We Roam The Sea Release Day Book Blitz

When an unknown evil lingers in the distance, Viking daughter Freya is forced into a marriage to keep her safe. Defiant at first, Freya soon finds herself wanting the attention and touch of the stranger whom is set to be her husband.
Asgar never worried about finding a wife, he only wants to take care of his people the way his father always has. When he sees Freya, he's pulled in, knowing he has to protect her no matter what.
Thrown into a life neither really wanted, can these two learn to love? Can they share one heart? Is the unknown evil really the one they need to worry about?
Prepare to be thrown into the dark world of Vikings, mixed with a love story and betrayal that will tear at your soul

The warm late summer breeze meets her face as Freya stands on the edge of the cliff; her eyes closed enjoying the feeling. Her home of the Shetland Islands main isle is beautiful in summer and she loves to spend her days like this; walking with her best and most trusted friend Eska.
“Your father will kill me if he knows I let you that close to the edge lass,” there is an edge of fear in the young man’s voice and Freya turns her green eyes on her friend, seeing his slightly taller than her frame standing with his arms crossed over his bare muscular chest. She just gives him a smile and shakes her head, turning her face back out to the sea and watching the waves crash into the grey stone of the cliffs.
Her father is always over protective of her, but even more so since she was twelve and her mother died of the fever. That was twelve summers ago and Freya is still working on getting her freedom from her Chief father, Ivan the Good, and her five older brothers. The thought of her mother and brothers makes her frown and her outstretched arms fall to her sides, swishing in her already dirty, simple brown dress with her favorite green apron holding in the young apples she has gathered.
Two of her brothers, Folkvar and Hoakon, helped her father rule the main isle with little villages of their own posted on the northern and southern points while the other three brothers, Lund, Rune and Arik, held posts on two of the out skirting islands; a first line in defense if they should be attacked. Their islands have been peaceful ever since before Freya was born and since her mother’s death, her father has let priests from the east introduce Christianity to his people; mingling the teaching with those of their traditional Gods.
She takes a long look out over the waves, taking in the salty smell and the everlasting call of the seagulls, smiling to herself as she turns to her friend. “My father will be fine because what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right Eska?” She smiles, lightly slapping him on the shoulder as his brown eyes track her movement past him.
Being a son of former slaves in England, Eska was only a toddler when Ivan had taken his parents from their home and brought them back here on the last of his raiding trips. He carries the slight Scottish accent that his parents passed down to him along with the blonde hair from his mother. As he smiles and shakes his head, following his friend as she walks down the path away from the cliff, he takes in her scent as the wind blows it slowly to him.
Being of lower birth, Eska should not love her, but he does. He has loved her since the day he first saw her cuddled in a bear skin playing with a doll in the great hall at her father’s feet. They have been inseparable since. His parents have told him numerous times to move on and marry a girl of his own status, a nice farmer girl, one from the village but he doesn’t want any of the plump, already deflowered girls. He wants the petite yet curvy, strong willed, reddish-brown haired daughter of the Chief and has asked Ivan for her hand in marriage twice over, being turned down apologetically each time.
“I’m sorry son, but she is not ready to be married. Her soul still sails in the wind and roams the waves,” Ivan had told him both times, his massive worn hand on Eska’s shoulder, squeezing it caringly like a father. He has treated Eska’s family well, giving them a home and throwing work at his father when they needed the help. Ivan is a good leader, but Eska wishes that he would see that he too, can be a great man and husband to his daughter.
“Eska!” the urgent sound of his name brings him from his musing and mindless following of the one who holds his heart and he casts his brown eyes up, his chin length blonde hair sweeping across his eyes as he finds Freya standing on her tip toes, looking over the edge of a stone wall.
“What is it lass?” he asks, coming to stand at her side and seeing her eyes cast out over the waves once more. Yellow and blue striped sails catch his eye and he sees the longboats docked on their beach with men mingling around them. His eyes narrow and his ears strain, trying to hear what they are laughing at but the wind carries it away.
“My father didn’t say anything about expecting a landing today?” Freya questioned as a slight fear settled in her heart. The men on the beach had swords at their waists and battle axes strapped on their backs. Their shields lined the sides of their boats, four boats in total, and as they unloaded supplies onto the stony beach of her home, her heart stuttered.
She turns her green eyes to her friend, her long hair blowing across her face as she sees Eska’s head shake. That was the only sign she needed, pushing herself from the stone wall as the fear and adrenaline mixed in her veins, sending her heart racing. Her legs propel her forward as she picks up her dress, not wanting to trip as she runs down the worn cart path.

