The Lady Evangeline Witherton Pembroke is a mysterious Romance Novel author from Begma. No one has ever seen her in person, but her books are extremely popular and have been translated into a slew of languages. These are the top sellers currently in Begma City and Amber!

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The Keep On The Borderlands

Journey to the treacherous and tempestuous mountain regions of Pathi in this passionate tale of a feisty beauty determined to uncover the softer side of the iron-willed Custos warrior who has wed her, bed her.and stolen her heart. Though she has yet to be courted by any man, spirited Mandrake lady Gilliana decides the time has come to visit the dower lands gifted to her by her father's kinsmen. She arrives to find the small keep surrounded by three Pathi men, each one vying for her hand.and property. Though resolved to refuse them all, the threat of battle on her threshold forces her to boldly choose a suitor: Custos Conrad, a handsome, daring knight of few words. As his wife, Gilliana is stunned by his terse, cold distance-and her own yearning to feel passion in his arms. Now, bringing her healing touch to a land and a keep ravaged by treachery and secret enemies, she dares to reach out for the one thing she fears she may forever be denied.her husband's closely guarded heart.

Never A Tame Lioness

Would a Reluctant Beauty Ever Wed … Headstrong Lady Portia of Lyonesse has an impeccable pedigree … and not a penny to her name. Which is why she is alone on the rain-swept moor, waiting for a wealthy earl she has never met but whom her family insists she wed. When she's nearly trampled by the blackguard's stallion, Portia is more determined than ever to refuse Earl Moreton's suit. Handsome devil he may be, but she could never marry a rogue who's so clearly out of control!

A Wild, Incorrigible Beast? An avowed bachelor, scion of the notorious "Mad" Moreton clan, Lord Damon won't be shackled in matrimony. Why then does this rain-drenched beauty excite him so? Desire consumes him, but the eminently beddable lady resists his well-practiced seductions. Now only one route remains: Damon must ignore his bad blood, vanquish his inner beast … and prove to Portia that she's the only woman capable of taming his heart.

To Forget The Past

Anything can happen after dark … Tired of being treated like a servant by her own family, Lady Jane Guthrie of Begma finally has a chance to escape … at least for one night. Attired in a daring gown, she arrives at a scandalous courtesans' masquerade ball looking forward to her few hours of freedom. But when she sees Seth Rutledge, her skin begins to tingle with anticipation. Many years ago, Seth broke her heart by falling for her beautiful, title-hungry sister. But now here he is, right in front of her, offering her his lips …

Embittered by war, Seth returns home to inherit the title that would have once won him the woman of his dreams. Though duty demands he wed, he's convinced passion no longer has a place in his life … until a masked siren sets his heart aflame. Desperate to find her again, he has no idea it's his childhood friend Janeand that after one night together their lives will never be the same.

The Desperation of the Dolphin

The novel is heavily pro-Rebman, and the smugglers drawn as a merciless caricature of Minosian pirates; the novel differs from past novels in that there is interior artwork of some of the more climactic moments of the novel - The Daring Rescue. The Final Battle. The Confrontation. The Happily Ever After. However, the artist has outdone him or herself on the cover; Arik Matheson is the epitome of masulinity with his shirt artistically torn open in battle, Lady Taera's wavy blue hair a pleasant contrast to his tanned skin and golden curls. He holds her aloft in his arms, the silver tattoo of the dolphin on his chest (revealed in the novel to mark him as the last of a line of ancient princes who have a covenant with Rebma and dolphin-kind) matching the silver curlicues of the title on the cover.

The last drawing is of the gallows, entitled 'The Smugglers' Reward'. Lady Taera stands in the foreground, Arik Matheson on one knee at her feet.

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The September Children

The war against Amber had taken a turn for the worse. Throughout Weirmonken what had once been optimism had faded to hollowness; while men still spoken of the imminent defeat of proud princes of the Kingdom, now it was with a heaviness in their eyes and grim fatalism in their voices, the voices of men knowing they spoke an untruth.

Ursula could barely stand it; as the fastest of scouts, she was tasked with moving from pack to pack to bring word from one chieftain to another, running with her dark hair bound as a woman's when not running on all fours as a wolf. It was through her that the voices of the Weir were joined, alpha to alpha. And more and more, those voices were falling silent in frustrated and embittered resignation. Save for Jaspher.

Alpha to the fierce Bloodfang pack, Jaspher was neither man nor wolf to be trifled with. Ursula respected him for his refusal to be silenced as much as for his determination that the Weir would win. And yet, she hated the weight of his amber-eyed gaze as he stood over her, lean and hungry with those eyes traveling along her skin by firelight…

Pride Before The Fall

'May the stars hide us,' Sumaya whispered to Rafe, her slender-fingered hands pressed together between the curve of her breasts. Silk rustled as she knelt beside him in the shadow of the oasis.

Rafe looked to the sloe-eyed beauty at his side; he knew as did she that in the darkness beyond their hiding place, the djann roamed with hungry mouths and insatiable appetites whetted for human blood. There was no telling what they might do to such a delicate flower of the desert in their obscene lusts; he knew that it was up to him to keep her safe from any and all harm.

'We wait until the moon sets,' he told the priestess. He was acutely conscious of the dark scar on his cheek which marred his once-fine and princely appearance; the scar which was the mark of his shame, though Sumaya knew nothing of it. Carefully, Rafe put a strong arm around her shoulders…

The Dross From the Gold

'Do you mean to tell me,' Devon Salamander, Magister Imprimus, demanded of the sullen child whose arm he held fast, 'that you attempted to rob blind a mage of Pathi without even knowing the risks?'

