Spotlight Grace Elliot and Verity’s Lie

My guest today is author Grace Elliot. Grace's new release, Verity's Lie is available now at third party retailers. 

Welcome Grace!

Verity’s Lie by Grace Elliot

Charles Huntley, Lord Ryevale, infamous rogue…and government agent.

In unsettled times, with England at war with France, Ryevale is assigned to covertly protect a politician’s daughter, Miss Verity Verrinder. To keep Verity under his watchful eye, Ryevale plots a campaign of seduction that no woman can resist– except it seems, Miss Verrinder. In order to gain her trust Ryevale enters Verity’s world of charity meetings and bookshops…where the unexpected happens and he falls in love with his charge.

When Lord Ryevale turns his bone-melting charms on her, Verity questions his lordship’s motivation. But with her controlling father abroad, Verity wishes to explore London and reluctantly accepts Ryevale’s companionship. As the compelling attraction between them strengthens, Verity is shattered to learn her instincts are correct after all – and Ryevale is not what he seems. If Lord Ryevale can lie, then so can she…but with disastrous consequences.

Excerpt:

Verity closed the library door and wilted.  With toe-curling embarrassment she recalled her prudish disapproval and cringed afresh.  Why couldn't she have appeared worldly and calm, instead of behaving like a stuttering, prissy schoolgirl.  And why Lord Ryevale, of all people?  If she hadn't been distracted by plans to confront her father, then she wouldn't have been caught so off guard.  Verity took comfort in that it was unlikely their paths would cross again.

            Clutching Cicero against her chest like a shield, Verity composed her thoughts before facing her father, then made for the garden.  The root of her discomfort lay in noticing Lord Ryevale earlier that evening.  When he arrived, the atmosphere had changed tangibly; women became more vivacious and men bristled defensively.  He moved with the self-assurance of a pack leader and, when he passed close by, a wicked smile quirked across his intriguing lips—and Verity didn't usually notice mouths.  But more alarming still were his eyes—nut brown and intense—and when he had glanced in her direction, she felt as if he could read her mind.  Shaken, she wondered if she had inherited her mother's weakness for the opposite sex, a sobering thought that worried her.

            From his wide chest and broad shoulders, to the square jaw and strong cheekbones, Ryevale filled her mind; so when she had received her father's note to fetch his copy of Cicero, she had welcomed the excuse to leave the ball and calm her wits.  That was, until she opened the library door to find the man she was running from in a compromising position with another man's wife.

            After three laps of the garden, her cheeks had cooled and her mind felt more ordered.

            Tonight she would seize the moment; before her father left on business, she would appeal for more freedom.  Her speech planned out, she was ready to face him.

            Verity hurried along the corridor, pausing outside the study door to straighten her hair. This was it: now or never.  She knocked and, at a gruff acknowledgment from the other side, entered.

            Between the gloomy room and being a little nearsighted, it took Verity a moment to assimilate three men were present: her father, the prime minister and a figure in the shadows.

            "Father.  Lord Liverpool."  She squinted, trying to identify their guest.  As Ryevale stepped forward, her pulse hit a crescendo.  Alarm fluttered in her breast, threatening her ability to breathe.  "My lord."  How her voice held steady, she had no idea.

            "Good evening."

            He stood at ease, which irritated her.  Why did her wits scatter like pigeons before a cat when he smiled in that bone-melting way?  Annoyed at herself, she answered his smile with a glare before turning to her father.  "Your book, Father."

            "Ah, Verity.  Thank you."

            Her father took a cursory glance at the spine then set the Cicero aside.

            Verity longed to escape, to be able to breathe and to release the tension swelling in her chest.

            "If that's all, I won't intrude further."  She felt Ryevale's gaze, hot against her skin, and some unnamed sensation coiled and tightened inside.

            "Ah, Verity, let me introduce my guest."

            "We've already met," she replied tartly.

BUY LINKS

Amazon .com http://amzn.to/13CxrN1

Amazon.uk      http://amzn.to/12aEqI6

Author bio and links

Grace Elliot leads a double life as a veterinarian by day and author of historical romance by night. Grace lives near London and is passionate about history, romance and cats! She is housekeeping staff to five cats, two sons, one husband and a bearded dragon (not necessarily listed in order of importance). “Verity’s Lie” is Grace’s fourth novel.

Subscribe to Grace’s quarterly newsletter here:  http://bit.ly/V7T6Jd

Grace’s blog ‘Fall in Love With History’  

Website         

Grace on Twitter:        @Grace_Elliot

Grace’s author page on Amazon

Facebook

Spotlight on Olivia Starke and Project Terminal: Legacy

Today, I'm so pleased to welcome Olivia Starke. Olivia stopped by to tell us about her latest new release, Project Terminal: Legacy from Beachwalk Press.

Welcome Olivia! 

Available from Beachwalk Press, Kindle, NOOK, ARe, GoodReads

Be sure to follow my virtual book tour 07/15/13-08/02/13 with Shades of Rose Marketing! I’ll have a Rafflecopter giveaway for a $25 gift card to winner’s choice of Amazon or Barnes & Noble PLUS a free ecopy of Project Terminal: Legacy. For information on where I’ll be, drop by my website www.authoroliviastarke.com OR Shades of Rose Marketing.

