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, May 17, 2019

The Sea Hellion (Pirates of Britannia) #historicalromance

The countdown’s on to more Britannia pirates! Douglas “Hellion” MacLauchlin and his wee pirate lassie are sailing the high seas, due to arrive on your Kindle May 28th, 2019. FREE in Kindle Unlimited. Until then, The Sea Hellion (sequel to The Seafaring Rogue) is available for pre-order!

About the Book

Determined to reap revenge and save crewmates taken by ruthless pirate Antoine Basille, Sorcha has no choice but to seek help from the scoundrel who broke her heart, Cap'n Douglas "Hellion" MacLauchlin. When Douglas agrees, it's on his terms, done his way. She will become his meek captive so they can gain access to Hebrides Cove where Antoine awaits.  

Will they be able to fool their cunning nemesis and get back not just stolen treasure but the imprisoned crew? Or will their depraved foe see through their charade? Find out as Cap'n Douglas, and his feisty pirate lass navigate a turbulent but passionate adventure that reignites long denied love. 

Pre-order Now! →

Amazon US Link- https://amzn.to/2E7OXzO
Amazon Universal Link- getbook.at/TheSeaHellion


Though Brechin had staggered under the force of Douglas’s fist, he bounced back just fine. Knuckles clenched, the Irishman issued a taunting grin as he spat blood on the ground and went for the figurative jugular. 
“’Tis not about a pretty bauble to ye, friend,” he goaded. “But about the fact ye never got her because, in the end, she didnae want ye.” He tapped his temple. “She wanted what was up here.” He grabbed his crotch. “But most especially, what was down here—”
That’s all he got out before Douglas lunged at him, and they hit the ground, then started rolling. All he could see was the bloody Irishman sailing off into the damn sunset with her the last time she was here. Then the sleepless nights where all he could envision was Brechin having her. Tasting lips that should have been his to taste. Touching soft silky skin that should have been his to feel. Hearing her moans of pleasure and owning her love as he once did.
Most pointedly though?
All of it happening as Douglas became a distant memory to her.
He and Brechin fought on a rough shore, so it was uncomfortable rolling over jagged pebbles and gritty sand as they both managed to get in a few good punches before Douglas finally got him right where he wanted him.
Pinned beneath him with his hands wrapped around the Irishman’s neck.
“Yer cock willnae work so well when ye’re dead,” he ground out as he squeezed Brechin's neck, trembling he was so infuriated. “Aye, laddie?”
“Och, ‘tis enough!” Sorcha crouched beside them, all the while muttering under her breath about damn difficult skirts. “Let him go, MacLauchlin. Ye’ve had yer fun.”
“Nay.” He shook his head. “Not nearly, lass.”
“Let him go.” She brought her dirk to Douglas’s neck. “Now.”
He could care less if she slit his throat so long as he took Brechin with him. As it stood, the Irishman wasn’t doing too well, so it was only a matter of time.
“Douglas,” she warned, pressing the blade tighter. “Let him go.”
When Brechin gasped something, his pleading eyes on Sorcha, she sighed and shook her head. That’s when Douglas realized this was the perfect opportunity to test his theory. To see how close she and the Irishman really were.
“If I didnae know better, I would say he wants ye to say something, lass.” His gaze never left Brechin who continued to struggle for air. “Mayhap even confess to something.”
“Ballocks, ye’re as stubborn as ever!” she said.
Instead of confessing like the meek lady she so wished to portray, she did something he should have seen coming. She tossed aside the blade, hiked up her skirts, and leapt on his back, switching her tactic to strangling him rather than reasoning with him as she wrapped her arm around his neck.
“Let him go,” she ground out, “ye bloody stubborn Scot, pain in my arse!”
Drunken chuckles and even a few murmurs of concern drifted from the crowd as Brechin’s face grew redder and his lips turned purple. His crazed eyes continued to plead with Sorcha to say something worthwhile. Something that might save his quickly dwindling life.
“Och, ye’re a stubborn wee one yerself, lass,” Douglas muttered. He tried to shoulder her off, but she had a good grip on him. Just like she always had one way or another. So he knew full well she would not let up. That she truly thought she would sway him physically rather than have to confess to a truth she didn’t want to admit to.  
So he did all he could, and lessened his grip on Brechin’s neck just enough to mayhap get a confession out of him. Thankfully, the Irishman was wise enough to use that time effectively and gasped precisely what Douglas wanted to hear.
“We…are…not…married…never were.”
As he gasped out the words, Sorcha, in a last-ditch effort, had the audacity to bite the side of Douglas’s neck. A nip that had enough pinch to swiftly turn his attention from the Irishman struggling for air to the hellion on his back.
“Ye wee troublesome lass,” he grumbled as he let Brechin go and staggered to his feet with her still clinging to him. Despite getting what she wanted, she held on tight.
“Ye think to force a confession then?” she muttered, digging her claws in tight as her nails bit into his chest.
“I dinnae think,” he growled, trying to dislodge her as he staggered about. “But did.”
“Brechin would have said anything to get out of yer lecherous paws.”
“Aye,” he managed around her tightening grip on his neck. “He said what ye were unwilling to.”
“And why do ye think I would be unwilling to say such a thing?” she said. “Why do ye think I would put up such a charade?”
“Because ye’re as afraid of me now as ye were yer sixteenth winter.”
Chuckles turned to laughter, and men cheered as Douglas stumbled about trying to dislodge Sorcha.
“Aye, get him my wee lassie cap’n,” many called out who could only be her crew.
His crew, unfortunately, were not so supportive with their various jests.
“Och, the great and ruthless Cap’n MacLauchlin taken down by a wee lassie and her sharp bite,” one called.
“All the pirates in Britannia cannae take him down, but a wee lassie will bring him to his knees,” another said.
“If she ever stops riding his back,” yet another called. “When ‘tis clear she’d rather ride something else.”
“Ye’ve made a bloody mockery of me in front of my men,” she grunted as he tried to shove her off again to no avail.
“I would say that was all yer doing,” he grumbled as he stumbled toward the sea, spying a way out of this situation. “Ye and yer stubborn nature.” He strode into the water. “Ye’re like a barnacle on a bloody ship. A pain in the arse to get off.”
“What are ye up to,” she began, but it was too late.
They went under.
While he had intended to use the water to get her off of him, he stumbled, and they got caught in a wave instead. Fortunately, it offered enough oomph and leverage to finally dislodge her. Yet, before she tumbled along the ocean floor—which he briefly considered letting happen—he grabbed hold of her and regained his footing.
“What am I up to, ye ask?” He yanked her against him and walked far enough in that he could maintain his balance but her not so much. “Finally greeting ye the way ye really wanted when ye arrived.”
Before she could push, punch, scratch, or most especially, bite, he dug his hand into her wet hair and did what he had been waiting to do again for far too long.  

Pre-order Now! →

Amazon US Link- https://amzn.to/2E7OXzO
Amazon Universal Linkgetbook.at/TheSeaHellion

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