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Showing posts with label Cursed Treasure Series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cursed Treasure Series. Show all posts

Friday, 11 September 2015

#NewRelease Sybille's Lord [Cursed Treasure Series] by @RavenMcAllan #historical #erotic @evernightpub

Please welcome back the lovely Raven McAllan with the latest installment in the Cursed Treasure Series, Sybille's Lord - Out Today! 



Waves madly Thank you so much for letting me hijack your blog.

I’m so excited. Sybille’s Lord is ready to jump onto your eReader.

This is the third story in the Moon Curse series, and I’ve had so much fun writing them.

Compromised, the first story is a prequel, and a free read. That’s Theo and Mijo’s story. The rest of the books are their children’s stories as they try to make their family’s fortunes

You can download Compromised  here on the Evernight website, or from Amazon, Are or Bookstrand

The second story is Lord Suitor. That’s Tessa’s story. You can buy that here on Evernight, or from the aforementioned sources.

And now drum roll book 3, Sybille’s Lord is out on 11th September and yes you can get it from Evernight here

That of course is Sybille’s story.


Blurb…


When you have to marry to save your family's fortunes, and the man of your dreams offers for you, you ought to be ecstatic, right?

Not, if you want it all, you're not. Having witnessed first hand a love match in the shining example of her parents, Sybille is not prepared to settle for anything less than true love.

Thomas, Lord Jeavons might have proposed, but does he love her? Especially once she tells him her secrets.

For his part, Thom is enchanted, and far from being put off by Sybille's demands, he vows to do everything in his power to convince her that he is the only man for her—both in and out of the bedroom.

With her family's good name at stake, can they solve all their issues before it is too late and find their own happy ever after?


And your tease…


“Consider yourself properly betrothed. Shall we celebrate?” He put her down, but didn’t let go of her.

Luckily. The room spun as she tried to stand, and she clutched the arms that held her. “Er, one moment.” She shut her eyes and then opened them cautiously. Nothing moved. Satisfied she wouldn’t disgrace herself and be sick, she nodded. “How?”

“Oh I’m sure we can think of something.” He snagged a bottle of wine and two goblets, and with his arm over her shoulder, steered her toward the door. “Shall we see what we can come up with?”

Several hours later, Sybille opened her eyes and realized she lay snuggled and sated next to Thom in a sumptuous four poster. They had, she decided, indeed seen what they could come up with. Several times. In a myriad of ways. Who knew a cravat could have so many uses? Her body flooded with heat as she remembered how he’d covered her eyes and told her to use her senses and just feel.

Even better were the scenes that flashed though her mind when he’d handed the now mangled cravat to her, and with a wicked grin, said simply, “your turn now.”

She used it to tie his hands, an act that both surprised and excited her, and, she judged, him as well. Eventually, after he’d entered her in more ways than she’d thought possible, culminating with her on her knees and him behind her—no pamphlet she’d seen had talked about that—they had collapsed in a heap on the bed. Sweaty, happy, exhausted, and in her case, knowing it was perfect.

It seemed Thom agreed.

As he slid out of her, he rolled to one side, scooped her up and settled her in the crook of his arm. “That was everything…” He yawned. “All…I love…” He sighed, yawned again and snored.

Sybille stifled the ready giggle that begged to be released. Mind you, he had worked hard, been incredibly inventive and…she yawned as well. Ten minutes wouldn’t matter.

Those ten minutes had turned into many hours. She turned her head, and noticed the first rays of dawn were showing though the windows. They’d hadn’t even got around to closing the shutters before they’d tumbled onto the bed

Sybille moved her head cautiously and looked at the slumbering man who held her tight in his arms. He looked so innocent, which was a description she decided could never be used when he was awake. However, at that moment, she itched to see how long the expression or attitude would last. She reached behind her and used her forefinger to poke the easiest bit of flesh she could reach. His stomach.

Thom jumped, grunted, snorted and snored. Sybille wasn’t sure whether to laugh or shout in his ear. At least he hadn’t passed wind.

She had no idea what time it was, around five or six she decided, and although not the time she would normally rise, even in the country, she wanted to talk. She wriggled around, and did her best to ignore the part of his anatomy that was once more making its presence known to her, by pressing on her rear.

No, she amended her thoughts, needed to talk. To find out what happened next. She poked him again.

“Stop wriggling woman, unless you want to wake every inch of me.” His voice was husky from sleep, and the grumbling note in it was patently false. “It’s barely daylight. Time for a snooze and then wake up and play. I need rest, you wore me out.” He didn’t sound at all concerned, more the opposite.

“We need to talk,” Sybille said. She tried to twist around to look him in the eyes, but Thom merely sighed, yawned and tightened his grip.

“Later, much later.”

“No, now. I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh lord,” Thom, and pressed a feather-light kiss on her neck. His breath was warm in the early morning air, and Sybille shivered.
“Cold? I can help.” Thom purred the words. “I seem to have been woken up and now I’ve got an appetite.”

She wriggled a little more. “Well, something’s woken up.”

Thom had her on her back and had moved over her so fast she hardly had time to blink.

“So shall we feed it?”

Sybille opened her legs and welcomed him inside her. The warmth of his staff in her, his body around her and showing her what she meant to him, was oh so welcome. She met him thrust for thrust, reveling in the way his breath became increasingly choppy and his skin dotted in perspiration.

Thom stiffened, the corded veins on his arms standing out as he did his best to stave off his climax. As her own climax crested and threatened to break, Sybille tightened her inner muscles and dug her heels into his back.

“Syb… sweet lord, I can’t hold back.”

“Good…ah…” She let her own climax peak and crash, as with one last thrust, he shouted his own completion.

