Lord Griffin's
Prize (Emerald Isle Fantasies)
by Katalina Leon
Paranormal
Romance
Publisher:
Ellora's Cave
Release
Date: July 10, 2013
Heat
Level: Steamy
Available at:
BookStrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/lord-griffins-prize
Ellora’s Cave: http://www.ellorascave.com/lord-griffin-s-prize.html
Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains adult sexual situations and/or adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.
Book Description:
Part of the Emerald Isles Fantasies
series
Tullamore Castle Ireland is an enchanted place where the
unexpected happens. Phantom lovers materialize in haunted beds and a lonely
griffin patrols the ramparts waiting to reclaim its mate. And that’s just the
beginning.
For the adventure of a lifetime Maeve de’Burgo visits Tullamore to
study genealogy. Through a magical act and time travel she becomes embroiled in
a dangerous medieval romance and the unfinished life of her ancestor. Maeve
gets thrown back in time to be captured, ravished and cherished as a war
chief’s prize.
Ronan O’Griofa is a griffin-shifter, the most loyal of creatures.
He’s been trapped in limbo as the avenging guardian of Tullamore since 1332 AD
and longs to be free. When the soul of his wife returns to the castle he’s
granted the privilege of becoming a man for one day to be her lover, win her
heart and remind Maeve of a bond strong enough to last an eternity.
Excerpt
Maeve
stood alone in the elegant room. She glanced around, thinking that many of the
objects in the suite belonged in a treasure house. There was so much to look at
and explore that she doubted she’d get much sleep.
Like
a magnet, the portrait of Lord O’Griofa drew her. She stood in front of it
staring at the man’s broad chest and ropey arms with admiration. He seemed to
be a powerful man who took charge of his world and appeared completely capable
of decimating anyone who stood in his path.
Maeve
caught herself daydreaming about being confronted by a man who could so easily
take what he wanted. Lord O’Griofa looked determined enough to seize any woman
of his choice, throw her over his shoulder and march off with her. And would
that be such a bad thing?
She
wondered what it would feel like to be ravished at the hands of a lustful man
who couldn’t be stopped. Not harmed by a brute, but carried off and forced to
surrender to a man like the fiery-eyed O’Griofa. A heated thrill raced to her
core.
A
long-denied part of her admitted that even though the desire was politically
incorrect, the prospect of being captured by a man like that sounded totally
hot.
Ravished war prize.
The
words slid across the surface of her thoughts like raindrops on a windowpane.
She gave herself butterflies just thinking about it.
Conqueror. Claimed. Surrender.
Her
face warmed. Lord O’Griofa seemed to embody all the exciting qualities of a
mythical hero, which she also imagined could go wildly astray in the modern world.
Still, the thought of lying prone beneath a passionate man intent on taking her
for his lover was an exciting one. Shivers skittered across her skin.
She
abruptly turned her back to the portrait to avoid the overwrought thoughts from
hijacking her. “I must be jet-lagged,” she mumbled.
Maeve
kneeled, unzipped her luggage and rummaged through it halfheartedly, knowing
that the act of brushing her teeth and changing out of her clothes would
require colossal effort. With her head nodding from exhaustion, she sought a
vinyl bag of toiletries and a whisper-soft pair of flannel pajamas.
A
faint clink in the corridor caused her look up and again the portrait
drew her attention. This time she noticed a faint scar on O’Griofa’s chin and a
slight crook in the bridge of his nose, as if it had once been broken. She now
saw that he was not the fresh youth as she had first thought. Now he displayed
the weathering of a man in his prime who faced the elements and lived an active
life.
She
moved closer to the portrait to make sure she wasn’t imagining the changes. She
wasn’t—the changes were real. It was as if the portrait was becoming more
lifelike before her eyes. Why hadn’t she noticed those distinct details before?
The tiny flaws were interesting, personal details that she assumed many vain
men would have omitted from an idealized portrait of their youthful exploits.
Overall,
the fierce lines of O’Griofa’s handsome face were breathtaking. The flattering
angle of the portrait not only showed off his strong jaw and dimpled chin, it
also made it appear as if he had just turned his head toward the viewer and was
now studying them intently from beneath stormy brows.
She
wondered how the hell she could get undressed and fall asleep with that hunky
character shouting a battle cry over the bed.
After
gazing at Lord O’Griofa for several minutes she decided it might be easier to
get undressed in the bathroom and make a mad dash for the bed. This
self-conscious hesitation was so unlike her, and she wondered why she was
tormenting herself over a portrait. She knew she should make an effort and jump
into the shower to rinse away the many gritty hassles of her long journey. With
toothbrush and leopard-print pajamas in hand, she stood with the intention of
heading toward the bathroom.
Lord
O’Griofa’s dark gaze seemed to follow her across the room.
I’m an artist, an
author, mother and wife. I write for Ellora’s Cave, Loose Id Publishing and a
couple new publishers to be announced soon. I try to bring a touch of the
mystical and a big sense of adventure to everything I write because I believe
there’s a bold, kick-ass heroine inside all of us who wants to take a wild ride
with a strong worthy hero.
Connect
with Katalina Leon
Website: http://www.katalinaleon.com
All Romance eBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html
Night Owl Reviews Author Page: http://erotica.nightowlreviews.com/V5/Authors/Katalina-Leon
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/katalinaleon/
Thanks for sharing the great excerpt and the giveaway. I am looking forward to reading this book. evamillien at gmail dot com
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Eva. However, there is no giveaway with this post.
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