Whirlwind Romance

By M. S. Spencer

What do pirates, princes, Puritans, and propaganda have in common? Lacey Delahaye, forager and jelly maker, finds out in this romantic suspense set in the western Caribbean. If you’d like to win a pdf copy, please leave a comment and your email address. I’d love to hear from you.

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A little introduction to the writing of this book:

Up until my thirties, I traveled a great deal, living in many countries with amenities that many would consider below standard. So it wasn’t until I married and settled down in an old farmhouse with an acre of land that I could indulge my fantasy of living off the land. I built a formal herb garden and planted all kinds of fruits, vegetables, and flowers. The one thing I couldn’t get to grow was mint. Yes, the gardeners among you will scoff, but it took me years to get a plot to flourish. When it did, it threatened to take over the entire acre. I had to do something.

So I called upon my sister-in-law, to whom Whirlwind Romance is dedicated. She directed me to an old recipe for mint jelly. Once the mint invasion was under control and I’d mastered the technique, I spent my summers working up recipes for herb jellies—tarragon, lemon balm, rosemary and more. It might have been helpful if I actually liked jellies, but they made lovely Christmas gifts.

Florida—my new home—contains a wide variety of ecosystems, from coastal dunes to dry upland pine woods, which produce many exotic and interesting wild fruits. Most of these can be made into jelly. I thought it would be fun to make my heroine, Lacey Delahaye, a jelly maker. So Whirlwind Romance gives you not only a thrilling adventure and romance, but recipes as well.

Blurb:

In the aftermath of a hurricane, Lacey Delahaye finds herself marooned on the Gulf coast of Florida with a mysterious man. They are immediately drawn to each other, but before Armand can confess his identity, they are kidnapped and taken far from civilization to a tiny, remarkable island in the western Caribbean. With the help of her son Crispin, a small, but proud young boy named Inigo, and a cadre of extraordinary characters, Lacey and Armand must confront pirates, power-mad ideologues, and palace intrigue if they are to restore the once idyllic tropical paradise to its former serenity and find lasting happiness.

******

Excerpt (+18) : Reunion at the Pool

Lacey fidgeted. Inigo said she would see Armand, but when? And how? She enjoyed Maitea’s and Edrigu’s company, but if she didn’t find herself in Armand’s arms soon she’d go stark raving mad.

“Dinner is served.”

They filed into the dining room. Lacey peered into every corner, hoping to see Armand. No one except the butler and a footman peered back. After dinner, Maitea suggested a stroll on the battlements. Lacey lagged behind in case Armand lay in wait for her. Nothing. They did two circuits and, as the moon rose, Maitea yawned. “It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’re tired. Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

No one waited for her there either. She even checked the shower just in case. At last, she undressed and lay down. She remembered this room and the bed, and a beautiful night of lovemaking. Now she couldn’t sleep. She went out on the balcony. The moon rode high, walking a carpet of stars. Their myriad needles of light bounced off something below. A terrace? No, a swimming pool. Funny, I didn’t notice it the last time I was here. A swim in the moonlight might relax me. She slipped out of her nightgown, threw on a thin robe, and followed a set of rough, rock-hewn steps down.

At the bottom she found an oval pool, almost hidden by tall pink oleander and night-blooming jasmine. A waterfall tinkled at one end. She slipped into the water. It felt cool against her skin. She floated on her back, gazing up at the sky. Contentment filled her. I can wait for Armand—there’s all the time in the world. Anticipation is half the fun anyway.

The whisper wafted across the ripples. “So you have come back to me.” For a horrible second she thought Damien—or worse, Traficant—had found her. But then a wet head rose next to her and shook the glistening black locks out of a dear face.

“Armand!”

He swam a lap around her. “Who did you expect?”

Dazed, she touched his face. “I’d about given up hope for tonight.”

“I’ve been waiting here for you. Come to me.”

If this were a scene suitable for children, the next few minutes would allude to sighs and chaste kisses. Or there would be a scene break with the words “romantic interlude” accompanied by a little light music.

But it’s not.

Lacey rolled over in the water, placed a hand on Armand’s head and ducked him under. He came up spitting and laughing. “That’s no way to treat a prince.”