With her chest pounding and her eyes blurring from fear, she tries to spot her father among the familiar face of his friends and advisors. Then she spots the unfamiliar, frowning, heavily bearded faces. She releases the hem of her dress that she had grasped so tightly, letting the airy brown material fall and brush against the tops of her bare feet. Arguing comes from behind her and she spins to see Eska with his face only a breath away from one of the men at the door, his hand on his short sword at his side.
“Eska, stand down boy!” the loud, deep voice booms from the front of the hall and Freya snaps her head back to see her father make his way into view. Ivan is a tall, broad man, looking like a bear to most who don’t know his golden heart. Her heart skips to see that her father is safe and she runs to him, her feet barely making a sound on the wood planks but the eyes of the unfamiliar men stay glued to her, making a chill run over her skin even in the warm day.
“Father, the ships?” she asks in as hushed a tone as she can manage, still trying to catch her breath. Her fathers’ golden hazel eyes wash over her face and take in her frantic state and he lets out a huff, placing his hands on her shoulders as he towers over her.
“I know there are ships daughter, calm yourself. We have some very important visitors.” His large hand sweeps towards the men standing off to the side, the ones that have been staring at her since she burst in and Freya is afraid to meet their gazes.
Ivan can sense his daughters’ hesitation and he squeezes her shoulder, pulling her slightly into his side. Pulling his graying, blonde braid to rest over his shoulder he lets out a loud, earth shaking laugh. “Please, everyone! Leave this frantic feeling behind and calm yourselves.”
As he pulls Freya up onto the dais with him, she can’t help but sneak a look at these strangers standing before her father. Her father sits in his large, hand carved chair turning his attention to his brother, Freya’s uncle, Holden but she doesn’t hear what they are saying as she’s too busy trying to secretly study the men.
One older man, she guesses around the same age as her father due to the graying hair, standing at the front of them with a his hands clasped in front of him waiting patiently. His beard was dark brown with streaks of gray showing through the braid it formed and the wrinkle lines around his eyes make her think that he must like to laugh, as her father had the same and he said it was because he laughs too much.
Four others stand beside and slightly behind him and Freya thinks that most likely they are his sons, all looking slightly related and one being an almost carbon copy of the older man. The older man turns and the younger ones bend in to keep their conversation secret and Freya notices the large battle ax strapped to the old man’s back, gleaming in the bright sun light from the window.
“Daughter,” her fathers’ hand on her arm startles her from her studying the men and she jumps, turning her face to see her fathers’ caring eyes with a slight smile on his kind face. He is laughing at her and Freya knows that he can tell she was studying the men. A soft blush runs over her skin and she smiles back. “Please sit Freya; we have a lot to talk about.”
The way her father says it makes her wonder, but she kneels down on the bear skin covered pillow beside her father’s seat and she folds her hands in her lap, content to sit closest to her father rather than take her chair an arm’s length away. Ivan winks and gives her a slight smile that she returns as he says something else quietly to his brother, and then addresses the now crowded room.
“Please, everyone, sit! Take a drink,” he waves his hand to the servant girls and they carry in trays laden with mugs of ale and mead. Freya watches as one giggles and smiles at the table of men gathered closest, the ones she had been studying and she rolls her eyes, scoffing at the girls’ giddy laugh. Ivan sees her reaction and taps her lightly on her shoulder, reminding her to act like a lady in front of guests and she straightens her back and facial expression.
As her father takes a mug from one of the trays, Freya spots Eska moving along the wall fending off the onslaught of flirts from his number one admirer, Helga. She can’t help but giggle to herself as she watches her friend push the girls hand away from the waist of his britches. She just didn’t get why Eska doesn’t give the girl what she wants. True, Helga has been with more men than most women their age, but she was pretty enough and she would be a good wife. She watches as Eska shoves the grabbing hands away once more and her eyes follow Helga as she stomps away, coming back to rest on her friend’s brown eyes as he grins at her.

Turning her attention back to her father, she smiles seeing the mead dribble down his chin and she reaches her embroidered handkerchief up and dabs it away for him as he smiles, patting her hand. She has always taken care of her father and she loves it.

 Links for We Roam The Seas:
Barnes & Noble:http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/we-roam-the-seas-theresa-marguerite-hewitt/1116466163?ean=2940045211079 

Author Bio
Theresa Marguerite Hewitt is a very laid back person; enjoying the simpler things in life more than most sometimes. She grew up in a very, VERY small town in Central New York and she will always be a Redneck Woman. She loves reading, writing, taking long pointless drives and long dusk time walks. Fall and winter are her favorite times of year and she spends more time outside then than in the summer. She loves hearing from fans and isn’t above fan-girling on those that show her tons of support. She is addicted to the cheap-Harlequin romances you can pick up in most drug stores and can't go in and out of a store without picking up at least one. She reisdes in Buffalo, NY with her boyfriend, two dogs and two cats.
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