The Brit Babes Do Billionaires! Sexy Just Got Rich, but you don’t have to BE rich to afford a sizzling summer read. For a limited time only The Brit Babe’s collection, Sexy Just Got Rich, is a bargain at 99 pence in the UK and 99 cents in the US, with similar discounts in Canada and Australia too! It’s a fab way to enjoy filthy rich without breaking the bank!
Sexy Just Got Rich Blurb:
Billionaires have it all but that doesn’t mean they don’t have to work hard to get what their hearts desire. In this brand
new anthology of erotic BDSM stories the Brit Babes offer heroes and heroines who aren’t shy about taking what they want. From farmyards to luxury penthouses, wealth is all about sating needs, connecting souls and taking pleasure to new highs. Whether you’re looking for a coffee break read or something longer to curl up in bed with, you’ll find something to suit your needs in Sexy Just Got Rich.
Here’s a bit of a teaser from my story, Buying the Farm.
‘Buying the Farm’
Cassie Fielding is at her wits end trying to save the family farm from bankruptcy after her father’s illness. But when Cassie returns from university, she finds that, in spite of their financial situation, her father has hired the mysterious Simon Dennis to help run the place. As Cassie and the new hired hand experience an unprecedented heat wave of lust, Cassie comes to suspect that her father and Simon may be in cahoots with their own plan to save the farm, and the whole scheme depends on her.
Excerpt
When Simon came to her, she was standing with her back to the open sliding door, arms braced against the stalls they had renovated. He wanted to breed horses – not on a grand scale, but mostly as an experiment in the beginning, a part of their plan to diversify. The planning was still in the early stages, but it was filled, like most of their plans for Fielding Farm, with exciting possibilities.
‘I’m sorry, Cassie.’ For a long time he stood silhouetted in the door, his shadow stretching out before him, merging with the gloom of the barn. Then he moved to stand behind her, slipping his arms carefully around her waist, as though he feared she might turn on him. In truth, she wasn’t sure his fears weren’t justified.
At last, she relaxed and leaned her head back against his shoulders, feeling his sigh of relief, warm and humid on the soft flesh of her neck. ‘Is any of what he said true?’
‘Some of it, yes. I wanted to buy Fielding Farm. I made your father a very generous offer, one I didn’t think he could refuse.’
‘But he did.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.
‘Well, not exactly.’ He kissed her ear and tightened his hold just slightly, not sure what her response would be. ‘He told me he wouldn’t consider any offer until I’d worked as his hired hand for six months.’
Cassie laughed in spite of herself. ‘And then he threw in the farmer’s daughter to sweeten the deal?’
He nuzzled her neck and kissed her just below her ear, sending shivers down her spine, and she pressed back against him. ‘I think he knew all along what would happen. I think he knew that when I got to know the farmer’s daughter, I’d want it all, lock stock and barrel, and buying the farm was gonna cost me way more than I expected to pay.’ One hand moved up to cup her breast and for a long second, he seemed to have lost himself in the soft flesh of her nape and along the top of her shoulder. ‘But Christ,’ he breathed against her throat, ‘it’s worth the price.’
I’d like to begin this post by offering huge, gigantic congratulations to my dear friend and author extraordinaire, Kay Jaybee, who won the ETO 2015 Best Erotic Author Award. In spite of insurmountable obstacles and a way less than pleasant day Kay Jaybee rocked it!
I’m just home from my third ETO show and awards banquet. Kay Jaybee’s much-deserved win of ETO’s Best Erotic Author Award for 2015 has got me reflecting on the past three years of coming together for the awards banquet and the celebration of all things erotic. It was three years ago that ETO added a Best Erotic Author category to its annual awards banquet. Kay Jaybee and I were lucky enough to have been nominated for that first ETO Best Erotic Author Award back in 2013. It was a beginning in so many ways. The Brit Babes had just been conceived. The eight of us were becoming fast friends and steadfast supporters of each other’s efforts to get our stories out to a wider audience, and to remind readers that there are WAY more than fifty shades of erotica.
