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I’m blogging in two places today, but thought it might be a great time to start talking about my new book coming out April 28th, First Knight. FK was originally published as a short story in 2005, but I decided I really needed to get back inside it and tell the rest of the tale! So FK is now novella length and tons more satisfying with a very tasty ménage. I hope you’ll be looking for it because I’d like to know if you want more of these medieval tales of knights and their ladies with a little side of blood.
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While hiding her true identity, Maddie must seduce the mysterious Lord Garon to cement their marriage contract to ensure she won’t be returned into her lecherous stepfather’s care.
Fresh from Crusade in Palestine, Lord Garon has a secret he must hide, a hunger that must be fed, and a dark and uncertain future. Having shed himself of a fiancée he never met, he’s home to lick his wounds. The only thing he wants is a warm-blooded meal—but the new housekeeper is strangely insistent on giving him much more.
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“Do you undress to bathe all our guests?” he rumbled.
“I, um, didn’t want to get my clothing wet,” Maddie said, not answering his question because he was the first, and she didn’t want him knowing it. Feeling self-conscious beneath his stare, she wrapped her arms around her belly before she realized the movement pushed up her scant bosom. She quickly lowered her arms and bent to pick up the clothing she had tossed to the floor.
His indrawn breath halted her, pulling her gaze, although she’d been fighting herself not to stare at him. Short of turning her back fully, she couldn’t not look. He filled the room with his broad shoulders, deep chest, ridged belly and thighs that were roped with well-honed muscles. His powerful form was forever etched on her mind.
Never mind that hidden beneath the rim of the tub were his most disturbing attributes. Lord, the part that proclaimed him male was most impressive of all. Darker than his burnished skin, the long shaft shone like silky fabric with ridged blue veins mapping the surface. The rounded head, protruding from the cowl of his foreskin, was berry red.
That was the part he would insert into her woman’s furrow to till his crop of children—or so the cook had described the act. The woman had stumbled for a proper way to describe it, but Maddie had heard the coarse terms before. Swive. Fuck. Both made her cringe inside, so “tilling” it was.
Although how exactly he would till her field was never firmed in her mind. Every woman submitted to the tilling at one time or another. She’d survive. No matter that his “hoe” was quite large. Anne and Kate, the brazen hussies, had both seemed eager to fornicate with him.
Perhaps it diminished once it squeezed inside.
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