By Sandra Hill
“Sandra Hill writes tales that tickle the funnybone and contact the guts. Her books are continuously clean, romantic, artistic, and hilarious.”
—New York Times bestselling writer Susan Wiggs
“Sandra Hill constantly promises shrewdpermanent, horny, laugh-out-loud action.”
—New York Times bestselling writer Christine Feehan,
An early vintage from USA Today and New York Times bestselling writer Sandra Hill, The Tarnished Lady beneficial properties an analogous outrageous humor and scorching ardour that fires up the pages of her delectable Viking romances. this is often ancient romance at its best, funniest, and sexiest, as a disgraced Medieval good looks moves a discount with a vengeful knight, stepping into a chaste marriage of comfort that the lusty warrior is set to make a extra “hands-on” affair.
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Additional info for The Tarnished Lady
I desperately need a husband. Oh, 'tis certain I want no man in my bed. " Eirik asked with amusement, no longer angry. Eadyth waved a hand in the air as if the number mattered not. " he choked out. " "Do not be ridiculous," Eadyth said, but then she felt her face heat at the image. " Eirik hooted with laughter. Eadyth wilted under his ridicule and tried to go on. " He lifted a dark brow in surprise. "You know of Asa? " Eadyth shrugged dismissively. " 'Tis of no importance. I see now that you will not wed me.
Why couldn't she curb her wayward tongue? Accustomed to dealing with crafty tradesmen and laggard churls, she ofttimes forgot how to be diplomatic. With deliberate care, she banked her rankling temper and forced herself to proceed carefully before speaking again. "I apologize, my lord, for my hasty words. The urgency of my situation causes my loose tongue, but, please... " Eirik poured more ale into his goblet and sipped thoughtfully, scrutinizing her through slitted eyes, and obviously finding her lacking in the attributes he would seek in a wife.
Bertha? " He barely recognized his old cook in her clean perse tunic. Her skin had been scrubbed red, and her clean hair lay wetly in snakelike clumps down to her shoulders, framing a face mottled with outrage. " he finally asked, choking back astonished laughter. " 'Tis the lady, Mistress Eadyth. The bleedin' harpy... beggin' yer pardon, master, fer me disrespect... " She held out her red, roughened palms to demonstrate how hard she had labored. Eirik frowned in puzzlement. " Bertha's face turned bright red.
The Tarnished Lady by Sandra Hill