Monday, June 26, 2017

Say Yes to the Scot! Anthology starring Sabrina York and 3 more authors!

You are formally invited to the Highland wedding event of the year. These four lasses are about to meet their matches in an original digital anthology featuring stories from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Sabrina York, Lecia Cornwall, Anna Harrington, and May McGoldrick.
Available June 20th. Preorder Now!
HOW A LASS WED A HIGHLANDER by Lecia Cornwall
In this retelling of The Princess and The Pea, Laird Alex Munro of Culmore has just five weeks to find a bride and marry her...or else the clan will be cursed with ill luck. Cait MacLeod finds herself caught in a clan feud, and when she tries to stop a deadly raid, she ends up as Alex Munro’s prisoner. With timing running out, is this couple meant to be?
A MATCH MADE IN HEATHER by Anna Harrington
She was the laird's daughter. He was nothing more than a penniless, nameless Scot with nothing to offer but his heart. Fate tore them apart, but now he's back in her life with status, money and a title. Can they let go of past hurts and find love?
A MIDSUMMER WEDDING by May McGoldrick
Their marriage was two decades in the making. The young, educated woman and her highland, pirate husband, betrothed when they were still children. But on the day of their wedding, Elizabeth Hay and Alexander Macpherson are in for a surprise.
THE SCOT SAYS I DO by Sabrina York
Catherine Ross's world is turned upside down when her brother gambles away every penny they own. But to make matters worse? He’s lost everything to none other than Duncan Mackay, the rugged Scot who Catherine loved for years—but he never noticed her, and now she positively loathes him. But her brother’s in danger of going to Newgate, and the despicable Duncan has a plan– she can claim back the money and save her brother. If she marries him…
READ AN EXCERPT OF THE SCOT SAYS I DO
Duncan glanced at Peter who had dropped back down on the divan and covered his face with one arm. He was no use to either of them at this point. Besides, this business was between himself…and Catherine. He gently pressed her into the king’s chair, took one next to hers and scooted it around until he faced her. “You and Peter have no home now.”
“Not even the Wilds?”
“Not even the stables.” He tried to be as sympathetic as he could. This was difficult for her. Shattering. And it would only get worse. “For you, things are not so bad. You’re a lovely girl. You can marry well.” He ignored her snort. “But for Peter…” He let it hang there like a razor sharp icicle clinging to a roofline as a melt approached.
“But Peter?”
“He has other debts.”
“Oh no.”
“Small ones, but substantial enough for his creditors to ask for retribution.”
They both knew what that meant. Debtors’ prison. A truly nasty end for a feckless lad. But Duncan had the inclination to allow Peter to languish there—at least for a while—to teach the boy a lesson.
“Newgate would kill him,” Catherine whispered.
“It’s not all that bad.”
Her gaze snapped to him. “And how do you know?”
He lifted a brow. He had no intention of telling her that he’d visited and reprieved more than one foolish friend.
“Poor Peter.”
“He did bring this on himself. He gambles like a fiend.” A fiend who thinks he can never lose.
“Can’t you help him?”
Duncan swallowed an outraged laugh. “I believe I already have.”
“I mean, help him more?”
“Buy out all his debts? Return his wealth and property to him? Pat him on his head and charge him to go forth and risk it all again? What kind of fool do you think I am?”
“A heartless one.” She stood and whirled away, which gave him cause to follow.
But honestly, he was not the heartless one here.
When she spun back, he was right behind her and they were far too close. The tips of her breasts brushed against his chest and he nearly swallowed his tongue. She flinched as well, as though the touch had been like a bolt of lightning. She gazed up into his eyes, hers wide and damp. Her lips parted and her pink tongue dabbed out to wet them and his knees nearly failed him.
Damn she was so beautiful. So glorious. He wanted to kiss her now, ravish her. Claim her. He wanted—
“I cannot bear the thought of marrying one of my suitors,” she said, and he was brought back to the moment, his intent, with a powerful lurch.
“There may be a solution.”
She tipped up her delicate chin bravely. “And what might that be?”
So simple. So perfect.
“Marry me.”
Her jaw dropped and he fixated on the sight of her open mouth. If that was not a demand for a kiss, he did not know what was.
He pulled her into his arms, reveling in the warmth, the curves of her slight form, and lowered his head.
She tasted like heaven. Sweet bliss. Just like he remembered from that day when he’d pulled her from the loch and forced her to breathe again. Her scent infused him, enamored him, enraged a long-banked fire within him.
She would be his.
He would have her.
Finally.
Catherine Ross would be his bride, just as he’d dreamed of for so many years. Just as he’d fought and scrabbled and worked for. His life ambition had come to him and the moment was so sublime…
Until she pulled away and stared at him with an odd mixture of shock and fear limning her eyes.
And she hauled back her delicate fist.
And punched him in the jaw.
By the time he’d recovered from the shock of what he could only interpret as her refusal of his suit, she’d whirled away and flounced off to her chambers—God only knew where—in the bowels of the enormous mansion.
But this was only the first salvo in his campaign to win her.
And win her, he would.
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/say-yes-to-the-scot?utm_source=linkshare_us&utm_medium=Affiliate&utm_campaign=linkshare_us&siteID=tT8CexMeqzg-YEr1P78pnBhYHVy4XihEEg

