Find more from this author on:
About the author:
SHELLY THACKER is a USA Today bestselling author who has earned lavish praise from Publishers Weekly, The Oakland Press and The Atlanta Journal-Constitution for her “innovative,” “addictive” and “erotic” historical romance novels.
What inspired you to write your book?
The popularity of the History Channel television series, “Vikings,” has aroused interest in the fierce invaders from the North, and there’s nothing sexier and more irresistible than a blond, broad-shouldered giant with a drive to conquer. But good Viking romances haven’t always been that easy to find. So the four of us decided to combine our beloved and bestselling Viking stories into this unique collection that couldn’t come at a better time–when Season 3 is about to kick off!
Here is a short sample from the book:
From “The Shipwreck” by Glynnis Campbell…
He was staring at her again with his penetrating eyes. She didn’t think she’d ever seen eyes so blue—as blue as a summer sky, nay, a robin’s egg. Rattled, she turned aside to add another log to the fire.
“I think your arm is broken,” she mumbled. Why she’d told him that, she didn’t know. After all, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t about to fix it for him.
“It’s a wonder my head isn’t broken,” he said with a humorless smirk.
She blushed at the reminder of her unchivalrous blow and picked up the poker again, eager to change the subject. “How is it you know my language?”
“I learned it from a Pict slave.”
She clenched her teeth. A slave? She jabbed at the glowing coals, but refused to rise to the bait. Maybe she should turn him into a slave.
As if he’d read her mind, he asked, “What do you intend to do with me?”
She’d been asking herself that same question all morning. For the moment, she’d hold him hostage. If any of his men turned up alive, she might be able to bargain for her safety with his life. But she wasn’t sure there were survivors. Even if there were, there was no telling whether he was of any value to them. The Northmen didn’t seem to have the same regard for life as her people did.
“I haven’t decided yet,” she said.
“If you’re going to kill me,” he growled, “get it over with.”
She frowned. Kill him? In cold blood? Obviously, he knew nothing about chivalry. She straightened with pride, planting the poker between her feet like a blade. “I can’t do that. Unlike you, my sense of honor prevents me from slaying unarmed men.”
He lifted a brow in mockery. “Give me a blade then,” he suggested.
Avril gave him a sardonic smirk. She wasn’t so foolhardy as to think she could easily triumph over a gargantuan Northman. But she didn’t appreciate his insulting attitude. “I may be honorable, but I’m not soft in the head.”
He half-smiled. “You look soft to me.”
Her composure slipped, but only for an instant. “I assure you, you wouldn’t be the first man I sent limping from the field of battle.”
His eyes narrowed suggestively. “And you wouldn’t be the first woman I laid out flat on her back.”