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The Tattered Bride by Peri Elizabeth Scott

The Tattered BrideBlurb:

Childhood traumas lurk deep. Victoria Sparrow knows that. Especially when one’s father rejects one as not being worthy. Her romantic relationships founder, until Logan Doherty. He gives her reason to believe in goodness and true love, and she commits her heart and soul to him.

No longer prey to her damaged, young self, Victoria eagerly looks forward to their upcoming marriage—until she meets Logan at the altar. He informs her the wedding is off before their assembled friends and family, and will not tell her why.

Cast back into the nightmare of rejection, a devastated Victoria undertakes the momentous task of putting her life back together, her trust broken, her worst fears realized.

Meanwhile, Logan is working equally hard to deal with the secretive events that led to that cruel rejection, and then he plans to make it up to his tattered bride. If she will forgive him.

*****

Excerpt:

The world narrowed to him and her, and a little slice of churning emotions she couldn’t decipher. “You’re calling off the wedding. Our wedding. Now.” Just in case she hadn’t heard him correctly. This had the makings of a horrible, sick joke…

Shoving a hand through his hair, he obviously struggled to meet her stare. His tawny eyes were turbulent. “I am. I … just decided. It’s—”

“What?” Victoria tumbled to it, falling into the abyss of her history. Deep down, she knew why. Too bad he’d only just decided. Now. At this inopportune time. All her issues and stupid insecurities washed over her from wherever they’d been banished to, banished by Logan’s resolute pursuit and sincere belief in her. He’d addressed her fears, made her whole—and now? Now her tender underbelly was exposed—without a shred of armor—for the deathblow. The sublime lovemaking of a mere few hours earlier faded in the face of it.

“I—” Real pain and misery now seemed to burn in his eyes, and despite her terrified anticipation, she wanted to soothe him. Through set lips, he continued, “I don’t have the words to tell you why Victoria. I’m sorry. But the wedding is off.”

Still, she waited, believing he would somehow embellish, give her an explanation that wouldn’t make this about her, but he stood there mutely, now staring someplace over her shoulder. She checked out the direction of that gaze—maybe there was an answer there, but she saw only a watercolor of a pastoral scene. Please.

She let her pride crumble and begged. “Logan. This doesn’t make any sense. We… Only this morning…”

He shook his head and straightened to his full height. “It’s off.”

Deep inside there was an utter certainty that it did indeed make sense. He’d figured her out. Seen to the core of her the way others had. In despair, she gave up the fight to believe in him and their love in response to his firm declaration. The Victoria of her childhood emerged, in blind response, lashing out to hide from the truth.

“Was it the thrill of the chase? And then when you caught me, you became afraid you were settling? That there’s something better around the corner?”

She didn’t want to wait for a response. She had to leave. Now. What would get her past the sideways looks and the knowing stares? The church was full of family and friends—and others who had probably predicted this very moment…

“Victoria. You need to calm down. It’s not like that.”

“Calm. Down?” She was aware her voice was climbing as she talked over him, and the small room, the one where she and Logan would have been closeted to sign the papers finalizing their marriage, wasn’t soundproof. She modulated her tone the very best she could, humiliation and pain squeezing her very being. “What is it like, then, exactly?”

“I can’t say.”

“Tell me.”

He looked away. “I can’t.”

Dropping her beautiful bouquet of red roses, entwined with baby’s breath and white, embossed ribbon on the desk, the air currents disturbed the uncompleted marriage papers. They fluttered, mocking her. She stared up at the face of the man she loved. And faced the realization that she indeed still loved him. That part, at least, hadn’t changed despite the mortification of being dumped at the freaking altar. Love. She thought it was love. Too bad it wasn’t real.

“And I’m supposed to take that and be calm!”

“Yes, calm down.” His face was set in grim determination, his eyes hot. “We’ll … we’ll get through this.”

She narrowed her eyes and leaned into him. What couldn’t she be one of those classy women who took this kind of thing in stride and walked away without making a scene? Maybe she could be. Drawing on a reserve of strength she wasn’t aware she possessed, she said, “I’m calm. Dead calm. So shut up now. I never want to hear your voice again, let alone set eyes on you.”

Squaring her shoulders, she closed off his next attempt to speak. She avoided his outstretched hand and ignored the sudden abject despair written across his handsome features. Was he embarrassed? If he didn’t want a scene, why in hell had he chosen this public place to dump her? Flinging the door open to the main part of the church, she surveyed the people filling the pews. Those congregated there stilled into silence, with only an occasional murmur marring the quiet. Dozens of pairs of eyes looked in their direction. Victoria stepped forward. Classy. She could do this.

Buy links:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2fhdPpx

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2fjGLAk

Evernight: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-tattered-bride-by-peri-elizabeth-scott/

Allromance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thetatteredbride-2175204-149.html

Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/the-tattered-bride-mf

*****

3551b-2About the Author:

Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in Manitoba, Canada. She recently closed her part-time private practice as a social worker and child play therapist. She and her husband have a seasonal business and pretend to work well together.

