by Auria Jourdain
GENRE: Historical Romance
A ghost child left to die in a French forest, Contesse Blanchefort seeks her long-buried past after her adoptive father dies at the Bastille. Embarking on a quest across England with a pagan woman and a rogue Gypsy, Contesse falls ill in London, and her companions are forced to seek help. With overwhelming compassion, physician’s apprentice Eric McEwan nurses Contesse back to health, but discovers that her exotic accent and pale features set his heart ablaze…her mere touch brands his soul. Passion blooms as the two discover their love for one another—with disastrous consequences.
Upon his expulsion from Cambridge, Eric must battle his domineering grandfather’s wrath. When family tragedy strikes, he must return to his provincial home and confront his abusive past. Carrying on with her quest, Contesse struggles to free herself from her childhood as sinister details are revealed. Without Eric, she’s lost. But love is strong…can they conquer their demons to find one another again?
Dumbfounded at this new information, Contesse shook her head. “I had no idea! All these years, and our country doctor couldn’t explain what was wrong with me…a child with skin and hair as pale as a—” A gasp escaped her lips, finally uncovering the epithet the old crone had called her. “She called me a ghost!”
“Who? Your mother?”
Folding her arms across her chest, she glanced away. “No. The old woman that haunts my dreams. She took care of me when I was a child…before Edouard found me. She was right…look at me!”
Eric pulled her close and forked his fingers through her hair from the roots to the ends. Trailing a light finger down her neck, he husked, “She’s daft, Contesse. You certainly feel real to me…pure and innocent, like an angel…”
Contesse inhaled sharply as desire surged through her veins. Waves of desire invaded her body with his mere touch. A flush of warmth crept up her cheeks, her womanly folds moistening in response to his husky voice. What’s he doing to me?
Entwining his fingers with hers, he searched her face. “Have you ever been kissed?”
She lowered her eyes, unable to face him lest she burst into tears. “Oui. Once. But he didn’t want me either.”
With a sympathetic shake of his head, he tipped her chin up and stared at her. “Then he’s a fool. God, but you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…”
History buff, Francophile, and hopeless romantic that demands an HEA—it’s the perfect mixture for writing romance! With fond childhood memories of reading on quiet afternoons, I loved the “happily ever after” sweet teen romances, but I quickly plunged into the world of historical romance—my get-away-from-real-life transporter. Add in a degree in Political Studies with six years of French, and twenty years later, I’m living my dream. With three published novels, 7 finished, and several more in my head, I have years of work ahead of me!
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