He's got her under his skin! And keeping her!

 Coming soon is this fellow with these marvelous hands.

I like a man with a good hand. A slow hand. A determined hand. A kind one.

This is "a part" of a new Box Set cover that I am releasing in the next few weeks!

Stay tuned for all of him!
 

October's delights! Wonderful historicals!

A few great books to read while getting cozy in the new crisp weather!

Every type of sexy historicals from Vikings to Dukes, comedy and suspense and even road trips.

Try them out today and even find a new-to-you author!

My featured book is WILD LILY, Book 1 in a family saga about Killian Hanniford's trip to the Continent in 1875 and his attempt to marry off everyone in the family.

https://books.bookfunnel.com/steamyhistoricaloct24/7q1uze4ugs 

Nibble! Nibble of my new cherry and yummy pix of Lord RAMSEY!

BUY LINK:   https://books2read.com/u/brddrE

It’s dangerous to be an honest woman. 

Torture to be the man who loves her.

Amber St. Antoine flees Paris—and her role to spy on Bonaparte.

Ramsey must find her and keep her safe.

But the lady objects.

Stubborn, defiant and stunningly beautiful, Amber accepts Ram’s protection…even as she refuses to leave France.

What’s a man to do, if he’s determined to save her from herself…and is foiled at every turn?

Is he a fool to believe that love conquers all?

Excerpt, LORD RAMSEY’S RED-HEADED RUIN, Copyright, 2024, Cerise Deland.

“Scarlett Hawthorne definitely knows you,” Ramsey conformed with a shrug of indifference. “She showed me a watercolor portrait of you. A fine one.”

Whose painting could that have been? Only Augustine. For years, her best friend Augustine had refined her art by redoing Amber’s portrait in ink or pencil or watercolor over again and again. “I know you best,” Gus had often said when Amber complained. “It gives me joy.”

However, the gentleman before her was not joyful. He frowned at the door slats. “That portrait is how I have been able to track you in and out of town the past few days. Even in your men’s attire, to say nothing of your numerous changes of public carriages, hired coachmen—and haylofts.”

“I tracked you today,” she blurted at him as a ripple of despair shot through her. 

“I know. A double play, eh?”

This man trailed her. Were there others? More whom she had not noticed? Were they from Scarlett or from Vaillancourt? What had she not seen? Who else was out there plotting her capture?

Her bravado was for naught. She clutched her arms around her middle. If she had had more space in this cramped closet, she would have doubled in distress.

“Come out, Madame,” her captor murmured with sweet appeal. “I long to meet you face to face. I have admired your courage.”

“And my stupidity to allow you to corner me?”

He waved a hand. “Curiosity was bound to snare you.”

That was true. “You allowed me just enough of you to lead me on.”

“Ah, well. Essential to one who wishes to meet you.”

“But sir, I have no desire to meet you.”

“You will.”

Did he toy with her? Rather carefree, wasn’t he? Yet his discovery of her was so dire a challenge to her. “Huh! You think very highly of yourself.”

“I think very highly of you, Madame. You are quick, nimble, thoughtful in your escapade. Add to that, you are lovely from afar. I can only imagine how stunning you are closer.”

She snorted. “I am no imbécile who will welcome your compliments or your protection in exchange for my obedience.”

His jaw, square and blunt as it was, went rigid with his displeasure. His pale eyes grew eerie. “Madame, you test my good nature. I do not want you servile. I am here on a mission. You are my quest. I have found you, and now you will do me the courtesy of appearing without further ado. This delay grows tiresome. We have much to say, more to plan.” He extended one hand toward the closet and waggled his fingers at her. “Come out, I say.”

Out, she had to go. With a huff and a shake of her skirts, she emerged into the golden candlelight of his presence.

She stood, toe to toe with him. But that was all that matched. Her breasts came to his ribcage. Her chin was level to his throat. Her gaze took in his mouth, generous and strong. His own eyes, in the fuller light now afforded her, could have sent her to her knees. How could a man possess such an erotic gaze of Nordic blue with long brown lashes so sweeping she could envy them herself?

“Yes,” he pronounced the word in a long low draw that had her sensing his bass voice down through her stomach to her loins, “I see one reason why Vaillancourt pursues you. T’is not simply your hair. The red does claim the eye, burn the mind. It is your demeanor.”