Writing for years, mostly short stories and poetry, she has published dark erotica under another pen name and reads everything she can lay her hands on.

http://www.perielizabethscott.com

https://www.facebook.com/perielizabethscott

peribeth@hotmail.ca

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Ruler’s Concubine by Peri Elizabeth Scott #scifi #erotica #romance

Thank you for having me! Ruler’s Concubine represents two different species attempting a connection, and proves that regardless of distinct differences, love will carry the day.

Rulers-Concubine-evernightpublishing-2016-3DrenderBlurb:

Meridia is headed for extinction, unless a compatible species can be found. The backward planet, Earth, the one the Meridians stripped of technology now holds the only promising species in the Galaxy. As Ruler, Lysett Daboort will do his duty and choose a royal concubine from those women ‘liberated’ from Earth, but that is all it will be—until he meets Celeste Raynor.

Celeste is barely subsisting on Earth and isn’t enamored with becoming one of Meridia’s concubines, despite the esteem afforded their females. But there is nothing left for her at home and she isn’t averse to having a child to love, not to mention a caring, supportive partner. Until she meets the Ruler himself.

The Ruler resists Celeste’s appeal and she refuses his arrogant approach, yet they must somehow come to terms. Lysett rules supreme, or does he? Because love has the most power of all.

Buy Links:

Evernight PublishingBookstrand | All Romance eBooks | Amazon UK | Amazon US

*****

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Excerpt:

This isn’t happening. This is not happening. If she kept repeating those words then surely it would be true and she’d miraculously wake up from this erotic nightmare and in her own bed. Except it wasn’t a nightmare and she most certainly wasn’t in her assigned bed—or even on her own planet. Although her imagination was fertile—and she’d seen pictures of him—it was unlikely to manifest the enormously good looks and incredible physique of the alien male who was stripping right before her very eyes. Yes, stripping. Removing all of his clothes, not five feet from where she lay on a bed constructed of some otherworldly material that both cushioned and restrained her. Had it only been yesterday when Bast told her today would be the day? No wonder she hadn’t slept well, thinking about this. And why did this Ruler look even better in person?

Once he’d overcome his reticence to speak so frankly with her, Bast had prepared her with stories of his Master’s need, of his sexual prowess and all the pleasures he would bestow, not to mention that cup of elixir she’d swallowed down.

Being assured it was the planet’s best aphrodisiac had her quaffing the liquid as though it were a life saver. Its effects were marked almost immediately as she cataloged an increase in her body temperature and a definite aching in her private parts with embarrassingly obvious lubrication accompanying the throbbing. Even her breasts had ached, the nipples tightening and beading in reaction to the potion.

But the effect had worn off because Lysett had been detained for a considerable period. The delay had given her too much time to reflect on her decision and the strange glowing feelings throughout her body had diminished—until he walked through the door. His good looks stole her breath, and when he began to take his clothes off, she wanted to do shocking, sexual things with him. The emotional and physical swings made her stomach lurch.

Her uninfluenced sexual-self recognized the potency of such a male, and to say she wasn’t naturally aroused would be untrue. Her body acknowledged a male suited to her, awash with chemistry and basic animal instinct. It was simply the circumstances that brought her here, and the stark implications of the contract that spoiled their first interaction. Why hadn’t he deviated from so-called royal tradition and spent some time with her beforehand? Surely Bast had relayed that even an initial chat would be optimum.

Celeste’s heart rate doubled, then tripled, when Lysett’s erection sprang forth as his lower garments were yanked down, and dark spots swam in her vision. That part of him was a duskier gold than the rest of his burnished skin, and freaking huge.

“Shhh, Lady.” Bast’s caramel tones spoke soothingly in her right ear, and one of his hands tentatively patted her shoulder. She’d very nearly forgotten he was still in the room with her—with her and his Master, although he had handled the process clinically and indicated he would leave before… “You are prepared for this union, as we discussed. It will be over before you know it, and if you get with offspring this first time, there will be no need for further joinings. Unless you wish them. And to beget other children.”

Well, didn’t that make her feel special? No pressure either. Merely a vessel out here in space, far away from home, to be used. She blinked away the tears that welled in reaction. Where was her voice? She could still say no…

The Ruler paused in his approach to the bed and glared at Bast after he spoke, though that look encompassed her as well. Celeste had never felt so naked—or so vulnerable. She knew what was supposed to happen. She thought she was ready. Not. And to think she’d scoffed at the wait, chuckled about others procreating before this man. No one would dare. Shocking need warred with apprehension.