Thursday, June 1, 2017

Cerise went to #Paris! It's #research #champagne #chocolate #France #romance and my Pictures!

Yes, dahlinks, I went off to Paris!
USA's 100th Anniversary of WWI
http://www.worldwar1centennial.org
Drop me a comment here about what you'd bring back!
Champagne?
Chocolate?
A French comte or marquis?
All of the above???
Sigh.
Me, too.
Here are a few of my pictures from trips past!
And here's a hint: Sign up for my newsletter for more info here:  http://eepurl.com/bZ6xkj
Mr. DeLand and I at a chateau along the River Marne
when we spent two and a half weeks trailing the American Expeditionary Forces battle lines of 1917-1918.
Did you realize that the 100th anniversary of American involvement in WWI occurs now?
Center Hall in Opera Garnier, Paris!
Josephine's Malmaison in Parisian countryside, her dining room!
This charming church is in Varennes, France (near Verdun) where the French king, Louis XVI and his wife
Marie Antoinette and their two children took refuge in 1791. Sadly, they were caught by the villagers
and returned to Paris where they died at the guillotine.
Once the House of Worth stood in this #7 Rue de la Paix near the Opera Garner in Paris!
Cathedral of St. Peter on fashionable Rue di Rivoli in Paris




Thursday, April 27, 2017

A night at the opera/ A chance for seduction! #Paris

Grand Hall, Opera Garnier, Paris
I went to Paris for research and had to take in the Opera Garnier!
I start a new series, THOSE NOTORIOUS AMERICANS, October 17 with a novel starring a family of brash, bold American beauties and eligible robber barons.
Every American heiress had to have a wardrobe fit for a princess or duchess or whatever ancient title she could grab. So she went to Paris. Her papa spent tens of thousands on a complete wardrobe for her from lingerie to tea gowns to evening gowns and many many chapeaus! He also hired French or English ladies, impoverished as they were, to educate their young misses in everything from how to curtsy to how to use a fish fork.
These impressionable young ladies went to cafes, the races and soirees galore.
Detail, Grand Hall, Opera Garnier, Paris
While there, they also had their nights at the opera. The Opera Garnier, to be precise. In my first novel in the series, WILD LILY, our heroine and her entire family go to an evening at this ornate example of Belle Epoch architecture. They sit in a box. (I did.) They sip champagne in the refreshment room. (I went but did not sip.) They escaped to the balcony for an assignation or more. (I went with Mr. DeLand out onto the balcony but we were quite modest at 3 in the afternoon!)

There were explicit rules about how to arrive, when and why and what a lady might and might not do at the opera. I've incorporated all my research for you...and added a bit of risqué elements to entertain you!

