Morgan final 200x300 Happy Book Birthday MorganExerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

The steady drumbeat of rain pounded the roof, followed by a rumble of thunder, and roused Nautionnier Knight Morgan Le Aguillon from blissful slumber and an ale-induced stupor, as he stretched long and yawned. As he ordered his thoughts, after a night of drinking and wenching, his favorite pursuits, he grazed warm flesh with his toes and smiled. To his right, a supple female form posed a delicious temptation. To his left, another enticing whore snored none too elegantly, and he sat upright.
Naked, a condition he preferred to the heavy garb of his station, he rubbed his eyes, slid from the bed, belched, and scratched his bare arse. At the basin, he poured water from the pitcher, washed his face, and cleaned his teeth. After running his fingers through his hair, he collected his garb from the floor.
As he stepped into his breeches, he noticed a sliver of light filtering through a hole in the linen that covered the window, and he stepped toward the wall, peered outside—and started.
“No.”
In a strange dance, he sprang into action, yanking on his black chausses, slipping his feet into his boots, and pulling on his doublet. At last, he donned his tunic and grabbed his cloak. From a small bag, he drew a fistful of coins, tossed them atop a table, and made his exit.
On the street, he glanced at the grey sky, realized he was very late, and cursed. “Arucard is going to kill me.”
After locating his destrier, he leaped into the saddle. Flicking the reins, he heeled the flanks of his stallion and sped through the narrow thoroughfares of London, as he had not a moment to spare.
Given the amount of activity in the various businesses, as well as the number of people out and about, Morgan urged his mount faster, until the painfully familiar shadow of Westminster Abbey loomed in the distance. It was then he slowed his horse and continued at his leisure, because he was in no rush to meet his fate.
A Nautionnier Knight in service to the Crown, he had been born into a noble family with valuable connections to the House of Capet, but with equally slim coffers, in the crowded town of Rouen, on the River Seine. At the age of eight, he had been sent to La Rochelle, along with a slew of other second sons, for whom their families had no use and could ill afford, and commenced his training as a Templar, the warriors of the Crusades, at Vauclair Castle.
That was where he forged an alliance with his lifelong friends—his brothers.Morgan Hawisia stepback high res for blog 200x300 Happy Book Birthday Morgan
After Philip the Fair was denied entry into the estimable Order, he conspired with Pope Clement V to steal the vast treasure the knights had amassed, accused the Templars of heresy, as well as a slew of other foul crimes, hunted, tortured, and executed the great men. Naught in Morgan’s world had been the same, since he fled France and sought refuge in England.
And that was what brought him to Westminster Abbey, on that dark and dreary morning.
At the east entrance, in the midst of a slew of coaches and horses, he drew rein and jumped to the ground. In a series of quick strides, he navigated the cloister walk, which brought him to a double-door entry topped by a Portland stone tympanum.
On the left lingered the other four knights that made up the Brethren of the Coast, along with three wives, and it was another marriage that brought him to the Chapter House steps.
“Reprehensible silk-snatcher, you are late for your own wedding.” Ever the venerable leader, Arucard scowled and folded his arms. “His Majesty was just about to dispatch a compliment of soldiers to hunt you down and drag you hither—after he installed us in the tower.

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Author Info:

%name Happy Book Birthday MorganBestselling author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller. A Texan, through and through, Barbara hasn’t been without a book in her possession since she was in kindergarten. She wrote her first short story, a really cheesy murder-mystery, in high school, but it was a Christmas gift, a lovely little diary with a bronze lock, given to her in the fifth grade that truly inspired her love of writing.

After completing part of her undergraduate studies at the University of London, where she developed a love of all things British, Barbara returned home and began a career in banking. But the late 80s weren’t too promising for the financial industry, and every bank that hired Barbara soon folded. So she searched for a stable occupation, and the local police department offered the answer to her prayers.

Initially, Barbara wasn’t too sure about her new career in law enforcement, but she soon came to love being a police officer. And then one uncharacteristically cold and icy day in December 1998, Barbara was struck by a car and pinned against a guardrail while working an accident on a major highway. Permanently disabled, she retired from the police department and devoted her time and energy to physical therapy.

Once Barbara got back on her feet, she focused on a new career in academia. She earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.

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