“You assured me she was prepared, Bast.” Lysett’s perfect features set in angry lines and those remarkable green eyes now appeared as cold and frozen as that small pond at her home place in the winter months. She tried to use the memory of Earth to distract her, and it caused a homesick shudder to take over her entire body, the gentle clasp of the bed’s fabric undulating to keep her in place.

Lysett’s attention snapped fully to her in an instant, his orbs now glowing with green fire as the vertical slash of his pupils elongated. His gaze raked her body, lingering on her breasts and the apex of her thighs. Despite her limited experience with men, let alone alien men, Celeste recognized lust and desire and her body responded. Or maybe it was apprehension.

“She is prepared, Master. I do assure you. It is merely that a period of time has passed since we expected you to attend her, and it is no surprise that your concubine is experiencing a trifle of anxiety.”

Even with the translator chip, Bast’s wording felt off to her, and she decided to add her own voice. This was going to happen, this attending to her, no matter how she second-guessed her decision, and she believed Bast when he promised she’d be safe here. Having sex—joining—with his Master until she conceived was something she could do. Women did it all the time, had done it over the eons. It wasn’t like she was being forced or anything. And she wasn’t a prostitute, although that profession got a bad rap as far as she was concerned when one considered women had to survive somehow.

She was, according to the contract, a revered commodity, a virgin concubine—who wasn’t going to be a virgin much longer—a concubine who would bear a child for the alien ruler, right? And if the baby was female, she too would be cherished and Lysett would try again to beget a son. And again… All of Bast’s teachings slipped through her brain with lightning speed. Celeste shivered and quit thinking about all those possibilities and focused on what she’d been promised.

She would want for nothing, be well taken care of, and ultimately, kept safe. The presenter’s words and those of Bast rattled around in her head. Given her past circumstances, it was a no-brainer, and she couldn’t go home. Her body was up for it, and her mind had accepted it was the best out of all her choices. So it must be her heart throwing up the roadblock, looking for romance, all because of his pictures and the wonderful things his first servant had said about him.

That was nonsense. Just look at the agony love caused a person. Her stupid heart must be masochistic. This was the best deal she’d get and it was time she said something. There was no way she could go through this process again. Humiliation drowned her common sense. She moistened her lips and addressed Lysett, who was busily engaged in a staring contest with Bast.

“I am prepared, sir. Sir. Ruler. I won’t give you any trouble.”

His eyes froze through to their depths again and his dark brows drew together. She noted his erection didn’t flag at all, though. He might be annoyed, but it didn’t affect his arousal. The wide head glistened in the well-lit chamber, with his natural lubricant beading at the tiny slit. She had timidly asked if her deflowering couldn’t take place in the dark, but Bast refused, saying that tradition didn’t allow it. Spread eagle as she was, there was little left to the imagination, and she flushed again with embarrassment and no small shame. Lysett was superbly made, muscled and lean, with broad shoulders, long thick legs, and narrow hips. She was … well, she was short, and small and round, now that she’d had enough to eat. So not like the remaining Meridian females on this planet. And certainly not the cream of the crop of the human females either.

“You were not given leave to speak.”

Celeste didn’t much care for the way he snarled at her, Ruler or not.

*****

3551b (2)Author Bio:

Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in Manitoba, Canada. She recently closed her part time private practice as a social worker and child play therapist. Her love of children extends to the animal world, and her most recent rescue includes a one-eyed cat with an Elvis smirk.

Peribeth and her husband have a seasonal business and pretend to work well together, so she will always have a job.

Writing for years, mostly short stories and poetry, she has published dark erotica under another pen name and reads everything she can lay her hands on.

http://www.perielizabethscott.com/

 

Not Just Friends by Peri Elizabeth Scott

Not Just FriendsThank you for having me on your blog today!

Not Just Friends

Romance on the Go

Evernight Publishing

Published April 28, 2016

Blurb:

He has an insatiable penchant for tall, leggy blondes, and Taylor Simmons finds Nash Porter’s reputation unsettling, despite how much she likes the guy. As she’s come to learn over the years, there’s more to Nash than his assumed sexual prowess, and her short, brunette stature ensures their solid friendship will remain just that.

Except Nash has been invading her personal space of late, and that’s far more unsettling. It’s time to extricate herself from his sphere, because she can’t have anything more than a friendship with someone who reminds her of a past she conquered and left behind. Unless Nash can convince her otherwise…

*****

Excerpt:

“Taylor.” Christina made her name sound like a rebuke.

“Hi, Chris.” She concentrated on her driving, the speaker above her head crackling a little.

“You’re not here. It’s Thursday.”

“I told you I had to work. I left you a message.”

“Oh. Today?” Her friend wasn’t great at checking her voicemail.

“Today.”

“You should have texted.”

“Sorry.”

Voices swelled in the background and a door slammed. “Everyone’s here but you.”

“Again, I’m sorry. The client could only meet after work.” And on any day of the week, so Taylor chose Thursday. A couple of weeks without seeing Nash should put things back to normal.

