More than a year in the making, and based on a solid foundation of research into schooners of the early 19th century, pirates operating during the Regency, the Brits in Bermuda and the Americans in Baltimore, my seafaring pirate romance, WIND RAVEN, is finally here!
It's the story of Captain Jean Nicholas Powell and the young woman he is forced to take as a passenger on a mission into the Caribbean for the Prince Regent to hunt down a pirate seizing British merchant ships.
Tara McConnell was raised on her father's ships, the sisters of the wind they called the Baltimore clippers that helped America run the British blockades in the War of 1812. She has lost much at the hands of the British, yet she cannot help respect the handsome ever-frowning English captain of the Wind Raven who seems to think he can kiss her whenever the fancy takes him.
New York Times bestselling author of high seas romances, Danelle Harmon, described Wind Raven as:
“A salty, sweeping, evocative tale of romance on the high seas—and a good old-fashioned love story that will keep you up far, far past your bedtime. So, reach for the coffee. Brava for Regan Walker!"
I suppose I should also mention that on the Wind Raven, there is an Irish cook who tells fairy stories and suspects Tara is one of those mythical beings!
Here’s a snippet:
HER LOVE WAS A TIDE SHE COULDN’T HOLD BACK
“A fine fix we’re in,” Tara said, looking first at the captain and then at the night sky. The stars began to show themselves in the darkening canvas above, giving her the sense she stood on a precipice at an auspicious moment in time. It had only been a short while ago she had gained the insight she had now about the two of them. She should have realized the truth long ago.
“What do you mean?” he asked, coming up behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his chest. His warmth had always drawn her, and it was pulling her to him now like a strong undertow.
“Each of us withheld from the other the one thing we wanted,” she remarked, staring into the night sky.
“And what would that be?” He put his hands on her arms, drawing her back against his chest. She shivered with his touch but allowed it, while fighting the urge to turn and fall into his arms.
“You wanted my body and, fool that I am, I wanted your heart.”
He spun her around so fast her vision blurred. “My heart? You wanted my heart?”
“Yes, but I cannot seem to touch it.” His eyes carried a look of astonishment. “Well, you can keep it,” she said emphatically. “I don’t want it anymore. And you shall never have me!”
He stared at her for only a moment. “Oh, yes, I will.”
As if she had defied one of his many orders and he was having none of it, he brought his mouth down on hers in a kiss that was claiming. One of his hands closed on her nape and his other arm wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her to him, trapping her with his powerful strength.
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