The child struggled, trying to pull free. In doing so, the hood of the filthy cloak fell back, revealing a tumbling spill of bright golden hair and resentful but lovely blue eyes in a pretty, feminine face.

'Let go of me,' Aimee told Devon from between clenched teeth. 'I care not for your sorceries; my only interest now is in being rid of you!' Inwards she cursed herself for a fool; once a fool to steal, though hunger had driven her to it, twice a fool that he should have the bad fortune for her to be a mage, and thrice a fool… thrice a fool, for the strange stirrings that shockingly red hair and those imperious green eyes did have upon her…

'Be that as it may,' Devon's green gaze raked over her with new attention, 'you interest me strangely; and you are not such a child upon Amber's streets, after all. You must learn that there are consequences for crossing a Pathi-trained sorceror…'

A Fine and Courtly Sentiment

'I own five hundred acres of the best land from here to the other side of Dunross Hill.' Gerald Whittaker was not known as a man to be trifled with; everyone knew that. Why he'd come west away from Begma City nobody guessed, but everyone was agreed that Gerald Whittaker didn't run from anyone or anything.

Which was one reason of many why he was hanging on like grim death to win this argument; he'd feel a proper fool to be run off by some outsider female who didn't even come up to his chin.

'And I've yet to meet the man or woman,' he continued, staring down at Ceilidhe, 'who could tell me how to do better.'

Ceilidhe brushed her fine blue hair back from her cheek, refusing to drop her gaze. She'd come from Rebma to act in good faith on behalf of her mother's investments, and she wasn't about to let some arrogant land-walker stop her, no matter how much he tied her stomach in knots. She kept her gaze locked onto his unwavering brown eyes, ignoring the warmth of his strong form; too close, he was. Too close entirely.

'Well,' Ceilidhe retorted, 'then I suppose, sir, that today shall be marked an occasion. I myself have never met a stubborn fool who believed no one at all might know better than he - not until this very day!'

Glass Fell Like Stars

'It begins.' Nimue stood upon the tower's top floor, looking down past the parapets at the empty streets below. 'It will never be the same again, will it.'

'No,' the sorceror agreed from his place in the shadows, voice quiet. 'It will not.'

Nomie would not look at him; refused to meet those hated bright eyes that looked upon her and knew too much. She stroked one dainty hand over the thickness of her ebon braid, grey eyes filling with tears. 'I wish that for once, Pathi, you could be mistaken.' Her voice was thick with the edge of weeping. 'Then, Lyonesse is doomed - and will you stand there and do nothing?'

Harald stirred. He was not ordinarily thought a compassionate man, just to his allies and merciless to his foes. His sandy hair and sapphire gaze were easily overlooked or thought mild only by the unobservant. But he found himself moved by her plight - her distress and her bravery reminded him of what it was to be a man. He stood, and he stepped out of shadows, moving to her with suddenness that surprised her.

'Lady Nimue,' Harald answered quietly, bending his head in order to meet her gaze, 'You do me a disservice.'

His hand seized hers tightly, and he bent so that his breath fell warm against her cheek. 'I am a sorcerer; a magician, whose tricks in the past you have decried, do you not remember? But I will help you…' He watched hope flare in her eyes. 'For a price.'

A Distant and Rising Tide

'And when the tide rises, I'll be gone,' Captain Nils Sunder stared down at the slip of a girl who'd so thoroughly made a mess of his plans - and his life. 'With you on board still, Lady Dolores. I've no intention of letting loose my prize now.'

A rakish wing of jet black hair fell over one hazel eye, and he moved to brush it away. It was the chance Dolores had been waiting for; she seized her cup, dashing her wine in Nils' face. With one swift motion, she grabbed up a knife from the table, backing up.

'Come near me and I'll gut you like a fish,' she snarled, trying to sound fierce instead of breathless. Chestnut ringlets bobbed, already mussed from her abduction at the hands of the captain's men, threatening her own line of sight.

Nils sputtered, then laughed, eyes agleam with admiration. 'I am only the more determined to keep you, with such spirit! But I'll ensure a most enjoyable punishment for this inconvenience, my lady.'

The Minosian pirate stepped forward purposefully, seeming unafraid of her blade…

The Wolf Prince's Woman

Penny was aware of his eyes on her whenever she walked into a room. They remained on her; moved against her skin with a heat and presence that she could not escape. It brought warmth to her face and quickened her breath - and oh, how she hated him for it.

Worst yet, his eyes were the yellow-gold of a wolf of the field, reminding her no matter his form that he was not wholly, not solely a man. Men she could dismiss - but there was nothing about Prince Duncan that could easily be put from her mind.

It was in man's form rather than wolf's that he stepped in her path now, blocking any easy departure. Penny felt her cheeks grow warm, and she lifted a defensive hazel gaze towards him.

'Your highness,' she murmured. She gave the outwards signs of respect, though inwards she screamed at him to go, to allow her peace to be restored. 'Was there something that you wanted?'

Duncan smiled. His oak blonde hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, ignoring her slight shudder. 'Yes,' he answered, voice lowered to match her own. He leaned in to whisper, aware of the jolt of her pulse.

'Your scent betrays you, my lady,' Duncan whispered, lips close to Penny's ear. He made no motion in haste, watching her, with those intimate eyes. 'But there is something that I want - something that I will have. I lay claim, Lady Penelope, to what is mine. You.'