Gods of the Highlands by Bambi Lynn ♥ Spot Light Tour

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Gods of the Highlands Series
Lucan_600x900

Neala Comyn, wife of a powerful laird, wants to end the pain and suffering of an abusive marriage. She

is a woman without hope, believing God has forsaken her. When she is kidnapped by a rival laird who

claims to be a god himself, her faith is further shaken. Could Lucan Munro be the salvation she has

prayed for? Or will her sins condemn her to eternal damnation?

Lucan Munro, has the power of a Celtic god. He can conjure his heart’s desire from thin air. But can he

save the woman he loves from a demon hell-bent on claiming her soul?

Excerpt

From his vantage spot he saw her tiny bare feet touch the floor next to the bed. He crawled backwards

in the opposite direction. She rushed across to the table beneath the window and began an onslaught of

such proportions, he wondered again where she found the strength. He opened his mouth to speak, but

thinking better of it, clamped it shut again. She appeared completely without reason, lost in her heated

rampage. Perhaps it was best to let her calm down on her own.

“Ye gorbellied,” she threw the box containing his seal, “toad-spotted,” then the ink vial, “malt worm!”

ending with the empty food tray that crashed against the tub only a breath away from his head.

Lucan had had enough. He was laird of the mighty clan Munro. He was not about to let some slip of a

lass make him cower in his own chamber. He rose from his hiding place wrapping the plaid around his

waist as he did so. “Now see here -”

They both jumped when the door burst open. Lucan turned to see Evie standing at the threshold, her

mouth open wide in surprise. “Get out,” he bellowed at her. The maid barely had the door closed before

the clay pitcher Neala had been about to throw at him crashed against it, shattering to pieces.

He took the opportunity of her distraction to close the distance between them. He wrapped his arms

around her, trapping hers against her body. She struggled like a cat who’d fallen into the burn, cussing

and spitting insults at him that would rival the most battle-hardened soldier.

“Where did ye learn such language?” Lucan fought to control her, ignoring the effect her squirming

against him was having on every inch of his body. He had not been with a woman since well before he

had brought Neala here, and his cock responded eagerly to the pressure against it.

He fought the sensation, recognizing the debauchery in being aroused by a woman so obviously without

her wits. He twisted away, clenching his thighs and trying to fill his mind with thoughts of his long-dead

mother, the repairs that need to be done to the kitchens, his prized mare that was on the verge of

birthing a new foal. Anything to take his mind off the increasing hardening of his body. If only she would

stop writhing against him. He fairly growled when she deliberately pressed her thigh against his groin.

He tried to shield himself, turning his body at an angle, but it was no use.

“What’s yer pleasure t’night, m’laird? D’ye want me to fight ye?” She pressed harder,

painfully against him. “D’ye want me to play the whore?” She reached between them and boldly

grasped his erection in her hand, squeezing it through his plaid and glaring up at him with the look of the

devil. “Is this what ye want?”

Lucan clamped his teeth together, grinding them until an ache developed in his jaw. He would have

thought her a strumpet of some renown if not for the tear that trickled from the corner of her eye and

slid down her cheek. His grip around her waist softened. He reached one hand up to her face, wiping the

single tear away with the pad of his thumb. The gesture only brought more tears. His heart ripped in

half.

“Why did ye save me?” Her cracked voice was barely more than a whisper. “Another month and I would

have been dead.” She closed her eyes and went limp in his arms.

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Tanis:  Gods of the Highlands Series Book 3

Tanis Cleary, laird of a small Highland clan, wants to protect what’s left of his family from the pagan god

who hunts them. But even with his colossal strength, fed by the unholy blood in his veins, he cannot do

it alone. His only ally is an insatiable angel with a chip on her shoulder. Will he desert his clan to follow

the only woman who can save him from eternal damnation?

Kiah is an angel of God, tasked with guarding one of His most sacred vessels. Like any woman desperate

to win her Father’s approval, Kiah will stop at nothing to succeed in her mission. Distracted by the lure

of a man more compelling than any other, Kiah soon finds herself battling the fires of hell, her very

existence in jeopardy.

Excerpt

When Tanis spoke, Kiah let his voice wash over her. She nearly wept, so great was her yearning to feel

the vibration of its rich tone, accented with the lilt common among these Highlanders.

