New Release! Calthraca: Surrender Love by Camryn Cutler

Hey all. I've had some personal issues to deal with recently, so I apologize for being so absent on this blog.

However, I am back to let you all know of a new release! Generally I like to do these the day the books actually come out, but unfortunately I missed it. If you haven't read this series yet, now is the time to start! Although books 1 and 2 are stand alone, book 3 really requires the first two to understand what's going on. And it's a series, people. Read it in order. :-P

CALTHRACA: SURRENDER LOVE

by Camryn Cutler

Torrid Romance Fantasy

Rating: Erotic Romance - Explicit

Now available from Whiskey Creek Press Torrid

He was not the man fate intended for her.

He had been her first lover, a man so masterful that he had held her life in the palm of his hand. When Tengri-Khan, Sehzade of Tartak died, Adama had wanted to die with him.

Fifteen years later, an older and wiser Adama Fawkes has found her fated love in Kesim Trasain, her husband, a powerful sorcerer, and the man who would move heaven and earth for her. Settled comfortably into their happy life, they thought their journey was over, they thought they'd earned some peace. But fate had other plans.

Tengri-Khan has returned and he wants his wife back.

Once again stolen from her family, Adama is far too strong now to meekly accept Tengri's rule. Her fervent plans for escape, her hope and her heart are put to the test when she encounters Khalid Fariz, Saracen and assassin from Tengri's past. Determined and seemingly unstoppable, Fariz has set his sights on Adama, and his powerful charm threatens to overwhelm her.

Can she escape both Tengri and Khalid and somehow find her way back to Kesim, or must she Surrender Love?


Excerpt:

Tengri stood at the stern of the ship, watching the land recede. In the distance, he saw riders; seven…eight…nine men thundering towards the shore. He watched them intently, knowing they were looking for Adama.

“Imal!” he shouted. “Razi etmek’ benim durbin!”

A small boy ran to him carrying a brass telescope. He looked through the scope end and turned it to focus. There! He saw a tall bearded man. He was scanning the harbor with his eyes. The man rode a huge black horse that pawed and stamped impatiently. He holds his seat well, Tengri thought, then, impressive beast. He always recognized and appreciated an excellent horseman and a good horse. The man’s face was hard, determined. One of his men leapt from his horse and ran to the small building that acted as a registry. Tengri continued watching them as the boy returned and spoke to his master. He could almost make out the angry words Adama’s lover used.

Tengri laughed under his breath. He understood exactly how the man felt. “She is mine, my friend, and you are too late.” He closed the scope, gave it back to the boy, then returned below.

He wondered how she felt this morning. She had responded to him with a passion that nearly took his breath away. It was the elixir, he knew, but still his heart felt lighter than it had in years.

He unlocked the door to the cabin and saw her standing near the window. She was wrapped in a blanket, looking out. Her hair was a messy copper cloud around her head, and her slim feet were bare. He looked closer and his heart contracted painfully at the sight of the tiny tattoos she had on her ankle. The ones she would have had made while she grieved him. He didn’t have to read them, he knew what they would say: “Sehzada Adama, beloved wife of Tengri, gives herself to heaven. Together for eternity.”

He knew she told the truth, she had tried to die.

So had he, but his captors had been as good at keeping him alive as they had been at making him crave death.

Adama heard him enter but didn’t turn. She had seen the riders as well.

“Good morning, Adama. Benim omur yasam,” he said softly.

“I am not your ‘life’, Tengri,” she said in Minalosian. “That man, the one on the black horse?” She indicated with her chin. “I am his life. His and our two children,” she said quietly. “You’ve stolen me from my family once more, only now, I am not a young virgin, nor am I frightened of you or what you can do to me.”

She turned to face him, slow tears running from her eyes. “Seref’behar died fifteen years ago, when you did.” She paused. “I have no choice now, I know. You may force my body, but you will never again have my heart.” She looked out the window again. “Because that belongs to him.”