Katherine’s #RomanticIdea
I highly recommend a
stout cup of coffee while watching the sun rise with the one you love!
Pirate’s Coffee
1 Shot (Special Dark) Kahlua
1 Shot Rum, spiced
8 oz. Coffee
Mix together in glass and top off with ground cinnamon and/or
whipped cream.
Blurb:
THE PIRATE’S DUCHESS by KATHERINE BONE
Duty forces him to take on the pirate code, but honor brings
him back.
Prudence, Duchess of
Blackmoor, has one desire—to be happy again. After struggling to overcome the
horrifying death of her husband, she accepts an earl’s offer of marriage,
confident she’s taking a step in the right direction. But demons, refuse to
die, and Prudence finds herself caught in an intricate web of deceit that
threatens the very foundations of all she holds dear.
Tobias, the Duke of
Blackmoor, crosses the line when an assassination attempt on him fails. To
restore the reputations of friends under attack by the same villain, and ensure
his wife’s safety, he stages his own death, becoming The Black Regent, a notorious
pirate bent on brandishing justice, never thinking he’d survive. But to his
amazement, he has, and now the darkest-kept secrets are not worth losing the
duchess his wife has become.
Bio:
National best-selling
historical romance author Katherine Bone
has been passionate about history since she had the opportunity to travel to
various Army bases, castles, battlegrounds, and cathedrals as an Army brat
turned officer’s wife. Who knew that an Army wife’s passion for romance novels
would lead to pirates? Certainly not her rogue, whose Alma Mater’s adage is “Go
Army. Beat Navy!” Now enjoying the best of both worlds, Katherine lives with
her rogue in the south where she writes about rogues, rebels, and rakes—aka
pirates, lords, captains, duty, honor, and country—and the happily-ever-afters
that every alpha male and damsel deserve.
~ Excerpt ~
Prudence stood at the
threshold with her father, looking out into the chapel. The pews were radiantly
lined with flowers in shades of white and green, all leading up to where Basil
patiently waited. His handsome face was eclipsed, his thick dark hair
illuminated by fragments of light shining through the stained glass.
Father patted her hand
again and gazed down at her fondly. “Shall we do this, my dear?”
She nodded. “Yes. I am
ready.”
Her father wasted no
time guiding her to the altar, past faces she’d known long and well, servants
devoted to her as a child and, since her husband’s death, Blackmoor’s tenants,
as well as notable gentry.
“It’s been two years
since the duke’s passing,” someone whispered to her left.
Prudence pressed
forward, past rightful members of the ton
seated near the front.
“Imagine being a widow
at three and twenty,” another voice said softly.
Tobias’s face
momentarily replaced Basil’s, and her slipper caught on the hem of her gown.
Father’s quick reflexes kept her from falling flat on her face before Basil,
God, and their guests.
He squeezed her arm
reassuringly. “Do not listen to foolish hen prattle, my dear. The earl is
waiting for you.”
Straightening her
shoulders, she focused on Basil’s handsome face and light-blue eyes that
glinted like Blackmoor silver, twinkling, promising years of fidelity and
conveying assurances that all would be well. Tall, lean, and clothed in simple
black and white, Basil gave her a pleasant smile that lured her to him, and
warmth swept through her. He was her future now. No more sleepless nights lying
awake, feeling helpless and alone. No more nightmares or thoughts of what could
have been.
Her father stopped just
before the altar and placed a kiss on her brow. “Your mother would be so proud
of you if she were here. You are strong, my girl.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she
whispered, her heart filled with gratitude.
He turned her toward
Basil, who sketched a bow, then lowered his hand and helped her step up to the
altar. When she finally stood beside him, he raised her hand to his lips,
kissing the amethyst ring on her right hand before clicking his heels together
with practiced ease.
He leaned down to
whisper in her ear as he removed her veil. “No regrets?”
“None.”
“I promise you’ll never
have them.”
“I accept your
challenge,” she replied, returning his smile.
Together, they turned to
Mr. Leyes, who stood like a rotund badger in front of his den, a book held open
in each hand. He nodded to Prudence and Basil, then began reading from the
first book, a copy of Fordyce’s Sermons.
Throughout Leyes’s
literal depiction of a woman’s character, Basil held her hand in his, gently
rubbing her knuckles with his thumb as brilliant light filtered through the
windows behind the vicar’s back, bathing them in prisms of color.
Leyes paused, then said,
“Is anyone present who can justifiably object to the joining of this man and
woman in holy wedlock?”
Someone cleared his
throat, and Prudence’s breath hitched. When the vicar craned his head to find
the instigator, the room fell silent. Then Leyes nodded, smiling confidently at
Basil, who turned to take hold of both her hands and gazed into her eyes.
“Basil Halford, Earl of
Markwick, do you take Prudence Denzell, Duchess of Blackmoor, to wed?”
The doors to the chapel
slammed open.
“I d—”
“He does not,” came a deep, angry voice from the
back.
That voice! It can’t be . . .
Prudence’s body tensed.
Surely she’d heard wrong.
She turned away from the
vicar and Basil to see a cloaked man standing in dark silhouette, holding a
silver cane. There was something ill-omened about the way he stood and angled
his head. Her heart clenched, then raced.
“What is the meaning of
this?” Basil asked, anger rolling off him in waves. “How dare you interrupt our
wedding?”
“No one is going to marry my
wife today.”
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