“Far from it!”

The fellow shot up a hand to make her pause. “You are rare.”

“Not at all.” How unique, she dare not say.

“I disagree. No freckles. No blemishes. No girlish whimsy. No frailty of bone or eye or gumption.” He grinned, broad and nigh unto evil in his praise of her. 

Praise. Hunh. She would have no more of this. She spun to one side and strode toward his sideboard. “Have you whisky in that decanter?”

“I’m surprised you did not pour yourself a draught.”

She flashed him a withering gaze. “That would have been poor manners. Besides, I was not here long enough to sample it. I do gather you clocked how long I’ve been here.”

“Upstairs?” He fished his watch from his waistcoat pocket and noted the time with a swift dash of humor. “Eight minutes. Perhaps not long enough for your particular taste.”

She availed herself of the decanter and one earthen cup. A strong dose of spirits would be just what she needed to endure this inquisition. She downed it and the warmth sank through her limbs. With her cup empty but still in hand, she spread her skirts and sat upon the edge of his firm wide bed. The sumptuous fell off it had her spine easing. She smiled in relief but killed the expression for this man would not need to know how she desired the comfort of his bed. “Now that you have me, what do you propose to do with me?”

“I hoped you would readily see the value of my company.” He offered her a brilliant sample of his most pleasant bow.

“Fit for the Tuileries, you certainly are.” She lifted her cup in fake homage.

“I’m thrilled you see it that way,” he said with sarcasm. “But we both know you do not wish to return. Frankly, I don’t blame you. I have been there and I did not find the court’s questionable charms amusing.”

She snorted. “Touché. So then, regale me with your solution.”

“We travel together.” He said it with such finality that it left little room for her objections.

“You are presumptuous.”

With a theatrical sigh, he turned on his heel and claimed the only good chair in the room.“I am prudent.”

Whatever she might think, he would argue against. From his commanding position near the door, he watched her like a king on his throne. At his leisure, so easy in his skin, he ran his large blue eyes over her as if she were a diamond to regard, measure and seize. She was no man’s. But she tipped her head and said, “Do enlighten me.”

“You are in a precarious situation. A woman alone. Fleeing not merely one man, albeit one who is the second most capable of detaining anyone in the country, but eluding his entire cadre of underlings. You have limited resources. Money goes only so far for so long, then you must return home to Reims or to Paris to get more. Under disguise and in the dead of night, too. That carries dangers of discovery. Alternately, you could try to live France and go to the coast, Britain, or south to Spain or one of the Italian states. But they are far and require a long journey, perilous and hot. Going to one of the German duchies on the Rhine is not a good idea, either. They, after all, are beholden to Vienna.”

“Not for long, from what I hear.”

“Right you are. For once they are officially aligned with France, you cannot find succor there. Plus, one thing more.” He lifted a finger. “You do not speak any German.”

She sat taller. “You have done quite a bit of research about my background.”

He smiled. It was perfunctory. “I have.”

“So then you offer me your presence, your protection, and your funds. I am shocked, sir. Do you not offer me, as well, your prayers?”

“If you wish.” Humor warmed the cool self-confidence in his gaze.

“I have no need of them.”

“Because you are on the right side of your quest?”

She nodded.

He gave her the sharp regard of a predator about to attack prey. “Never in this country or in any other on this green earth, did being right assure one of victory.”

BUY LINK: https://amzn.to/4d5xZzY

Today's bon bon: You look for a house where your hero lives...and where his heroine will first meet him and you discover that...

You look for a house where your hero lives...and where his heroine will first meet him and you discover that the house you choose from a map of London because you "feel" that it is one you've seen, and you discover the house once belonged to someone famous.

Very famous!

Like Caroline Norton! She of the notoriety of having been accused by her husband of a liaison with Lord Melbourne and subsequently losing rights to her children. However, she did protest by writing treatises and books that argued for the rights of women. She lived here at No. 3 Chesterfield Street, Mayfair.

It is a small world! Intriguing, always.

Today's bon bon: ALERT! Do not help this man find this lady!

Dear Editor!

I write to you today, Tattler, in search of the woman I need to take back to my home. She has escaped me. Having written to that other nefarious newspaper that publishes adverts for those who wish to find spouses, she has gone to London and become the lover of a fellow who is not worthy of her.  

