Hi, there. Instead of Sophie coming to talk
to you today, I decided it’d be more fun to come and share my favourite methods
of making Nathe Amergin, a.k.a. Mr I’m-too-serious-to-smile, show his feelings. As if that was a dirty word or
something. Trust me, I know much dirtier
ones ;) My name’s Sapphy and I’ll be your tour guide around Nathe’s emotions
today. So, how to get this locked-down lover to show you he cares? Here are my
top ten ways:
1: Attack
him. First impressions count, right? He came after me and yet he got so mad when I sent him flying with my ninja-wind
power. Hilarious.
2: Run
from him. He tried to take me to jail. Have me hanged. All because of a
little mistaken identity. Jeez, humour this guy does not have. Turns out running from him brings out the caveman from Mr
Control – and he likes to chase.
3: Tug
on his strings. Nathe is an ambassador of the realm, a queen’s enforcer and
incredibly loyal. As soon as I implied the danger to his people, he was not happy. And when Nathe isn’t happy,
he gets uptight and stiff and sulky. Makes you want to bite his lower lip.
4: Oh, a good one. Kiss him. Nathe gets embarrassed easily when it comes to
attraction.
His ears blush. So cute. Except when he kisses you back – and then
the earth shakes.
5: Tease
him. I swear, the man must have grown up where nobody cracked a joke or
something. Sarcasm gets an eyebrow twitch, innuendo a strangled comment. And if
you say you’re going to tell the uptight nobles where to get off, he goes this
deep shade of red that’s hysterical.
6: Ah. Not my favourite. Get hurt. Nathe has this incredibly
protective streak along with an archaic idea about women needing his
protection. Anyone tries to hurt me, the earth trembles with his contained
rage.
7: Push
him to talk about his family. If there was ever a man in need of opening
up, it’s Nathe. He locks his emotions away so he doesn’t have to deal with
them, but he needs to grieve his past. You have to shovel some manure before
you can grow roses. Even when he gets annoyed about your pushiness, it’s worth
a few displays of irritation to get him to open up.
8: Get
seen with other men. So along with that ingrained protective streak, Nathe
also has a deep vat of hidden jealousy. See, he doesn’t let himself care for
any woman until I pushed my way into his life and if he even thinks another man
is making eyes at me, Mr Cool flips to burning point. Watch out for the sparks
that fly …
9: Give
him the green light. You’d think a man who’s all about control might be a
dud in the bedroom, but oh. My. Gods. Enough said.
10: Finally, the tenth way of forcing
Nathe’s emotions out from under lock and key? Tell him you love him. I guarantee a display to treasure forever.
For more ways of letting Nathe’s feelings
free, I recommend you check out our book. Strap yourselves in – it’s a bumpy
ride ;)
Whispers
The Divided Kingdom Series
Book Two
Sophie H. Morgan
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Date of Publication: 03/01/2016
ISBN: 9781619230903
ASIN: B018VL0860
Number of pages: 342 pages
Word Count: 102,929
Cover Artist: Kanaxa
Book Description:
He’s no pushover. And she ain’t no fairy princess.
No one would guess that Sapphy, awesome whirlwind of Maze badassness, grew up sheltered in the Fae realm. Witnessing a murder drove her into the humans’ broken cities to hide, but now she’s back, going undercover to keep history from repeating as the tournament to choose a new Fae queen dawns.
The only pebble in her shit-kicking boot is the jaw-gritting interference of Nathe Amergin, a Fae Enforcer whose solemn violet eyes set her skin to sizzle.
After the loss of his beloved sister, Nathe saved his last shred of sanity by clamping a lid on his emotions and forging a path to justice. When this frustrating, blue-eyed, my-go-or-I’ll-blow female informs him of a possible threat to the realm, his offer of support is genuine, if reluctant.
While he’s willing to work with her to protect his people, this sinful smart-ass skates perilously close to unleashing an avalanche of passion that, as the final choosing looms and whispers turn to screams, could bury them both.
Product Warnings
Contains ear-blushing sex between a flighty Fae with a mean air jab and a grounded Elemental who makes her earth move. Add a murderous queen clinging to power, and sabotage that strikes out of thin air. Anyone got ear plugs?
Excerpt:
“Where is she?”
Nathe ran a hand down the back of his head, rubbing at the pressure point in
his nape. “How did you fare at the dress shop? She must look acceptable,
Tomas.”
“Trust me.