I remember that first show being such a whirlwind event. It all happened so fast. Raymond and I drove down from Scarborough that Sunday morning after having participated in and thoroughly enjoyed the first ever Smut By the Sea event organized by Brit Babe, Victoria Blisse and her totally amazing husband, Kev. Once in Birmingham, we met Kay Jaybee and Mr. Jaybee in the lounge of the Crown Plaza Hotel with just enough time for a quick drink before we put on our glad rags and made our way to the Champaign reception – me teetering on shiny killer heels that were a danger to myself and everyone around me. (This is a chick who lives in walking shoes and trainers when I’m not barefoot.)
Though the ETO Show had been going on for awhile, this was the first year the award for Best Erotic Author was offered. I remember, Kay Jaybee and I were round-eyed with excitement and over the moon to even be considered, as we headed downstairs to the reception and the banquet room of the Crown Plaza. We cheered for Sh! Women’s Store, who took away the Best Innovative Shop Award. We cheered Xcite Books for Best Erotic Publisher, We cheered for Cara Sutra, who took away the Best Erotic Journalist Award. We cheered for Love Honey and Sex Toys UK and for so many of the lovely folks our writing had brought us in contact with, and then the moment came … And went … It was the middle of the 50SoG craze, first wave, so we were up against some lady named E L James – don’t know if you’re familiar with her ??? She won the award to no one’s surprise. Kay and I looked around to see if we could catch a glimpse of her, but she was nowhere to be found. So, we shrugged, went upstairs to the bar at the Crown Plaza and partied with all our friends – old and new. The way we both figured it, we were winners anyway to have been considered at all, and to have been in such grand company for the evening. 2014’s ETO was a totally different animal. There were three, count ‘em THREE Brit Babes nominated for Best Erotic Author 2014. Lucy Felthouse joined Kay Jaybee and me among the nominees, and we Babes were well-supported by Lexie Bay, Tabitha Rayne and Victoria Blisse, all there to party and celebrate with us. We had a wander around the ETO exhibition hall eating ice cream with flavoured lube, fondling leather floggers and nipple clamps, and admiring outrageous lingerie but mostly just chatting and catching up with all the gossip, and of course working on our ever-expanding plan for world domination.
In 2014 the banquet was moved into the main exhibition hall with more room to
breathe and most importantly, more room to dance. We hopped on a bus at the Crown
Plaza and headed off to the banquet, taking time for a photo op in front of the hotel.
I don’t remember the food. I do remember the conversation was good. I remember cheering on Cara Sutra on to another Best Erotic Journalist Award. I remember cheering on Renee Denyer from Sh! who won the best shop manager award. And then I remember walking onto the stage dazed and in shock when my name was called. I didn’t expect it, which made it all the sweeter. I remember that long after the band stopped playing and we stopped dancing, long after we’d taken the bus back to the Crown Plaza, we sat in the lobby talking writing and dreaming and scheming, me periodically fondling the award just to make sure it was real.
Then 2015 rolled around and the day donned with an ominous portent. Both Kay Jaybee and I were nominated again, and just as Hubby and I were leaving the house for Birmingham, I got a text from Kay saying that she was in the A&E in Worcester with serious leg pain. All through the trip down, we texted back and forth, with her finally on pain killers and on her way to the Crown Plaza, which was closer than home for her, since she and Mr. Jaybee had been having a weekend away for his birthday.
Raymond and I arrived and checked in at our hotel then were off to the exhibition hall where we had a little, but not nearly enough, time with Victoria and Kev Blisse at the Blog Spot booth with Melissa McFarlane. The Blisses were there for ETO, but sadly couldn’t’ stay for the banquet. It’s always a pleasure to see them no matter how brief. Then we were joined by this year’s Brit Babe contingent, Tabitha Rayne and Lexie Bay, who brought along a wonderful surprise. Lily Harlem had been able to join the fun at the last minute.
After meeting up with Ruby Kiddell, watching the lingerie and fetish fashion show, admiring the f@ck machine and talking to a woman who made nipple jewelry among our general explorations, we discovered the free bar, where we ended up drinking wine, talking writing and making more plans for world domination, all the while checking in with Kay via text. Unfortunately, while Kay had arrived at the hotel, she was in no condition to attend the banquet, so we all returned to get ready for the evening saddened that she wouldn’t be there with us. So close, but so far away.
