A woman in search of revenge.
An honorable man with a dark past.

Heart of Vengeance.

Historical Romance.

Romantic Times; Best Medieval
Historical Romance of 2004 - finalist

2005 CAPA Awards -Best
Historical Romance - Finalist

Reviews. Outline. Excerpt.
Casting the movie. Buy it.

Reviews:

5 Stars! by Amazon's Top 1000 reviewer, Kristi Elhers

Finally another author not afraid to include historic details in her historical romance. After all isn't that the reason many of us read historicals opposed to other genres?

This was a wonderful story and as I stated earlier full of rich historic details and great characters. I truly felt that I was with Helena of York on her quest to find her father's killer brought to justice. While doing this she treads a fine line between two different kings and one man that knows her secret, and one man she finds is her strength and her love.

The chemistry between the two main characters is wonderful. It doesn't detract from the story and in fact only adds to it. You can tell that the author did her homework on York and Oxford. I have lived in England previously and have visited both of these wonderful cities. Ms. Cooper-Posey did justice to them both. Not to mention the fact that I loved that she included the myth of Robin Hood. But the most important part of any historical is actual historic figures being included. Again Ms. Cooper-Posey gets added points for including both King Richard and his brother John as part of the colorful cast of characters, as well as creating wonderful secondary characters that are very much a part of the story.

I highly recommend this book to anyone that loves rich details, and a wonderful story that will pull you into the time period. The romance is wonderful and well written. Ms. Cooper-Posey is a truly talented author and one that I will look forward to reading again in the future!

Kristi Ahlers for Amazon.com

5 Stars!

A great reading experience.

HEART OF VENGEANCE is an exhilarating medieval romantic suspense novel that transports the audience to the late twelfth century through historical tidbits and persona interwoven into the delightful plot. Stephen and Helena carry heavy emotional loads so that love is out of the question for both of them, yet neither can deny their feelings for the other. The support cast, especially the also-obsessed Prince John, adds to the feeling of being in Oxford. Though one of the most frequently-used eras in novels and movies, readers receive a refreshing, vivid picture of courtly intrigue inside a fabulous love story.

Harriet Klausner for Barnes & Noble.com

HEART OF VENGEANCE is a superbly written story of the time of King Richard. The Normans have taken over England and Robert, Earl of Loxley, is ruling Sherwood Forest. Tracy Cooper Posey transports us back to a time long ago, when injustice was normal and earning the king's disfavor could prove fatal. I really love the way Tracy Cooper Posey used the character of Robin Hood in this story as well. Even though he wasn't one of main characters, his legend was part of the focus of HEART OF VENGEANCE. I also enjoyed the strength of the hero and heroine and how they related to each other as equals. Helena is a very strong, capable young woman who has lived with more than her fair share of loss. Stephen was coping with the time he spent as a slave in the Holy Land. This is a very realistic medieval tale I highly recommend.

Chere, for The Romance Studio

With a myriad of secondary characters ranging from King Richard to Robin Hood, HEART OF VENGEANCE captures the reader from the start. Dialogue flows freely between characters, and descriptive narrative is imaginative and bold; pictures of Medieval England floated around in my head.

With romance, torture, betrayal, thievery, and evil, HEART OF VENGEANCE makes the grade as a really good story. Make sure this April that HEART OF VENGEANCE is on top of your reading list.

Catherine McHenry for Romance Reviews Today

Outline:

A woman in hiding …

In order to find her father’s killer, Helena of York is forced to play the most dangerous game of her life. The Saxon noblewoman, now an outlaw, must adopt a false identity and pose as a Norman in the courts and great halls of Richard I’s England. Should she be unmasked, her life will be forfeit. But Helena is willing to pay any price for her revenge.

A man shunned …

Stephen, Count of Dinan, once Richard’s greatest friend and most able knight, finds himself an outcast from the court for reasons shrouded in mystery. Now known as the ‘Black Baron’, he finds himself a friendless outcast in a glittering world he has come to despise.