Draperies at entrance to Grand Hall,
Opera Garnier
And not only in the first book do we go to the opera. But in the second book in the series as well. There I treat you to a Frenchman you won't be able to resist. Neither can my American widow who wanted only one night of pleasure...and gets much more than she bargained for!
This second in the series is not yet titled, but you can look for it early in January!

Enjoy the rest of my pictures! I adored this lavish theatre and I hope you will too!

Interior of the theatre.


Grand Circle, entrance to private boxes,
Opera Garnier, Paris

Grand staircase, Opera Garnier, Paris

Detail, Grand Staircase, Opera Garnier,
Paris

Red velvet chair, private box, Opera Garnier 


Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Those "Dollar Princesses" bought their hubbies! How much did Churchill's mama pay? What's it worth today?

Jenny Jerome Churchill
1854-1921
The courtship was whirlwind. Days, they knew each other before he proposed. Weeks only before they were married. Yes, Jenny Jerome and Lord Randolph Churchill met at a yachting party on Cowes and within days the man had proposed to the American girl whose papa, Leonard, was very, very rich.

Prior to the passage of the British Married Women's Property Act of 1882, women had no rights to their husband's property. Therefore, the Duke of Marlborough assumed that whatever dowry Jenny had would be given to her future husband. Leonard Jerome demanded any money he offer be controlled by his daughter.

Once he proposed, Randolph was met with a skeptical father. And his sire wanted a solid financial arrangement to complement the marriage. They haggled for months over the money.

After much debate, Jenny father agreed to 50,000 pounds (approximately 3 million pounds in present day value) producing 2,000 pounds income each user with half of both capital and income going to the husband and half to the wife. This equalled approximately 150,000 pounds per year for them to live on. The fact that Jenny had control of her own money was an extraordinary concept in that day and age, one to which the Duke objected heartily. His argument was that by marrying his son, she would give up her American citizenship and become a British subject. Therefore, she should live as one. Fortunately for her, her father did not agree.

As soon as the families agreed to this amount, Jenny and Randolph were married. However, this was not done at the Marlborough estate, nor any where in England but in Paris at the Hotel Charost, the British Embassy in Paris. (Those of you who read this blog regularly will recall that the Hotel Charost was once Pauline Bonaparte's house bought by the British Government for the Duke of Wellington after the defeat of Napoleon in 1814.)

So read more about these ladies, I hope you will read my own American Heiresses series!

References:
McCall, Gail, and Wallace, Carol McD., To Marry an English Lord, 1989.
Jenkins, Roy, Churchill, A Biography. 2001.
Lady Churchill, Her sons Jack (l) and Winston (rt.)


Tuesday, April 11, 2017

How much will you pay to marry a duke? House of Worth, Rue de la Paix #Paris

This picture of of Worth house in the Rue de la Pzix in the 1870s. 
To be able to debut in European society in the 1870s up until 1910s, it was oh so important to dress the part. What better way to do it than to go to House of Worth where a girl could be measured and outfitted for a mere...oh...$50,000 for the Season!

Yes, it was vital to appear fabulous when shopping for a duke or a baron...or anyone else in between.  Jennie Jerome went to Worth. So did the Vanderbilts and the Astors. Anyone who was anyone went and acquired one of Worth's vendeuses (personal sales girls).

Frederick Worth was considered the first fashion designer but many, like Madame Pacquin, very close by in the Rue de la Paix were just as good and just as expensive.
The underpinnings of a bustle!

The drama of dressing was long and drawn out. To wear a bustle was truly a challenge, not only to walk in one but to sit and yes, shall we discuss how to manage the necessities of life in one of these contraptions? Add to that the discomfort of one of the era's corsets, and a girl could get rather tired of carrying around such extra weight.
Madame Pacquin, French designer
and competitor to Worth

Frederick Worth, Englishman and designer,
#7 Rue de la Paix

Evening gown, House of Worth

Walking costume, House of Worth
corset, late 19th century

corset, late 19th century

All this so that one might sweep up this staircase in the Opera Garner in Paris
and appear stately, rich and desirable!


