Wednesday, February 19, 2014


When Nicholas Herron, Duke of Berwick and his best friend, Rolf Torgesson, two of King Edward III’s most powerful and respected knights, discover a badly beaten young woman hiding in the forest, they swear to protect her.  By the time they learn that she is Lady Kathryn Weston, and that her attacker is none other than her betrothed, Robert Walford, the powerful and ruthless Duke of Pemberton, it is too late.  They have both fallen in love with her and she with them—a love so forbidden it could cost them everything, even their lives.
Set amidst the turmoil and pageantry of 14th-century England, Dark Warrior weaves a vivid tapestry of three lost souls bound to each other with a deep, abiding love.  But will that love survive Walford’s evil plan to attack Berwick Castle, take it apart stone by stone and ultimately destroy everyone who lives there?



They were upon her before she could flee.
Rudely snatched up out of the deep sleep of exhaustion, she lay huddled, still and frightened, trying to disappear into the hard, frozen ground. The piles of leaves and pine boughs she had carefully piled on top of herself now seemed totally inadequate to conceal her. The nightmare she’d so desperately tried to escape was finally upon her.
It surrounded her. She could hear it in the form of men shouting, hounds barking, mail clanking, hooves pounding. She could smell it in the form of sour sweat, overheated horses. She could taste it in the form of bitter bile rising in her throat—Sweet Merciful Virgin! He’s sent an entire army after me! To hunt me down and run me to ground like a helpless animal!
Nearly out of her mind with fear, she curled up into a tight ball, making herself as small as possible. She pressed her face into the frozen dirt, hoping against hope that the brown and tan of her stolen clothing would help make her invisible.
Don’t let them find me. Merciful heaven, don’t let them find me. Please don’t—
She let out a shriek as a growling dog sank his teeth into the rough cloth of her sleeve and yanked viciously, sending leaves and twigs flying. Others, barely kept in check by their handlers, lunged at her, snarling and barking, nipping at her with their slavering jaws. She could feel them buffeting her, felt the heat from their bodies. Sweet, merciful God! She threw her hands up in a desperate attempt to protect her face and neck from the animals’ razor-sharp teeth. There was no escape. If she so much as moved, they’d rip her to shreds.
Rough hands seized her, jerking her up out of her hiding place amidst a flurry of pine branches, dirt, and dried leaves. She tried to scream, but no sound came from her ravaged throat. Blessed Virgin!
“Whewwww! God’s blood, boy, you stink! By my oath, pigs smell better than you!”
General male laughter greeted this comment, sending her into full-fledge panic. Heart pounding in her breast, she pushed against the beefy hands lifting her. Dear God, she had to get away. She just had to! Frantically she started to kick, managing to land a few blows with her wooden clogs.
“Here now, lad, none of that. Oww! Hold still, damn you! God’s teeth, you’re as slippery as an eel!” He tightened his grip, wringing a cry of anguish from her throat at the sharp, stabbing pain that robbed her of her breath, even as she continued to twist and writhe and kick. But her attempts to break free were in vain. Whoever was holding her was much too strong, and much too determined.
“Cease your struggles, damn it!” It was a raspy growl right in her ear. She could feel a coarse beard prickling her neck. But she was too frightened to heed the words. Too terrified to hear the underlying kindness in the gruff voice. She continued to twist and kick helplessly against the imprisoning arms, succeeding only in increasing her excruciating pain and exhausting what little store of strength she had left.
Rock-hard, muscular arms closed around her abdomen, pulling her back against a chest as hard and unyielding as a stone wall. “We’re trying to help you, lad. Cease your struggles!”
She stopped abruptly, gasping desperately for breath, spent and shivering with both fright and cold. Despair settled over her like a shroud, clogging her throat with unshed tears. Any further struggles were pointless, and she knew it.
Tears burned her eyes, sliding silently down her cheeks, leaving tracks in the dust and dirt. Every breath ended in a sob. Her worst fears had come true. The nightmare she had sought to escape was all around her, dragging her back to Hell. Back to him. And this time he would finish what he’d started three nights ago. This time, he would kill her.
She swallowed hard as her shoulders slumped in defeat. She was well and truly caught and her brief, miserable time on this earth was about to end. Her mind ground to a halt as the utter hopelessness of her situation bore in on her. And as hope died, so too did her resistance.
Suddenly the man holding her leaned forward, loosened his arms and set her on her feet. She stumbled forward on the uneven ground, nearly sprawling face first in the dirt and leaves.
“Here, lad, steady now. Don’t fall.” Thick male fingers bit into her upper arms, turning her around to face her captor. She heard a gasp. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” One hand released her and she knew he was crossing himself. “What happened to you? Who beat you like this?” Without taking his eyes off of her, the man shouted out, “Your Grace! Come at once!”
His Grace! She swallowed hard, her body stiffening, bracing itself against the blows she knew were coming. The blows she knew she was powerless to stop. Sweet, merciful God, how much more must I bear? Keeping her head lowered, she grabbed the tattered woolen scarf she’d wound around her neck for warmth and quickly pulled it up over her chin, mouth and nose. Mayhap he won’t recognize me. Mayhap he’ll let me go. She gave her head a slight shake. Mayhap pigs will fly.