I appeal to you to help me find her. He has taken her away, supposedly to marry her.

But I will not care. Married or not. Ruined by him or not, I will have her back. She is mine. Has always been mine. I care not that she resembles my dead wife. She is lovelier than that one and my wife knew it. Knew I craved this one.

If you hear from her, Tattler, you must write to me. I track her now. Papers in London and Brighton papers say the couple has gone to Brighton. 

I will take her from him when they least expect me. I will show her that she is meant for me alone. No matter what she thinks.

MATRIMONY! #1. IF I LOVED YOU

Love does not advertise. Love counts no wrongs.

But when a young woman needs to escape, she’ll take an ad to find a man she can adore.

Verity Carr wants a new life in a new town far from her old home—and the vile threat to her body and soul. She comes from a fine family, has a good education and a bold ambition to become a portrait artist. She’s ready to live her life with a man who will value her. A husband she can can respect—and in time, hopefully love. Yet valiant though she is, she questions if she can escape her past and one who will not let her go.

Can a gentleman to whom great wrong was done, build a new life with a true wife and leave the past behind?

Miles St.John Armstrong never should have wed his first wife. He vows to select a new one with logic and careful investigation—via advertisement. The young lady he selects is Verity Carr who is no ordinary woman. She has charm, wit and a beauty that sears his soul. No wonder theirs is a relationship built quickly on admiration and trust. No wonder their marriage becomes one built of mutual mad passion. 

But devoted as they are, their past comes to call.

And it asks of them the ultimate question: Can their love withstand the tempest and survive the terror?

AUTHOR Cerise DeLand invites you to read her newest in a dramatically different romantic suspense inspired by the adverts to a spouse in Regency period!

Excerpt, IF I LOVED YOU. Copyright, 2023, Cerise DeLand.

Miles  had not known her for more than a few hours, but he’d seen her shock over such a sizable bequest. Certainly he could revel in the good fortune of anyone. But if she had suspicions about who had given her such a large inheritance and did not wish to discuss it with him, he could understand that, too. But her new-found gain, enough to support her at current standards in meager means for her lifetime, could lead her to break their agreement to marry. The possibility of losing her created an ache in his heart. A place he’d never expected to feel anything at all ever again. 

As they entered the Grosvenor Gate and passed the park wall, she strode more slowly and breathed more deeply. They took a turn on the path south and one glance at her told him she was more at ease.

“I hate to spoil your enjoyment,” he said, “but I think we should not walk here much longer. The shadows grow deeper.”

“You are right, of course.” She had her hands in her coat pockets as she stopped and spun toward him. “You have been very good to me today.”

He raised a hand, his smile wry. “No more gratitude, please. I am quite thanked.”

She stopped, faced him and tipped her head, suddenly the coquette, though to him, she did not seem to have planned the spontaneity of such an attitude. She was without guile—and he valued that unexpected characteristic more than he could ever have imagined.

“You are a darling man,” she said with an honesty that emphasized her simplicity and lack of artifice.

“You are kind to think so.” He remembered a few instances when the moniker he deserved was the opposite. Savage. Insane. Gullible. All came to mind in a rush of bile. 

She put her hands to his and held tightly. “Do you still want to marry a woman you barely know?”

“I’d like to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

She shook her head as if the whole idea were impossible. “Why? Why?”

“I want a wife. A friend. I am lonely. You seem a gentle soul. I think we would do well together.”

“I cannot imagine that you have not met a thousand young ladies you know better than me who would not make you a friend and wife because they do know you better.”

But they knew his past, too. His wife. “I would never find happiness with any I’ve met. They see me as the mill owner, a cit with a new title, an upstart viscount, too rich for his title. They also see me as a widower.” Not knowing I am more aggrieved than grieving. 

She stood immobile, only her large eyes searching his for what he would not reveal. “Did you love her?”

“When I married her, yes.”

“And do you miss her?”

“No.”

She nodded. “I see. Then your loneliness comes not from her lack.”

“No. It does not.”

She gulped. “Do you want children?”

He blinked and peered up at the deep blue clouds scudding across a darker moonlit sky. “I have not wished for that in many years. But now,” he said as he met her frank gaze, “I believe I would.”