Saphaia looks…acceptable.”
The edge of
humor was not welcome. Not tonight. “Where is she?” Nathe stressed. “The
announcements of competitors will begin soon. It will not look correct if she
hasn’t mingled first.”
Tomas blinked at
the rush of words. “You’re nervous.”
“I am not.”
“Like a virgin
on her wedding night.”
“Can you stop
thinking about sex for one moment, Tomas? This is serious. So many aspects of
this plan can fall apart if she makes one wrong step.”
“Do you have so
little trust in her?” Tomas pushed his hands into the pockets of his dress
suit, a little more fashionable than Nathe’s own, the color of a good claret
that complimented his dark skin.
Nathe sniffed.
“You have known her one day. How can you have so much?”
Tomas shrugged,
ignoring the giggles of passing noblewomen as they headed for the buffet. “She
is a straightforward woman, a species I could get used to. Even attracted to.”
“What does that
mean?”
“As I said, she
is an intriguingly open woman. No false modesty. And she has an enticing form.”
Dark emotions
swirled in Nathe’s gut at the thought of Sapphy pressing her lips to Tomas, her
body astride his friend’s.
The earth
threatened to tremor beneath him until he quelled it. “What happened at the
gown shop?”
“We bought
several outfits. We talked about life and love.” Tomas tilted his chin. “Are
you looking in that direction, my friend?”
“No.”
“Then I pity the
blind man.” With those puzzling words, Tomas slapped a hand on Nathe’s arm.
“For all the good it may bring you, she’s on the stairs.”
Hit with a flood
of relief, Nathe twisted to where Tomas now pointed.
And stood
frozen.
His breath
halted, his heart pounded once before forgetting its next action entirely. The
dancers melted away, the shouts of laughter and revelry faded, even Tomas
blurred until there was but the dark.
And her.
Sapphy stood
poised at the top of the marble staircase like an angel from a painting, one
graceful hand brushing the bannister, her face in profile as she looked away.
Her long, lithe
body was wrapped in silk. The gown was a waterfall of blue, darkest blueberry
at the bodice melting into crisp ice at the hem. Baring creamy white shoulders,
it cupped her round breasts, slipped down to a waist he could span with both
hands, before flaring out to the floor.
Her face had
been painted, her lips a pale pink, her eyes a dramatic storm of smoke and ice.
Sapphires trickled from her earlobes and graced her throat, simple,
understated, elegant.
But it was her
hair that was magnificent. A sweep of silvery-blue, the color of ice crystals
on the verge of melting, it had been left loose to wave down to her hips, the
different blues shimmering in the electric lights. A crown of bluebells adorned
her head, a dramatic contrast between sensuality and innocence. The awakening.
She moved like
the wind she called her own when she began to descend, a rolling of her hips
that had Nathe’s blood sizzling, snapping, aching for her. His body stiffened,
but he drifted toward her, unable to stop himself. Drawn together, he thought.
Magnets.
And still there
was nobody but them as he met her at the middle. She spoke not a word, but her
eyes remained watchful, knowing. Even bluer now that her true colors had been
revealed. They blistered him with a knowing look.
With a small
smile, she held out a hand.
In the
dreamscape, every movement was slow, and his taking of her hand was no
different. Raising it to his lips, he inhaled the scent of her skin, brushing
his lips over her knuckles, lingering.
His eyes flicked
up. Breathless was how she looked, sensual and slumberous as she watched him
out of hooded eyes.
His groin was on
fire, his belly in knots as he longed to yank her to him, gather her skirts up
and ride them both to ecstasy.
She waited for
him to speak, but he couldn’t find the words to describe her beauty, every one
trite and cliché. Every one fell short.
So he took the
hand he still held and pressed it inside his jacket, against his racing heart.
As her smile floated away, he moved in as close as the steps allowed.
“I burn,” he
said softly. He held her gaze as his breath whispered across her cheek.
She quivered.
About the Author:
Sophie H. Morgan is a paranormal romance author with a love for hot guys, sassy heroines, and HEAs that seem impossible. When not at the keyboard working out ways to drive her characters into each other’s arms, you can find her rambling about the English countryside with her crazy spaniels, shopping for one more pair of shoes, or devouring yet ANOTHER romance novel with ANOTHER bag of raisin cookies.
Facebook: www.facebook.com/sophiehmorganauthor
Twitter: @SophieHMorgan
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/SophieHMorgan
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