The Tsarina's Granddaughter has just been released as an e-book! Arina is a mute healer who brings back a man from the brink of death - only he's furious because he didn't want to be saved and she's in trouble as he's been dubbed the 'most dangerous man in England'. The Tsarist assassins chasing her are nothing compared to the Marquis of Neathe! See the reviews below, follow the links to see the full reviews and to Awe Struck E-books to read the first 3 chapters.
"The story Ms. Spence weaves is full of romance, passion, and the realization that the truth does hold all the answers. The electricity between Charles and Arina is amazing! I found myself breathless and could not stop reading. It is a romanticized picture of the world at that time and I loved the picture she presented." Reviewed by Krista of Coffee Time Romance, 4 CUPS Please visit www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/Thetsarinasgranddaughter.html
"The novel is lightly written and beautiful, somewhat dark in humor, an element that sprinkles an assured deal of spice and expectancy. Passion mounts as the white petals of Arina’s secrets slowly unwrap, and the vault of her inscrutability unveils. Passion, drama, adventure: one cannot help but take pleasure in The Tsarina's Granddaughter, an infatuating 331 pages." Reviewed by Eugen M. Bacon of TCM Reviews See everything she says at: http://tcm-ca.com
Go straight to Awe-Struck E-books - www.awe-struck.net/AUTHORS48/ttg.html where you can read a 3 chapter excerpt. Awe-Struck E-Books - www.awe-struck.net
Read an excerpt here:
Arina had not been given permission by any of the dowagers to dance, let alone waltz and would never be welcomed into the halls of Almack’s nor would she be invited to another ton ball. She had not been presented at court, nor was she known by any of the patronesses whose good will was so important to those young and vulnerable debutantes. Now that he was dancing with her in his arms he regretted what would never be. Now that she was in his arms he was beginning to realise what a fool he had been. She was, by her birth, beyond him. He could not pursue her as a potential bride for he was not worthy and she could not choose him as a lover because she was not married. And this was all despite the fact that he had unfinished business with the dangerous group of men determined to eradicate her.
Arina was wrapped up in her own internal battle. She was trying to stop her body reacting to his closeness. She had been in love with him for such a long time and he had never – until this point - shown any interest in her. Now he was looking at her with such intensity, the warmth of his length brushing against her she was in danger of losing her intelligence to the overwhelming hope that he might, in some small part, return her affection. She made herself look away, forcing her lips together. He would never love her, not whilst he discarded women like Olivia because, having outlived their usefulness, he was no longer interested. Charles was a monster. He discarded one woman without conscience and now decided to use Arina to flush out those whom he believed she worked for. He believed her to be a spy and a whore and not only that - to be the very worst sort of person imaginable: one with no honour.
“I have insulted you.” He said with terrible remorse as if it was easy for him to read her thoughts. “Arina…” Charles risked being thrown from Carlton House by pulling her closer to him. He tried to comfort her by his presence, but as their bodies touched length to length they both winced, overawed by the energy that exploded into life between them. She completely lost her ability to move her feet and they drew to quite a spectacular halt in the middle of the dance floor. Charles cursed under his breath, trying to reinitiate the dance. His body, which had not responded to any woman for nearly a year; that had not since adolescence betrayed his will, suddenly wanted to abandon all principle, all decency and every sense of honour because of her. Now that he knew that she was above his touch he wanted her. He wanted her especially in his bed. He wanted his body to conquer hers, to bring them both to satisfaction in unrestrained physical pleasure.
He looked into her eyes wondering if she knew how painful it was for him. Her face was expressionless, her eyes bleak, yet as they met his they glowed with violet fire. They stroked his returning passion with intensity and he glowered at her. Did she not realise that he had to get himself under some control so they could continue the dance? His problem was not going to be resolved by having the object of his desire staring at him with blatant need. The state he was in made it impossible for him to lead her from the floor. He was exceedingly uncomfortable in the breeches he wore which were tight enough to expose every male contour.
