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Tag: H K Carlton

The Devil Take You: H K Carlton

I’m delighted to welcome the fabulous H K Carlton to my place today with her brand new novel, The Devil Take You.

Over to you Kymmie…

The epic Historical Romance – The Devil Take You – is out now!

Publisher: eXtasy Books

Word Count: 140,717

Pages: 479

(Yep, you read that right, over 400 pages, it’s a commitment. LOL!)

Hi Kay, thank you so much for having me back. I’m delighted to be here. I’m celebrating the re-release of Scottish, historical, romance, The Devil Take You, which after a brief hiatus has found a new home.

I hope you and your readers enjoy the following excerpt of Gard and Brae’s first meeting. Grad Marschand is known in the Highlands as the devil. In this excerpt, he affirms his namesake. And that is what I loved about writing this story. Gard is not your typical historical romance hero, in fact he is the anti-hero. He is a bad guy—so focused on his own vendetta that he is driven to commit deplorable acts to regain his due.

So, how do you redeem the irredeemable, and turn him into the hero of your historical romance? (You don’t really) but you do place a feisty Scottish lass in his way, because what else can turn a man around but true love. You’ll relish his resistance and inner turmoil, caught between his burgeoning, foreign feelings for Brae, and his deep-seated need for revenge. He takes out his frustration on Brae—and a cast of other lovable, and not-so loveable characters—and treats her abominably, which makes their clashes quite entertaining.

But don’t be fooled, Gard is not one of those reformed rakes who as soon as he finds love, turns into a simpering lovesick fool. Oh no, even Braelynn can’t tame the devil that lurks within. But I guarantee you’ll fall in love with Gard and Brae and cheer them on.

The Devil Take You, is set in 1307, against the backdrop of extreme political unrest during the Scottish Wars of Independence and in the years following William Wallace’s execution and the year of the death of King Edward the First—Hammer of the Scots—this tale will sweep you away. I hope you enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Blurb

Braelynn Galbraith wants peace for her beloved Scotland, marriage to her childhood sweetheart, and a house full of children. In that order. But evil incarnate, in the form of Gard Marschand, turns her life inside out and destroys all hope of a decent marriage.

Known in the Highlands as the legendary devil, Gard Marschand raids his way across Scotland and England amassing power and property in his malevolent wake. He will stop at nothing in his pursuit to regain what is lost— even conceal his true identity and associate with his enemies. His determination is all-consuming until he and his men lay siege to Ross-shire and one feisty Scottish lass obliterates his single-minded purpose.

Can Gard abandon his deep-seated need for revenge for a love that just might save his rotten soul? Or will he succumb to the demons that hound him and surrender to the devil within?

I believe your stay in purgatory has only just begun…

Add it to your Goodreads TBR List

Excerpt:

When Brae meets The Devil…

A plume of black smoke rose over the burm, swirling into the sky.

“Dear God, not again.” Brae dropped the bouquet she had been fashioning and ran, perhaps stupidly, toward the village. Even with the wind whistling through her ears, the commotion and terror-filled shrieks of the town folk still reached her.

With her attention focused on locating her family, Brae didn’t hear the horses behind her until the last second.

All of a sudden, her feet lost contact with the damp earth. She choked on a scream as some unknown assailant grabbed her by the hair and plucked her from the ground. The destrier never slowed its pace as she dangled precariously in midair.

In agony, Brae clamped her hands on either side of her head—her scalp threatened to peel away from her skull.

The kidnapper hauled her up in front of him and body slammed her stomach-first onto the horse’s back. Brae’s breath rushed from her lungs at the force. She bunched her hand into the rider’s enormous black cloak and hung on for dear life.

While she struggled to breathe, the brigand wrapped his rather large leather-clad hand around her backside.

“This one be mine!” The sound of his deep voice chilled her. By his accent, he was English! Braelynn closed her eyes and recalled the warnings from Callum and her da. Had her own father’s words cursed her? Was she to learn the lesson the hard way?

She was afraid to open her eyes, but she knew by the smell stinging her nose that they were close to the source of the acrid smoke.

The horses came to an abrupt halt. Brae barely had time to register the fact when someone from behind grabbed her by the ankles and attempted to rip her from her captor’s lap.

“She be mine,” her captor growled.

To her horror her skirt rode high.

“I want her!” the second brigand responded while caressing her bare leg. Brae’s skin crawled.

In terror, she stared up at the raider holding her while the other slid his rough hands ever higher up her plaid.

Leather creaked when her captor leaned in the saddle. He placed one large booted foot in the center of his rival’s chest and shoved. At once, Brae’s lower body dropped as he fell backward from the blow. Her arms pulled taut, stretching painfully, supporting her weight.

Without warning, the man holding her suddenly released his grip. Brae slid down the horse’s side and fell to the ground with a thud in a tangle of voluminous skirts. She did not wait to disentangle herself but seized the opportunity to flee. She leapt to her feet intending to run, but her captor was faster. He grabbed her by the hair yet again. Circling it around his hand, he reeled her in.

