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The Devil DeVere Series New Release with Kindle Fire Giveaway!

 THE DEVIL DEVERE SERIES

Library Journal Best E-Book Romance 2012LR Café Best Series nominee 2012

“The “Devil DeVere” series is a variation on the rake’s progress, or the rake’s reformation, except that is doesn’t start with said rake as the main character—a device that is amazingly clever on Vane’s part and allows her to circle in on DeVere without revealing too much at the outset… The series is erotic and sexy, and sometimes you want to shake the characters until their teeth rattle, but it is absolutely marvelous. This one should be read with bonbons. And a fan!” –Marlene Harris for Library Journal

A WILD NIGHT’S BRIDE 

AWNBcover

IND’Tale RONE nominee, Night Owl Reviews Top Pick ,IRC Reader Choice Best Historical Nominee

“A Wild Night’s Bride combines descriptive, historical detail with a funny, light-hearted romance and tantalizing love scenes. I wish there were more romances of this calibre that engage the intellect, the heart and the senses. Highly recommended.” -  Jill Mackenzie for IND’Tale

THE VIRGIN HUNTRESS 

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IND’Tale RONE nominee, Night Owl Reviews Top Pick

“Stepping into a Victoria Vane story is like riding a roller coaster! Lots of excitement, giddiness, bright lights all around that make you ignore the slight discomforts. The story is fun, the dialogue is witty, the usual roles are changed, the originality and the threads of different story-lines abound here.” – Mimi Smith for IND’Tale

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW 

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IND’Tale RONE nominee, The Romance Reviews Best Erotic Historical nomineeNight Owl Reviews Top Pick ,The Romance Reviews Top Pick ,LR Café Best Historical Romance nominee 2012Two Lips Reviewer’s Choice Winner 2013

“Heavy on eroticism yet sensual, written in Victoria Vane’s signature prose, “The Devil You Know” is no wallpaper historical…Filled with vivid portrayal of life in Georgian England, this story is pure indulgence!” – Jill Mackenzie for IND’Tale

THE DEVIL’S MATCH 

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IND’Tale RONE nominee, Night Owl Reviews Top Pick , The Romance Reviews Top PickLASR Reviews Book of the Month December 2012Swept Away by Romance Best Historical Romance of 2012, Two Lips Reviews Recommended Read

“Ms Vane has neatly and sweetly tied up this series. It is without a doubt one of the finest historical romance novella series in print!  With great attention to historical detail, developed characters, beautiful prose, enchanting romances and sensual, yet tasteful love scenes, a romance reader couldn’t ask for more!” – Jill Mackenzie for IND’Tale

A DEVIL’S TOUCH

ADTCover

Swept Away by Romance Best Novella/Short story 2013

“Witty dialogue, lots of lust and fun times with The Devil and his wife. Life as they know it is about to change forever. This vignette also acts as a segue to Jewel of the East, Simon and Salime’s book. Keep them coming Victoria! I can’t get enough.” - Karla for Swept Away by Romance 

NEW RELEASE: JEWEL OF THE EAST

Jewel of the East by Victoria VaneBook # 5 in the award-winning Devil DeVere series. May be read as a standalone.

Maimed by misfortune… healed by love…

His wounds run deep…Having once lived his life only for larks, laughter, and ladies of easy virtue, Captain Simon Singleton has returned from war a shambles of a man. Although free from six years of captivity, he’s still fettered by fears that confine him to a life of seclusion.

Her scars are well-hidden…Once the crowning jewel of the most lavish brothel in London, the exotic Salime finds her reputation and livelihood destroyed by a bitter rival. With a closely guarded secret stripped away, she fears no man will ever desire her again. Seeking aid from one who once saved her life, she accepts a proposition to become a companion to his war-scarred friend.

But love is the eternal cure…When circumstance brings these two damaged souls together, fate ignites a love story worthy of the Arabian Nights. (mature content warning).

LINK TO MY  RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY: 

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(1) Kindle Fire HD with complete Victoria Vane e-book collection

NEW RELEASE: THE SHEIK RETOLD by Victoria Vane & E.M. Hull

$.99 SALE UNTIL 10-14-13

The Desert Was Never Hotter!

Pride and passion vie for supremacy between a haughty young heiress and a savage son of the Sahara in this steamy retelling of E.M. Hull’s romance classic. 

A haughty young heiress for whom the world is a playground… A savage son of the Sahara who knows no law but his own…

EXCERPT

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My eyes tracked upward to rest on his sun-bronzed and lightly bearded face. Harsh and angular in the lamplight, it was at once the handsomest and cruelest face I had ever seen. He regarded me fiercely with scornful eyes. Those eyes! Surely I had seen them before.

I gasped. It was him! The man from the party who had eyed me with such insolence. Even now he gazed at me as no other man had ever dared—in a way that made me acutely, almost painfully, conscious of my sex.

“Who are you?” I asked hoarsely, speaking in French without thinking.

He replied in French as well, “I am the Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan.”

The name conveyed nothing. “Is it money that you want? Are you holding me for ransom?”

He regarded me for a long and silent moment with an expression of contempt. “I have no need of your money.”

“What then?” I demanded, but deep down I already knew it was not a question of ransom. The way he looked at me was far too revealing and made my stomach churn. “Do you think that you can keep me here, you fool?” I lashed out in growing panic. “Do you suppose I can vanish into the desert and that no notice will be taken of my disappearance? That no inquiries will be made?”

“There will be no inquiries,” he answered me calmly.

“There will be inquiries,” I choked out. “I am not such a nonentity that nothing will be done when I am missed. The English authorities will make the French government find out who is responsible. You will pay for what you have done.”

“Pay?” His amused look sent a cold feeling of dread through me. “I have already paid…in gold that matches your hair, my gazelle. Besides,” he continued, “the French have no jurisdiction over me. There is no authority here above my own.”

My trepidation grew by the second. “Why have you done this? Why have you brought me here?”

“Why have I brought you here?” he repeated with a slow and heated appraisal. “Bon Dieu! Are you not woman enough to know?”

Understanding descended upon me in a nauseas wave that flooded me with heat, filling me with a horror that made each separate nerve in my system cringe. Instinctively, I shrank back. My gaze fell away from his, darting to the flap of the tent, but he read my mind, catching me in his arms before I could flee. My limbs quivered, and he laughed softly, his breath hot in my ear. His mirth was more frightening to me than anything he had said.

