Just Imagine

Just Imagine

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Welcome to my blog! Pull up a chair, grab a cup of coffee and read what's on my mind. I've a vicious sense of humor, an apprecation for romance and a mad addiction to writing.

Friday, January 16, 2015

Ready For Passion In 9'th Century Scandinavia? Viking King- The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors.

Happy 2015! I hope everyone's year is starting off great. Since finishing Plight of the Highlander, I've kept busy researching and writing about Vikings. After spending the better part of a decade in medieval Scotland, I definitely had my work cut out for me learning about an entirely different culture. But I've loved every minute of it. Naturally, my Viking men are considerably different than my Highlanders, yet it's been a fascinating change of pace. Funny that I initially met the Viking King ten years ago in the MacLomain's great hall tapestry and had no idea he'd eventually pull me into a whole new world.

I kept true to some of the traits of my MacLomain men when developing the king and his brothers. After all, those sexy Scotsmen descend from them. So of course they’re all tall, well-muscled warriors. *grins* The difference? This time instead of wizardry, I further explored what it’s like to possess dragon blood. To be part male dragon. Totally awesome. Not only because I love dragons, but because I was able to embrace the alpha side of these Viking men. Strong, dominant, steely, yet still respectful of their women. And yes, as you might imagine, they're definitely a lusty lot.

So are you ready for some Vikings? Some King Naðr Véurr? Then let's head to ninth century Scandinavia...


Determined to take a break from her past, Megan cozies down in her million dollar Winter Harbor Maine home and focuses less on money and more on dreams. Building boats was a childhood desire she’s determined to pursue. With a love for Viking shipwright skills, she constructs a small scale longship. What she doesn’t anticipate is an unexpected call from the past.

Of dragon blood, Viking King, Naðr Véurr Sigdir ‘the bold’ knew that the bargain he struck with the seers would likely lead to an unpredictable outcome. What he didn’t foresee is a beautiful, headstrong woman from the future washing up on his shores.

Caught between twenty-first century America and ninth century Scandinavia, two souls connect. Both determined and willful, their battle soon becomes not one made of the eras separating them but all the unexpected moments that drive them closer together.

Anger. Need. Distrust. Hope. Never-ending desire. All merge, warring and passionate, when a modern day woman and a Viking king surge forward together to conquer not only their enemies but what lies within their hearts.


When a roar came from the ship, a louder roar echoed all around her. Excitement crackled in the air as three men left the boat and started down the dock. Megan narrowed her eyes as they drew closer.

Oh hell.

Tall, muscled, all were too damned good looking no matter the century. But only one gave her an acute case of tunnel vision. The one in the middle. A black fur cloak stretched over his broad shoulders. With a black, leather jerkin and long leather encased legs that led down to heavy boots, he had a confident, easy swagger that ignited hot heat between her thighs.

A searing burn broke over every inch of her skin and she dug her nails into her palms as he drew closer. Wind-blown, shoulder-length black hair brushed the nape of his strong neck and a light beard did nothing to hide his well-sculpted face. Her body started to tremble when he was only halfway down the dock. Clenching her teeth, Megan breathed deeply through her nose. Her need to smell his skin was so strong she put her hand on Guardian’s head to ground herself.

When had she ever wanted to smell a man?

Valan pulled Megan aside as several women were allowed to pass. There was never a more torturous moment than watching the young, beautiful women swarm around him. Like any ‘normal’ red-blooded pirate, sailor, or Viking, who had been out to sea for days would do, all three men linked arms with the women so that they each had one on either side. Megan barely comprehended that the low growl she heard was coming from her own throat until Valan looked at her and shook his head.

Megan cleared her throat and continued to stare at the man approaching.

To look away was impossible.

Suddenly, he stopped. When he did the girls on either arm purred and leaned closer. But it didn’t much matter. It almost seemed that he caught a scent on the wind because he leaned his head back slowly, closed his eyes and inhaled.

All went silent.

Megan watched, enthralled by the display. How did one man make so many people go silent in a moment? But somehow she knew deep down inside. A simple man couldn’t.

But a king could.

It felt almost like the shock wave she’d felt eighty feet beneath the Atlantic once more hit her when his eyes turned her way. Megan dug her hands further into Guardian’s fur as he untangled from his women and approached. His eyes flickered to Valan then back to her before he stopped.

Holy mother of any god listening was he gorgeous.

Skin darkened by the sun, his face was a masterpiece up close. A little over a foot taller than her, his lips curved so well they’d make a woman stare forever. His jaw line was a fraction off from being square and his eyebrows arched slashes. But none of that compared to his eyes.

They were his everything.

A light but bright cobalt blue framed by a bizarre circle of dark blue with flecks of silver, they were so unusual that it almost seemed a mirror was behind them. In fact, one nearly got the impression they were looking back at themselves when they looked into this man’s eyes. Megan was tempted to look away from his unusual gaze but knew she couldn’t…that she never would. He’d captained that Viking longship. Desire pounded through her blood so harshly it took years of dealing with powerful men to keep her body tremble-free and eyes locked with his. Because there could be no doubt…

He was her Viking king.

“Naðr Véurr,” she whispered.

And she knew she was right.

Of course he wasn’t fazed by his name on a stranger’s lips. He’d likely dealt with it before. And unlike most men, he wasn’t put off by her unnatural eye color in the least. Rather, he seemed to spend an overly long moment holding her gaze, so much so that she had to work at keeping a neutral face. No easy task considering the ever increasing burn between her thighs that nearly made her bite her lower lip. One thing was for sure, she’d never had such a strong sexual reaction to a man.

He smelled of sea and storms, of dark nights and even darker pleasures.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Heck, was her heart going to beat out of her chest?

Megan worked at breathing evenly as though she was diving and never let go of his gaze. For a split second, she thought he sensed her nervousness. And it seemed she might be right.

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