Two dangerous destinies …

The only goal in Stephen’s life is to restore his honor and once again serve his king. The only desire in Helena’s life is to kill the man who destroyed her father and her future. Then the ‘Black Baron’s’ suspicions draw him into Helena’s web of deceit and, together, they find themselves entangled in a greater conspiracy that threatens the throne of England itself … and two embattled hearts that have allowed themselves to be touched by love.

Excerpt:

"This is a pretty picture,” he said, coming up behind them.

The villagers and the kitchen staff squawked and scattered like threatened chickens. He expected Isobel to do the same, for he had caught her in a crime that carried heavy penalties.

But she whirled with surprising speed and he was astonished, for she held a knife in her hand and hefted it in a way only an experienced knife-fighter used.

His instincts recognized danger long before his mind realised it. In response, his body dropped into the loose, easy-jointed posture from which a man could move quickly in any direction, all before the knowledge that she was about to attack registered in his mind.

Then she surprised him yet again by dropping the knife -- where had it come from? She didn’t have it in her hands or on the table when he approached -- on the table behind her. “My lord, you startled me.”

“Obviously. Your activities speak of secrecy if being startled prompts a reaction such as yours.”

She glanced over his shoulder at the villagers behind him and spoke a few words.

“What did you say?” he demanded. Damn, but she was making him feel like an ignorant fool!

“I told them to go about their business. This is none of their concern.”

They were filing through the storage room to the outer doorway. She had got them safely out of his way. Out of the way...and with the food.

She watched him calmly. Her eyes really were an exotic shade. The dark blue of the sky late of a summer eve and...yes, they had a black circle around them. Quite the most unusual eyes.

“What do you intend to do with me, my lord?” she asked. She had only to lift her chin a little to look him square in the eye.

There was a tightness growing in his belly, the old pleasurable ache. This woman! She was like a fresh sea breeze, refreshing and restoring his soul, stirring his senses awake.

“You speak French as a Breton does,” he said.

“I am from Brittany.”

“So I have been told.”

His tone must have puzzled her, for her eyes narrowed. “My lord?”

She was cautious, this one, and brave. She must know he had caught her fairly, but she did not shrink from him, or throw herself at his mercy.

“Who are you?” he demanded and cursed himself. He didn’t want the truth just yet. It was more interesting to wonder and let the infinite possibilities entertain him.

“I am Isobel, daughter of William, baron de Buerres--”

“Of Brittany,” he finished for her.

She nodded.

“Why do you not fear me?”

“Should I?”

“I have caught you stealing food.”

A shadow crossed her face, too fast for him to determine what it was, but he was left with a feeling of...irritation.

“My lord, the food goes to mouths far hungrier than ever the barons in the hall have experienced. I have taken very little. In truth, it will not be missed.”

“Why do you do this?”

“They are starving, my lord.”

“They are always starving. It is a protest that never fails when one deals with them.”

“It is a protest that never fails because it is a complaint that is never remedied.” Now the emotion in those wondrous eyes was clear: Anger. It vibrated through her.

“Why do you care for these people so?” he asked, puzzled.

And abruptly, her anger disappeared. It did not fall away, or ease. No, it was more like she withdrew it. In one short in-drawn breath she pummeled it into submission.

Again, the question whispered in his mind: Who is this woman that speaks fluent English? Who cares for peasants and steals food for them? Who stares at me as if I were a normal man and not a god-forsaken freak? Who is this woman who challenges me with anger when she is the guilty one?

She drew another breath. “You have yet to tell me what you intend to do with me, my lord.”

“And you have yet to tell me why you do not fear me.”

“I fail to understand why I should.”

Her indifference galled him. He stepped closer. There was barely a hand’s span between them. He wanted to see something in her eyes that would tell him he had made an impression on her. This close, though, he could smell her scent -- a light, feminine scent that brought to mind a memory-sense of the softness of a woman’s flesh, the taste of kisses, of lips against his.

