Message From The Author

Author's Message

Pillow talk. Dont you love it? I think its one of the best things about marriagethat, and the fact that now someone else always takes out the garbage. (Oh, dont cry for him. I do all the laundry.)

Darren married me knowing I wanted to write romances. I dont think he quite understood that it meant I would be writing at odd hours, basically whenever the mood strikes me. To his credit, hes learned to deal with it, recognizing that the glazed look that frequently comes over me means Im thinking of doughnuts or some wicked new storyline.

Im a night person, and thats when I like best to bounce ideas off of my long-suffering spouse. (Dont worry, hes big and strong; he can take it.) So it was pillow talk that had me leaping out of bed in the wee hours, rushing to my computer with a gem of an idea for my fifth book, Intimate Enemies. My husbandever sweet, ever noble about my nocturnal plot woessaid to me, What you need are two enemies who have to unite over a common foe. Eureka!

He went happily to sleep, I got cozy with my Macintosh, and that night in my cluttered office one of those rare, magical things happened: the prologue wrote itself, the words flying onto the screen as I sat there and watched, tapped into something I knew was better than me. A hero, locked in battle with a Viking on a wild island beach. A treacherous arrow felling him, death coming swift and certain. But in the final seconds of his life, Arion du Morgan, bleeding on the sand, has a vision of a fierce Scottish angela woman, who saves his life only to spit in his face and walk away from him.

Lauren MacRae and Arion each grew up steeped in their clans mutual hatred. Both claim the Isle of Shot as their own, yet now these two foes face a new threat: Viking invaders, determined to steal Shot for themselves.

As children Ari once stepped in to rescue Lauren from a terrible fate. She never forgot the boy he was, and he never forgot her. But now theyre grown, and their worlds have vastly changed. Ari is the Earl of Morgan,
a wealthy and hardened English knight, come to Shot to defend his vassals.

And Lauren leads the Clan MacRae after the death of her father, vowing vengeance against the Vikings who murdered her Da. Shell do anything to save Shot, even if it means joining with her clans sworn enemy, the powerful Earl of Morgan.

Neither Lauren nor Arion could predict the path that fate would hold for themthat she would find forbidden temptation in the sensual green of Aris eyes, or that he would find the match to his soul in Laurens fearless heart.

I love to hear from readers! Come and visit my website:, or send me snail mail at: PMB 180, 2060-D Avenida de los Arboles, Thousand Oaks, CA 91362.


The moonlight fell with silver flattery across his features, almost teasing her with his good looks. Arion lifted a hand again, the one without the mug, and moved it toward her face.

Lauren took a rapid step away, out of his range, and saw his lips twist up into something that was not a smile.

How is your head? he asked, masked and pleasant.

I beg your pardon?

You hit it rather hard, as I recall.

Oh. She felt stupid and flushed again. She should not have had the whiskey. Its fine.

May I look?

Lauren tucked her hands behind her back, clenching her fingers together where he could not see. Why?

The twist in his lips tightened, then relaxed away to nothing. Still dont trust me, MacRae?

All right then, she said crossly. Go ahead, if you insist on it.
He closed the space between them, coming very near. His hand raised once more and grazed her skin lightlysparks, pain, burning heatpushing back the hair from her forehead, every inch of him now attentive
and calmly serious.

She stared at the hollow of the base of his throat, trying not to move at all, trying not even to breathe. She found his pulse and couldnt look away, following the strong steadiness of his heartbeat until she felt it reverberating through her, her soul echoing it, a tandem vibration that sank in down to her bones.

Youre right, Arion said, very quiet, his voice sounding strained. It looks muchbetter.

She couldnt help it; she gazed up at him as he was looking down, her head tilted, his hand still touching her. He was so near that she did close her eyes now, giving in to it, feeling the passion and not even caring.

His fingers were threading through her hair. His breath was warm and close, tinged with the spice of her familys whiskey. It brushed her lips, tantalizing

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