All through the evening, we texted Kay and sent her updates an piccies of what was happening at the banquet. When the meal was over, Dale Bradford, editor of ETO magazine and Lee Schofield, publisher, took the stage to mc the awards. The People Awards, which include Best Erotic Author, are always toward the end of what Lee and Dale have honed and polished to a very tight very pacey event. We all cheered as Sh! won Best Innovative Shop, and we cheered even louder as our wonderful Renee Denyer won Best Shop Manager.
And then it happened, always faster than I’m ready for. It seems I always almost miss it, and have to do a really quick, really subtle instant replay in my mind before I get it. They made the announcement and this year, the winner of the ETO Best Erotic Author Award is the Brit Babes own and totally fabulous Kay Jaybee!
We had already decided if our Kay won, we Brit Babes would collect her award together with loud cheers and cat whistles, which we did, all of us running to the stage, all of us mobbing poor Lee to within an inch of his life, and then our brave Lily Harlem stepped up to the microphone to thank everyone on Kay’s behalf. A quick photo op and we were back to the table, sending photos and texting Kay the great news with trembling fingers.
Sadly, I couldn’t dance this year because the knees are still recovering, but that meant that Raymond and I got the totally pleasurable job of taking Kay’s award and bottle of fizz back to our winner, who met us down in the lobby looking bleary-eyed but happy and leaning very heavily on Mr Jaybee for support.
We had to leave early this morning so Raymond could get back for meetings, texting our good-byes and good wishes to the lovely winner and the rest of the Brit Babes en route on the M40. Since then I’ve been thinking how much it feels like we’ve come full circle in the past three years. We were both winners even when E.L. James won that first year. We were both winners when I won, and we were both winners this year. In fact, we were all winners, celebrating with Kay the accomplishments of all the Brit Babes, and the support and camaraderie we get from each other and from our lovely Street Team. We’re writers, that’s our calling, our passion, and that we can do it and share in the journey with others who do, is definitely a win-win.
Congratulations to all the 2015 ETO Award Winners, and a special round of sloppy hugs and kisses to our own Kay Jaybee, 2015 ETO Best Erotic Writer!
I love the change to have my Brit Babe sisters over for a chat to catch up on all the news and gossip, and it’s totally my pleasure to have my dear friend, fab writer and partner in naughtiness, Lily Harlem, with me today. Welcome, Lily!
Hi Kd, thank you so much for inviting me to your blog today. Normally we’d clink glasses of Pimms this time of year and dine on strawberries and cream, but I’m going to switch that to a shot of ouzo and a spread of meze. Yes, that’s right, we’re off to Greece! Pack your sandals and sun cream, your bikini and lip balm and be sure to bring your camera…
Greece is the setting of my new summer romance Toy Boy. I adore Greece, Mr H and I travelled there several years ago and I can’t wait to go back. It’s the colours that stayed with me the longest. I’ve never seen such blue blue, green green or white white. Which might sound crazy but really and truly that’s what it’s like.
Here’s a picture of some cats I took when we’d finished lunch one day in a small harbour we’d sailed into, even a stray cat picture is full of colour!
I say sailed into because we were lucky enough to go sailing around some of the islands in the Ionian Sea which is what Sullivan and Kay do in Toy Boy. But unlike Sullivan, Mr H isn’t an expert sailor! However, we did have some instruction and we’re part of a flotilla so by the end of the week we were learning the ropes (pun intended) and actually getting pretty confident. Here’s a couple of pictures taken on our travels.
Fiscardo
We stayed in a different port every night but started and ended our holiday in the small fishing village of Fiscardo. I’ve used this location in Toy Boy as it was one of the prettiest places I have ever been to. The harbour, the small restaurants, the people it all took my breath away. The flora and fauna was beautiful too and as I sit here writing this I can remember the feel of the sun on my shoulders and the breeze in my hair.
I’ll leave you with this lovely picture of the sun setting over the island of Ithaca. Thanks for reading and I hope you’ll check out Toy Boy and have a trip to Greece in your imagination.
Lily x
Toy Boy Blurb:
Getting something unexpected can be a shock, but it can also be a wonderful treat, if you allow yourself to indulge, that is.
