Cradle of Dreams
(My best-selling novella)
With
visions of battle still fresh in his mind, Roane Bradfield returns home to find
the woman he loves betrothed to another. He corners Kendrick Moreland at
Dowager Huggins’ Grand Ball and whisks her into the secluded library. One way
or the other, he will know the reason the duplicitous beauty cut him from her
life when she promised to wait forever.
Here's a few reviews to remind you how hot this little novella is.
"I love how decadent and
thrilling the story is for being such a short story. I fell in love with the two
main characters, even with all their flaws. Excellent read." Amazon reader, S. Davis
"My gosh this author KNOWS how to write
smoldering bad boy. She knows her tortured alphas because Roane had me BEGGING
from the moment I met him. .
So hot and masterful, everything I look for in a great historical read." Reviews from the Heart
"The author wove a
story so tight and thorough that I didn't feel like I'd missed anything.
Beautiful relationships full of conflict and heartache it transcended time and
stayed true to the very end. I adored Roane, the hero. So hot and masterful,
everything I look for in a great erotica read." Siren Song Reviews
Excerpt from Cradle of Dreams:
By all that was holy, Roane Bradfield appeared within
Kendrick’s line of vision. Her Roane Bradfield. Dear God, it wasn’t possible,
couldn’t be him. Her stomach fell, and the room spun. How she had mourned his
death, cried a million tears when his name appeared in the Savannah
Republican—Roane Bradfield, Killed in
Action, Battle of Petersburg. At the time, the words had blurred on the page
and waves of grief nearly brought her to her knees.
It had taken her weeks to drag herself from bed every
morning, months to come to terms with his death. Had she ever really come to
terms with it or had she merely put one foot in front of the other and stumbled
through life a phantom specter? She knew only one thing at the time—if she
lived to be one hundred she would never again love a man like she loved Roane
Bradfield.
Beside her, Pitt’s back stiffened, and below her
trembling hand his arm tensed. So many times she had imagined Roane Bradfield
cutting through the masses toward her, but this was no illusion. Beneath the
bright chandelier, his midnight hair glistened, and even from this distance, a
palpable hunger burned in his eyes. Something else burned too . . . anger.
The crowd parted and onward he came, all sinewy muscle
and dark beauty—broad shoulders, narrow waist and long, muscled legs. And
depthless ebony eyes. She should have known someone as vibrant and alive as
Roane couldn’t die. Beneath her gown, her legs gave way and every joint in her
body went boneless.
“Good, God, look who’s risen from the dead?” her
fiancé said.
“Pitt, please, how can you say such a thing?”
Kendick’s knees shook and she felt faint. She didn’t have the facts, but truly,
Roane had risen from the dead. For a flash of a second, her heart overflowed
with joy, and then she saw the look on her former love’s face. Unadulterated
vengeance. He came to settle a score.
Roane stood before them, his bronzed hand reaching for
hers. “Kendrick, lovely to see you again, darling.”
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