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For the low price of 99 cents, this historical romance can be yours! My second novel, THE ARCHER’S DAUGHTER is now available to an e-reader near you. Paperbacks will soon follow.

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Blurb:

England, 1381

Cate Archer is a wanted woman. When her father is killed during peace negotiations with the young King Richard, Cate vows she will not rest until she sees her father’s murder avenged and his killer brought to his knees. She never imagined she would fall in love with the man sent to execute her death warrant.

Viscount Owen Grey has only one task—bring in the rebel leaders, dead or alive. His life’s duty is to the King’s Guard, and he has certain expectations to fulfill. Falling for his prisoner isn’t one of them. He understands her cause, but he cannot bring himself to risk his position and honor for an outlaw. Owen must choose between duty and his heart. The Guard is all he’s ever known. Does he stay true to his oath or find himself on the next most wanted list alongside his Cate?

Excerpt:

The guards were near. Cate whipped the bow from her shoulder and plucked an arrow from its sheath, nestling it at its rightful place against the bowstring. A heated energy flowed from deep within her, coursing through her veins to the tips of her fingers, begging her to release the tension on the string. She did not deny it.

The arrow shot through the air, missing its intended destination by a hairsbreadth. Damn. She’d missed.

“Arrow!” A warning was called.

Her presence had been made known. Cate took a swift head count of her remaining arrows. Five. Perfect for taking down a deer, but unfortunate against six armed guards. A brief chill of panic threatened to take root but she pushed it aside, willing herself to be strong. She owed it to her father. She must fight.

From the sounds echoing below, Cate believed the guards to be readying to fight, but from the sound of their confusion, they could not apprise from where she shot. The thick forest canopy was a welcomed friend.

She surveyed the area to her left. Several thick branches from a nearby tree overlapped the one she hid in. If she could get a shot off — and manage to hit someone this time — she could change locations before the men would be able to fire from below. Cate said a quick prayer, asking for the guards to be ill-equipped with weaponry, or shite shots with a bow.

“Courage, Cate.” She turned to face her opponents.

“There! Above!” A guard pointed in her direction, raising his bow to take aim.

Cate redirected her aim to the right, firing at the telling guard. Time for a new plan.

Run.

An arrow hissed through the branches, and Cate lurched back, nearly unseated from her perch. Tree bark scraped her palms as she righted herself.

“Do not harm the boy!” one guard shouted. “Hold!”

“I am no boy!” Cate retaliated without first thinking.

“A lass, then?”

Cate silently chastised herself for her foolishness. “What else would I be, you dolt?”

They thought her a child — a fantastic ruse with the potential of aiding in her escape.

“Tell me then, girl, why have you attempted to end my life?”

The men scattered to various points along the forest floor; some on foot, others on horseback. A plan in formation, but Cate had yet to gain knowledge of it. She took a deep breath. Time to lie, Cate. Your life depends on it.

She let out a laugh, descending from the tree. “End your life? You, sir, were merely in the way of my arrow. I would have brought down that buck if you had not scared it away with your loud traipsing through the trees. Now my family will be forced to go hungry for yet another day. So I thank you… you and your overly loud mates.” She jumped the remaining distance to the ground, the dusted the tree litter from her ill-fitting boy’s hose. She rose to her full height, nearly measuring up to the man standing in front of her.

He didn’t wear the King’s Guard uniform as the others in his party did, but donned loose riding breeches paired with well constructed boots and a matching doublet with the finest detailing she’d ever seen. Deep greens and royal blues intermingled in various swirls and frills amongst the soft, blackened leather. Only the finest threads for the finest of men. He was the one she needed to kill.

And she’d missed.

AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | GOODREADS | ESKAPE PRESS

SMASHWORDS | KOBO | ITUNES

BOOKSTRAND GOOGLE PLAY | ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS

For more info on my first release, RETURN TO ME, click here.

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Symphony of Light Series
Renea Mason

Symphony of Light

One woman. Seven men. All bound by one man’s undying devotion.

Fundraiser Linden Hill has a knack for reading people. She always knows which conversations will put a prospect at ease, which drink will loosen a patron’s lips—or his wallet, and how cleavage will make a donor sweeten the deal. She’s even foreseen her dateless weekends four hundred and sixty-four times in a row.

But ten years after watching life drain from her former mentor’s and first love’s eyes, her skills for divining the predictable are lost. When Cyril returns, he’s still gorgeous, but this time he’s beyond human, far less dead, and pissed. His lack of memory drives him to desperate acts, and his turbulent re-acquaintance with Linden pulls her into his war with a creature hell-bent on his destruction. His group of six supernatural men share a tantalizing secret, but despite the hunger, it’s love that leads her to sacrifice everything to save him…

Love Paranormal Romance?