Kay is bubbling with excitement. She’s booked a sailing holiday of a lifetime in Greece with a man she’s fallen for hook, line and sinker. They met on the Internet. She’s from Oxford, he’s from Washington State. She’s a business lecturer, he runs his own successful business.
They’re perfect for each other, and she can’t wait to meet him and spend time in and out of his bed, allowing him to seduce her for real and not just with softly spoken words over the telephone.
But when she arrives in the idyllic port of Fiscardo, she’s in for a shock. There’s a reason Sullivan’s photographs were grainy, and it’s not because he’s sporting a potbelly or balding as she’d suspected. It’s because he’s over a decade younger than her and could rival any Greek god in the looks department. What’s more, his sex appeal and lust for her is off the scale.
Should Kay take what she can with her ‘toy boy’ and have some fun in the sun or hop on the first plane back to England? It’s a tricky decision for a woman who believed she couldn’t be surprised by life anymore.
I’d heard the words Sullivan had spoken but could hardly believe them. Not that they hadn’t been expected, just that finally, after a year of long-distance communication, we were going to meet face to face.
In Greece!
“Really?” I managed. “I’m so excited. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing. I told you. It’s a date. Our first date.”
His voice was lusciously low and sexy. We’d started out chatting online, so when I’d first heard it for real, over the phone, I’d been seduced all over again. Not only could he write words that turned me into a heap of mush on the sofa, he also spoke in a way that made me want to rip off my clothes and rub myself all over him.
“Thank you,” I said, twirling my wedding ring around my finger. “But are you sure? It sounds so expensive.”
“It’s not, and if I’m skippering, that makes it a fraction of the cost.” He paused. “Kay, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for so long, please, let me have this.”
I hesitated and stared at my reflection in the window. Twilight was stealing the day, and light from the lone candle flickering on the sill bounced off the glass.
A fluttering in my stomach sent excited sensations up to my chest and down to my pelvis. It had been so long since another man had made me giddy with anticipation. I’d lost Thomas five years ago. He’d been the love of my life, my soul mate. Then one day, he was gone.
Darkness.
Killed in a car crash—head-on collision.
“Hey, you still there?”
“Yes, sorry, Sullivan. I am. It’s just…”
“You haven’t been treated for a while. I get that, and before you say it, I know you can afford it, but I want to do this.”
I tipped my chin and took a deep breath. “In that case, thank you. I’ll organize my flight. And I can’t wait to see you in Cephalonia. It’s going to be…awesome.” I tried out one of the new words I’d picked up from his vocabulary.
“Yeah, awesome.” He’d put an extra strong American twang to his accent. “And don’t worry about a thing. I can manage a thirty-two-footer, no problem, and this will be the fourth time I’ve navigated around the Ionian Islands.”
“So you keep telling me.” I smiled. He’d been talking about us taking a sailing holiday for a while. He was a keen sailor, whereas I was a novice and a bit nervous, if I was honest. But I guessed he was looking forward to flexing his muscles in front of me and showing me just how in control of the wind and the ocean he was—the Neanderthal in him was trying to get out, or so I suspected.
“The wind picks up in the afternoons,” he went on, “so we can have late nights, lazy mornings and hit the waves after lunch.”
“If that’s the best time to hoist the sails.”
“Oh yeah, that’ll be the best time.” He chuckled. “Listen, I have to run. A meeting with my finance director is calling.”
“Oh, of course.” When we got chatting, I often forgot about the five-hour time difference between Oxford and New York. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow and see you next week.” I bit on my bottom lip. Sullivan was really going to be in front of me—next week—to touch, kiss, join in bed. Late nights, he’d said. Late nights, just the two of us, naked, letting our desire spill out and doing the things we’d talked about when our conversations had gotten frisky. Which they often did, much to my delight.
“Sure thing, baby. Catch you tomorrow.”
I set down my phone and flopped onto the sofa. I had a small round table set next to it that held my glass of wine and the one photograph Sullivan had emailed me. It had been taken in Central Park several Christmases ago, so he’d said. It was evening, and shadows sliced over his body and face, the night embracing his image. He wore a hat against the cold and a scarf muffled up to his chin. His collar stood tall, just stroking his ears, and a puff of cold air hung before him.
