Welcome to my stop on Samantha Holt's Virtual Book Tour for The Angel's Assassin. Samantha has prepared a guest post for us below, please make sure to leave a comment or question below for her to let her know you were here. You can also fill out the Rafflecopter form below to enter her giveaway. You can also follow her tour stops here, the more often you comment, the better your odds of winning.
A Day in the Life of a Romantic Author by Samantha Holt
6.30am - I ignore the alarm clock and try and drift back into dream world, preferably accompanied by a handsome fictional man. My husband works abroad, so it’s entirely acceptable. Eventually, I drag myself out of bed and make the twins and I a cup of tea. They’re six and are already entirely dependent on tea, just like any good English person should be. Then I scream at children to get dressed while checking my Facebook/email and remaining ensconced in dressing gown. After that I shovel breakfast down their throats and then finally get dressed.
8.45am - Run children to school. I return home and pretend to do housework. I may have a nap if children woke me up lots (very common and I am a devout catnapper), and return to dream-world for a while - the one filled with handsome knights and chivalrous deeds.
10.30am - Catch up with emails. I respond to fan messages (yes, I do get the odd one or two!), write a blog post, arrange author interviews for blog, arrange giveaways for blog and do lots more boring marketing things. Then I tidy the house a little more and tackle any remaining chores.
12.00pm - Lunch! I tend to eat whatever happens to be floating around in the fridge. Usually it’s leftovers. If it’s mid-week, I’ll meet friends for lunch which usually renders me useless for the rest of the day. If not, I make coffee as I’m still hungry and tired then I sit down with the computer on the couch. I’m not disciplined enough for a desk. I write for three hours and happily drift into imaginary land again.
3.00pm - Children home. I force their homework on them, tell them to stop nagging for food, read their school books and we finally all sit down for tea. We talk about our day and have a good old gossip.
7.00pm Children to bed! We settle down for a bedtime story. The twins are now old enough for proper books now - hurray! Roald Dahl is a favourite, especially ‘Revolting Rhymes’. When they’re settled, I dive into the bath and start writing again. I write until the bath water turns cold and I turn blue. Then I remember that I need to wash my hair and crawl out of the tub freezing and bedraggled. Usually unable to quite give up, I write a bit more and finally put on some TV or pull out a book until bedtime.
The Angel's Assassin
by Samantha Holt
44,000 words (eBook format)
Erotic Historical Romance
Contains Elements of Action
Heat Level: Steamy
Amazon (US) - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00989J3PM
) - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00989J3PM UK
A medieval story of love and betrayal.
As a rebellion sweeps
Lady Annabel finds her home overrun by rebels. Much to her relief, a dark
knight comes to her rescue, claiming to have been sent to protect her by her
But Nicholas holds a secret about the job he was sent to do and it is a far cry from what Annabel believes it to be. As the attraction between them grows, Nicholas begins to question the dark life he has lived. But is it enough to change him and will Annabel ever trust again after learning the true nature of his sinful duty?
“What is your name?”
He stared at her as he paused mid-bite. Withdrawing the bread, he shifted uncomfortably.
“My name is of no import, my lady.”
“I would know the name of my rescuer.”
He looked to the floor. “I am no rescuer, just a lowly knight doing his duty.”
“Your modesty becomes you, Sir Knight, but I would still know your name.”
Annabel awaited his response, the air between them growing uncomfortably thick.
He heaved a sigh, wondering how it was that a diminutive woman had got the better of him.
“Nicholas,” he grated out reluctantly.
“Nicholas,” she repeated softly. “And I am Annabel.”
“I know, my lady.”
“Nay, Annabel. Not ‘my lady’. You have surely earned the right to address me as such.”
He shook his head, dropping his gaze to the ground once more. He could not bring himself to utter her name, not when he knew what was to come. “Nay, my lady, I am your servant and I will address you as a servant should.”
Annabel must have sensed she was fighting a losing battle as she protested no more and fell silent. Nicholas risked sideways glances at her as her as she nibbled delicately on the hardened bread, and he realised he took far too much pleasure in the sight of her ample lips moving with each bite.
Brushing the crumbs from her skirts, Nicholas watched, mesmerised, as she twisted her long braid over her shoulder. Tugging on the red ribbon that tied the end of the braid, it loosened, sending the length of her hair shimmering across her shoulders. It brushed the dirt and Nicholas felt his mouth dry as she touched a finger to his arm. Surrounded by a halo of hair, she glanced up at him, her mouth curling. Without a word, she tied the ribbon about his large arm and fussed with it until she was satisfied.
Nicholas touched tentatively at the ribbon and gave her a perplexed look.
“You saved my life, Nicholas. ‘Tis a favour from a lady to a knight.” She grinned at his confusion. “You have received favours before, surely? I would expect a knight of your valour to have championed many a lady.”
He wondered if she was teasing him but her expression was completely guileless. He groaned inwardly. This woman probably believed wholeheartedly in courtly love. From his little experience he had come to conclude that it did not exist.
“For fear of disappointing you, my lady, I am sorry to admit that there you are mistaken. I have championed no ladies.”
“Well, ‘tis no matter,” she told him with a tender smile, “For you have championed me.”
Unable to bare her dazzling eyes any longer, he stood abruptly. Champion? He laughed inwardly. She had no idea of the kind of man he was, and he was thoroughly aware that he was far removed from the heroic knights that minstrels and poets spoke of.