 

Described as Fifty Shades meets The Black Dagger Brotherhood and Twilight. While others say it reminds them of the Night Huntress or Dark Hunter series’. But most agree it’s unlike any paranormal or erotic romance they’ve ever read.

Buy the book

Amazon Barnes and Noble AllRomanceeBooks.com Kobo.com  Etopia Press  Bookstrand.com  Apple iBooks

Print edition available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

 

 

Impostors’ Kiss

One night of sexual pleasure could teach a lesson in love.

 

Imposter's KissCyril is weary from weeks of traveling the Scottish moors, but his luck takes a turn when he rescues a battered and broken child. To express his gratitude, the boy’s father offers Cyril a night of carnal indulgence with his eldest daughter. Cyril graciously accepts, looking forward to a night of sexual release to ease the loneliness of his travels.

But what the supernatural sex god and deliverer of souls doesn’t expect is to be taught a lesson in love from the young and beautiful Celestine.

In a night of passion, two lost spirits find solace in an impostor’s kiss: one longing for a love that doesn’t yet exist, the other drowning in pain and guilt over love lost. Neither is what they seem…but what they learn will change them forever…

Buy the book

Amazon  Barnes and Noble  Kobo  Bookstrand  Etopia Press AllRomanceEbooks

Coming Soon in 2014

Between the Waters – Symphony of Light Book Two

Curing Doctor Vincent – An Erotic Novella Trilogy

 

Symphony of Light and Winter – Excerpt

“Your eyes are so lovely; please don’t hide them from me. Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you.”

His sincerity must have been contagious because the words slipped through my lips without permission. “I know you’d never hurt me intentionally. It’s the unintentional consequences I fear.”

He brought his other hand up to cup my other cheek and, with my face firmly held he said, “Linden, I’m not fool enough to think that the gods don’t intentionally f**k with us.”

His use of that word was unexpected. Always a gentleman, but always something more carnal beneath the surface too. The inconsistency seemed natural.

“But if that ever happens, I will spend forever trying to atone. Don’t turn away from me.” He stared at me for a moment and when his face started to move toward mine, I thought for sure he would kiss my lips, but instead he placed a lingering kiss to my forehead and pulled me into a hug. If he felt anything for me other than friendship, that was his moment to prove it. I had my answer. I gave a forced smile and pulled away.

“Please, play,” he said while trailing his hand over my back.

Facing the piano, with my fingers lingering above the keys, I tried not to allow disappointment to lace my words. “How did you know about the song?” My racing heart slowed as I realized the kiss wouldn’t happen.

His response was casual. “I have very keen hearing and you start to hum it every time you walk away from me to return home. Where is the song from?”

Strange. Maybe I was louder than I thought.

“I don’t know where I learned it. I think I made it up, but it’s hard to know for sure.”

“It’s beautiful, please…” He motioned to the piano.

He stood and I pressed one key to test to see if it was in tune. Pitch-perfect, of course. I should have expected no less. I stretched to measure the distance to the pedals. After my assessment, I began to play. As I pressed the keys, I tried to forget he was even in the room, but that became impossible as he provided subtle hints as to how I should adjust my posture. He pushed back on my shoulders and lifted my elbows with a light touch. The adjustment made a difference, and in time my composition transitioned to something more graceful.

He placed his hands on my shoulders as he stood behind me and whispered, “Now relax, the music is in control. Give in to it. Let it take you, command you, while you find freedom in its control.”

His finger made small massaging circles on my neck and shoulders, and the more he touched me, the more at ease I became. I played better than I ever had.

He ran his hands up and down my forearms, coaxing the notes from my fingers as he whispered in my ear, “That’s it. You are much more relaxed. Music is energy, Linden. With energy, you must first make yourself an attractive conduit. Energy does not like resistance. The less resistant you are, the more it can take hold, become stronger—make you stronger. Allow it to embody you, become one with you, and embrace its possession.” His breath teased as his words sent waves of electricity through me.

I added improvisational parts to the song I had never imagined. I played sequences far beyond my skill level without effort. As I neared the end of the song, the magical feeling broke down, and with it went my newfound ability. It was as if I took a drug to make me a better musician and it had begun to wear off, but I knew it wasn’t a drug. It was Cyril.

As the last notes breathed their final whisper to the air, I heard him say, “Well done! I bet you even surprised yourself.”

