New Release —The Viking's Yuletide Woman by Cynthia Breeding

866 A.D.

Ruthless Viking Prince Ivar is determined to avenge his murdered father—even if it means marrying a Saxon princess who will do whatever she can to escape him. Ivar and his men take over the Saxon stronghold of York, England, in the hope of forcing King Aelle to surrender. He holds Princess Aethelthryth, King Aelle’s daughter, as a prized hostage---or so he believes.

But the “princess” captive, Ella, is a lowly maid who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She bears a striking resemblance to Princess Aethelthryth who has been spirited away to safety. Ivar’s captain, Bronwolf, mistakes her for her mistress. Though he is attracted to Ella, Bronwolf turns her over to Ivar, as is his duty…but the fires of desire have already been kindled between the captain and the maid.

Ella continues her pretense of being the true princess in order to protect herself from the brutish Viking prince and his men, but her plan is turned on her when Ivar decides to make her his bride to seal the alliance between their people.

When Bronwolf learns her true identity, there is only one thing he can do to save her from Ivar’s fury at being duped—he must find a way to get her to safety. Can he protect Ella from the barbaric Prince Ivar, or will it cost both of them their lives? Will Ella consent to his plan and become THE VIKING’S YULETIDE WOMAN?

EXCERPT

     Behind her, the solid door splintered, pieces flying as the blade of a sharp axe protruded through the wood. In another second, the bolt tore loose and then the hinges shattered. The heavy plank landed on the floor with a thud that resounded through Ella’s body as she looked up at the Viking framed in the empty doorway.

     His height and massive shoulders took up most of the space. His face was grimy and all hard angles. With the deadly axe in one hand, his wild mane of hair more bronze than blond, and eyes that glittered silver-blue, he looked every inch the fierce berserker she’d heard about.

     He dropped the axe and stepped through the doorway. She inched back as he advanced, his gaze as intent as his movement. “Who…who are you? What…what do you want?” Even to her ears, the questions came out nearly as a squeak.

     “My name is Bronwolf.” An incongruous dimple flashed in his left cheek as he grinned, showing very white teeth. “And I want you, Princess Aethelthryth.”