My photo of #7 Rue de la Paix from a research trip last October!
Still as impressive looking as in its heyday. Not far from Opera Garnier, Tiffany's and more!

Thursday, March 30, 2017

7 Brides for 7 SEALs? Another bride, another groom...another wedding for you to swoon!

Pre-Order at Amazon   NOOK
Out March 31!
Viv LaClare is so over being the matron. The widow. She wants to laugh again, live again, maybe even dabble in a little affair…if she could just find the right guy.
Britt Ackermann is so over one-night stands—and women who party with a SEAL for the bragging rights. He wants a lady with guts, sass and more than a lick of sense…if he could find the right woman. 
So when he meets Viv at his teammate’s wedding, she hooks him at ‘hello.’ He’s convinced he wants all the nights she’ll give him. 
But if he can promise her all the tomorrows he’s got, can she risk her tender heart on a man who has the deadliest job in the world?

How about a nibble of my newest cherry?
When the doors opened on the fifth floor, Viv caught a glimpse of her reflection in the full length hall mirror. The shoulder-length red hair, the dark green eyes, the body she worked super hard to keep in shape. Didn’t this woman deserve to take what she wanted? Especially since the desire was mutual?
She extracted the card key from her purse and began her hunt for 510. Directional signs lead her around to the left and down the hall and she happily padded along on the thick carpet. The hotel was filled not only with Abby’s family but also with her professional associates and quite a few friends. Viv might not want that promotion but she wasn’t eager to have anyone see her go to her rendezvous. So she hurried along the hall and turned another corner—
Only to halt in her tracks.
Two doors down stood Tracy Banning with The Saint, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he held her against the wall. Their lips were locked in a frantic kiss, and Tracy’s legs were hooked around The Saint’s hips.
Viv shrank back around the corner silent as a mouse.
“You need to go,” Tracy whispered, her voice husky.
“You don’t do wedding hook ups, is that it?” he asked, disappointment in his tone.
“The odds of being happy about it tomorrow are not great.”
“We can reexamine that idea tomorrow night,” he said with a laugh. “Waiting makes it all better, don’t you know! And I’m a patient man.”
“Thanks, Santiago,” Tracy whispered. “You’re a good man.”
“That’s me!” he said. “Adios. Sleep well!”
Viv straightened and took a step around the corner. “Hi, there!”
Santiago threw her a little salute. “Hey there, Viv. Good night. See you tomorrow.”
“Right.” She breathed a sigh of relief.
Speeding up, she went to the end of the hall before she found 510.
She stood there a minute, smoothed her palm over her hip, knocked twice, then put the card in the slot and—
A wild screeching siren rent the air.
What the hell is that?
Her head shot up. She stared and looked around.
The door in front of her swung wide.
Her mouth fell open.
Britt stood there, bare chest, bare feet, bronze and beaming from ear-to-ear.
She heard yells. Doors opening.
The door in back of her disgorged people. People who said, “What is that?”
A woman yelled, “Oh, shit!”
Another door opened and someone moaned, “A fire? At this hour of the night?”
“Darlin’, where are my briefs?”
“Is that a fire alarm?”
“Britt?” she beseeched him, jostled by four hotel guests rushing around the hall in pjs and shock.
He reached one long muscular arm out, grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. “Oh, honey!”
He pressed her to the wall and slammed the door shut. “I thought you weren’t coming. I was crazy.”
His hands were in her hair, his body warm and hard, his lips sweet as they spoke on hers. “Thank god.”
“Britt,” she murmured, so enthralled by the little kisses he bestowed on her mouth and her throat that she could barely breathe, let alone think. “The place is on fire!”
“Tell me about it.” He was chuckling as his fingers took her evening bag from her and put it on the hall table.
She grinned, arching into his big warm hands as he molded her to him, breasts to chest, tummy to tummy, flames roaring. “But the hotel—”
“Forget the hotel, baby. I’m burning up. In a minute, you will be, too.”
She moaned as he found the side zipper to her dress and slid it down, tooth by agonizing tooth. “The place will burn down!”
“I know it will.” He brushed his hands inside the crepe and let it slither down her body.
The air-conditioned air made her shiver. But his adoring hands scorched her everywhere he touched. “They’ll find us in here.”
“I know they will.” He pulled her forward to step out of her cocktail dress that puddled on the carpet.
Book #1 Available at
Amazon   Nook   KOBO   iTunes
Laughing at the absurdities of life and luck and alarms, she tossed her hair and widened her eyes at him. “We’ll be burnt to a crisp.”
He continued backward to his sitting room. “Damn right.”
“You don’t care?”
“That some drunk fool tripped the alarm?”
She threw her head back to chuckle. “I really shouldn’t laugh.”
“Laugh, baby.” He sat down in a big easy chair and pulled her down with him, her legs bent at the knees to the cushion, her entire body open to him with only see-through French lace adorning her. He inhaled and lifted the wealth of her breasts, one in each reverent palm. His china blue eyes grew heavy-lidded and stormy. “Giggle. Scream. Do one. Do all. Do whatever comes naturally.”
She felt her nipples harden, her core pulse. She felt triumphant. Powerful. Where had that strong woman been for the past few years? “You like wild women?”
He bent to fasten his lips over one of her nipples. “I like you.”
Bucking, she tried to squeeze her thighs together. She was so swollen, so slick, she might be rash and stupid and attack him like a starving cat. “You’re not going to stop?”
“Not all night long.”



