Welcome Jean M. Grant and her new release!
Two wedding nights. Two dead husbands.
Deirdre MacCoinneach wishes to understand her unusual ability to sense others’ lifeblood energies…and vows to discover if her gift killed the men she married. Her father’s search for a new and unsuspecting suitor for Deirdre becomes complicated when rumors of witchcraft abound.
Under the façade of a trader, Alasdair Montgomerie travels to Uist with pivotal information for a Claimant seeking the Scottish throne. A ruthless baron hunts him and a dark past haunts him, leaving little room for alliances with a Highland laird or his tempting daughter.
Awestruck when she realizes that her unlikely travel companion is the man from her visions, a man whose thickly veiled emotions are buried beneath his burning lifeblood, Deirdre wonders if he, too, will die in her bed if she follows her father’s orders. Amidst magic, superstition, and ghosts of the past, Alasdair and Deirdre find themselves falling together in a web of secrets and the curse of a hundred kisses…
Paperback and e-book are available on The Wild Rose Press and Amazon.
Let's get to know Jean a little better!
1. How would your mother describe
you in one word? Kind
2. What is your favorite flower?
Lupine and Lily
3. What is the most insane question
you’ve ever been asked? How about a former partner’s comment to me: Why settle
for good when you can have great? (yes, he did say that)
4. What word in the English language
do you wish you had invented? Lay and Lie. Really. One word for both would
suffice, don’t you think? Runner-up: Resplendent, because I just love that
word.
5. Where would you like to live? New
Zealand or Scotland
6. What is the first quote that
comes to your mind? “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy,
wealthy, and wise.” (Ben Franklin)
7. What animal best describes the
kind of boy you’d be interested in? Golden retriever – loyal all the way
8. What do you miss about your
childhood? Catching “lightning” bugs (fireflies)
9. If you could change your name,
what would you change it to? I wouldn’t change it. I am named after my father
and my maiden surname was hard for everyone to pronounce, so I truly love my
(Scottish) married name.
10. What is the main fault in your
character? I am too trusting and easily hurt
11. Who is your favorite historical
figure? Eugenie Clark (female scientist)
12. Describe how you kiss in one
word. Sweetly
13. If you met the right boy today,
would you propose tomorrow? Sure. Life is short, you need to follow your dreams
and embrace love while you can.
14. What in the world do you least
desire? Dusting
15. Why do you think most boys date
you? My smile and eyes? My sweetness and ability to carry on educated
conversations. I’m also a wicked good cook and love outdoor adventures.
16.
Finish this sentence: “Happiness is
a thing called…” a quiet, sunny summer day
Jean
is a scientist, part-time education director, and a mom. She currently resides
in Massachusetts and draws from her interests in history, science, the
outdoors, and her family for inspiration. She enjoys writing non-fiction
articles for family-oriented and travel magazines, and aspires to write
children’s books while continuing to write novels. In 2008, she visited the
land of her daydreams, Scotland, and it was nothing short of breathtaking. Jean
enjoys tending to her flower gardens, tackling the biggest mountains in New
England with her husband, and playing with her sons, while daydreaming about
the next hero to write about...
Website: http://www.jeanmgrant.com
Twitter: @JeanGrant05
Pre-order link (Amazon): https://www.amazon.com/Hundred-Kisses-Jean-M-Grant-ebook/dp/B06XPH5XX2
Links on TWRP:
Paperback: http://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/paperback-books/5070-a-hundred-kisses-paperback.html
She
sensed no colors in the murky, lifeless water, and it was freeing. All breath
escaped her. Muted visions passed before her eyes—her mother, her father,
Gordon, and Cortland. Just a moment longer, she thought…
Suddenly,
a burst of warm light invaded her thoughts as air filled her lungs. Red-hot
hands burned her shoulders and ripped her from her icy grave. She breathed life
into her body. She coughed, gagging on the change.
Muffled
words yelled at her.
Oh, God, so hot. His fingers were like hot pokers. Her
head pounded as she slowly returned to the present. Heat radiated from her
rescuer. Somebody had pulled her from the water.
“Wh—?”
“Hush,
lass. You nearly drowned.”
His
voice was as soothing as a warm cup of goat’s milk on a winter’s day. A red-hot
glow emanated from his body. Never before had she felt such a strong lifeblood,
and it nearly burned her. She struggled in his arms to get free. She blinked,
only seeing a blurry form before her. “Release me!”
She
splashed and wriggled, and he did as told. She clambered to the shoreline. Numb
and shaken, she began to dress. It wasn’t easy as she fumbled with slick
fingers to put dry clothes over wet skin. She instantly regretted her naked
swim. She pulled on her long-sleeved white chemise first.
She
faced the forest, away from her rescuer. He quietly splashed to shore. His
lifeblood burned into her back. He wasn’t far behind, but he stopped. She
refused to look at him until she was fully clothed, not out of embarrassment of
her nudity, but for what had just happened. He released a groan and mumbled
under his breath about wet boots. His voice was not one of her father’s
soldiers.
When
she put the last garment on, her brown wool work kirtle, she squeezed out her
sopping hair and swept her hands through the knotty mess. She fastened her belt
and tied the lacings up the front of the kirtle. Blood returned to her
fingertips, and she regained her composure. Belated awareness struck her, and
she leaned down and searched through her bag for her dagger. She spun around.
She
gasped as she saw the man sitting on the stone-covered shoreline, his wet boots
off. Confusion and the hint of a scowl filled his strong-featured face. She
staggered back, caught her heel on a stone, and fell, dropping the dagger. Dirt
and pebbles stuck to her wet hands and feet, and she instinctively scrambled
away from him.
His
glower, iridescent dark blue eyes, and disheveled black hair were not
unfamiliar. Staring at her was the man she had seen in her dream—it was the man
from the wood.
