Pears Watercolor by Victoria Morgan
This world is but a canvas to our imagination - Henry David Thoreau

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

RELEASE DAY and...wait for it....FREE GIVEAWAY!


HEART OF THE DUKE is available!!!   

And ON SALE on Amazon.  $4.74 for Kindle, $5.03 for paperback.....  

Makes for a sweet, romantic Holiday gift.
IF you don't believe me, read the reviews or hopefully let the excerpt below lure you in....

First to leave a comment, gets an early Christmas present -- a free copy of the book.

Romantic Times

RT Rating
Tender passion, suspense and adventure propel the story along at a fine pace. Morgan’s talents lie in creating realistic characters — a feisty heroine, honorable hero and despicable villain — and then placing them into a smartly written plot. There’s a bright future ahead for this newcomer.


Penelope's Romance Reviews -

"This book is another example of a great historical romance. The plot is well developed, and filled with mystery and suspense. I loved the sharp and witty dialogue. The pacing is fast and I found myself sucked in by the opening scene.      Mistaken identities and kissing. How can you go wrong with that?  
"The heart of a Duke is a historical romance with plenty of suspense and intrigue. The characters in this book were very well written.
"It was a great fast-paced read and a wonderful love story."
EXCERPT
“I am beginning to think you have never been kissed before.” He crossed his arms, amused.
“Excuse me?” she breathed, the color draining from her face.
“To classify that kiss as minor reveals your ignorance of the matter.” He shrugged. “A peck on the cheek or lips pressed to a gloved hand is minor, but what we did was explosive. Smoldering. It lit—”
“Stop! It may not . . . ah, did you say explosive? Really?” She paused, her annoyance forgotten, replaced by wide-eyed intrigue.
Delighted, he inclined his head toward her and lowered his voice to a husky timbre. “And smoldering. I have never—”
“Enough,” she cried. She had been leaning toward him as well, his soft words reeling her in, but sudden awareness of her actions caused her to straighten like a poker. “If I agree with you that it was . . . well, it was done rather well, you must agree with me that it was dangerous and more important, a mistake.” She pressed a hand against her temple. “I cannot believe I am having this conversation with you. It is ridiculous. I do not do ridiculous, am far too old for it.”
Amused and fascinated, he watched her struggle to com- pose herself.
He preferred her pink-cheeked and flustered.
She drew in a ragged breath. “We cannot discuss this again. Please. It may have been lovely for one moment and done rather well, but . . .” She stopped and started again as if she had lost the thread of her thought. “The point of the matter is, it was a mistake, and one we both need to forget.”
The finality of her words irked him. He did not like being dismissed like the forgotten boy he had once been. “You are absolutely right.” He unfolded his arms and stepped closer, crowding her. She regarded him warily, but held her ground. He caught her upper arms and drew her to him, ignoring the alarm swimming in those luminous blue depths. “We are done talking. I think a demonstration is in order. You see, you keep saying our kiss was a mistake.”
“Yes, it was—”
“My dear Julia.” His eyes roved over her features, admiring the perfect symmetry and soft, flushed skin. “There is something you should know about me.” He cradled her cheek, lowered his head, his mouth inches from hers. “I am a man who likes to correct his mistakes.” When her lips parted in surprise, he captured them in a deep kiss.