My Lady Has a Foul Mouth
By Eliza Knight
As always in my books, I like to have my heroines defy society somewhat. In my latest release, THE HIGHLANDER’S LADY (Book 3: The Stolen Bride Series), I’ve done just that—given Myra Munro a foul mouth. She curses quite a bit, mostly in private.
Here’s the blurb for the book…
A Highlander tamed…
Laird Daniel Murray seeks adventure, battle and freedom for his countrymen. Putting off his duties as laird—with a promise to his clan he’ll return come spring—Daniel sets off with his men to fight alongside William Wallace and the Bruce. But soon he stumbles across an enchanting lady in need. She tantalizes him with an offer he simply can’t refuse and a desire he attempts to dismiss.
A lady’s passion ignited…
Escaping near death at the treacherous hands of a nearby clan, Lady Myra must find the Bruce and relay the news of an enemy within his own camp. Alone in a world full of danger and the future of her clan at stake, she must trust the handsome, charismatic Highland laird who promises to keep her safe on her journey—and sets her heart to pounding.
Together, Daniel and Myra will risk not only their lives, but their hearts while discovering the true meaning of hope and love in a world fraught with unrest.
Now, a little on curse words… ′Twas impolite for a lady to use foul language, but all the same, Myra has grown up listening in on various conversations as she traversed the hidden passageways of her castle. She learned to like using those words, especially when angry. What are some of the words she uses?
Zounds, ballocks (and a few variations thereof), hell, shite (medieval form of sh*t), damn, and she nearly uses the f-bomb, which despite popular belief, was alive and well back in the day.
Why did I choose for her to have a potty mouth? ′Tis simple, dear readers—a writer puts a little bit of themselves in every character, and this is one flaw I have, which I’ve tried to rectify, but instead I end up saying like like, “No f-ing way.” Or “Shizzle” and “Da----narit!” It’s in my blood. I come from a long line of sailors, and even the non-sailors cuss with certain aplomb. So there you have it, Myra has one of my faults. And I thought it was rather humorous.
Do you have a potty mouth? What’s your favorite? (Please use * in the place of vowels!)
I’d love to give away an ecopy today of THE HIGHLANDER’S LADY to one commenter!
Want a little taste of Myra’s mouth? In this excerpt, Lady Myra is all alone on a treacherous journey to see through, the mission her dying brother gave her.
Byron wouldn’t have tasked her with the impossible. She had to tell herself that again and again. He had to have believed she could make it. He’d taught her well to defend herself—although she lacked for weapons. If he believed in her, then she needed to believe too.
Myra closed her eyes and sent up a prayer to the heavens, to God, to her brother, to see her safely to Eilean Donan.
Promised to speak and think more like a lady—no more curse words.
The horse’s feet clopped on the ground, kicking up tufts of grass where the earth was moist from the water. As much as she wanted to stay near the water, Myra was aware that Coney’s lone footprints would lead an assailant straight toward her. A lone rider was ripe for the picking—a female even more so.
She veered away from the burn and stopped. Satan’s ballocks! A group of haggard looking horsemen came out of the trees to her left their gazes directed at her. Evil grins curled their nasty lips, showing rotten teeth and a few vulgar tongues waggled in her direction. Myra only looked at them for a moment before kicking Coney into a gallop. Not today. She would not be a victim.
Barely a day had gone by since leaving Rose and already she was done for. Nay, she’d not let them take her.
“Go!” she shouted to her horse, leaning low over his mane, and hanging on for dear life. Coney raced along the burn, his hooves digging deep into the moist earth and flinging rocks, grass and mud with them.
The men gave chase, shouting indiscernible threats behind her.
Myra had no idea where she was, or where she should go. There was bound to be a village or hut or something along the length of the burn. Where there was a stream, there was bound to be someone nearby.
“Help!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Help me!”
There were no answering calls besides the barbs behind her. No one rushed to her aid, not even God struck down those who would see her removed from her task of saving Robert the Bruce. Ballocks! Ballocks! Ballocks! A lot of good her promise of using more ladylike words in exchange for protection did.
There was no one to help her, she was sure of it, and she was probably only gaining the attention of more vagrants who would see her for their supper.
If it came down to it, she would fight these men with every last breath she had. If they were going to take her, at least one of them was going down with her.
Want to read more? THE HIGHLANDER’S LADY is available from the following e-tailers…
Eliza Knight is the multi-published, award-winning, Amazon best-selling author of sizzling historical romance and erotic romance. While not reading, writing or researching for her latest book, she chases after her three children. In her spare time (if there is such a thing…) she likes daydreaming, wine-tasting, traveling, hiking, staring at the stars, watching movies, shopping and visiting with family and friends. She lives atop a small mountain, and enjoys cold winter nights when she can curl up in front of a roaring fire with her own knight in shining armor. Visit Eliza at www.elizaknight.com or her historical blog History Undressed: www.historyundressed.com