Eight years ago Jesse Colter fled his small town, leaving behind eighteen-year-old Sarah Marshall, broken-hearted and devastated.  Now a retired Navy SEAL, he’s back and he wants only one thing—Sarah Marshall—preferably bound, naked, and on her knees before him.
She has never forgotten Jesse.  He’s been the object of all her sexual fantasies since she was fifteen, as well as the star of nightly dreams that have become increasingly erotic over the years.  So when he suddenly reappears in her life, she is torn.  Can she trust him not to hurt her, or will he once again break her heart?  Warily, she agrees to let him introduce her to his world—the world of bondage, Domination, and erotic slavery.  When he also introduces her to his best friend, Adam Sinclair, Sarah faces a daunting future of sexual submission to two powerful alpha males.
But Sarah faces an even bigger challenge.  Someone is stalking her.  Is it the old enemy who’s just been released from prison?  Or is it someone else from her past who is determined to destroy any chance she has at happiness?  Can Adam’s and Jesse’s love protect her?  Or will her world explode in a cataclysm of betrayal and violence that will destroy them all?

Owning Sarah, back cover blurb
It’s been a month since Sarah Marshall was kidnapped and held at knife-point by her ex-fiance.  But Jesse Colter and Adam Sinclair, her two loving Doms, know that there is an even deadlier threat still out there—Ryder Malone.
He blames both Sarah and Jesse for sending him to prison eight years ago for attempted rape, and he’s determined to make them pay.  So, he begins a systematic campaign of terror and intimidation against them.  But the danger he poses doesn’t end there.
Set against the deepening love and commitment between Sarah, Jesse, and Adam, Owning Sarah is more than just a sexy, sensual, BDSM love story.  It is a harrowing race against time for Jesse, Adam, and a team of former SEALs to stop one of the biggest arms-for-drugs deals in U.S. history.  And to rescue Sarah before Malone sells her to a human trafficker and she’s lost to her men forever.


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Twitter:  @JulieCShelton

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Julie has been writing her entire life, but it wasn’t until November of 2012 that she burst onto the erotic romance scene with her sizzling hot first novel, Loving Sarah, followed by its sequel, Owning Sarah, ten months later.  Her third novel, Dark Warrior, set in 14th-century England, is her first historical romance.
Julie lives in a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia.  Now retired after a 25-year dream career, first as a children’s librarian then a professional storyteller and puppeteer, she once again has time to devote to her new love, writing erotic romance, the steamier the better, thus following the career path blazed by so many before her—from kiddie lit to erotica. J

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