award winning third novel

Stone of Lust

Paranormal Romance
Book 3 stones of iona
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He would risk his honor to win her heart. The heart of the Warrior Woman.

Stone of Lust

She dreams of a Viking warrior with Fae-blue eyes and a God-like body that makes her heart pound like no other. Trying to save her kidnapped sister-in-law, Ainslie follows her back to the Vikings of Scotland, where she faces the very man who has haunted her dreams. When Jarl, Rannick MacRaghnaill meets the alluring Warrior Woman who helped steal his warship, she dresses in clothing so strange that every curve teases his senses. But is she, as she claims, a woman from the future or an irresistible lying thief? She’d risk her life to save her sister-in-law. He’d risk his honor to win her heart. Can both hardened warriors save the realms from the evilest of Fae’s minds combined with the most dangerous of humans? She finds her true love in the past, but is their love worth risking their future?
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An Excerpt From Stone Of Lust

Ainslie ate a fruit as she studied Rannick’s profile. “Tell me about the vow, the one about yer father.” Rannick sat up and turned to look at his mother by his side. She spoke with Gunnar, their heads bent close. He studied them for a moment. Ainslie stared at Rannick and followed his focus, moving to his mother, wondering what Rannick thought.Gunnar bent his head to whisper something in Astrid's ear, only to have her blush and look away. She peeked at him from under her lashes. A person might miss the flirting if they weren’t specifically watching, but both flirted. Her eyes returned to Rannick. He exhaled, and she hoped he would approve of the courtship. Gunnar seemed to be a good man and a better warrior. Rannick took a handful of nuts, popped one in his mouth, and chewed. Ainslie tapped his arm. “The vow?” Rannick glanced back at her. “It is nothing ye need to concern yerself with.” Ainslie took his left hand in hers and faced him. “I wish to know. I want to understand.” He removed his hand and took a long pull on his ale. He stared into the mug, then set it down with a thump. He dumped the nuts on the trencher and spoke in a low voice. “My father was one of Dougal’s greatest warriors and a good friend. My father trained Dougal in his youth before his da’s death, and he took over as Lord of the Isales. Fiona and my mother are best friends. Astrid is a mother figure to Fiona, who lost hers at a young age.” He sighed. “My father loved my mother deeply. He courted her for a full year before her father relented and allowed the match. For a time, they were happy.” He peered at his mother, and Ainslie’s eyes followed. Astrid turned her head to the side as Gunnar whispered in her ear. She put her hand on his chest, and he raised his head and gazed at her with longing. Astrid returned the look and grinned. Ainslie turned to Rannick, and he smiled. The elder couple seemed happy, and she bet it was long overdue. He fisted his hand as he spoke again. “It was the drink that got him angry. He raided for Dougal and was away often when I was young. Another's husband, who was injured and couldn't raid, took to helping her with chores and supplying food from his hunts.” He took another long drink of his ale. “My father’s drunkenness and jealousy led to his anger, which kept coming out of his fists.” He glanced at his mother. “My mother is a healer and weathered the bruises well, but one night, he was hard on her and knocked her out. I’d just started training with the sword, and we argued. I thought he’d killed her. In my stupid youth, I killed him to avenge her death.” Her heart went out to him, and Ainslie placed her hand on his arm. “Ye were young and defending yer ma. It took a lot of courage to stand up to yer da like that. What a difficult thing to deal with as a young man. To face off with yer father to protect yer mother. A fight for both the people ye loved most in the world yet forced to pick one over the other.”He laughed bitterly. “That's what Dougal said. Declared me innocent of wrongdoing and demanded I move in with the warrior’s training at the castle. He said I would make a great warrior one day.” He stared ahead. “That was when I vowed never to hurt a woman. I pledged to defend them.” Ainslie rubbed his hand as she still held it. “And ye have Rannick.” He tightly fisted the hand she held. “My anger at my father cost him his life. I should have better control over my fighting. Not permit the bloodlust to control me.”
Ainslie smoothed her hand over his firm fist, and he relaxed it a little. She understood his warrior's heart. The desire to control the fierce energy within him that wanted to wage war but still needed to be gentle with his friends and family. The people he loved deeply. Maybe if she explained how she saw the bloodlust, he might understand the balance between the two. She continued to caress his fist as she whispered. “Bloodlust is something every fighter has, Rannick. Even women.” He stared at her hand, gently stroking his, and he relaxed a little more. Her fingers trailed along his knuckles. “Fighting comes in many forms, not just the sword a warrior wields, but a mother’s fight to bring an infant into the world, a husband’s fight to hunt for food for his family, a warrior’s fight to defend his land.” She opened his fingers and lightly brushed hers along his palm, fingertips to his wrist and back. “A child’s fight to survive in a hard world.” She slowly traced the lines in his hand. “Using the bloodlust for the right reasons and causes is the art of being a great warrior.”Rannick glanced at his hand, then her face. His free hand came to her cheek and caressed it. He used his thumb to tilt her head till their eyes connected. “Warrior for the children, woman of war. Is yer bloodlust only for the children?” Ainslie gazed into Rannick’s bright blue eyes and became lost.She spoke before she thought. “Everyone, I fight for everyone. Who does yer bloodlust fight for, Rannick?” He leaned toward her, and their breaths mingled. “I fight for many things.” He licked his lips and spoke softly. “But tonight, I use it to pursue the woman I love.” He brushed his lips on hers, and they paused for a moment, a breath, as they stared into each other’s eyes. The room erupted in a roar of cheers, and they broke apart. Ainslie dropped her head, her face heating. They’d forgotten where they were. Dougal slammed his cup on the table. “Rannick, my man. Seducing a woman at my feast table? And in front of her brother? Ye grow bolder by the day!” Colin growled next to Dougal. Ainslie peeked at her brother, who glared at her. He smiled, nodded, and spoke loudly for all to hear. “Ainslie is a rare woman, a bright spirit. She has a will of her own, and I permit her to pursue her heart. I desire her to find true love as I have.” Dougal turned to Colin. “Aye, and as I vowed before, we shall find yer true love. I suspect my messengers will return soon, and when they do, we shall go raiding and bring her back.” Ainslie shifted in her seat, wincing from her injury. Colin turned to her. “Ainslie, ye should rest from yer injury.” She glared daggers at him. “I am fine, brother,” her sharp response brought a smirk to Colin’s face. Rannick spoke to Colin. “I shall see her in her chamber.” He turned to her and rose, helping her up. “Goodnight, all,” He glanced at her smiling, “good party and good rest.”****Colin watched them leave, Rannick carefully escorting his sister from the hall. Her gaze was only for Rannick. Love grew between them for all to see if one only looked. He turned and sat staring into his mug. He hoped what he saw in Ainslie was love, and then again, he hoped not. Her in love would make traveling back to their time that much harder.