I averted my head, refusing to look at him, but he forcibly turned my face to his. I set my teeth and squeezed my lids shut, but I could not block out the vision of his eyes burning into me, nor the feeling of his hot, moist, mint-scented breath fanning my skin.

“I wanted you from the moment I saw you, my golden one…And now,” the backs of his long brown fingers brushed my hair, “you are mine.”

You are mine. His whispered words sent a wave of shock jolting through me.

“Damn you to hell!” I cried. “I am my own woman! No one owns me!” I knew he intended to force himself upon me, and the anticipation made me shudder with fear and revulsion. I could not win, but still I fought, writhing in an effort to free myself. When this attempt failed, I slumped in his arms in a feint of submission.

Unfazed, his lips neared mine. He murmured low and dark, his breath hot and faintly sweet against my face, “On the contrary, my gazelle, I do. I exchanged a large sum in gold with your would-be murderer. I bought your life. You are mine to do with as I wish.”

I willed myself to remain passive as his scorching lips met mine and his scalding tongue invaded my mouth, but the urge to escape resurfaced, reanimating my numbed nerves and galvanizing me to act. In a sudden surge of strength, I stomped the heel of my boot onto his instep. He drew back with a fierce curse, his grip loosening just enough for me to spin in his arms, yet when I tried to lurch free, the union with his bigger and stronger body remained. It was my valiant last stand…and it had failed.

“You will not get away with this,” I babbled. “Mustafa Ali or one of the caravan men has surely given the alarm in Biskra by now.”

“Mustafa Ali will not give any alarm in Biskra…or anywhere else for that matter.”

“Why not? Have you murdered them all?” I asked in a choked whisper. Myriad tales of ruthless Arab cruelty surged through my mind.

“No. I have not murdered them,” he replied. “There was no need when all had been arranged. When you come to know me better, you will realize that I leave little to chance. Of course, all things are with Allah, blessed be his name, but it is well to remember that Allah does not always concern himself with the affairs of men.”

My head swam dizzily at his reply. “What are you saying, that you planned all of this?”

He smiled slowly. “Voyons! It was all very simple. You engaged a caravan in the charge of Mustafa Ali to travel in the desert. You set out from Biskra, with the intent of traveling northward to Oran, where you would dismiss the caravan. From there you were to cross to Marseilles, then on to Cherbourg to embark for America where you would join your brother.” His slow, casual voice detailed my itinerary with the quiet certainty of perfect knowledge.

I swayed on my feet and whispered with dry lips, “H-how can you know…all…this?”

He replied with a blithe half-smile, “I wished to know.”

“But why?”

“I have told you, my dove. As to how, you paid Mustafa Ali to guide you into the desert. Your brother paid him even more to leave you for dead, and then I paid him even better to lead you to me. Well enough indeed to make him content to remove himself from Biskra, where awkward questions might be asked. Indeed, well enough to retire to a place where he no longer has a need to make his living as a caravan leader.”

To my amazement, he released me. I was too stunned to run, yet my mind raced with all he had revealed. Though I tried to reject it all as lies, tiny glimmers of truth broke through the darkness. I recalled vividly waking in my hotel room to a fleeting vision. There had been someone there. My revolver had been tampered with. I had not missed my shots; they had been substituted with blanks. Mustafa Ali’s shifting eyes, his desire to hurry from the oasis where we had rested at mid-day, his tone, were all explained. He had acted his part to perfection right down to the imaginary wound that had toppled him from his saddle. My faithless and deceitful guide had led me to a man who had bribed him to betray me. Even the horse I rode was trained to this sheik’s whistle. I could not deny that at least part of this absurdity was indeed truth.

The knowledge that I had been duped filled me with impotent rage, but the suggestion of Aubrey’s complicity was ludicrous! Nevertheless, seeds of doubt took root in my mind. Could this be why Aubrey had reacted so uncharacteristically the night before? Suddenly I recollected the last moments before our parting. What had he and the guide been discussing just before my departure? Had he really planned to kill me? But why? Aubrey lived a life of extravagance. Could he be in need of funds? In the event of my death, my entire fortune would be his.

I recalled the strange look in his eyes. Was it a pang of guilt over the murder he had planned? Had he had second thoughts at the last minute? Had Aubrey really paid the guide to kill me? My hands gripped my throat. My God! It could not be true!

“I don’t believe a word you say!” I gasped. “You are a brigand and a liar!”

His expression grew grim. His eyes shone cold, hard, and black as onyx. He came close behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders and then slowly slid them up to rest around my neck, where his thumbs caressed my pulse. His voice was low and soft. “Were you a man, I would slice your throat for such calumny. Do not ever disparage my character again.”

My heart stood still. “But why me?” I choked out.

He dipped his head to murmur in my ear. “It was fated. I saw you once before—in Paris. You were surrounded by your panting lapdogs and would have none of them. It was then I knew that I alone would have you. The rest was Allah’s will,” he continued matter-of-factly. “You came to Biskra. You arranged a tour in the desert. You were bored and wanted adventure. I have granted that wish.” He flashed a feral smile. “And now you will grant mine.”

***

When pride and passion vie for supremacy, blistering desert days are nothing compared to sizzling Sahara nights…

Available now in E-book and trade paperback

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GIVEAWAY:

RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY:

Enter my RAFFLCOPTER  for a chance to win  (1) Complete set of my Award winning devil DeVere Series  (2) DeVere audiobooks (1) $10.00 Amazon Gift Card

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AUTHOR BIO

Victoria Vane is an award-winning romance novelist, cowboy addict and history junkie whose collective works of fiction range from wildly comedic romps to emotionally compelling erotic romance. Victoria also writes historical fiction as Emery Lee and is the founder of Goodreads Romantic Historical Fiction Lovers and the Romantic Historical Lovers book review blog. Look for Victoria’s Contemporary Cowboy Series coming summer 2014 from Sourcebooks

 

CONTACT:

victoria.vane@hotmail.comWeb:

http://www.victoriavane.com

Blog: http://victoriavane.wordpress.com

Twitter: @authorvictoriav

Facebook: Author Victoria Vane

 

THE SHEIK RETOLD: A Fresh Take on a Romance Classic

$.99 SALE UNTIL 10-14-13

Pride and passion vie for supremacy in this steamy retelling of E.M. Hull’s romance classic.


