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By Laurel O'Donnell

A Raven-Haired Hellion

After wasting her mom in a blaze of fireplace, thirteen-year-old Taylor Sullivan filed fort Sullivan with just a golden ring, and a sour legacy of rage. Armed with a pointy dagger and a brief sword, she employed out as a mercenary, sworn to disclaim her womanhood and her noble historical past. quickly notwithstanding, the fateful ring introduced a daring knight in sizzling pursuit—a relentless lord who might condemn her to dying or redeem her in flames of passion.

A Knight of Honor

Noble knight Slane Donovan was once duty-bound to discover the lady with the Sullivan ring after her strong father decreed she will be his brother's bride. With fort Donovan less than siege, it used to be her dowry that will keep his family's ancestral domestic. yet at the same time the fierce younger good looks eluded Slane's seize, her sensuous charms enflamed his heart—daring him to wreck the code that certain him to kin and declare her endlessly as his personal.

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Phillips and she called me Rudy. She’s a large, beautiful, statuesque black woman, and she scares the hell out of me. She was standing over me, looming, really, her intimidating bosom heaving. I couldn’t do anything but stare up at her. I felt like a guilty child. “Mrs. ” She pivoted sideways and pointed through the window to the street. She had painted, one-inch fingernails and a lot of rings, a lot of clattering bracelets. She reminded me of a goddess, an Amazon. “Please, Mrs. Phillips, if I could just talk to that girl for two more minutes, I think she—” “Lady,” she said, incredulous, “you are fired.

She started to cry again. Really cry—she was sobbing. What a nerve I’d touched that time. “Hey, Stephanie, it’s all right. Oh, baby, it’s okay, it’s okay. ” The red light kept flashing, flashing. ” We’re allowed to lie. And if we’re not, we should be. ” Stephanie asked in a small voice. “She’s around. We both survived. ” No point in mentioning I haven’t seen her in almost five years, not since my wedding. “She says she’s sorry. ” “Yeah. ” She heaved a sigh. “It sounds like your family’s more fucked up than mine is.

I’m not sure, but I think this was when Mrs. Phillips started listening in. “And, you know, this isn’t even the main thing,” Stephanie went on when she could talk. ” “But right now it’s something else, something even…” “What? ” She started to cry again. I just waited. I was crying, too, but silently now. I thought of Eric, my therapist, and how he never cries, no matter how badly I go to pieces in his office. And yet I never think he’s cold or indifferent—oh, no, just the opposite. But he doesn’t cry.

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