed. The idea of this man as a poet was ludicrous. His flattery was obviously intended to lure her to his town house and into his bed. Elizabeth couldn’t explain the twinge of disappointment she felt upon discovering he was no better than the other lords she had met.

“I would
not
be interested, Lord Darkridge.” She started to walk back to the house.

He stepped in front of her before she could get more than a few paces. “But we have only just met. Or have you another engagement tonight?”

Elizabeth glared at his chest, annoyed at his persistence and distressed by his question. She could not shake the feeling that this man knew much more than he should, that she was not safe out here alone with him. “No, I haven’t another engagement. But my aunt does not like to stay out late, and I am sure she is ready to return home.”

Before she could move around him, he reached out and took her hand.

“Sir,” she ground out, “if you are any kind of a gentleman, you will let me go. And if you do not, I shall scream.”

~ ~ ~

Pierce didn’t heed her threat. He believed her, but found himself unwilling to let go. He had been wandering the grounds for an hour, trying to think of a way to get inside and find her, when she neatly presented herself, a pale wisp of lavender moonlight, floating over the lawn in her silk gown.

She hesitantly raised her head, and he felt the strangest clenching sensation in his chest. Her eyes, so bright—and somehow so haunted—drew him in like a song of bittersweet beauty. Her blunt, straight nose and slightly uneven lips didn’t detract from her charm. On the contrary, they elevated her looks to the realm of the uncommon. This was no angel drifted down from heaven, made for poets to sing of. This was a woman as real and dark and intriguing as the night itself, a woman made for a man.

“You really must let me go,” she said.

“No, I don’t think I shall.”

There was no mistaking her voice, either. The Cockney accent was gone, but the husky, throaty sensuality in its place held him enthralled. Hellfire, he should just let her leave. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why he had stepped in front of her. His first look at her face had told him all he needed to know.

There was no doubt in his mind that Lady Elizabeth Barnes-Finchley and the highwayman Blackerby Swift were one and the same. The London magistrates, however, would not believe him if he presented this lady, looking like she did now. They would laugh him out of the Old Bailey.

He would have to capture her at the scene of one of her crimes, in her disguise. He guessed that the
real
reason she was so eager to leave was that she intended to take Montaigne’s midnight coach. He might catch her in the act this very night.

So why didn’t he just let her go?

The moon bathed her skin in pearl-white light, from the delicate line of her chin to the shadowy edge of her shoulders. The upper curve of her full, high breasts was just visible above her décolletage, and Pierce’s whole body tensed unexpectedly at the sudden image of this woman—Lady Elizabeth Barnes-Finchley, Blackerby Swift, or whoever the devil she really was—lying naked beneath him, here on the grass.

His fingers itched to touch her, just there, at that vulnerable spot where lavender silk and white lace gave way to warm, soft woman.

The next instant, he lowered his lips to hers.

“Please.” She jerked her head to one side, a note of panic in her voice. She tried to pull her hand out of his, and this time Pierce released her, amazed at his own impulsiveness. This wasn’t like him at all. He hadn’t paused a second to think about what he was doing.

She backed away a step and stood there, staring at him, those eyes of pure amethyst wide with confusion, her black lashes and brows stark against her skin, like ink strokes on a fresh white page. In an instant, her features changed from uncertainty to anger, and she hiked up her skirts and turned away. She walked off with a proud, graceful sway that sent Pierce’s blood hammering through his veins.

He couldn’t resist having the last word. “Good night, Lady Barnes-Finchley.”

At the sound of his voice she broke into a run like a startled doe, fleeing from him toward the house in a flurry of shimmering silk.

Pierce smiled grimly and walked back toward the south end of the grounds, where he had left his horse. Best to get this over with as soon as possible and pack her off to the authorities, before she caused him any further trouble. He flipped open his silver pocket watch. Nine-thirty. More than enough time to catch her on the North Road out of London. There was no reason to put this off, absolutely no reason.

He would capture her tonight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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MIDNIGHT RAIDER
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Excerpt from
FOREVER HIS: A Time-Travel Romance

(The Stolen Brides Series, Book 1)

On New Year’s Eve, she tumbles 700 years back in time—and into the bed of a darkly handsome knight.

Sir Gaston de Varennes wanted a docile bride who would fit into his plans for vengeance and justice, but a trick of time finds him married to a thoroughly modern American lady who turns his castle, his life, and his heart upside down. Will her desperate secret tear them apart after only a few bittersweet weeks of stolen passion—or will they conquer mistrust, treachery, and time itself to discover a love that spans the centuries?

Winner of the National Readers Choice Award: Best Historical Romance of the Year

“Irresistible, right down to the surprise at the end... One of the best romances of the year.”

— The Detroit Free Press

“A Desert Isle Keeper. Touching, ingenious... I love this book. I’ve read it time after time, and even if I haven’t waited quite long enough between readings to forget all the details, I always get drawn back into the story so intensely that I can’t put it down. Grade: A (highest rating).”

— Ellen Hestand, All About Romance

France, 1300

“I do not remember taking you to bed last night.” He yawned and stretched and sat back down on the mattress. “Though I cannot say I regret it. Noisy though you may be, you felt most pleasing curled beside me.”

He chuckled, a low sound that did an odd little dance down Celine’s back and made her suddenly, uncomfortably aware of the warm spot on her shoulder where he had kissed her.

“You did
not
take me to bed!” she corrected.

“Truly,
ma petite
? It was you who seduced me, then?”

“No! I—”

“Come seduce me again.” He fell back on the pillows.

“Absolutely
not!
” Celine groped her way along the wall, trying to feel her way to the door. “Look, whoever you are, it sounds like you had too much to drink at the party. Maybe there was a power failure or something and you wandered into the wrong room by mistake.”