TSR 300X250

A haughty young heiress for whom the world is a playground… A savage son of the Sahara who knows no law but his own…

“There will be inquiries.” I choked out. “I am not such a nonentity that nothing will be done when I am missed. You will pay for what you have done.”

“Pay?” His amused look sent a cold feeling of dread through me. “I have already paid… in gold that matches your hair, my gazelle. Besides,” he continued, “the French Government has no jurisdiction over me. There is no authority here above my own.” 

My trepidation was growing every passing minute. “Why have you done this? Why brought me here?” 

“Why?” He repeated with a slow and heated appraisal that made me acutely, almost painfully, conscious of my sex. “Bon Dieu! Are you not woman enough to know?”

When pride and passion vie for supremacy… Blistering desert days are nothing compared to sizzling Sahara nights…

 EXCERPT:

 

“Diana, give up this insane trip.”

“I will not.”

“I’ve a thundering good mind to make you.”

I gave an unladylike snort. “You can’t,” I said flatly. “I’m my own mistress now. You have no claim on me. We needn’t make any further pretence about it, for I am not going to argue any more. I will not go back to Biskra.”

“If you are afraid of being laughed at——”

“I am not afraid of being laughed at! Only cowards are afraid of that, and I am not a coward. I have said my last word, Aubrey. It is your own considerations and not mine that are at the bottom of your remonstrance. You do not deny it because it is true.”

I knew exactly the grievance he had been nursing. Maybe he now suffered some small prickings of conscience on my upbringing, but I had no doubt that concern for his own comfort troubled him most. Aubrey always had been, and always would be, supremely selfish.

We stared each other down across the little table until his eyeglass fell with a little sharp tinkle against his waistcoat button. I watched his angry flush of color with an absurd wave of amusement. Although we were perilously close to degenerating into a vulgar quarrel, it was a true spectacle to rouse the lazy Aubrey to wrath.

“You’re a damned obstinate little devil!” he exclaimed.

“I am what you have made me— as hard as yourself— so how can you quarrel with the result? It is illogical. This is your fault, not mine, but I don’t want to wrangle with you any more. My life is now my own to deal with, and I will deal with it exactly as I wish. I will do what I choose when and how I choose, and I will never again obey any will but my own.”

Aubrey’s mouth hardened. His eyes narrowed. “Then I hope to Heaven that one day you will fall into the hands of a man who will make you obey.”

I rose with a scornful laugh, flinging over my shoulder as I stormed back to my tent, “Then Heaven help him who tries!”

***

Available now in E-book and trade paperback

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GIVEAWAY:

RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY:

Enter my RAFFLCOPTER  for a chance to win  (1) Complete set of my Award winning devil DeVere Series  (2) DeVere audiobooks (1) $10.00 Amazon Gift Card

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AUTHOR BIO

Victoria Vane is an award-winning romance novelist, cowboy addict and history junkie whose collective works of fiction range from wildly comedic romps to emotionally compelling erotic romance. Victoria also writes historical fiction as Emery Lee and is the founder of Goodreads Romantic Historical Fiction Lovers and the Romantic Historical Lovers book review blog. Look for Victoria’s Contemporary Cowboy Series coming summer 2014 from Sourcebooks

CONTACT:

victoria.vane@hotmail.comWeb:

http://www.victoriavane.com

Blog: http://victoriavane.wordpress.com

Twitter: @authorvictoriav

Facebook: Author Victoria Vane

 

THE SHEIK RETOLD- The Desert Was Never Hotter!

$.99 SALE UNTIL 10-14-13


THE DESERT WAS NEVER HOTTER! 

A haughty young heiress for whom the world is a playground… 

A savage son of the Sahara who knows no law but his own…

Pride and passion vie for supremacy in this steamy retelling of E.M. Hull’s romance classic.

FFbanner 728X90

“There will be inquiries.” I choked out. “I am not such a nonentity that nothing will be done when I am missed. You will pay for what you have done.”

“Pay?” His amused look sent a cold feeling of dread through me. “I have already paid… in gold that matches your hair, my gazelle. Besides,” he continued, “the French Government has no jurisdiction over me. There is no authority here above my own.” 

My trepidation was growing every passing minute. “Why have you done this? Why brought me here?” 

“Why?” He repeated with a slow and heated appraisal that made me acutely, almost painfully, conscious of my sex. “Bon Dieu! Are you not woman enough to know?”

When pride and passion vie for supremacy… Blistering desert days are nothing compared to sizzling Sahara nights…

  

Available now for Kindle and NOOK and in trade paperback

 

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RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY:

Enter my RAFFLCOPTER  for a chance to win  (1) Complete set of my Award winning devil DeVere Series  (2) DeVere audiobooks (1) $10.00 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway
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AUTHOR BIO

Victoria Vane is an award-winning romance novelist, cowboy addict and history junkie whose collective works of fiction range from wildly comedic romps to emotionally compelling erotic romance. Victoria also writes historical fiction as Emery Lee and is the founder of Goodreads Romantic Historical Fiction Lovers and the Romantic Historical Lovers book review blog. Look for Victoria’s Contemporary Cowboy Series coming summer 2014 from Sourcebooks

 

CONTACT:

victoria.vane@hotmail.comWeb:

http://www.victoriavane.com

Blog: http://victoriavane.wordpress.com

Twitter: @authorvictoriav

Facebook: Author Victoria Vane

 

THE SHEIK RETOLD $.99 until 10-14

The Desert was Never Hotter!

TSR.99 promo600x400

Pride and passion vie for supremacy between a haughty young heiress and a savage son of the Sahara in this fresh new telling of E.M. Hull’s romance classic.A haughty young heiress for whom the world is a playground… A savage son of the Sahara who knows no law but his own…”There will be inquiries.” I choked out. “I am not such a nonentity that nothing will be done when I am missed. You will pay dearly for what you have done.”
“Pay?” His amused look sent a cold feeling of dread through me. “I have already paid… in gold that matches your hair, my gazelle. Besides,” he continued, “the French have no jurisdiction over me. There is no law here above my own.”
My trepidation was growing by the minute. “Why have you done this? Why have you brought me here?”
“Why?” He repeated with a slow and heated appraisal that made me acutely, almost painfully, conscious of my sex. “Bon Dieu! Are you not woman enough to know?”