His heart began to thud and his body thrummed with tension. His thoughts were shifting, scattering. He should step away from her, but to do so would signal his weakness.

“Everyone fears me,” he said, forcing himself to string the words together. They emerged harsh and dry. “Why not you?”

“Do you intend me harm?” She did not sway from him and she could not step back, for the table was at her back. Instead she tilted her chin so she could look him in the eye.

“I could rip your heart from your body.”

Her expression did not change, but did he merely imagine the rapid rise of her chest beneath her bodice?

“A boast most crusaders can fulfill,” she agreed, and her voice was low. Controlled. “And you have the mark of the crusader about you. Yet you have forgotten I am armed. Could you take my heart when I am ready to defend myself?”

He felt the prick of a blade at his side, at the exact place where she had only to push and the knife point would slide between bones to the death point.

Anger spurted, but it was smothered by a fresh welling of excitement. Long dormant feelings were stirring in the dark reservoir of his soul, rolling over as if prodded from sleep. Their movement gave off a wave of energy.

He snatched at her wrist and caught it in his hand. “You would do well to fear me, my lady. Even if I choose not to take your heart, I could take all meaning from your life. All I have to do is call for the guards. They will arrest you. You will be put on trial and your punishment carried out.”

“Call them.” Yes, her breath grew short. The full lips, shaded a delicate pink, were parted a little.

“They do not cut off your hand for stealing, here. They hang you. Before you are quite dead they cut you down and stretch you between four galloping horses. And when you are sure you will die if you are given more pain, they slice you open, then spread your insides out for all to see.”

Her face was a blank shield, but she drew another long breathe. Drawing courage? “You do not frightened me, lord. I have been threatened with worse and lived to tell the tale.”

Of all the astonishing things she had said and done, this was the most surprising. She was a young woman, undoubtedly a maiden. What could she possibly know of the harsh life she hinted at?

Yet she was experienced with the knife. He would wager she had drawn blood with it at least once.

Her skin was like alabaster and just as hard and cold, right now. Everything he had said had struck against that impenetrable shield and slid away, leaving no impression.

He yearned to crack that facade, to see her respond to him as a real person. He pulled her up against him, wrapping his arm around her waist, using his body to hold her fast, for his left hand was occupied in keeping her knife hand away from him. He wanted her immobile so he could watch her face. He did not want to miss the smallest change in her expression.

The impact of that slim, soft body against him was like the goad of a whip: his whole body tightened in response, and even his heart seemed to pause to take stock. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, to concentrate. Above all, he would not show this woman the effect she had upon him. Not when she appeared so indifferent to him.

“I know you are not the real Isobel,” he whispered, his voice thick.

There! He saw the tiniest catch of her breath, a widening of the nostrils, as if she had gasped a little. And did her lips part a little in shock?

“You jest, my lord.” Her voice did not waiver. “Of course I am Isobel. Who else would I be? The Lady Catherine sponsored my return to the court at my request. I wrote to her from the abbey at Fontrevault--”

He shook his head. “I don’t know who you really are. Not yet. But you are not Isobel. Your accent is almost flawless, but it isn’t perfect. I am a native of Brittany, too, Lady Isobel. We played together as children. Do you remember me?”

Now he saw emotion. It wasn’t quite fear. Not yet. “That was a long time ago,” she countered.

“Not long enough for me to forget eyes like yours. You are not Isobel. All that remains to be answered is who you really are and why you are masquerading as a Norman noblewoman.”

Author's note:

I was very pleased that Heart of Vengeance was released in paperback -- I have an especial weakness for the hero, Stephen, and his lady Helena. I've always wanted to write a book set in this era, and it was fun to research, plot and write this one.

-- Tracy.

Casting the Movie...

I often get asked who I would cast in the movie of my book, if it should ever come to pass, so just for fun:

Movie producer's pitch:

Robin Hood, The Black Shield of Falworth, and Ladyhawk all take a bow.
Even though they journey together, their hearts can’t be united until the injustices of their world are solved.