“That’s the way I treat my princes. Where have you been, anyway?”

Armand didn’t answer. He ducked under the water again. In the dark Lacey felt something gently touch her thigh, then pull it to the right. Bubbles rose up under her, tickling the lips of her vagina. She twisted, trying to cross her legs to get away from the sensation. A hand grabbed her other thigh and dragged it to the left. Lips replaced the bubbles, then a tongue speared her unprotected channel, darting in and out, prodding the nub of her clitoris. She took hold of Armand’s shoulders and pulled his head closer. The orgasm kindled. Just as she slid over the edge, Armand’s head came up. He gasped and sucked in a mouthful of air. “Armand, I was almost there! Why did you stop?”

He panted, “If you want more, you’ll have to allow me to breathe now and then.”

“All right—go ahead and rest a bit. Catch your breath.” She dropped below the surface, circling around to Armand’s rear. Reaching between his legs, she hefted his balls and rolled them in her hand. His fingers gently pried her hand away and pulled her between his thighs. His cock, hard as a shillelagh, bobbed before her. She caught it with her mouth and ran her tongue around it. Armand kicked his feet and rose to the surface, bringing Lacey with him. He held on to the coping with one hand to stabilize them and let Lacey finish her work. “Oh God, Lacey, that’s it!” Warm, creamy semen spurted out, dissipating in the water.

Armand swung her around so her back was to the pool wall and straddled her.

“Have you caught your breath yet?”

“Oh, yes.” He held her waist and let the still rigid penis slide into her waiting pussy. The soft water cradled them as they moved in rhythm, making their own waves. In the dark Lacey could make out little except the saffron flashes in Armand’s eyes. She kept her gaze locked on them while his thrusts lifted her almost out of the water. Like dolphins mating, they breached and plunged until the moment when man touched the innermost part of woman and fused. The wire connecting them across the miles, a wire that had been stretched almost to its limit, recoiled into its natural shape—a spring tightly coiled around them as they clung together.

Armand wrapped Lacey in his arms. “It’s been so long,” he whispered. He kissed the top of her head, her forehead, her nose. “I’ve imagined this moment—”

“Every day, every hour—”

“Every second.”

His lips fastened on hers.

******

How about a recipe from the book?

Cocoplum Jelly

The cocoplum is native to South Florida and occurs naturally in cypress hammocks and wetland areas. Evergreen, it forms a dense, clumping bush. Fruit is a dark purple drupe one to two inches in diameter, and ripens May through August. The nut is also edible.

200 cocoplums to make 2 cups juice

2 cinnamon sticks

4 cups brown sugar

1 box (1.75 oz.) powdered pectin

Place peeled plums and cinnamon sticks in water to cover. Bring to a boil and simmer for about 1 ½ hours, or until liquid is dark purple. Remove from heat and strain, reserving the nuts. Add water if necessary to make 2 cups of liquid.

Shell the nuts and chop. In a jelly pan add the juice, nuts, and pectin and bring to a rolling boil. Pour in sugar all at once and bring back to a rolling boil. Boil exactly one minute. Remove from heat, skim off any foam, and ladle into hot, sterilized jelly jars to within ¼ inch of the top. Wipe rims and place the two-piece canning lids on the jars but do not tighten completely. Turn the jars over and leave upside down for five minutes on a padded rack. Turn upright and tighten the lids completely.

Alternative method: Process filled, tightly closed jars in boiling water for 15 minutes.

Cool.

Makes about 4 pints.

*****

Don’t forget to leave a comment and your email address to be entered to win a copy of Whirlwind Romance!

About the Author

Although she has lived or traveled in every continent except Antarctica and Australia (bucket list), M. S. Spencer has spent the last thirty years mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director and parent. She has two fabulous grown children, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

Ms. Spencer has published nine romance novels. The first two, Lost in His Arms and Lost and Found, were published by Red Rose Publishing. The other six—Losers Keepers, Triptych, Artful Dodging: The Torpedo Factory Murders, Mai Tais and Mayhem: Murder at Mote Marine (a Sarasota Romance, Lapses of Memory, and the Mason’s Mark —were published by Secret Cravings. Whirlwind Romance, her ninth, was released September 2014.

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~H. A. B.