When pride and passion vie for supremacy, blistering desert days are nothing compared to sizzling Sahara nights…

THE SHEIK RETOLD: Reinventing a Romance Classic

$.99 SALE UNTIL 10-14-13

Pride and passion vie for supremacy in this steamy retelling of E.M. Hull’s romance classic.

TSR 300X250

A haughty young heiress for whom the world is a playground… A savage son of the Sahara who knows no law but his own…

“There will be inquiries.” I choked out. “I am not such a nonentity that nothing will be done when I am missed. You will pay for what you have done.”

“Pay?” His amused look sent a cold feeling of dread through me. “I have already paid… in gold that matches your hair, my gazelle. Besides,” he continued, “the French Government has no jurisdiction over me. There is no authority here above my own.” 

My trepidation was growing every passing minute. “Why have you done this? Why brought me here?” 

“Why?” He repeated with a slow and heated appraisal that made me acutely, almost painfully, conscious of my sex. “Bon Dieu! Are you not woman enough to know?”

When pride and passion vie for supremacy…  

Blistering desert days are nothing compared to sizzling Sahara nights…

 CHAPTER ONE:

 

The city of Algiers, French Algeria- February 1920

“Diana, won’t you please let me manage this,” Jim pleaded with me once more.

“Not on your life,” I responded, hackles upright. “I’ve already been ‘managed’ as much as I can stand, thank you very much.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He gave me a look of dismay that evoked a twinge of guilt on my part. My predicament was not his fault. On the contrary, had I only listened to his advice two months ago…

He continued in a placating tone. “What I am trying to say is that you might be a bit too distraught at the moment to handle this with the tact it may require. Won’t you please consider waiting another day, or better yet, let me intercede on your behalf. Given the military governorship, my presence alone should lend more credence to your story. They may have trouble swallowing it, you know. It is quite an incredible tale.”

Deep down I knew he was right. First Lieutenant James Arbuthnot was both an officer of distinction in the British Army, as well as a gentleman of the first order, but I would not listen. My mind was filled with a militant mania for justice, vindication, and vengeance—in whatever order they might be achieved. I didn’t care that I was at the governor-general’s mansion sun beaten, wind burned, wild-eyed, and dressed like a heathen—I probably smelled like a camel too. Nevertheless, I couldn’t bring myself to concede once more to a man—not after all I had been through at the merciless hands of men.

I squared my shoulders and met him with my haughtiest stare, one maybe not intended to kill outright, but certainly to maim. “But it’s also the truth.”

I refused to back down, even though I wasn’t certain which office was the governor-general’s. With the lack of British diplomatic presence in Algiers, I perhaps should have gone first to the secretary of police, but I was a lowly woman amongst the Arabs and knew the contempt I would experience from them. No, I would begin at the top of the pyramid—with the highest French authorities— rather than letting myself be relegated to the bottom.

“Step aside, Jim. I’ll speak for myself.”

His grey gaze met mine and wavered, a sure sign of weakness that I was quick to exploit. Leaving him gaping after me, I barreled ahead and straight past the two armed legionnaires who took only seconds to give chase. “Arrêtez-vous ou je vais tirer sur vous!” shouted one of the guards.

“Shoot me then, by Jove!” I flung back over my shoulder.

I’d already proven that I had as many lives as a cat. I’d survived a plot against my life, been shot at multiple times, had endured almost two months of captivity, and had survived a three-hundred-mile trek across the barren Sahara. Although, I’d surely used at least five by now, I figured I must still have three or four lives remaining.

Amidst the melee, a portly man in a highly decorated French uniform flung open a door and stepped into the corridor with hands thrown up in classic Gallic fashion. “Porquoi tout ce remue-ménage?” he demanded with an air of authority and then eyed me with patent surprise. “Et qui est cette femme?”

“I am Diana Mayo,” I answered back in French. “I came here to see Monsieur Jonnart, the governor-general.”

“Diana Mayo? The English heiress?” He stepped closer, regarding me with renewed scrutiny. He reeked strongly of both garlic and disbelief. “She is dead these two months.”

I laughed hysterically. “Au contraire, monsieur. Though others may have done their best to achieve my demise, I am very much alive.”

C’est incroyabale!” He shook his head. “No English woman could survive in that wasteland!”

“I speak the truth!” I cried. “I am Diana Mayo. The governor-general knows me personally. We met in Paris only a year ago at an Embassy soiree just after the signing of the peace. My brother and I came to Algiers at his express invitation. If you still do not believe me, there are at least a dozen people in Biskra, citizens of my own country, who can positively identify me.” I took a deep breath, willing a demeanor of cool authority that I seemed to have lost. “Now, monsieur, I demand to see Charles Célestin Auguste Jonnart, the governor of this backward province.”

He smiled slowly, revealing two gold teeth. “I’m afraid that is not possible, mademoiselle. Charles Célestin Auguste Jonnart has been recalled to Paris on official diplomatic business.”

“When does he return?” I asked with growing impatience.

“He does not. Another has been appointed in his stead.”

My stomach sank. “Then please tell me who acts in his stead?”

He puffed his chest and raised a hand to twist the end of his waxed moustache. “The acting governor-general of this backward province…would be me, mademoiselle.” He completed the introduction with a curt bow. “I am General Jean-Baptiste Eugene Abel at your service.”

I closed my eyes on an inward groan. Damn! Why hadn’t I listened to Jim? It seemed I was defeated even before I had begun! I wondered if the new governor would have me quietly carried out of the building or dragged through the streets as a madwoman.

Neither, it seemed.

His gaze flickered over the two legionnaires shifting restlessly on either side of me, looking as uncertain as I felt. He waved them away with an irritated gesture. He then stepped back to motion me into his office. Large and opulently furnished in gilts and silks, it was a fascinating meld of Ottoman Empire and ancien régime.

S’il vous plait.” He waved me to a low Turkish divan. “Come and sit, mademoiselle. I shall call for coffee and then you shall recount to me all that is the cause of your great distress.” He smiled and settled his girth into a large leather-covered chair. “I wish to know precisely how such a delicate English woman managed to survive alone for months in such inhospitable conditions.”

