betrothal to the duke’s son costs her job as a clerk in his father's household. Without a letter of recommendation, she becomes an easy target for recruiters to the Colonies. Desperate for work, she signs up for a risky overseas venture and sails for the New World, vowing never again fall for a wealthy gentleman.
Returning from a diplomatic tour in London, CHIEF MANTEO is bewitched by the elusive, fiery-haired ship clerk and determined to overcome her distrust. He contrives a daring plan to win her heart – a plan he prays will protect her from a chilling conspiracy involving murder, blood money, and a betrayal of their fledgling colony so terrifying it can only be revealed in BREAKING TIES
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Trail of Crosses – Book Two
Jane Mannering can shoot a rifle and handle a knife as well as any Englishman. However, she is no match for the red-painted warriors who ambush her section of a Colonial caravan on the shores of Virginia.
Jane plots their escape during a forced march inland, leaving a trail of maltese crosses carved on the trees – their pre-agreed upon signal of distress. All the while, she puzzles over what interest their captors could possibly have in a twenty-three-year-old spinster and a rugged band of brick masons, sawyers, and farmers.
When the ruthless Chief Wanchese intercepts them at the crossroads of the Great Trading Path, Jane is shaken to discover their greatest enemy plans to keep her for himself. It’s a pity he’s the only man on two continents who’s ever stirred her heart. Unfortunately, she has an entire colony to save, and capturing his attentions is not part of their escape plan.
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SNEAK PEEK
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B reaking Ties, Book One in the Lost Colony Series
Excerpt from Chapter Nine
“Someone might walk in,” I hissed. “What are ye doing?”
“Distracting you from the pain. Is it working?”
I chuckled breathlessly. “What pain?” I glanced through the doorway, but the beach was almost vacant of colonists now. We hadn’t much time left before the ships raised anchor.
“Rose.”
“Mmm?”
“I’m glad you refused to heed your brother’s warnings.”
“Even though I brought with me such an ill run of luck?”
“I am not complaining.” His voice was low against my neck.
I drew a shaky breath. “Are not ye afraid?”
“Nay.” He reached around and laced his fingers through mine. Our scars from the blood oath rested palm to palm.
My heartbeat quickened. “I must look like a rag doll.”
“Your attire offends me no more than usual.”
“Oh?”
“English women hide beneath too many layers.”
I choked out a laugh. “I saw the governor’s watercolors. Do your people truly wear so little?”
“Aye.”
“Including the ladies?”
“Aye.” His voice was earnest. “Thank the gods.”
I flushed scarlet. “I-I could not!” I twisted to look at him. “’Tis scandalous by any English standard.”
He tugged me back against him. “Then I pray you change your mind.”
My chest rose and fell rapidly. We were surrounded by danger and his thoughts were centered on seeing me naked, or nearly naked, I corrected.
He trailed the back of his hand down my cheek.
Tendrils of apprehension squeezed my heart. Manteo desired me, but he spoke not of love. I’d walked this path before.
The stinging of my feet intensified. I sat up, needing space. He grunted in protest but loosened his arms.
“Agnes will be here any moment.”
He moved quickly. My heartbeat quickened to see him crouched before me, whiskey eyes dark with emotion. He lifted my hand and pressed the scarred palm to his heart. The wound tingled from the heat of him.
“There is one English custom I like very much.” He bent his head over mine until his breath stirred my lips. I stopped breathing. He took my upper lip between his in a caress as light as a bird’s