“Not so fast, Caileag.” He sneered the last as if it were a nasty word. “You and I have some business to attend.”

Brae fought him, kicking, punching, and scratching, but to no avail. With his enormous reach, he held her at bay until another one of the black-garbed knights gathered her from behind and pushed her into the lean-to attached to the smithy. She landed heavily on one hip on the sub-floor, with the stranger’s hand still wrapped around her hair. He let it uncoil. Long strands hung from his gloves. Her scalp ached.

Petrified, she stared up at the small crowd now gathered. There were four of them, but more outside.

“Come, Marschand. You never take the women. Ya are just tryin’ to prove yourself to Cowan. Give her to me. She’s too bonnie fer the likes a you,” one man jeered.

All the men were dressed the same, entirely in black. But her original captor, the one they referred to as Marschand, was truly pitch-dark from head to toe, including his hair and beard. Even his eyes were two bottomless orbs of bleakness.

Brae gasped. ’Tis him! The devil himself! Absolute terror tried to climb its way up her throat.

I hope you enjoyed the extract!

If you’d like to sample another snippet, head on over to my blog Pick a Genre Already for a sneak peek.

Happy Reading!

Kymmie

xoxo

Purchase Links:

Amazon

eXtasy Books

Apple, B&N and Smashwords 

Coming to other vendors soon

Author Bio:

H K Carlton is a multi-genre Canadian author of romance, with over thirty titles in publication. From naughty to nice, historical to contemporary, time travel to space travel, and everything in between.

Variety is creativity’s playground—It’s where you’ll find me

Pick a Genre Already

Breaking Genre

Pick a Genre
Outrageous Girls (contributor)

Twitter

Pinterest
Goodreads
Amazon
BookBub

Facebook Author Page

Facebook Timeline 

***

Thanks for such a fabulous blog Kymmie! Good luck with your epic novel!

Happy reading,

Kay x

If You Can’t Handle the Heat

Today I’m delighted to welcome a good friend to this blog- and to me- H K Carlton, with her brand new book, If You Can’t Handle the Heat.

Thank you for inviting me to your blog today. I’m doubly excited to share not only the re-launch of, If You Can’t Handle the Heat, but this re-release is also my first self-publishing venture.

This story was previously published with the title If You Can’t Stand the Heat. Though there is a little bit of added content, the story remains relatively the same.

 

In this erotic story, two very different professionals are brought together as celebrity judges on a reality-based cooking show. Sesto Théodore—the celeb chef that the show is built around—meets walking cliché, Syn Fully, erotic novelist. Though there is an immediate conflict in personalities, there is also an instant sizzling attraction. A classic clash and burn.

 If You Can’t Handle the Heat

by

H K Carlton

Excerpt:

 

Sesto took the opportunity to turn his wrath on Syn. “May I speak to you out in the hall, please!” he demanded, shooting to his feet.

“Of course,” she responded, haughtily, as though she hadn’t just been giving him the initial stages of a hand job under the table.

Sesto allowed Syn to take the lead. He was momentarily captivated by her long shapely legs, as she stalked across the space, confident and oh-so fuckin’ sexy in those red stilettos. Sesto pulled level with her and couldn’t resist the urge to place his hand to the small of her back, left bare by the severe cut of her dress. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d trembled at the contact. Or was it his hand that quivered?

In the corridor, Syn rounded on him, at the same moment he blurted, “What the fuck do you think…”

The words died on his tongue, as she once again stroked his shaft through his trousers. Her gaze settled on his mouth. Her breathing was shallow.

“Where’s your dressing room?” she asked, backing him up.

Sesto grabbed her other wrist and dragged her into the green room, before slamming the door behind them.

He yanked her hand, above her head and forced it against the door. He half-expected her to fight. What he wasn’t prepared for was the brazen little smile that hooked her sinful lips, as she raised her arm to join the other. With both hands stretched above her head Syn arched toward him, thrusting her beautiful tits, right in his face.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked again. “We don’t even know each other.”

“I know. Isn’t it wicked, how our bodies want to though.”

He groaned, shifting uncomfortably foot to foot, yet he couldn’t focus on anything but her lovely breasts.

“Go ahead, Théo, set them free,” she tempted, her voice barely above a whisper.

 © H K Carlton

Buy Link:

Universal Link


About the Author:


H K Carlton is a multi-genre Canadian author of romance, with over thirty titles in publication. From naughty to nice, historical to contemporary, time travel to space travel, and everything in between.

Variety is creativity’s playground—It’s where you’ll find me

 

Join me for the ride:

 

Blogs:

Pick a Genre Already

Breaking Genre

Pick a Genre

Outrageous Girls (contributor)

 Twitter

Facebook

Pinterest

Goodreads

Amazon

BookBub

Thanks for popping by today hun. Good luck with your new book.

Happy reading,

Kay xx

 

Opening Lines Blog: H K Carlton’s The Fall of Cairnnon Castle

It’s opening lines blog time again! Today, I am delighted to welcome a good friend to this blog, H K Carlton. Let’s get stuck into those words!