He lit a cigarette and then offered his case to me, but I didn’t care for the scent of the cheap Gauloises tobacco, having become accustomed to the rich aroma of pure Turkish Murads.

“I am not so delicate, nor was I alone,” I replied. “I was abducted and held captive.”

“Were you indeed? I suppose these savages demanded a ransom for your release?” he asked before taking a long draw on his cigarette.

“No, he did not.”

He?” His brows rose as he blew a wispy cloud of grey smoke.

“Yes. My captor wanted nothing monetarily.”

“Is that so?” He was silent for a long moment as his beady black gaze swept over me. The unspoken implication and his lascivious leer sent a profusion of heat to my face.

Nevertheless, I forged on. “As it turns out, my abductor inadvertently saved my life.”

“How do you mean, mademoiselle?

“It is my belief that my own brother may have intended to kill me.”

“You believe your brother has intrigued against you? And where is he now, this brother?”

“He is in New York, or perhaps Newport. He has a perfect alibi, of course, but I have evidence to support my suspicions.”

He nodded slowly and then pursed his lips. “Then your captor was an accomplice in this nefarious plot?”

“No. It is not as simple as that.”

Alors! This is fascinating indeed. I wish to hear this tale en totalité, but first I shall summon my scribe to record this story. After which, I intend to send an urgent dispatch to the British Embassy in Paris.”

He stubbed out his cigarette and then his gaze narrowed on me with a disconcerting intensity. “As to your abductor, I shall deal with this heathen dog, this barbaric bâtard, personally. You must tell me, Mademoiselle Mayo, who was the perpetrator of this…this…outrage to your person?”

And in that moment I knew.

It was not the details of my intended murder that had captured his interest. No, he didn’t care at all about me. He desired only to know what I knew—specifically, the name and location of the force behind the simmering unrest—my captor and my lover—Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan.

***

Available now in E-book and trade paperback

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GIVEAWAY:

RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY:

Enter my RAFFLCOPTER  for a chance to win  (1) Complete set of my Award winning devil DeVere Series  (2) DeVere audiobooks (1) $10.00 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway
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AUTHOR BIO

Victoria Vane is an award-winning romance novelist, cowboy addict and history junkie whose collective works of fiction range from wildly comedic romps to emotionally compelling erotic romance. Victoria also writes historical fiction as Emery Lee and is the founder of Goodreads Romantic Historical Fiction Lovers and the Romantic Historical Lovers book review blog. Look for Victoria’s Contemporary Cowboy Series coming summer 2014 from Sourcebooks

CONTACT:

victoria.vane@hotmail.comWeb:

http://www.victoriavane.com

Blog: http://victoriavane.wordpress.com

Twitter: @authorvictoriav

Facebook: Author Victoria Vane

 

TREACHEROUS TEMPTATIONS Excerpt#1

A reluctant heiress … A dissolute nobleman …

A dangerous game of seduction and intrigue…

TreacherousTemptation 450X675

Mary Elizabeth Edwardes has one of the largest fortune’s in England, but has no desire to leave her quiet country existence… and even less to acquire a husband she cannot choose for herself.

Trapped in a duplicitous existence since scandal destroyed his fortune and family name, Lord Hadley Blanchard has spent the better part of a decade posing as a disaffected exile while spying and seducing in the service of the English Crown.

When summoned from abroad by a former lover, Lord Hadley perceives an opportunity for vengeance at last. By employing the full measure of his seductive charm, he woos the ward of the man who destroyed his life, little knowing that winning Mary’s fortune will mean risking his own treacherous heart.

EXCERPT:

Hanover Square, London -1727

“You must meet the girl soon.” Barbara gave a languid stretch, arching her back to display her breasts to best advantage. He had already capitulated to her demands once, but Barbara was never satisfied for long. She had come to his rooms before he could even unpack his bag and had nearly torn his clothes off in a lust-inspired frenzy.

“I believe I have.” Hadley ignored the blatant invitation for a second course, threw his legs over the side of the bed, and pulled his shirt back on over his head.

“How so? When?” she demanded.

“This morning, shortly after my arrival. In the music room. She was receiving most ineffectual dance instruction.”

“But Monsieur Gaspar is the best…at dancing anyway. Unfortunately, his lack of …inches… makes him quite inadequate in other capacities.” She rose and pressed her breasts to Hadley’s back, stretching her arms about his waist and licking the shell of his ear. Once, that might have driven him near insane, but now it was faintly annoying.

He gently but firmly disentangled himself and continued dressing. “Nevertheless, he had her so agitated the poor thing was positively tripping over herself.”

“But that is only her natural predisposition!” Barbara laughed. “Didn’t I tell you what a coarse creature she is? I despair that she’ll ever be ready to present. ‘Tis a good thing you are arrived. Mayhap we can now forgo the certain fiasco of taking her out into society.”

“Perhaps her manners and deportment lack refinement, but there’s nothing coarse about the girl. To be frank, I though her artlessness rather refreshing.” He smiled inwardly at their moment of ludicrous laugher at the dancing master’s expense. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d chuckled so naturally and spontaneously.

“That’s absurd! You can’t be saying you are taken with her, Hadley?” Something in his expression made Barbara’s gaze narrow. “Well, I suppose it’s best if she doesn’t altogether repulse you. It will facilitate the task at hand.”

“And what task is that?” he asked. He had far more important matters on his mind—like how to secure a loan and garner sufficient support to petition the king. Perhaps he would do better to try the queen? Walpole had managed to run the country through her and Hadley could charm the petticoats off any woman. Why would a young and reasonably attractive queen prove any different?

“Darling, I never thought you obtuse. You must wed the chit before someone else claims her fortune.”

Wed her?” the words jarred him out of his ruminations. “Is your mind disordered of a sudden, Barbara? I have no plans to wed anyone. Ever.”

She gave him a petulant look. “But how else do you suppose we are to get our hands on her money?”

“Is that the scheme you had in mind when you wrote me? To bilk an unwary young heiress of her fortune?”

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” She laughed. “I told you I had discovered a means of getting it all back—and so much more. She is exceedingly rich and once we have the money, it should be no trouble at all to secure the influence needed to restore your title.”

“How much?” he asked, veiling his interest. “What is the girl actually worth?”