“So it’s not… Wait a second.” Another door closed, and things were quieter. “So it’s not because of Nash?”

Wait. What? “You’ll have to speak up, Chris. I’m driving and hands free isn’t as clear.”

“It isn’t about Nash?”

“What about him?” There, a nice, nebulous response while she gathered her thoughts.

“Um, Bryan said… Well, he said Nash and you were … exploring something.”

No. And no. He did not. She gripped the wheel and checked her mirror, pulling into the outside lane and finding a place to drive off and stop. The little turnoff was graveled and it gritted beneath the tires, much the same way Christina’s newsflash ground in her brain.

“Taylor?”

“Sorry, traffic.” She slammed the shifter into Park and set her forehead on the steering wheel. Any softer feelings for Nash blew right out the window. “I don’t follow. The thing about Bryan and Nash.”

Christina huffed. “They were talking at work and Nash told Bry that he was interested. In you. Like dating.”

Her laughter might filter through the hands free as more convincing than it sounded in the confines of the car. Bad words hovered in her throat and she swallowed them down. She chose something frivolous to say instead. “What was he smoking?”

“I asked the same thing, Taylor. And you know Nash…”

“I do know Nash.” Taylor leaned her head back on the seat rest. “And I don’t date … guys who have a different woman every week, Chris. What, has he run out of tall, leggy blondes in this state? It’s not that far over the line into the next one. An easy drive.”

They both laughed, but in truth, Taylor felt like crying. She’d known Nash for five years, met him when Christina drew her into their little group. The ensuing years had evoked a deeper, more intimate relationship with all the members, including Nash. She knew his foibles and his strengths. He was a good man and a good friend, and in a short period of time, she managed to overlook—or at least not judge, too much—his way with the ladies. His incredible good looks went a long way, but after seeing them as often as she had, they didn’t have the same impact. Right?

His sense of humor and fairness, his caring for family and friends, kindness to animals, his strong work ethic, and total honesty made up most of the fabric that was Nash Porter. She flinched in that moment. Maybe he saw past Taylor’s definitely not leggy, blonde, and beautiful appearance and appreciated who she was behind her exterior. What had he said? Kind and gentle—when she wasn’t on a righteous crusade—and with a core of steel. Hardly superficial, when she thought on it. She stared into the rear view mirror, surveying her tousled brown hair that curled in any amount of humidity, but was soft with natural highlights, and framed her small face nicely.

Her eyes were her best feature, widely spaced beneath feathered eyebrows, their hazel depths shifting with her moods or reflecting the colors she wore. Today they were green. Green for uncertainty. She ran a finger down her straight nose and tapped her lips. She was pressing them too tightly together of late, so she relaxed them into their natural fullness. Centerfold material she was not, but she wasn’t ugly either. And she kept herself in shape, walking every day and finding time in her schedule for yoga.

Her just less than a C-cup breasts matched the rest of her, even if she sometimes longed to be a few inches taller. Standing on tip toes could be a bummer. With a sigh, she focused on the conversation with Christina.

“Sorry, Chris. I missed most of that.”

“I said for sure Nash must have run out of those blondes because he hasn’t been seeing anyone for weeks now. Maybe months. Like a drought. Haven’t you noticed the lack of references to any women in his life? The guys aren’t even bugging him about them. And he’s always around lately.”

Taylor was really glad she wasn’t driving. Her brain ticked over, sorting through the times Nash had “just happened by” at her work of late, with a cup of her favorite tea, saying he had business. It hadn’t made much of an impact, seeing as he was an architect and often consulted with the interior designers—including her—in her office building. He was being Nash, kind and thoughtful for a friend.

The teaming up with her on game night, blocking Graham’s attempts to partner her, was different, and more frequent. She liked Graham, but he drove her crazy when they partnered up. When she joined forces with Nash … they fit. They got one another and it felt so comfortable and fun. Tick, tick, tick.

Showing up to carry her groceries to the lift those two times when she’d bemoaned that task at game night—she hadn’t invited him in then either, and he’d given her that little salute when she’d thanked him and … dismissed him? Lord. Was she living in a different dimension? She hadn’t meant to be rude…

He’d been at the coffee house nearly every time she made it there—and Morris the barista and Nash exchanged those meaningful glances, like they had a secret. Tick, tick, tick. Had he been … courting … her?

*****

Links:

Evernight PublishingAll Romance eBooksAmazon US | Amazon UK | Bookstrand

*****

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About the author:

Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in Manitoba, Canada. Peribeth recently closed her part time private practice as a social worker and child play therapist, and now she and her husband have a seasonal business and pretend to work well together. Writing for years, mostly short stories and poetry, she has published dark erotica under another pen name and reads everything she can lay her hands on.

http://www.perielizabethscott.com/