It was several minutes before Sybille was able to think coherently once more. She realized that Thom was still slumped over her and although she reveled in how she could be responsible for the state he was in, she became ever more conscious of the state she was in. Pins and needles in one leg and a desperate need to use the chamber pot. Which luckily was in the bathing chamber.

If only she could work out how to get to it.

Happy Reading,

Wednesday, 12 August 2015

#NewRelease Lord Suitor [Cursed Treasure 2] by @RavenMcAllan #RegencyRomance

Please Welcome Raven McAllan with new Regency Romance, Lord Suitor  

Thank you for inviting me onto your blog.

I consider myself very lucky. 

I write what I love, Evernight publish it, and people buy it and (hopefully) read it. What more can I ask for?

I couldn't not write and I especially love to write Regency Romance. And oh yes, Evernight lets me.

So we have the Cursed Treasure series.

A family whose fortune is cursed.

A family whose fortune is almost gone, and have to manage very carefully.

A family whose grown up children decide to ignore the curse and make their fortune grow once more. They don't want to be a burden.
Strangely (or not) this isn't a paranormal story. Only the treasure is said to be cursed.

As the parchment with it says…

The heart of ye child be lifting the curse—dare ye risk it…


(the prequel, Compromised, tells how Mijo escapes from France with the treasure, it's a free read, find it at Evernight,   Amazon US,   Amazon Canada,    
Amazon UK,   ARe,   BookStrand)
Lord Suitor is Tessa's story 

          A smuggler and an aristocrat. Who should Tessa chose?
Both professed their love for her, both intrigued her. How could she pick one over the other?
When Tessa was accosted by a smuggler her life took a turn for the better. Or so she thought. Until Nathaniel, Lord Fenniston indicated his interest in her. She had to marry to help her family, but her loyalties are torn.
Either man could be the one, but how can she decide? Torn between them, Tessa must think hard and fast.
Luckily, fate has it’s own way of deciding, and Tessa had no option but to do as it dictates.
A wee tease… 
Her one night of bliss, her initiation, as she thought of it, had given her a very definite opinion of what she wanted, expected, from any marriage. However, and there was the rub, how could she say to someone, I’ll only marry you if you satisfy me in the way my smuggler did? You need to make my skin tingle, my insides quiver, and my body react in a way I never thought possible, so I shout and scream my release and beg you for more? Oh and your body, when it gains its own satisfaction inside me, has to react in the same way? It was not something she could introduce into everyday conversation. It wasn't something most men would appreciate hearing. Men were such touchy creatures they wouldn't see it as a compliment on their prowess, just the opposite.
Tessa stirred uneasily in her chair. During those long hours of enforced darkness, her highwayman had taught her some very interesting ways to satisfy herself. After the first few fumbling—and embarrassed at her temerity—attempts, she was happy with how to touch and tease herself until she was panting and sated. However, it wasn't the same. It is not him.
Tonight though, she knew nothing she did would ease the ache deep inside her. The unexpected offer from Lord Fenniston had thrown her somewhat.
Why her? Oh, they were neighbors in Devon, but he had never shown any interest in her. In fact she hadn't noticed him singling her out in any way, exactly the opposite. One occasional country dance did not show a partiality for anyone. They'd never waltzed, he'd never asked for her hand into supper, and never solicited her company at a picnic or to the theater. No, if anything, she would have thought he preferred Lady Elizabeth Cantor or Frederica Stowe. Nor did Tessa think he chose to spend time with those ladies as a smokescreen for his desire to have her as a wife. They were both too much all woman for that, and she was well aware neither would put up with such cavalier behavior.
Nor would I.
Somehow, Tessa accepted, as she stirred the glowing coals back into flames, Nathaniel Fenniston was not the sort of man to dissemble in that way. It wouldn't be kind to either lady, and she didn't think he would ever be deliberately unkind. No, he was an honorable man, but did that mean he was the man for her? Somehow, she needed to find out. On that sobering and complicated thought, she put the fireguard in place and took herself to bed.
Yet again she dreamed of her smuggler. She felt his hands on her as he showed her how to please both him and herself. Heard his voice as he praised her efforts and moaned his appreciation. Recalled and recreated in her dreams how his body stiffened and he shouted out his completion as he spilled onto her skin. Shivered and writhed as his lips met her quim and sucked on the soft flesh there and then drew the hard nub into his mouth. She gasped as her juices gathered, ready to help her fall over the edge of sanity and reason.
Tessa woke with a gasp to see the thin light of dawn creep around her curtains, and to feel the warmth and dampness of her arousal slick her skin. Her body tingled with awareness. Should she?
A quick glance at the timepiece on the mantel told her she had time enough to assuage her needs.
Tessa stretched out to fumble in her nearby sewing basket, to retrieve something she had secreted there.
A few days after her encounter with the smuggler she'd found a package in her bedside cabinet. She had no idea where it had come from, or who had placed it where she would see it so readily. The outside wrapper merely had her name on, and the cryptic message "for your eyes only."
Puzzled she ripped the paper and unwrapped the fine lawn material that covered the contents. It was a smooth, wooden darning mushroom, with a note attached to it.
When she read the words, Tessa didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Inscribed in a very elegant hand it said: Close your eyes and run your fingers over this. Now imagine what it feels like and use it accordingly until we meet again.
Intrigued, Tessa had done as directed and discovered it was the perfect facsimile of a male staff. "Pego" her smuggler had called it as he taught her how to fondle and taste. At first she'd held it and stroked it, until her mind played games on her. A few nights later, her dreams included him, his pego, and his hands showing her how indeed a humble darning mushroom was the perfect substitute for a man. No, not perfect, she amended, adequate.
You can find me at www.ravenmcallan.com
Happy Reading
 Love  R x