She crawled onto his lap and laved her tongue up his neck. “That information will come at a price.” She was begging to be taken again and Hadley felt nothing…or rather nothing but an immense sense of relief that he was over her. He jerked his head away. “I’m not in the mood for any more games.”

“Pity,” she pouted. “Have you another lover now, Hadley? Or perhaps you have developed a penchant for Venice’s unnatural pleasures? Most well-travelled men do, you know. And I confess your valet was an exceptionally pretty creature.”

How much?” he repeated icily, ignoring her insinuation.

She sighed. “I can’t begin to tell you how much work that took to discover. Sir Richard is tediously protective of her assets.”

“Sir Richard? What has he to do with this?” Hadley demanded.

“Yes, darling,” she rolled her eyes. “That same obnoxious boor. Did I not tell you the girl is his ward?”

“That girl is Sir Richard’s ward?” When the girl in the music room had introduced herself as Mary Elizabeth Edwardes he had not made the connection, but then again, wily Sir Richard had taken care not to reveal anything about the Edwardes heir.

“One and the same my love, and worth every bit of fifty thousand a year! That plump little pigeon is one of the richest women in England, and thanks to me, she is yours for the plucking.”

The blood roared in his ears. It was just too bloody good to be true. The very one who held his lands was residing under Barbara’s roof. The girl was not only the means to a large fortune but also of revenge. “That certainly does throw a different light on matters.” He took heed not to betray his growing excitement. “But you and I both know Sir Richard would see me hanged before granting consent for me to wed his ward.”

She smiled. “Who said anything about seeking his consent?”

“You intend for me to despoil her to force a marriage? My dear Barbara, such rude and crass methods don’t suit me at all. The entire thing lacks finesse.”

She scowled. “Then how else do you propose we get control of her fortune?”

“I would propose gaining the girl’s good faith and cooperation.”

“And then what? Do you think she will just hand it over to you?”

“Something very close to that.”

“You are overly confident.”

“Not at all,” he laughed. “I have never failed to achieve my object where a woman was concerned, nor has any ever complained of my methods.”

 

 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A lover of history and deeply romantic stories, Victoria Vane combines these elements to craft romantic historical novels and novellas for a mature reading audience. Her writing influences are Georgette Heyer for fabulous witty dialogue and over the top characters, Robin Schone , Sylvia Day, and Charlotte Featherstone for beautifully crafted prose in stories with deep sensuality, and Lila DiPasqua for creative vision in melding history with eroticism.
AWARDS & ACCOLADES 2012:
• LR Café Best Author Nominee 2012
• Swept Away by Romance Favorite Author 2012

A Breach of Promise , December 2011 Ellora’s Cave
• Night Owl Reviews “Top Pick”
• Reading Romances 5 flames and “Pen Award”
• TBR Pile 5stars/Book of the month winner September 2012
• LASR Erotic Reviews 5 STAR/Book of the Month Nominee
• The Romance Studio 5 Sweetheart Nominee
• TRS CAPA Nominee 2012

THE DEVIL DEVERE SERIES- Library Journal Best E-Book Romance 2012
LR Cafe Best Series Nominee 2012

A Wild Night’s Bride 
• Night Owl Reviews Top Pick
• Amazon Top 100 Best seller
The Virgin Huntress 
• Night Owl Reviews Top Pick
The Devil You Know 
• Night Owl Reviews Top Pick
• The Romance Reviews Top Pick
• LR Café Best Historical Romance nominee 2012
The Devil’s Match 
• Night Owl Reviews Top Pick
• The Romance Reviews Top Pick
• LASR Reviews Book of the Month December 2012
• Swept Away by Romance Best Historical Romance of 2012

CONTACT:
victoria.vane@hotmail.com
Web: http://authorvictoriavane.com
Blog: http://victoriavane.wordpress.com
Twitter: @authorvictoriav

TREACHEROUS TEMPTATIONS Excerpt#3

A reluctant heiress … A dissolute nobleman …

A dangerous game of seduction and intrigue…

TreacherousTemptation 450X675

Mary Elizabeth Edwardes has one of the largest fortune’s in England, but has no desire to leave her quiet country existence… and even less to acquire a husband she cannot choose for herself.

Trapped in a duplicitous existence since scandal destroyed his fortune and family name, Lord Hadley Blanchard has spent the better part of a decade posing as a disaffected exile while spying and seducing in the service of the English Crown.

When summoned from abroad by a former lover, Lord Hadley perceives an opportunity for vengeance at last. By employing the full measure of his seductive charm, he woos the ward of the man who destroyed his life, little knowing that winning Mary’s fortune will mean risking his own treacherous heart.

EXCERPT #3

Chapter Two

Welham Grove, Leicester—1727

Determined not to show her weakness, Mary averted her gaze to the bow window of her father’s library, but the black crepe enshrouding it obscured her view of the gardens. Instead, she closed her eyes and inhaled, seeking fortitude in the comforting aromas—the blended bouquet of leather-bound books, Orinoco pipe tobacco, and the pungently sweet Madeira that Papa had favored, heedless of his gout. These subtle scents that still lingered months after his passing were reminders of the placid pastoral life she had always known—the one she feared was about to end.

“But this is the place of my birth, Sir Richard,” she protested. “How can you expect me to leave the only home I have ever known? I have no desire to go to London. My life is here at Welham Grove.”

“But consider the amusements of a London season,” her guardian cajoled. “The balls, the concerts, the play houses, polite society—”

“—None of which hold the least appeal to me,” Mary said. “I much prefer simple pleasures—a good book from this library, long walks and early morning gallops across the sheep pastures. Don’t you see? Even if I desired it, which I don’t, I am neither fit, nor equipped for a London season. I have spent my entire life at Welham Grove, and have never once minded, nor suffered, for the lack of so-called polite society.”

In all truth, the thought of London terrified her to the core. She had been only once in her life. Given her father’s aspirations for her future marriage, he had wanted her to mix with the so-called ‘quality,’ but the experience had utterly overwhelmed her. Country-bred Mary had felt ungainly and grossly inadequate even in her best gowns. Moreover, the monstrous city had seemed to swallow her whole. No, she could not even conceive of returning to London.

“My dear girl, were you a few years younger, I would gladly leave you in the charge of a governess, but at nineteen you are a woman grown. You must think to your future.”