She smiled as if he’d just given her the keys to the kingdom. “I would, too.”

He stepped closer to her, dropped her hands and cupped her shoulders. Her luscious curves fit into the planes of his suddenly very needy self. “Might we proceed to getting them?”

She arched her neck and let her eyes dance into his. “First we must be wed.”

“Will day after tomorrow do?”

“Quite well,” she said on a delighted laugh. “And then we must become better friends.”

He sent his fingers up into the heavy coil of hair at her nape. Her skin was as soft as charmeuse and her hair smelled of lavender. She’d been in his arms often today and her need had been great. Now, he would test to see if she might come for a new and startling reason. Might she come because she could want him? Want him as a man? As her lover?

She pulled back a little, a question on her plump lips. “Friends kiss.”

“They do,” he said with a smile that grew from a friend’s to a ravenous man’s. “Shall we?”

She studied his mouth and swallowed hard. “Oh, yes. From the moment I heard your voice on the Great North Road, I have wanted to know how you taste.”

“Well, then,” he said as he loomed over her lips, “we must not delay.”

 She circled her arms around his shoulders and pushed up on her toes. “Please don’t.”

The temptation to take her with all the ardor he bore her raged through him. He could not devour her like a satyr. He was a man who had foresworn passion and love. A man of reason and temperance. But then…

She put her lips to his, a brush of warm temptation. The sensation of her desire met the one of his quest as if two stars collided in the dark of night. Blinded by it, he groaned and caught her up. Her mouth was lush, and as his tongue invaded, he knew how hot her body was. How sweet. He swept the inside of her mouth and felt her complete surrender. This was what he’d craved. A woman who might love him.

He pulled away, breathless, cupping her cheek. “Darling, we must stop.”

In the shadows of the soft spring evening, she tipped her head and smiled at him. “You’ll kiss me again?”

“As often as you wish.”

There again was that sweet woman who drew him to her with the artless look of enchantment. “Must I tell you each time?”

“No,” he said on a laugh and hugged her close, then set her from him. “Only look at me like that, my darling, and I am yours.”

“As I am forever yours,” she said and put her arm in his to turn and walk home. 

BUY LINK:  https://amzn.to/3nkslpf

Today's bon bon! First Kiss in IF I LOVED YOU, Matrimony Book #1!

Excerpt, IF I LOVED YOU. Copyright, 2023, Cerise DeLand.

Miles  had not known her for more than a few hours, but he’d seen her shock over such a sizable bequest. Certainly he could revel in the good fortune of anyone. But if she had suspicions about who had given her such a large inheritance and did not wish to discuss it with him, he could understand that, too. But her new-found gain, enough to support her at current standards in meager means for her lifetime, could lead her to break their agreement to marry. The possibility of losing her created an ache in his heart. A place he’d never expected to feel anything at all ever again. 

As they entered the Grosvenor Gate and passed the park wall, she strode more slowly and breathed more deeply. They took a turn on the path south and one glance at her told him she was more at ease.

“I hate to spoil your enjoyment,” he said, “but I think we should not walk here much longer. The shadows grow deeper.”

“You are right, of course.” She had her hands in her coat pockets as she stopped and spun toward him. “You have been very good to me today.”

He raised a hand, his smile wry. “No more gratitude, please. I am quite thanked.”

She stopped, faced him and tipped her head, suddenly the coquette, though to him, she did not seem to have planned the spontaneity of such an attitude. She was without guile—and he valued that unexpected characteristic more than he could ever have imagined.

“You are a darling man,” she said with an honesty that emphasized her simplicity and lack of artifice.

“You are kind to think so.” He remembered a few instances when the moniker he deserved was the opposite. Savage. Insane. Gullible. All came to mind in a rush of bile. 

She put her hands to his and held tightly. “Do you still want to marry a woman you barely know?”

“I’d like to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

She shook her head as if the whole idea were impossible. “Why? Why?”

“I want a wife. A friend. I am lonely. You seem a gentle soul. I think we would do well together.”

“I cannot imagine that you have not met a thousand young ladies you know better than me who would not make you a friend and wife because they do know you better.”

But they knew his past, too. His wife. “I would never find happiness with any I’ve met. They see me as the mill owner, a cit with a new title, an upstart viscount, too rich for his title. They also see me as a widower.” Not knowing I am more aggrieved than grieving. 

