Highland Magic

It's Ian's day on the Angels blog. I've given over "Guy Day Friday" on my personal blog to Genie Gabriel and her new release Challenging the Legacy.

Highland Magic goes on tour with goddessfish starting November 5th.
First stop:  http://www.krystalshannan.blogspot.com/?zx=f03b65c52ffac28a

Ian is the roguish second son, the one with no responsibilities. (he thinks) But he finds himself in the hands of Keely a witch woman and healer. She can see the future and has predicted the death of the Scottish King. Ian falls in love with her when he first opens his eyes. Yet he has no memory of his past or even his name.

Highland Magic the second book in the highland series:

Highland Honor and last Highland Song.

They stand alone but are better when read in order.

Excerpt:

"Beauty--" He murmured the first thought plummeting into his pounding head. He felt as if he'd slept beneath a herd of stampeding warhorses.

The woman before him was beautiful. He closed his eyes and opened them in a futile attempt to clear his hazy vision and his screaming temples. Despite the pain lancing through his head with every beat of his heart, he willed himself to be patient and quiet.

Holy Christ.

He must have died and gone to heaven. The woman was a saint. Pushing against the bed with the intention of rising, he fell back. Pain throbbing mercilessly in his head was a clear indication he was not in heaven.

"What?" Beauty moved from the pot bubbling over the fire. "You're awake?"

Her large amber-colored eyes rested on him and set his pulse clamoring. Her long sooty lashes fluttered closed for a moment, and when she looked at him again, a softly feminine smile curved upward on rose-pearled lips.

He stared at her, inhaling the sweet scent floating around her, memorizing the soft curve of her hip, the gentle sway of her rounded breasts. She was beside him, close, warm, smelling of cinnamon and spiced apples.

"Now, you cannot be falling back to sleep. I've questions for you to answer." She sat on a small wooden stool near the bed, her voice sending ripples of pleasure through him.

He reached out to her, thinking to touch her and wondering if her skin was soft and smooth, but the slight movement caused him the greatest agony. Her hands, the color of alabaster, were clenched tightly in front of her. When the single beam of light slanted across the floor and rested on raven locks tumbling off her shoulders and down the front of her bodice, his body tightened in anticipation. Promises of fantasies beyond his imagination flashed through his mind.