“My future? What you really mean is a husband.”

“Well, yes.” Sir Richard rewarded her with an avuncular smile. “A husband is certainly in your future.”

“But why, Sir Richard? Am I not an heiress in my own right?”

He gave her another patronizing smile. “You are indeed, but your father desired to see you settled in marriage. The terms of his will are rather…er…encouraging to that end.”

“What can you mean?”

“You have been provided with a small allowance, little more than pin money really, until your marriage or your thirtieth year…whichever comes first.”

Eleven years to gain her inheritance? The revelation stole her breath.

“You must understand, my dear, that a young unwed woman simply cannot abide in the country all alone. Although a suitable companion could be arranged, that does not answer your other needs.” Sir Richard examined the briarwood pipe that still adorned the mahogany desk, and then cast an appraising look over the room, as if he mentally tabulated the value of its contents. “Regrettably my political affairs prevent me from attending your inheritance with the close oversight it requires. You need someone with a vested interest to manage your affairs, someone who will keep others honest. A husband is the logical answer.”

Mary burned with frustration, yet she managed to meet his patronizing stare straight on. “Why are you treating me as if I were an incapable infant when you know that Papa treated me in most respects as more of a son than a daughter? He taught me much of estate matters and often praised my abilities. Indeed, I have run this household since my mother passed. Surely I can learn the rest.”

A short burst of mirth preceded Sir Richard’s answer. “Your father merely humored the whims of his only child, and a female at that! A woman, any woman, is simply not capable of running a landed estate, let alone six of them!”

“But Papa employed estate factors and other men of business. If this arrangement sufficed while he lived, why should his death change anything? With a bit of sound guidance, I am certain I could manage.”

Just as she vowed to hold fast to her argument, her guardian seemed equally resolved to bring her into submission. He shook his bewigged head. “No, my girl, a husband is the only answer, for no hired man may be implicitly trusted where money is concerned, and as a woman, you are doubly vulnerable to unprincipled rogues. There are few men who can be implicitly trusted in business matters.” He paused. “Speaking of which, your father held a number of financial ledgers in safe-keeping for me, but I have been unable to locate them. Do you perchance know where they are?”

Although it seemed a casual question, his narrowed gaze belied an avid interest. The servants had already reported that he’d combed through both the library and the office looking for something, yet her father had specifically told Mary to lock the books away. She wondered now what those volumes contained. Mary regarded him blankly. “I would not know, Sir Richard, but I would be happy to look for them.”

“I would be much gratified if you would, my dear. They are but musty business records, but you must humor my punctilious nature. I would hate to see them misplaced. Now, as to your father’s wishes,” he continued back on topic, “I am obligated both as his friend and as your legal guardian to see them carried out.”

Realizing the fruitlessness of any further argument for independence, Mary changed tack. “But why must I go all the way to London when there are surely many eligible bachelors right here in Leicestershire?”

“What? A gentleman curate or a crude country squire? Bah! You will have no such thing! Your father desired an advantageous match for you, and so shall it be. London is the only place to contrive such an alliance.”

“But don’t you see how unfit I am? I have none of the accomplishments or sophisticated wiles that such a gentleman would desire in a wife.” Mary rose and paced the room. “I have been only once to London. I don’t know anyone there. I haven’t the clothes or the connections.” Her protests escalated to a staccato bombardment. “I don’t dance. I have no notion of their manners. How should I even know to go on? I shall be nothing more than a country frump subject to scorn at every turn!”

“Preposterous, my dear! You quite underestimate your natural charms. To many gentlemen you would be considered quite a prize.”

“A prize?” she laughed. “Then you must refer to my chief asset–my bank account. If so, perhaps you could just save us both a great deal of trouble with an advertisement in The Daily Gazetteer.How about, ‘Vast fortune awaits marriage-minded nobleman… Only those willing to overlook the dull and dowdy heiress need apply.’”

Sir Richard gaped, his red-veined jowls quivering with the soundless motion of his mouth. To Mary he resembled nothing more than a landed trout. Knowing she had already lost the war, she could only bask in the sweet satisfaction of this tiny victory.

**AVAILABLE NOW IN E-BOOK FOR $2.99**

 

 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A lover of history and deeply romantic stories, Victoria Vane combines these elements to craft romantic historical novels and novellas for a mature reading audience. Her writing influences are Georgette Heyer for fabulous witty dialogue and over the top characters, Robin Schone , Sylvia Day, and Charlotte Featherstone for beautifully crafted prose in stories with deep sensuality, and Lila DiPasqua for creative vision in melding history with eroticism.
AWARDS & ACCOLADES 2012:
• LR Café Best Author Nominee 2012
• Swept Away by Romance Favorite Author 2012

A Breach of Promise , December 2011 Ellora’s Cave
• Night Owl Reviews “Top Pick”
• Reading Romances 5 flames and “Pen Award”
• TBR Pile 5stars/Book of the month winner September 2012
• LASR Erotic Reviews 5 STAR/Book of the Month Nominee
• The Romance Studio 5 Sweetheart Nominee
• TRS CAPA Nominee 2012

THE DEVIL DEVERE SERIES- Library Journal Best E-Book Romance 2012
LR Cafe Best Series Nominee 2012

A Wild Night’s Bride 
• Night Owl Reviews Top Pick
• Amazon Top 100 Best seller
The Virgin Huntress 
• Night Owl Reviews Top Pick
The Devil You Know 
• Night Owl Reviews Top Pick
• The Romance Reviews Top Pick
• LR Café Best Historical Romance nominee 2012
The Devil’s Match 
• Night Owl Reviews Top Pick
• The Romance Reviews Top Pick
• LASR Reviews Book of the Month December 2012
• Swept Away by Romance Best Historical Romance of 2012

CONTACT:
victoria.vane@hotmail.com
Web: http://authorvictoriavane.com
Blog: http://victoriavane.wordpress.com
Twitter: @authorvictoriav

TREACHEROUS TEMPTATIONS Excerpt#2

A reluctant heiress … A dissolute nobleman …

A dangerous game of seduction and intrigue…

TreacherousTemptation 450X675

Mary Elizabeth Edwardes has one of the largest fortune’s in England, but has no desire to leave her quiet country existence… and even less to acquire a husband she cannot choose for herself.

