I'm a great-gran and am privileged to live in beautiful New Zealand.
The stories have been in my head from as early as I can remember anything, and they were always romance. For years writing took 2nd place to my 'real work'; 33 years as a teacher and 6 years as an antiques dealer. Finally, writing is what I do and romance, preferably historical, is what I love. The characters in my head are finally getting their wish, their stories told.
‘The Warrior Lord, greatest of all the Sons of the Dragon’ flashed like a neon sign in the air all around him. She'd been reading too many book blurbs—or she’d finally cracked under the strain. Gina Hackville didn’t see auras but this man conjured the vision of a primal warlord as familiar as her own face in a mirror—yet as forbidden as he’d always been.
Gut-punched, all Torr Montgomery could think was `we've already met' and he couldn't say that because—they hadn't. He'd stake his life he knew her as intimately as he knew himself, that they were as cosmically matched as clouds to sky.
But how could he recognise someone as the other half of himself in one second and know in the next there was no one he trusted less? How could he know all this about his fiancé’s twin sister?
Could a love, imprinted so far back in the mists of a time that now only existed in myth, be recognised, remembered—or denied?