“How did you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything. I simply taught you to sit up and concentrate. Other than that, it was all you. Music can’t possess the unwilling.”

I shot him a suspicious glare. “All right…your turn.” I went to get up.

“No, please stay. Let me see…I’ll play something you know. How about Beethoven’s Sonata quasi una fantasia? You may know it as the Moonlight Sonata.”

I nodded. He could have played Chopsticks and I would have been happy.

He began with the solemn phrasing of the piece. Every languid note held so much emotion. My fingers mindlessly stroked the side of his leg in the slow melodic tempo of the first movement. The mournful timbre accented the sadness I felt knowing that every minute I stayed with him, it was going to be much harder to accept I could never have him.

I had only heard the first movement of the piece but as the somber melody transitioned into a more energetic strain, I knew it would be an experience I would never forget.

His enthusiastic gestures, the bounce of his hair as he pounded out the rapid notes, all added to the look of determination on his face. The notes were saturated in passion, and violence defined him. I watched him with intense concentration and wondered if he brought that same passion to his kisses, his bed, and his love. It would be a miracle if one person could harness him.

When he played the last note, his breathing was heavy and a thin film of perspiration coated the skin of his brow and neck. He looked down at the floor and then slowly into my eyes. That instant, the connection formed again. He reached up and brushed the hair from my face and I did the same to him, draping his thick, dark, sweat-moistened locks behind his ear.

“That was magnificent. I’ve never…”

His hand reached up to cup my face. His thumb caressed my lower lip as I spoke.

“Heard…or seen…anything like you. I mean that.”

He smiled and continued to outline my lip.

“Linden…” he said with a breathy whisper, “there are so many things I want to show you, teach you. I want you to make me a promise.”

I answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

“The way you are looking at me right now… Please, always look at me this way. Stare into my eyes and see me for who I am and know that there is nothing more than this. When the world calls things into question, you need not question me because I will always be here for you. The comfort I find in your eyes is new and frightening.”

I found it difficult to believe anything frightened this man. He cupped my cheek and with tenderness that mirrored his words, he caressed my face and trailed his hand to rest on my chest just below my neck. I wrapped my hand around his wrist, holding him to me.

He leaned in, pinning our arms between us, and breathed, “Promise me.”

I closed my eyes, reveling in his closeness, his scent, his heat. “OK.”

“Good.”

He inhaled. “I will make you a promise in return. I cannot bring you into my world as I would like, so I will not ask you to indulge me further. I should let you go, but I’m sorry, I am far too selfish to break all ties. I do promise to always be your friend, your mentor.”

Deep down, hopeful he might love me and see me as a woman, I opened my eyes and managed a smile filled with sadness and disappointment.

Protégé was the title bestowed upon me, not girlfriend, lover, or wife. I looked away from him to try to pull back the tears that escaped my eyes.

“Already breaking your promise?”

I looked up and he brushed my tears away with his thumb.

“I’m not immune, Linden. I feel it too. I just need to be stronger than this, for you.” He pulled me into his embrace.

His arms were tight around me. He smiled but something sad lingered behind it. “It’s getting late. I should get you home.”

 

Impostors’ Kiss – Excerpt

“Who is she?”

This was not a question I expected. Even though I was comfortable being nude, most humans were not. I saw in her mind what horrors men had bestowed upon her. The massive erection I sported should have frightened her, but with each quick glance I made in her direction, I saw she stood firm and resolute, while twirling the blindfold between her fingers.

“Who?” Not the time to speak riddles.

“The woman for whom that kiss was intended.”

“Oh.” I brushed my hands through my hair. The long, black strands fell one by one back into place. I sighed. “She’s my love. My light. But she is out of reach.”

“I have a confession.”

 

Renea MasonAuthor Bio: 

Renea Mason writes steamy romances to help even out the estrogen to testosterone imbalance caused by living in a house full of men.

When she isn’t putting pen to paper crafting sensual stories filled with supernatural lovers, she spends time with her beyond-supportive husband, two wonderful sons and three loving but needy cats.

Her debut novel, Symphony of Light and Winter, finished second for Best New Paranormal Series of 2013 in Paranormal Cravings’ Battle of the Books and received a third place award for Best New Paranormal Romance of 2013 in The Paranormal Romance Guild’s Reviewers Choice Awards.

Renea is a member of Romance Writers of AmericaThe Paranormal Romance Guild and The Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal subchapter of the Romance Writers of America.

She is also a founding member of Coffee Talk Writers and the Coffee Talk website–a site designed to support established writers and foster new talent.

 

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