Trapped in a duplicitous existence since scandal destroyed his fortune and family name, Lord Hadley Blanchard has spent the better part of a decade posing as a disaffected exile while spying and seducing in the service of the English Crown.

When summoned from abroad by a former lover, Lord Hadley perceives an opportunity for vengeance at last. By employing the full measure of his seductive charm, he woos the ward of the man who destroyed his life, little knowing that winning Mary’s fortune will mean risking his own treacherous heart.

EXCERPT #2 (MATURE CONTENT WARNING)

Chapter One

Republic of Venice – March 1722

Hadley, self-styled, Lord Blanchard fumbled with the key, dropped it, and then groped in the dark, cursing the slothful valet who failed to answer his summons. His ill temper was as much due to his gaming losses as by the clumsiness induced by an over-abundance of alcohol. Although he’d polished off an entire case of Canary wine with his cronies, the countless casks, and plethora of bemasked bedfellows, provided only fleeting succor for his distress.

He had come to Venice to lose himself in the faceless throng of revelers, and the Queen of the Adriatic had welcomed him as warmly as a new mistress. With his letter of introduction from the Duke of Wharton, Hadley had enjoyed the best of accommodations without the inconvenience of having to pay for them. This good fortune had also allowed him to indulge for a time, in a spree of unbridled debauchery, and where better than Venice? For nowhere in Europe boasted such a paradoxical picture of piety and depravity as the Venetian Republic during carnival.

By light of day, she affected a demeanor of respectability. Her ladies, modestly hidden behind filmy black veils, and her gentleman who concealed their nightly dissipations with false facades of refined gentility, seemingly found no greater delight than innocent promenades in the Piazza, samplingfrittola, and perusing shops for silks and pointe-de-venice.

With the arrival of dusk, however, the true Venice awakened. Donning her gilded and bejeweledbauta, sherevealed her soul beneath a thousand torches lighting the canals with sputtering brilliance over shimmering waters. With her countless covered gondolas affording floating places of refuge for sinful delights, she reveled in all of her concupiscent glory. (more…)

The Kiss from TREACHEROUS TEMPTATIONS by Victoria Vane

A reluctant heiress … A dissolute nobleman …A dangerous game of seduction and intrigue…

TreacherousTemptation 450X675

Mary Elizabeth Edwardes has one of the largest fortune’s in England, but has no desire to leave her quiet country existence… and even less to acquire a husband she cannot choose for herself.

Trapped in a duplicitous existence since scandal destroyed his fortune and family name, Lord Hadley Blanchard has spent the better part of a decade posing as a disaffected exile while spying and seducing in the service of the English Crown.

When summoned from abroad by a former lover, Lord Hadley perceives an opportunity for vengeance at last. By employing the full measure of his seductive charm, he woos the ward of the man who destroyed his life, little knowing that winning Mary’s fortune will mean risking his own treacherous heart.

(The Kiss that begins Lord Hadley’s methodical seduction of Mary Edwardes)

He caught her staring and Mary swiftly averted her gaze.

“You are distressed?” he asked softly. “Why?”

“It’s nothing,” she answered.

“Your sigh betrays you, Miss Edwardes.”

“Was it really aloud?” She hadn’t realized she’d given away her thoughts.

“Sweet and sad, it was. I have failed to divert you. Perhaps I should have thought of something else.”

“It’s not that—” she turned to protest but stopped when he brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Her gaze widened as he inspected it with a half-smile.

“A vestige of jam tart, I believe. But alas,” he gave a helpless shrug. “I have no napkin.” Before she realized what he was about, he brushed her lips in a feathery kiss, lingering at the corner of her mouth, where his tongue flicked out to taste her. The unexpectedness of it stunned her. “Lord Hadley! Wh-what are you doing?”

“If you have to ask, I must be losing my touch. Perhaps I should try again?”

Still too dazed to formulate a response, he took advantage to steal another kiss, this one as soft as the sigh that escaped her lungs. He increased the pressure then, slanting his heavenly mouth and lightly nibbling her lower lip. His kiss was warm and soft and wonderful, making her forget she was supposed to protest.

“You are deliciously sweet, Mary, like ripe strawberries, but now I have taken a taste of you, I only want more.”

“Please,” escaped her lips.

Was it a protest or a plea? She wasn’t sure. If the former, it was feeble even to her own ears. How easily… how eagerly… she had capitulated to him…and far worse…how desperately she wanted more.

“Please?” he repeated. “Please stop, or please kiss you again?”

“No.” She averted her head with what he surely knew was a toothless protest. His manner was far too familiar, far too intimate. She knew she shouldn’t permit him any more liberties, but good heavens!

“Come now, Mary.” He turned her bodily back to him, his warm gaze seeking hers, his honeyed voice cajoling. “It’s only a kiss, after all.”

Only a kiss?

Perhaps he had no idea how devastating a kiss could be…or mayhap he knew exactly what it did to her. “Perhaps this is normal for you, my lord, but I am an unsophisticated girl and unaccustomed to casual kisses.”

“No? Then perhaps it’s past time you became accustomed. Shall I really kiss you, sweet Molly? Truly and thoroughly?”

Was this the course of a seduction? Is this what he had planned all along? She searched his face for the answer only to lose herself in his blue eyes. Fear gripped her. Not of him, but of her weakening will. “Don’t,” she whispered.

He muted her protest with his mouth, catching her breath and replacing it with his own. This kiss was different, paradoxically soft and firm, it demanded a response that she was helpless to deny. Mary closed her eyes, responding and melting into him as he nipped, and licked, and suckled her lips. Like a vortex, he pulled her into the kiss, stealing the air from her lungs, along with any remaining will. His warm slick tongue teased, gently urging her to open. When she parted, just a fraction, he took command. He entered her mouth deeply, seeking, exploring with his smooth, wet tongue, the contact of which instantly sent a flood of warm moisture between her thighs.

Only a kiss?

It was staggering.

Her mind was lost to time and place, as if nothing existed beyond his divine mouth. He discarded her bonnet and tangled his fingers in her hair. She whimpered, clutching at his lapels, yet he refused to relent. Mercilessly, he intensified the kiss, pulling her so far in; submerging her in so much sensation that Mary thought she would drown in the pleasure of it.

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