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Author<\/h2>\nJo Grafford<\/p>\n
Jo has been writing since she could hold her first crayon. Her favorite books are rich in Colonial and Elizabethan history, romance, strong women, alpha males, and an occasional creature from the otherworld.<\/p>\n
Jo writes high-stakes romance and is currently writing a series published by Astraea Press, which is based on the Lost Colonists of Roanoke Island \u2013 one of the world\u2019s most intriguing unsolved mysteries.<\/p>\n
Follow Jo on: www.JoGrafford.com, www.Facebook.com\/JoGraffordAuthor, www.twitter.com\/jografford, and her YouTube Channel at https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/channel\/UCY4U52b5D612fYdtNfg9QdA.<\/p>\n
On sale for $1.99 from December 1-24, 2014!<\/p>\n
Jane Mannering can shoot a rifle and handle a knife as well as any Englishman. However, she is no match for the red-painted warriors who ambush her section of a Colonial caravan the moment she and her comrades reach the shores of Virginia.<\/p>\n
Jane plots their escape during a forced march inland, leaving a trail of maltese crosses carved on the trees \u2013 their pre-agreed upon signal of distress. All the while, she fumes over what interest their captors could possibly have in a twenty-three-year-old spinster and a rugged band of brick masons, sawyers, and farmers.<\/p>\n
When the ruthless Chief Wanchese intercepts them at the crossroads of the Great Trading Path, Jane is shaken to discover their greatest enemy plans to keep her for himself. It\u2019s a pity he\u2019s the only man on two continents who\u2019s ever stirred her heart. Alas, she has an entire colony to save, and capturing his attentions is not part of their escape plan.<\/p>\n
Special Note: The Lost Colony Series is the never-before-told rest of the story of the Lost Colony on Roanoke Island.<\/p>\n
My eyes drank in the massive arms and broad chest that tapered down to a narrow torso. He was nothing like the slender dandies in London who paraded about in excessive amounts of clothing. Nay, this man required no starched shirts and ruffs or padded doublets to enhance his frame. Silk hosiery and buckled shoes would have made a mockery of such unfettered male strength. The sun-bleached buckskins and well-worn moccasins were the only adornments a man of his ilk would ever require.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou take pleasure in what you see, no?\u201d He leaned towards me again. I backed up until the wall of the cavern pressed into my shoulder blades.<\/p>\n
Of course, I liked what I saw, but \u2018twould be unladylike in the extreme to admit it and grossly conceited of him to question me in such a manner. I straightened and returned stare for stare. The intensity of his gaze unsettled me. Though unsmiling, a wealth of emotions radiated from him. Curiosity. Interest. Desire. And ironclad determination.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou mean to take me for yourself,\u201d I stated in a dull voice.<\/p>\n
Wanchese placed his hands against the wall on either side of me. \u201cWhen I am ready, aye.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sniffed. \u201cThen you are no better than the rest of those savages who \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHeathen and savage,\u201d he corrected tersely. \u201cA phrase I\u2019ve heard oft enough in your own Queen\u2019s Court.\u201d<\/p>\n
I scowled at the reference to his stint as a diplomat in my homeland. A fine time it was to rub my nose in his superior social status. Born into a life of servitude, \u2019twas ironic how my lot had not changed one whit on the other side of the world.<\/p>\n
My chest heaved with the effort to control my alarm. Too tired to fight him off, I searched his face for any sign of compassion beneath the hard outer shell.<\/p>\n
Humor deepened the color of his eyes as he rolled to his back in one swift movement and cradled his head in clasped hands. \u201cYou will come to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIndeed I will not,\u201d I gasped, both relieved at the distance between us and puzzled by the game he played, a game for which I knew not the rules. \u201c\u2019Twould be unseemly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAye, you will,\u201d he retorted, clearly enjoying himself. \u201cBeneath your\u2026\u201d He nodded at the remnants of my gown. \u201c\u2026 finery\u2026is a passionate woman who is accustomed to taking what she wants. \u2019Tis I, methinks, who will be taken by you and not the other way around.\u201d<\/p>\n