He felt a pang of something, an uncomfortable sensation settling in his gut. Nicholas couldn’t name it but he didn’t like its implications. For all her naivety and gentle manners, this woman was going to be trouble. He felt threatened by her somehow, as if she had directly challenged him rather than quietly accepting his every word without question.
“Are you ready to continue on, my lady?”
Annabel sighed and stood, in spite of her obvious weariness. “I am in your hands, Nicholas. I will do whatever you command.”
Nicholas tried to tamp down on the desire stirring in his loins at her words and failed. Instead, he grunted and turned away, stomping off without checking if she was following. The sooner this job was over, the better.
He ran. Aware only of the need to keep her safe, he sprinted until his thighs burned and his arms ached from her weight. Not that she was a heavy burden, for she lay limply in his arms, only the faint throb of a pulse assuring him that she was still alive. She wore just her chemise and it had taken a while for him to notice, his fear stricken mind consumed with other thoughts. When he had finally noticed, he wrapped her tightly in his mantle.
Continuing on, even as the dark of the following night consumed them, he narrowly avoided tripping and spilling her onto the ground. Only his resolution to keep her from harm prevented him from giving up as he stumbled across the uneven terrain, lit by little more than a half moon.
Nicholas’ steps faltered as the exertion took his toll and he was forced to a sluggish pace, his body screaming for respite. As the sun began to flicker over the horizon, it hurt his eyes, in spite of the cloud amassing in the sky. Fearing a downpour, he staggered his way into the protection of the nearest forest, unsure now of where they were.
The forest closed about them but his anxiety refused to wane. Why were they trying to kill her? If Lord Benedict had intended to kill Annabel himself then why go about this charade of hiring him? Nicholas could not fathom what he was trying to achieve. He couldn’t have possibly known that Nicholas would never go through with his sinful duty.
His legs began to shake as his lungs throbbed, but a look to Annabel’s soot covered face fortified him and he forced his legs to do the unthinkable.
He had to gain some distance between them and Godfrey. He was undoubtedly on horseback but he thought it likely he would not have risked journeying at night. Nicholas had little idea as to what to do next, but he resolved to keep pushing forwards until exhaustion claimed him.
After a day and a half of no rest, it finally did. He stumbled one final time and realised that it was unlikely he would recover again should he fall once more. Annabel lay peacefully in his arms and he did not want to risk hurting her. Pressing his back against a broad oak tree, he sank gratefully to the ground, Annabel still stretched across his arms.
His head slumped back against the bark and he shifted her head against his chest, settling her into his lap. His arms closed in around her, determined that even in sleep he would protect her. His leaden eyelids dropped and sleep quickly claimed him as his hands remained gripped around Annabel.
He had never given a woman a gift before and he had felt apprehensive when handing it to her, but her look of delight had brought a warmth into his heart that he had never experienced before. He had only intended to get her something simple and warm but the gown had reminded him of Annabel - gold and sparkling. It had cost him plenty of coin, mayhap more than it was really worth, but he knew if he had the chance he would happily spend his entire fortune on pretty gowns if it garnered the same reaction.
But it wouldn’t be up to him. Nicholas had to remind himself of that. He was to protect her, naught more.
“Nicholas?” Annabel’s voice beckoned to him, curling around his heart.
He took a deep breath, sucking in the cool, crisp air, hoping it would provide him with the necessary courage to face her. Each moment in her presence was making it harder and harder to fight the sweet temptation of her beguiling kisses. His strength to resist was steadily waning, but he knew he had to be strong. It was not intended for someone like him to receive the honour of her affections. They were undoubtedly misplaced and she would realise that if she understood his true nature. But he could not reveal it to her, for she would surely send him away and then how would he fulfil his duty to protect her?
Turning around, he dipped his head to enter through the small doorway of the hut. Though it was dark, Annabel seemed to shine through the gloom, all available light glinting off her flaxen hair and golden gown. As she heard his footfalls, she turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder.
“Will you help me with the laces?”
As if he could say nay. “Aye.”
Moving to her side, she lifted her arm as he twisted the laces up her side with trembling hands. Annabel watched him as he did so, her bright eyes never leaving his face.
“Stop.” she said softly.
He halted, his jaw ticking as he clenched it. Unable to meet her doe-eyed gaze, he stared at the ties in his hands. Annabel twisted around to face him and he let the laces fall from his grasp. Her hand reached up and grazed across his jaw, drawing his eyes to hers. The milky expanse of one shoulder was just visible and his gaze darted down, drawn to the enchanting sight of bare skin.
Nicholas’ hand shot out before he had even realised was he was doing and it hovered above her shoulder, itching to touch it. The heat of her skin seemed to penetrate the gap and his hand shook with restraint.
“Am I so repellent that you cannot even touch me?”
He looked at her in surprise and noticed a hint of vulnerability dancing in her expression. “God, nay,” he rasped.
His hand closed the gap in a sudden rush of movement, pulling a gasp from her while he groaned at the feel of soft flesh under his hand.
About the Author:
Samantha Holt resides in
Warwickshire, England, with her twin girls, having followed
her soldier husband around the
for nearly 10 years. Growing up in Hampshire, she was inspired by the authors
Jane Austen and Elizabeth Gaskell, both of which lived and wrote only miles
from her home town. UK
Samantha loves the romance genre and has been devouring romantic literature for as long as she can remember. History is another passion of hers and she loves to combine her love for history and romance into exciting and passionate tales.
Contact Samantha at:
Website - http://www.samanthaholt.org.uk
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/romanticfiction
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