Thursday, February 25, 2016

*** Review For My Tempting Highlander (Highland Hearts, #3) by Maeve Greyson ***

My Tempting Highlander
by Maeve Greyson
Published February 23rd 2016 
by Loveswept
294 Pages |

How the hell does she do this, Maeve Greyson just sucks me
 in every time. And I loved every minute of it. This whole 
series is addictive. I have been waiting for this book since 
the last one when Ronan kidnapped Kenna. Now he is back
 in his own book and is destined to be with Mairi.  I love when
 Granny throws him into the future to bring Mairi back. 
Of course he lands here as a wolf, who gets hit by Mairi. 
That is when all the fun begins. Ronan and Mairi both have 
a problem with trust and till they are both completely honest
 with each other they will never be able to break the curse. 
Now one more thing as this is a few years later Turelie’s 
daughter has grown and is so cute I love how she tells Mairi 
that she can’t get a hug yet as mama say I’m shy. I am so 
ready to read the next book. Now before I ruin this for you 
I will leave off here.  I hope you enjoy this book as much as 
I did. If you do like this book, please consider leaving 
a review. The Authors really like it when you do, 
 they value your opinions too.

My Tempting Highlander – from Random House Loveswept
From the author of My Highland Bride—hailed by Sandy
Blair as “an entertaining time-travel story packed with 
spice, humor, fantasy, and nonstop adventure”—comes
 a sensual novel featuring a wolf-shifting chieftain who 
travels centuries to modern-day Scotland to tame his 
one and only.

Cursed to live forever with neither wife nor child, Ronan
Sutherland has watched all he cherishes turn to dust—more
than once. For hundreds of years, he’s been trapped behind
the mists of Loch Ness, hoping to identify the one woman
who is prophesied to break the spell. Now, at last, the fates
have aligned, and he’s being sent into the future to fetch her.
 After a single glimpse, Ronan knows he’s been waiting all
his life for this passionate woman.

Unlike her time-traveling sisters, Mairi Sinclair is perfectly
content to remain in the present. As a hospital nurse in
Edinburgh, she cherishes the opportunity to put her gift of
healing powers to good use. But everything changes the
morning a mysterious wolf darts in front of her car. Touching
the wounded creature’s tawny coat, a tingle surges through
her. Yet when she returns with aid, Mairi is shocked to find
instead a man with broad shoulders and fire in his
eyes—a man who tempts her to unleash the animal within.

Ronan shifted in the saddle, wishing for the thousandth time his heritage had been different. What would life have been like if he hadna been cursed whilst still in the womb? A great deal shorter. His bitter laugh misted in the cooling air of the early evening wood. Born in A.D. 900, the curse had accompanied him through three centuries searching for the one prophesied to set him free.
Damn his fathervictim to an evil-hearted temptress. Old Domnall had descended from the royal house of Alpine, king in fact, and hed found a rare exotic beauty to take as his wife. Not only did the womans looks cause men to stop and stare, twas rumored she possessed chilling and unexplainable powers. As it turned out, the tales were not rumors at all.
After a few short years of marriage, Domnall discovered his wifes many talents didnt include giving him the one thing in life he truly desired: an heir. The self-professed witch and high priestess to the mighty Fates was barren. So Domnall took another to his bed and bade his mistress give him a son. Ronans mother, Iona, the King of Albas favored leman, adored her king and would grant him anything within her power.
Unlike Domnalls wife, Iona conceived quickly. The king was overjoyed and swore to embrace the illegitimate spawn as his rightful heir, for the child surely had to be a son. His queens jealous rage knew no boundaries. The day she learned of Ronans conception, the sky darkened with black lightning-filled clouds and all the land rolled and shook with her anger.
Ronan urged his mount to a faster pace as his mothers whispered recounts echoed through his mind. Iona had told him of the ear-splitting boom that had rattled the mountains one last time before all fell silent. Tears always broke his mothers voice when she told of the unseen claws forcing her down to her hands and knees. Many a time, with a hopeless whisper into his thoughts, Máthair had recounted the terrible pain as her body shifted and changed into the form of a great white wolf.
Ronan remembered the witchs curse as though hed heard it firsthand. How many times had his mentor, Graham, and Máthair told him how the dark sorceress had cackled with glee as she had pointed at the wolf and claimed that Ronans mother had finally taken the form of the worthless bitch she truly was?
Then the evil one had proclaimed that Domnall would die within the next year, childless but for the bastard cub that the wolf Iona carried in her womb. The royal line would die out until the day the young wolf cub discovered how to shift into the form of a man and find the woman possessing three specific qualities: lightness of step, a soothing touch, and sight for the unseen.
If the man able to shift into a wolf at will found such a woman and married her, the curse would be broken and all would be set aright. But if he erred and chose the wrong mate, his wife and any child she attempted to bear him would die within a year of their ill-fated union.
A grumbling roar thundered to his left and the sound of snapping tree trunks and branches followed. Ronan shrugged his heavy wool mantle looser about his throat and urged his horse onward. Graham had insisted on escorting them to the farthest boundary the curse allowed the mentor to go. The protective mists surrounding Draegonmareonly passable if one knew the ancient words to part the fog: a mundo ultra, a world beyondgrew thin this far from the loch so Graham dared not risk taking to the sky. Pure grace by water, soft as a melody by air, the dragon Graham wallowed worse than a mired cow when it came to walking across thickly wooded land.
Twenty-one summers of age and full of himself, Graham MacTavish had been mesmerized by the spectacle when King Domnall had ordered his crazed wife drowned in the loch for her evil doings and witchery. Head held high, arms lashed to her sides, and dark curls whipping about her naked body, the enraged queen was the most intoxicating beauty the lad Graham had ever seen. The conniving temptress perceived the young mans interest and in one last attempt to save herself, she entered his mind, whispering all the erotic pleasures shed teach Graham if he would but save her.
Graham nearly stepped forward, but as the rope swung the witch out over the water, his flesh grew cold at the hideous reflection the condemned woman cast across the waters surface. The beautiful witchs truly hideous formthe blackness of her heart and soulwas revealed by the pure waters of Loch Ness. Flinching, Graham turned away.
Before the queens head disappeared beneath the waves, she cursed Graham to become a creature even more horrendous than the reflection hed seen and be bound to Ronan as they wandered through eternity searching for the one woman to break the curse. Dragon by day, man by night, Graham guarded Iona the wolf and her cub and later mentored Ronan when he learned to shift into a man.
What a trio we are: wolf, dragon and . . . Ronan bit back the word. Shifter. He sat straighter in the saddle, raising one hand in farewell as his mount broke through the last of the boundary mists. May the gods favor us this time, my friend. Pray Mairi Sinclair is the one.
Graham saluted with an exploding volley of flames above the treetops then rumbled, Let it be so.
Aye, lad. Let it be so. To MacKenna Keep.

~*~*~ Maeve Greyson ~*~*~

No one has the power to shatter your dreams unless you 
give it to them. That’s been Maeve Greyson’s mantra since 
she was a girl. When she’s not at the full time day job at the 
steel mill, Maeve’swriting romances about sexy Highlanders 
and the women who tame them. Tucked away in a five acre 
wood, Maeve listens to the wind singing through the trees 
and hears her characters telling their stories. Her work is 
proofed by her sharp-eyed dog, Jasper, and her greatest 
supporter is her long suffering husband of over thirty-five 
years who’s learned not to throw away any odd sticky notes 
filled with strange phrases.

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