She stood immobile, only her large eyes searching his for what he would not reveal. “Did you love her?”

“When I married her, yes.”

“And do you miss her?”

“No.”

She nodded. “I see. Then your loneliness comes not from her lack.”

“No. It does not.”

She gulped. “Do you want children?”

He blinked and peered up at the deep blue clouds scudding across a darker moonlit sky. “I have not wished for that in many years. But now,” he said as he met her frank gaze, “I believe I would.”

She smiled as if he’d just given her the keys to the kingdom. “I would, too.”

He stepped closer to her, dropped her hands and cupped her shoulders. Her luscious curves fit into the planes of his suddenly very needy self. “Might we proceed to getting them?”

She arched her neck and let her eyes dance into his. “First we must be wed.”

“Will day after tomorrow do?”

“Quite well,” she said on a delighted laugh. “And then we must become better friends.”

He sent his fingers up into the heavy coil of hair at her nape. Her skin was as soft as charmeuse and her hair smelled of lavender. She’d been in his arms often today and her need had been great. Now, he would test to see if she might come for a new and startling reason. Might she come because she could want him? Want him as a man? As her lover?

She pulled back a little, a question on her plump lips. “Friends kiss.”

“They do,” he said with a smile that grew from a friend’s to a ravenous man’s. “Shall we?”

She studied his mouth and swallowed hard. “Oh, yes. From the moment I heard your voice on the Great North Road, I have wanted to know how you taste.”

“Well, then,” he said as he loomed over her lips, “we must not delay.”

 She circled her arms around his shoulders and pushed up on her toes. “Please don’t.”

The temptation to take her with all the ardor he bore her raged through him. He could not devour her like a satyr. He was a man who had foresworn passion and love. A man of reason and temperance. But then…

She put her lips to his, a brush of warm temptation. The sensation of her desire met the one of his quest as if two stars collided in the dark of night. Blinded by it, he groaned and caught her up. Her mouth was lush, and as his tongue invaded, he knew how hot her body was. How sweet. He swept the inside of her mouth and felt her complete surrender. This was what he’d craved. A woman who might love him.

He pulled away, breathless, cupping her cheek. “Darling, we must stop.”

In the shadows of the soft spring evening, she tipped her head and smiled at him. “You’ll kiss me again?”

“As often as you wish.”

There again was that sweet woman who drew him to her with the artless look of enchantment. “Must I tell you each time?”

“No,” he said on a laugh and hugged her close, then set her from him. “Only look at me like that, my darling, and I am yours.”

“As I am forever yours,” she said and put her arm in his to turn and walk home. 

BUY LINK:  https://amzn.to/3nkslpf

A Diamond of the Season in search of a Diamond of a husband! How difficult can it be?

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    Sitting beside him, Addy held his hand, no matter propriety. He needed her. She knew enough of his malady to sit for many minutes without a word between them. He recovered himself, but slowly. And when a footman approached with a tray of wine or whiskey on offer, Gyles would have taken one.

“Do not,” she admonished. 

He stared at her. “No?”

“Spirits will only aggravate your condition.”

He looked away, but grimaced at the bright light of candles in a nearby sconce.

“Close your eyes. Turn toward me.” She stroked his hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist and counted. “There. Your heart beat slows. You will be well. Give this a few minutes.”

He did as she bade him and in his time, he opened his eyes to consider her with quiet appreciation shining there. “You know my condition.”

“Bold sounds. Bright lights. Alcohol. Late nights. Exertion. They all contribute to your headaches. How long have you suffered them?”

He exhaled. “Since I was imprisoned by the French when I was young.”

“I see.” She squeezed his hand in sympathy. About that, she would learn more but not tonight. He had to recover first before he relived the cause of his distress. “You should not be at balls, sir. But home where you can be quiet and untroubled.”

“But if I did not attend here tonight, I would not have found you again.”

She bobbed her head to and fro. “We might have met in more sedate gatherings.”

“Perhaps. I would have chanced missing you.”

She had never been so sweetly entranced by a man who confessed to his liking for her in so unique a manner. “My sisters and I are in Brighton specifically to enjoy the Season. We will be…” she said as she circled a hand in the air, “everywhere.”

“Addy, how may I press my advantage?”

