It was not an unusual site to see Negro tenant farmers crossing the intersection of Spring and Barbrick on the way to the cotton warehouse
Nancy B. BrewerTag: historical-fiction civil-war historical-romance
He is dressed in a long, white robe and in his hand is a white cap. I draw up as he passes down the hall; he does not see me. Shortly I hear a horse leaving. There is much I do not know about him, but tonight I know one of his secrets. He is a midnight rider.
Nancy B. BrewerTag: historical-fiction historical-romance
It was a warm and natural feeling to be there. We were not black or white people. We were just people bound together by love and understanding. As I walked out of that church, I felt like I had rediscovered my inner peace.
Nancy B. BrewerTag: historical-fiction historical-romance
Before I disappear behind the door, I stop and turn around to look at him.
Nancy B. BrewerTag: historical-fiction historical-romance
The pages that follow will be our journey of the life we built together here in Concord, North Carolina. These pages will reveal fragments from the past and events that occurred along the way.
Nancy B. BrewerTag: historical-fiction historical-romance
"He smiled at me and I felt the tenderness only a daughter could feel.
Nancy B. BrewerTag: historical-fiction civil-war historical-romance
She squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
She sniffed, opened her eyes then looked up. “No. I don’t wish you to leave.”
His eyes changed from lukewarm to hot.
The iron of the seat met her back. Oh yes, definitely she was the keeper at the zoo and she’d just offered her own leg, medium-rare, to the lion.
Tag: bdsm historical-romance erotic-romance
As she reached back for the buckle, her fingers met Mr. Meisner’s. She jumped. “I can do this... Sir.”
“Ah.” He brushed aside her fingers. “I see you’ve at least remembered the sir.”
“One always calls gentlemen that, just as you--”
With only a rustle of cloth to warn her, his teeth met in the lobe of her ear, sending a spark into her middle. Like the melt of winter snow, she felt heat pool in her lower body. Her fingers curled against her collarbone where her hands still rested either side of her neck.
“I’m not a gentleman, Faith.
Tag: bdsm historical-romance erotic-romance
He would die in this room, buried alive by the weight of his life.
Christine FonsecaTag: romance historical-romance ya gothic-fiction thriller-horror
Have you always been this skilled with women?" - Joseph to Iain
Pamela ClareTag: historical-romance bromance
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