The only other time she had heard him speak, he had been bellowing at her. She could imagine what he

would sound like speaking of love play in that sultry voice, whispering her name, expressing his pleasure.

When the others left, Tanis stayed behind. He walked back to stand by the bed, his expression

unreadable as he stared down at the woman ensconced there. He was the finest example of man Kiah

had ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, his body was sculpted from years of fighting and living, and

from the influence of pagan blood in his ancestry. He wore his raven-colored hair long and wild. He had

rich brown eyes, windows to his spirit she longed to stare into. He was the kind of man who did

everything with a fierceness that made one long to feed on that essence. He was irresistible.

And dangerous. He had an allure that called to her, despite better judgment. He was proud and

arrogant, every bit her equal. She grudgingly admitted that Tanis was not as weak as most humans. She

recognized that.

He was the kind of man Kiah avoided.

I ken yer spirit, lass. Kiah drew up when he spoke directly to her.

Have ye come to sate yer desire for me? She was as tempted as if Lucifer himself was

standing there. Her wings twitched, anticipating her transformation. But she resisted, easier for her than

these weak humans.

Do ye have sin on yer mind? The urge was almost more than she could hold back. She

reminded herself of her recent failure. She was in enough trouble.

Perhaps ye are afraid of me? ’Tis no surprise. Most lasses flee in fear after just a few days in my

bed. Why should ye be any different?

She could only resist so much. She drifted around the bed and pressed against him. He was tall and

wide. She imagined herself in human form, laying her head against that broad back, wrapping her arms

around him.

Show yourself and learn the true meaning of sin. Kiah moved away from him, prepared to

change into her human form and give in to temptation.

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Sirona_600x900

 Sirona:  Gods of the Highlands Series Book 2

She has the power to heal his body, but can she heal his soul?

Sirona Cleary tries to hide her unholy healing powers from everyone around her, denying her divine

heritage even as she saves those who would see her punished. When she is kidnapped by a rival clan,

she is sure her execution is near. Rhain Comyn is dying from a mysterious disease, and he couldn’t be

happier about it. After the atrocities he has committed, Rhain believes he has no right to a decent life

and welcomes the ailment that leaves him with unquenchable thirst and hunger, extreme fatigue,

blurred vision and ultimately drives him into a deep slumber from which no healer can awaken him. Can

a witch from the clan of his enemy save him?

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Excerpt

Alone with her patient, Sirona relaxed a little. She crept closer to the bed and leaned over him. Rhain

Comyn was by far the handsomest man she had ever seen. Long, thick lashes, dark as soot, laid against

cheekbones made more prominent by whatever ailed him. She wondered if behind that facade,

softened in slumber, was a cruel bully, equally revolting as his brothers.

Without remorse she realized that if Fergus were lying there instead of Rhain, she would not hesitate to

let him die. She was already damned to Hell, was she not? Everything about her existence went against

God. Saint Peter would never allow such an abomination past the gate. She tried to deny the powers

that marked her a pagan, in the hopes He would not punish her for her tainted blood. But in the end,

she could no more ignore her gift than she could refuse breathing.

What if she defied God and saved this man, only to discover he was the spawn of another sort, evil and

deviant, and she had unleashed him on the world? Was it worth the risk for the promise that she would

be returned to her home? Could she trust that promise?

Sirona eased down on the bed. She took one of his gaunt hands in both of hers. Warmth spread through

her at the touch. Her heart clenched at the possibility she could not save him. She closed her eyes and

let her thoughts fall away, focusing all her energy on the sensation of his skin against hers.

His hand was limp in hers, cold and frail. She sensed his longing for death, born of a sorrow so deep it

seeped into his bones. Tears clogged her throat as she was overcome with profound despair.

What had happened to him to cause such anguish and torment, such hopelessness? She tried to recall

what little she knew of the clan. The Munro had been feuding with them for generations, but it wasn’t

until the laird, Gregor Munro, had been killed, that the hatred and fighting had escalated. Now there

were skirmishes every few months.

Comyn men were renowned for their ruthless brutality. Legend stated they came out of the womb filled

with bloodlust and savagery. Comyn women seldom survived childbirth. The laird’s own sons had been

born to three different wives.