“You made an impression on me yesterday, Gyles. I will not soon forget you.”

He grasped her hand tightly. “Don’t forget me at all.”

“I won’t. How could I? You like my syrup.” She had to tease him and make him smile.

“I do. Among other things.”

She nodded, compassion in her heart for so afflicted a darling man. “Perhaps my dancing, too?”

“Indeed,” he said. “I’d like to kiss you for it.”

She gave a shocked little laugh. Since Grandpapa died and she knew she’d have to find a husband soon, she’d taken to kissing any man who appealed. Alas, she’d found none. But now, she was not only complimented but tempted to kiss this man. “Not here.”

“No. But somewhere and soon. With my thanks for the syrup, the dance and the laughter.”

Oh, my. Was he much too chivalrous? Was he a rake of no morals? A man who complimented women? Women like her? Young and naive. For all her good looks, for all her pride in them and understanding of them as a tool to attract men, she was still untried, uninformed of much of the physicality of mating. She could be all too easily influenced by a practiced man’s charms. Of that she had always been on guard. 

“A kiss for relief from a headache? Oh, surely that would be—”

“Bliss,” he vowed. “I will try for it tomorrow.”

“When you come for tea?”

“I come for you, Addy.”

He lifted her hand and pressed his firm lips to her glove in a stunning kiss. Had he blessed her bare skin with his mouth, she would have taken him to an alcove in the hall and tasted the flavor of his desire and called herself barely satisfied.

“Tomorrow then,” she whispered and longed to taste his lips on hers.

An interview with Lord Stanton hero in SHELTER & STORM Box Set with the Bluestocking Belles!

When a storm blows off the North Sea and slams into the village of Fenwick on Sea, the villagers prepare for the inevitable: shipwreck, flood, land slips, and stranded travelers. The Queen’s Barque Inn quickly fills with the injured, the devious, and the lonely—lords, ladies, and simple folk; spies, pirates, and smugglers all trapped together. Intrigue crackles through the village, and passion lights up the hotel.

One storm, eight authors, eight heartwarming novellas.

Lord Stanton’s Shocking Seaside Honeymoon by Cerise DeLand

Regency short story and part of the Storm and Shelter collection by The Bluestocking Belles and Friends.

Storm and Shelter is available now.

Book heat level (based on movie ratings): PG-13

Lord Stanton is about to marry for the second time. But his bride is so different from his first wife, now deceased. Josephine Meadows is her father’s heir to his far-flung merchant marine trading company. She’s smart, savvy and beautiful. What’s more, she’s in love with Stanton. Madly. And she has been for lo, these past six years. 

But now, just as they marry and go off to their first night together, and just as each is ready to prove to the other, their love, an agent of Josephine’s goes missing on the high seas. And both of them, though eager to consummate their vows, must go off to discover if the agent is dead…or alive.

Know the Hero of Lord Stanton’s Shocking Seaside Honeymoon

It’s late, he’s bored. What does he do?

Stanton, of late, likes poetry. Love sonnets to be exact! He’s eager to claim his new bride in all ways and reading erotic words is not what he should be doing!

What kind of food would he impulse buy if hungry?

“I have simple tastes. But I do enjoy a finely done roast of beef.”

Describe the kind of clothes he prefers to wear.

“I wore a uniform whilst in the Hussars and now I prefer my black superfine. My tailor is a marvel and I need not appear in his shop to be fitted. This is a blessing as I am a busy man working in Whitehall to defeat that scoundrel Napoleon.”

Valet or takes care of himself?

“I do employ a valet. A fine fellow who knows how precisely I wish to dress. More than that, he is astute and knows when to appear and when to vanish!”

Necktie/cravat or open shirt?

“I do appreciate a cravat tied in such a manner as to remain tied!”

Carriage or horseback?

“Both means of conveyance have their uses. A horse is a proper beast for quick travel. Also, sadly, for the battlefield. Of carriages, I demand comfort and the best springs. No use breaking one’s bones in order to arrive at a tea party, eh?”

Where to buy Storm and Shelter to get Lord Stanton’s Shocking Seaside Honeymoon

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Cerise DeLand has written since she was eight years old and had a piece published in The Baltimore Sun newspaper! With more than 40 novels published, she is known for writing works with historical accuracy, humor and eloquence.
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