Olivia Starke

PROJECT TERMINAL: LEGACY Book 1

Zombies and super soldiers? Laura is the one hope for a world gone Hollywood crazy.

In only a matter of hours Laura Swift has been bitten by a zombie, rescued by Mr. Tall, Dark, and Foreboding, and thrown into a world gone Hollywood crazy. She has no choice but to follow Damian into his underworld of manipulated viruses and genetically altered super soldiers. Even as her life hangs in the balance, she can't deny the attraction she feels for the incredibly sexy and thoroughly imposing Infantryman.

Damian Gonsalves believes he has a cure for the virus changing innocent people into bloodthirsty undead. Within Laura is the key to stopping the horrific plague. All he has to do is keep her alive and safe, and stay one step ahead of those pursuing them. Her stubbornness frustrates him to no end, while her body drives him to distraction.

When they discover the secret behind Project Terminal, will they survive long enough to help stop the unleashed horror? Or will they just be two more victims of a virus threatening all of humanity?

Content Warning: graphic sex, strong language, and violence

Excerpt:

"Four more hours. We have to prepare."

Laura went cold. "Prepare?"

"The progression will snowball from here." His voice dead, he continued to stare at some unseen view.

He'd kissed her with such passion, now he spoke without emotion. How could someone do such a turnabout? The lousy bastard. Rage, white hot in intensity, shot through her, her head swimming with it.

"Maybe you're just stupid, Damian. Stupid for allowing a zombie thing to attack me. I wouldn't be dying if it wasn't for you. You deserve this, not me." Her fists balled at the injustice of it all. "You should die for this."

She sucked in wheezing breaths, unable to fill her lungs, and fell back on her butt. Her eyes widened, searching a darkened corner of the room, a distorted face appearing from the shadows. It grinned with broken, yellowed teeth, its eyes glowing in the dimness.

She gagged over raw terror.

"Oh my God, I saw something over there." She scrambled backward. "Damian, one of those things is in here."

* * * *

Damian glanced around the sparsely furnished room. Other than a few flies and mosquitoes buzzing around them they were alone.

He closed his eyes, the weight of guilt pressing down making it difficult to speak. "We're alone, Laura. Nobody else is in here."

The night wore on, and fits of anger mingled with her confusion. Several times he'd had to prevent her from dashing out the door. He paced the confines of the living room, waiting for the last of the madness to run its course. Laura lay on the floor, lashing out toward some unseen attacker, before her breathing became rapid, labored pants. White foam bubbled from her mouth.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away. He'd become disillusioned with the system he'd given his life to shortly after discovering they'd screwed up royally in creating the virus. In a lab he'd watched a man succumb to it, changing into a soulless corpse. It'd been horrific the first time he'd witnessed it. Afterward Headquarters had assigned him to track down an infected woman outside of the facility. It was his duty as a super soldier to clean up their mistakes. Now he wanted nothing more than to see the lab destroyed, something he should've done in the first place. He should've listened to Doug and Max, two of the doctors from the early days of the project. Their warnings had come to pass, but he'd been a stubborn, misinformed jackass.

Curled in the fetal position, Laura looked like a sick child, fragile and broken. His throat constricted, even though it was ridiculous to have feelings for someone you didn't know. He was military, Army Infantry, for Christ's sake, he knew how to pull a trigger without regret.

Laura rolled onto her back, staring toward the ceiling with glassy eyes. Despite the tremulous hold she had on life, she was already dead.

He existed as a government killing machine—an automaton they'd designed. Nothing more. He'd given his humanity away to the project. He wasn't much better than the corpses he hunted.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, baby. You were right, I deserved this, not you."

His vision blurred when he stared down the barrel, the silencer aimed squarely between her eyes, his heart beating a crazed rhythm in his chest. His finger squeezed ever so slightly on the trigger. Outside a mourning dove called to its mate, a haunting song echoing in the room. He recalled a story from his youth about how a dove would arrive to carry a person's soul to the afterlife. If he believed in anything but the here and now, in that moment he would've thought it true.

Laura's mouth gaped open, strangled noises escaping her throat, seizures taking her into death throes.

He lowered his arm and thumped the butt of his gun against his thigh, waiting for the monster to appear. When she became the undead, when she moved to attack him, he'd have the power to destroy her. She deserved one last try to get the best of him. Maybe it wasn't Laura anymore, but he'd honor the fighting spirit within her. She'd never get past him, but if she took a piece of him in the process he'd have an excuse to end the whole goddamned thing here, in this stinking house. If he ever got infected his duty would be to put a bullet in his own head.

Laura's body stilled, her eyelids drifting closed.

Any moment…

Her eyes popped wide open, her back arching. She sucked in a breath as if surfacing from deep waters. He turned his body sideways, leveling his gun in dead aim, waiting for the corpse to lunge.

"Damian?"

Available from Beachwalk Press, Kindle, NOOK, ARe, GoodReads