Friday, March 10, 2017

COVER REVEAL for #2 in 7 Brides for 7 SEALs! Pre-order for No Getting Over You!

YOU WERE ALWAYS MINE
AMAZON      NOOK      KOBO      iTunes

 YOU WERE ALWAYS MINE stars a Navy SEAL and the lady who gives him her seat on the plane.
That's the first in my 7 BRIDES FOR 7 SEALs series. 
And yessss, those two are getting married and we're all invited to the wedding.
You won't want to miss it, especially because the Best Man and the Matron of Honor are about to set the whole place on fire!
Now in NO GETTING OVER YOU, we're saving a place in the pew and at the reception for you.
Here's a taste:
Viv LaClare is so over being the matron. The widow. She wants to laugh again, live again, maybe even dabble in a little affair…if she could just find the right guy.
Britt Ackerman is so over one-night stands—and women who party with a SEAL for the bragging rights. He wants a lady with guts, sass and more than a lick of sense…if he could find the right woman.
So when he meets Viv at his teammate’s wedding, she hooks him at ‘hello.’ He’s convinced he wants all the nights she’ll give him.
But if he can promise her all the tomorrows he’s got, can she risk her tender heart on a man who has the deadliest job in the world?
Want a nibble of this yummy guy...um...story?
NO GETTING OVER YOU, 7 BRIDES FOR 7 SEALs series, #2

