I’ve been a terrible blogger.  Just down right, absolutely horrible. I have not posted in a long while and for that I apologize.

But in my defense, I have been productive.

My second book is in the finalization process with my publisher right now and will be hitting the market on July 4th!

That’s how I feel right about now.  A little goofy, a tad giddy, and all kinds of relieved. I’ve put the work into the story. Now it’s time to let that story shine.

I did a cover reveal last week…so I’m happy to share the cover with you here, along with a snippet from the story.

Gorgeous isn’t it? One of the things that drew me to my publisher was their cover art.  They are dedicated to making sure your cover art is gorgeous and represents your book in a way YOU want it. ❤ Makes me so happy.

Now…would you like a teaser?  A taste of A Shadow’s Kiss….ehehehe.

Here you go…

Madeline spotted the archery targets near one of the tents. A line of bows and quill of arrows sat against the tent. While Evelyn had trained with her bow, Madeline participated in a lesson or two but only rarely since many disapproved of a lady indulging in such an activity. Her palm itched for the feel of the smooth wood in her hand, to feel the tension coil as she drew the arrow back. With a soft curse, Madeline picked up a bow and a single arrow. She glanced around and saw no one.

She was alone.

The wood slid against her skin, comforting and familiar. Nocking the arrow, she pulled the bow up and slowly drew it back. Her arms trembled at the pull of tension. Aiming at the target, she exhaled and released the arrow. With a solid thwack, her arrow sang true, striking just below the center of the target. Her heart raced as she picked up a second arrow. She aimed and sent it to join the first, but it hit too low again. Furrowing her brow, she reached for a third.

“Aim just above where you want to hit when shooting from this distance.” A deep, familiar voice rumbled behind her. Madeline spun around, the bow dropping to her side. Alexander stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “Here,” he said, stepping toward her. “Let me show you.”

Madeline stepped back as he approached. “I thought you left,” she stammered, her heart fluttering at the sight of him. His broad shoulders filled out the linen shirt, and his body wrapped in layers of plaid. She licked her lips. He appeared more dangerous now than he did when clad in chain mail and a coat of plates.

“Your brother, Angus, made a very convincing argument for why I should stay.”

Her mouth hung open. Before she could ask him what Angus said, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. Facing the target, she took a breath to steady her hands.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he stepped up behind her. His heat melted into her back, she wanted to sway into him, lean her weight against his body. But she forced herself to stand straight. He tipped the bow up.

“Nock your arrow,” he said, as he guided her fingers to position it. “Aye, like that.”

His breath caressed the side of her face as he leaned beside her. His left hand covered hers on the bow, while the light caress of his right hand guided hers as she drew the string back. Her heart raced, thundering as a storm of desire raged inside of her. His scent of leather and horse mingled with the highland air. She forgot to breathe.

“Now aim just above where you want the arrow to strike,” he whispered. Her eyes drifted closed. “Release.”

She let the arrow fly. It struck the target dead center. He stepped away. A small groan of disappointment left her lips as the moment ended. She turned to face him, not caring about the damned target anymore.

Alexander watched her, his lips curved into a hint of a smile. “With some practice, you could become proficient with a bow.”

Madeline put the bow back with the others. “Why are you still here, Alexander?” She sighed. Her heart ached at the sweet torture of him standing so close. She had resigned herself to her fate. She would marry the winner of the tournament out of duty and respect for her family name. Taking a deep breath, she faced him again. “Have you nothing better to do than torture me with your presence?”

“You wish me to leave then?” His eyes betrayed nothing, but his voice held a hint of regret.

“Aye.” She turned away from him. Why must he do this to her? What pleasure did he get from seeing her torn with indecision and sadness? For two months, she prayed he would take notice of her shy glances, her flirtatious smiles. Now she was promised to another, he spoke to her. How cruel could fate be? “Leave.”

I look forward to sharing the story with you soon.  🙂  Thanks for stopping by.

~ Kirsten