“Charles. How delightfully you both dance together. May I?” The portly gentleman who had interrupted them was smiling with patient amusement but Charles realised he was not amused. George, Prince Regent of Great Britain was furious.
“Your Royal Highness.” Charles bowed stiffly and uncomfortably. As he lifted his head he was aware that the eyes of everyone around were focused on Arina. Black haired with white alabaster skin, tall and elegant with large violet eyes and incredible presence she drew the attention of everyone watching. Dressed up in the latest fashion he had to admit that she was one of the most stunningly beautiful women he had ever seen. Automatically he reached out and took her fingers in order to lead her gently forward to introduce the Regent.
“Do not.” Warned the Regent, under his breath then louder, “M’dear, you look very pale. I think perhaps we need to find you some fresh air, do we not eh?”
Charles froze as the Regent reached out and plucked Arina’s hand from his. She moved forward without a trace of nervousness, as if she knew and trusted this portly royal. Delicately and with a great deal of poise she put her hand over his arm. The terrible sadness in her eyes lifted with a wry and very warm smile. She spoke softly, but Charles could not have said what she said or which language it was in, for quite unexpectedly he was suffering from a shocking and most unwilling delusion. He had discovered himself in love with her.
Lord Harry is a typical Regency buck, laid back and thoroughly decadent until he returns from the battle of Waterloo to finds his 'elderly' aunt being chased by one of the most sought after members of the ton. Not yet submitted for publication. Read an excerpt here:
Charles, Duke of Lavrock was lying down on a chaise in his study. His head ached abominably. So did everything else in his body. Luckily he was out to visitors so he could relax and try not to think about anything. So he closed his eyes, put the ice pack over his head and tried very hard not to think about what had happened the night before. Within two minutes of drifting off into merciful numbness there was a furore in the hall, not a little shouting and the scraping of feet as something was dragged across the floor. The study door was kicked open and Henry, Lord Jearvis showed himself into the room. A rather small ineffectual butler was attached to him and Charles sighed wearily.
“Don’t worry Roberts. I’ll deal with this.”
“Will you indeed?” In between speaking to his sister and arriving at Lavrock’s Regent Square address Harry had worked himself into a towering rage.
“Oh please. If you are going to call someone out, why don’t you call out that harpy of a wildcat masquerading as your aunt?” Drawled the languid Charles Lavrock who put the ice pack back over his face.
“Don’t be insulting. Lady Kelvin is a true lady.” Harry wanted to grab the other man and pummel his face with his fists until he felt better but it was difficult to hit a man with an ice pack over his face lying prone on a chaise longue.
“She may well be something but she is no lady. She’s the worst sort of abomination I have ever seen dressed in a skirt. She should carry a warning sign saying ‘men beware’. She is party to no sense, no reason, and has no heart. She does not possess any of the finer qualities the so-called fair sex is supposed to be imbued with. Her attractions are purely superficial, her intellect is ruthlessly efficient and her feminine nature frigid without comparison. She is, without further ado, an absolute abomination which you are welcome to suffer personally for I will have nothing more to do with her.”
“Get up.” said Harry between clenched teeth.
“Now dear boy, why should I rise when you will only try to knock me down?” Charles Lavrock took off the ice pack and looked up at the ex-Captain of the First Regiment of Foot with bitter amusement, “I may have one good eye left but that does not mean I am stupid.”
Harry’s mouth opened in shock when he saw the swollen purpling bruise that almost closed Lavrock’s other eye. “Good God, you look like you have…”
“…done a round with Gentleman Jackson holding a knuckle duster? Well yes, now that you mention it, I do feel rather sore. I will not be able to go out and about for several days in case I frighten young children or insipid virgins at the marriage mart.” And that was when Harry realised that Charles Lavrock was spitting mad. He watched the Duke put down the ice pack and hoist himself to his feet awkwardly, suggesting that there might be other bruises more hidden than that cracker of a black eye. What had his Aunt done now?