Thank you so much for featuring the first 500 words from The Fall of Cairnnon Castle, book three in the Lustful Possession series.

This installment of the LP series is my favorite of the seven short stories in the collection. Is that okay to say? It’s not like having a favorite child, right? Lol. It’s got a little bit of everything I love to read and write.

Parts one and two of this series, Meet Me in the Dark and Dark Foursome, are contemporary, paranormal, erotic, romance, but part three, takes a sudden unexpected medieval, time-travel twist. Our heroine finds herself trapped in history, torn between two strapping, feuding Irishmen, brothers no less. What’s not to love?

The first 500 words — The Fall of Cairnnon Castle

Lustful Possession Series, Book 3

Cairnnon Castle, Ireland—The Present

The earth underneath me quakes. The sky above me falls. It rains down on me. Pain explodes inside my head. My ribs break. I am crushed.

A deafening rumble offends my ears. My body is tossed and crumpled, battered by debris. It goes on for an eternity.

And then… Silence. Stillness.

The pain is immense. Like nothing I’ve ever endured in my life.

Oh, God! Please! I implore wordlessly.

I cannot speak, scream, or moan. My eyes are closed. But beyond me, there’s brightness, so vivid I detect it through my closed eyelids. I try to open them, but none of my faculties are functioning. I am heavy. My lungs are burning. It hurts to even take shallow breaths. I concentrate on the unenviable task of simply inhaling in and out—an action I have obviously taken for granted all these years. The dust is choking me. I try not to cough. I will split apart if I do. My ribcage has already splintered with the weight upon me.

A low hum begins. It is annoying, but as it goes on it becomes comforting, harmonious.

As the fire in my chest subsides, I am lethargic, sleepy, and content.

Stillness.

I know what this is. It is elemental. Inevitable, from the moment we take our first breath.

I wait for it…

Death comes.

* * * *

I am in and out of consciousness.

“Just come,” I whisper. Speaking is laborious, yet somehow it happens. “Just take me.”

The incessant drone becomes vibration.

I sense it, a presence. Above me. Surrounds me. Becomes me.

The pain subsides by degrees. Warmth seeps into me. I sigh at the pleasure of it. I hadn’t realized I was so cold.

Without words, it communicates with me. Death is one with me.

“You enjoy that.”

“Yes. Thank you.” My gratitude is profound.

“You know what I am.”

It is a statement. It is a part of me. It knows what I am thinking.

I don’t need to articulate. “Yes.”

“You are not afraid.”

“No, you comfort me.”

For a moment I sense confusion, and I am bewildered by it. It is not my uncertainty. It is illogical. Death would not emote.

But my thought is distracted. The lovely heat spreads, radiating through every part of my broken body.

“Ahhhh, that feels so good.”

Everything in me tingles, from the top of my head right down to my feet. There is no pain. Not even my lungs hurt anymore. My inhalations become rapid instead of shallow. My blood rushes. I can hear it traveling through my veins. My pulse pounds in my head. My body throbs. My breasts tingle and my loins catch fire.

I squirm. My body tightens. The heaviness in my lower body is nothing but carnal.

I am not even being touched, but I am being consumed and stimulated on every level. Mind, body and spirit.

It fills me, inside and out. Unable to stop myself, I feel…

The Blurb:

Castle Cairnnon—perhaps not the gate, but the epicenter of hell.

Neve Brádach had always wanted to work with an internationally renowned team of paranormal investigators, so when a U.S. team decides to explore a famous site in her own backyard, Cairnnon Castle, she does everything she can to secure a place on the team.

One of the most haunted places on earth, Cairnnon Castle is home to one of the most malevolent entities ever documented, Bás a thagann. Loosely translated, it means simply—death comes. When the enthusiastic American troop descends on Neve’s Irish hills, the last thing they expect to do is rile up the evil within.

But Bás takes an immediate interest in one of the American investigators and holds him prisoner within the castle, sapping his strength and will. As Neve and the others rush to find a solution before another good man loses his soul to the malicious elemental, she discovers the secret that might send Bás a thagann to its own permanent hell.

As Neve verbalizes the words that should free Cairnnon from its most evil resident, the castle crumbles around her, leaving her broken, dying, and trapped in the belly of the beast.

Neve is left defenseless to fight it and is forced to suffer a life that is not her own.

This series is a re-release

Warning: This collection of short stories contains m/f and m/m couplings and cliff-hangers. Installments must be read in order.

Buy Links:

eXtasy Books

Universal Link (including Amazon)

Coming soon to other vendorsAuthor Bio:

H K Carlton is a multi-published Canadian author of romance and its varied sub-genres. From naughty to nice, historical to contemporary, time travel to space travel, and everything in between.

Variety is creativity’s playground—It’s where you’ll find me.

Author Links:

Blogs:

Pick a Genre Already

Pick a Genre

Breaking Genre

Twitter

Facebook (timeline)

Facebook (author page)

Pinterest

Amazon 

***

Many thanks H K! 

Don’t forget to come back next time for Jay Willowby’s opening lines.

Happy reading,

Kay xx

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