EXCERPT, All rights reserved. Copyright, 2017, Cerise DeLand.
When the doors opened on the fifth floor, Viv caught a glimpse of her reflection in the full length hall mirror. The shoulder-length red hair, the dark green eyes, the body she worked super hard to keep in shape. Didn’t this woman deserve to take what she wanted? Especially since the desire was mutual?
She extracted the card key from her purse and began her hunt for 510. Directional signs lead her around to the left and down the hall and she happily padded along on the thick carpet. The hotel was filled not only with Abby’s family but also with her professional associates and quite a few friends. Viv might not want that promotion but she wasn’t eager to have anyone see her go to her rendezvous. So she hurried along the hall and turned another corner—
Only to halt in her tracks.
Two doors down stood Tracy Banning with The Saint, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he held her against the wall. Their lips were locked in a frantic kiss, and Tracy’s legs were hooked around The Saint’s hips.
Viv shrank back around the corner silent as a mouse.
“You need to go,” Tracy whispered, her voice husky.
“You don’t do wedding hook ups, is that it?” he asked, disappointment in his tone.
“The odds of being happy about it tomorrow are not great.”
“We can reexamine that idea tomorrow night,” he said with a laugh. “Waiting makes it all better, don’t you know! And I’m a patient man.”
“Thanks, Santiago,” Tracy whispered. “You’re a good man.”
“That’s me!” he said. “Adios. Sleep well!”
Viv straightened and took a step around the corner. “Hi, there!”
Santiago threw her a little salute. “Hey there, Viv. Good night. See you tomorrow.”
“Right.” She breathed a sigh of relief.
Speeding up, she went to the end of the hall before she found 510.
She stood there a minute, smoothed her palm over her hip, knocked twice, then put the card in the slot and—
A wild screeching siren rent the air.
What the hell is that?
Her head shot up. She stared and looked around.
The door in front of her swung wide.
Her mouth fell open.
Britt stood there, bare chest, bare feet, bronze and beaming from ear-to-ear.
She heard yells. Doors opening.
The door in back of her disgorged people. People who said, “What is that?”
A woman yelled, “Oh, shit!”
Another door opened and someone moaned, “A fire? At this hour of the night?”
“Darlin’, where are my briefs?”
“Is that a fire alarm?”
“Britt?” she beseeched him, jostled by four hotel guests rushing around the hall in pjs and shock.
He reached one long muscular arm out, grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. “Oh, honey!”
He pressed her to the wall and slammed the door shut. “I thought you weren’t coming. I was crazy.”
His hands were in her hair, his body warm and hard, his lips sweet as they spoke on hers. “Thank god.”
“Britt,” she murmured, so enthralled by the little kisses he bestowed on her mouth and her throat that she could barely breathe, let alone think. “The place is on fire!”
“Tell me about it.” He was chuckling as his fingers took her evening bag from her and put it on the hall table.
She grinned, arching into his big warm hands as he molded her to him, breasts to chest, tummy to tummy, flames roaring. “But the hotel—”
“Forget the hotel, baby. I’m burning up. In a minute, you will be, too.”
She moaned as he found the side zipper to her dress and slid it down, tooth by agonizing tooth. “The place will burn down!”
“I know it will.” He brushed his hands inside the crepe and let it slither down her body.
The air-conditioned air made her shiver. But his adoring hands scorched her everywhere he touched. “They’ll find us in here.”
“I know they will.” He pulled her forward to step out of her cocktail dress that puddled on the carpet.
Laughing at the absurdities of life and luck and alarms, she tossed her hair and widened her eyes at him. “We’ll be burnt to a crisp.”
He continued backward to his sitting room. “Damn right.”
“You don’t care?”
“That some drunk fool tripped the alarm?”
She threw her head back to chuckle. “I really shouldn’t laugh.”
“Laugh, baby.” He sat down in a big easy chair and pulled her down with him, her legs bent at the knees to the cushion, her entire body open to him with only see-through French lace adorning her. He inhaled and lifted the wealth of her breasts, one in each reverent palm. His china blue eyes grew heavy-lidded and stormy. “Giggle. Scream. Do one. Do all. Do whatever comes naturally.”
She felt her nipples harden, her core pulse. She felt triumphant. Powerful. Where had that strong woman been for the past few years? “You like wild women?”
He bent to fasten his lips over one of her nipples. “I like you.”
Bucking, she tried to squeeze her thighs together. “You’re not going to stop?”

“Not all night long.”
 ***
On Pre-order now! Release date March 31.




Monday, February 20, 2017

Historical Fiction is your reading addiction? Enter to win Kindle Fire + 45 novels!


Today, I open a fabulous contest! You can win a GRAND PRIZE of a KINDLE FIRE plus my novel HER BEGUILING BUTLER and 45 novels from other authors like Rachel AndersonEleanor Meyers and Caroline Warfield!


Good luck, and enjoy!