Despite the frailty of their women, the boys grew strong and healthy, populating the clan with a

merciless fighting force. Their only weakness was their small number.

Rhain, the youngest of the laird’s sons, was rumored to be the most ruthless of them all. He had hired

himself out as a mercenary, it was said because there weren’t enough Munros to quench his thirst for

blood.

Sirona shuddered and opened her eyes. Her heart tripped when she found him staring at the rafters

over the bed. She dropped his hand as if it burned and shot to her feet. She took several deep breaths as

she watched him. When he did not move, indeed he did not even blink, she inched closer. “Can you hear

me?” she whispered.

No reaction.

She pressed the backs of her fingers against his cheek. No fever. With one finger beneath his chin, she

gently turned his face toward her until she was in his line of vision. She stared into rich brown eyes,

windows to a deep, dark abyss that promised endless suffering.

“Rhain?”

His eyes focused on hers when she whispered his name.

“I’m here to help. Can ye speak to me?” His eyes wavered back and forth between hers. “D’ye want

something to drink?” She surveyed the room for the first time. Near the hearth stood a table, laden with

food and drink. She crossed to it and poured a cup of water from a flagon.

Returning to the bed, she sat next to him and slid her free arm beneath his shoulders. With her help, he

sat up enough to the drink from the cup she held for him. When he’d drained it, he fell back, what little

strength he had depleted from the exertion.

Sirona cradled him against her. She brushed silky locks from his face and spoke to him in a soothing

voice. “I need you to tell me what you feel. Do ye ache?” He was weak, but did not seem to be in any

pain. She cast relief over him just the same. “Can ye speak to me?” she asked again.

He seemed to be trying to say something, but his voice was so faint, she had to lean close to hear him.

His breath was warm on her ear, but sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“Let-me-die.”

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 Camulus:  Gods of the Highlands Series Book 1

Camulus Vass wants a simple life, absent the power and responsibility that can consume a man. But

being laird of a clan as large as the Munro does not offer such luxury. Always under the domineering

heel of his uncle, Cam has allowed himself to become a pawn. But the arrival of a mysterious newcomer

awakens a beast within him that will not be tamed.

Màili has been given the task of rooting out the spawn of an ancient god. It’s the only way to take her

revenge against the man who betrayed her. But getting what she wants means taking the life of the man

she loves. Will her hunger for a mortal man wreak further havoc on her already bleak future?

FIRST KISS:

Cam pulled the linen from his shaggy, ebony mane and locked his rich brown eyes, glistening with

excitement, on hers. He stepped out of the tub, dropping the linen to the floor. “Come to me, woman.”

Cam wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He claimed her mouth with his,

prying her lips open and invading her with the sweetest tasting tongue she had ever known.

Màili lost herself in that kiss. The power of it sent jolts of pleasure to every pore in her body. She tingled

all over, her senses melding until she could no longer remember anything other than the man before

her. She kissed him back with all the self–pity of a woman who had been betrayed by love and yearned

to get even a piece of herself back.

The power of her desire for Cam surprised her. Màili was certainly no stranger to the ways of men and

women. She had learned a lot over the centuries. This was the first time she had found anyone she

thought could teach her anything. A nagging possibility tickled the edge of her thoughts, but she pushed

it aside.

Màili dragged her mouth from his, nibbling along his jaw and across the pulse at his throat. With her

hands on his chest, she urged him back toward the bed all the while trailing her lips, her tongue down

his body. He tasted like nectar and all Màili could think of was more, more, more.

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Author Bio:

Bambi LynnYes, Bambi is my real name.

I grew up on a farm in South Georgia. My high school was very small with a graduating class of less than

100 people. Shortly after high school, I met my wonderful husband who took me to Belgium, where a

three-year tour turned into fifteen. While living in Europe, I nurtured my love of all things medieval. I

often get homesick for Belgium, but with the world wide web, I’m home with the click of a mouse. I now

live with my husband and son in North Alabama.

When not plugging away at my keyboard, I teach World History. I love to ride my big, black Tennessee

Walker, Jamaica. My husband and I each have a Harley to go with our collection of classic cars and hot

rods.

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Gods of the Highlands Series

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