I wished it were a clearer photograph. I’d asked him for another one, and he’d said he would but had never gotten around to it. The one I’d sent him, of me in the garden by my rose bed, was perfectly clear. I’d been wearing a sun hat and holding my secateurs, and the shot was natural and bright. I thought it best to let him see me for how I was, rather than trying to dress to the nines then Photoshop away the wrinkles. Not that I was old or didn’t scrub up okay—I did. I just wanted to look like myself.
Sullivan had gone for moody and atmospheric with his shot. I couldn’t even make out his hair color because of his winter beanie, or the exact shape of his mouth because of his scarf. But his eyes were gorgeous—sparkling and sexy and staring straight at the camera, straight at me.
I couldn’t wait to see him for real. He was always so kind and gentle with me. I’d told him all about Thomas and how broken I’d been after his death. He’d listened on the phone for hours and sent me long, sensitive emails when I’d told him it was an anniversary or birthday. He understood grief. He got how much of a deal this was for me—to be entering a relationship with someone else when I’d believed there would only ever be Thomas in my life.
“Kick off your shoes, shed your clothes along with your inhibitions and indulge yourself in a sensual adventure.”
“Wow! What a story!”
“What can I say but off the charts HOT!”
“Another fantastic book by Lily Harlem, she does such a great job on describing the characters and the place I could smell the sea and felt like I was on an island in Greece.”
Fiscardo
“A new romance book by Lily Harlem – no other words are needed, you just know it’s going to be fabulous.”
“Simply a beautiful, sexy, smile-inducing story that you will want to read over and over.”
“An absolutely perfect book to read whilst pool side or lounging on a sun deck.”
Oh the sun, the sea, the sex! Lily has a way of writing that puts you in the book. Her descriptions of Greek Islands had me day-dreaming I was on a boat, feel the wind and sun on my face, could smell the charcoal fires from the harbour side café’s and taste the olives and wine.
About Lily Harlem
Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning, multi-published author of contemporary erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Xcite, Ellora’s Cave and Sweetmeats Press. Her Hot Ice series regularly receives high praise and industry nominations.
Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse, draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. Lily also self-publishes and The Silk Tie, The Glass Knot, In Expert Hands and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release.
Lily writes MF, MM and ménage a trois, her books regularly hit the #1 spot on Amazon Best Seller lists and Breathe You In was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2014. Her latest MM novel is Dark Warrior.
Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae – check out the Sexy as Hell Box Set available exclusively on Amazon – The Novice, The Player and The Vixen – and That Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel ‘every woman should read’.
One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!
The Emperor has decreed that Reason will rule in his lands. Art and literature are banned in favor of military technology. The fearsome Preceptors prowl the capitol, arresting anyone who dares, even secretly, to engage in forbidden activities.
A former teacher and frustrated writer, Adele is grateful for her job as secretary to the enigmatic Professor. During the day, she transcribes his learned treatises on a vast range of topics. Then he calls her to his room one night, to give her a more difficult and intimate assignment, one that risks both their lives.
I saw relatively little of the professor during the week. He spent his days in his basement laboratory, which was strictly forbidden to me, or shut away in his study, presumably filling new notebooks with observations and innovations that I would eventually be required to type. I’d leave my neat stacks of typewritten pages on the table outside his door so as not to disturb him. I worked in the small parlor across the hall and took my meals in the kitchen with the taciturn cook.
On Sundays, however, he and I dined together. After a glass of sherry, his chilly manner thawed a bit. He’d quiz me about the information I’d been transcribing, initially to see if I understood what I’d read, but later to solicit my opinions.
He asked me other questions, too, questions that bordered on improper.
“Who is your favorite novelist, Adele?”
My heart executed a sudden somersault. Was he trying to entrap me? “Ah—I’m not sure, sir. Of course I haven’t read any fiction since His Excellency rose to glory and urged us to abandon such frivolous pursuits.” I scanned his face. The deepening creases at the corners of his eyes belied his serious tone.
“But you did read, when you were in your teens, did you not? Before the Ascension? A mind as nimble as yours must have devoured everything you encountered.”
My fear ebbed, though I remained wary. Meanwhile, his compliment kindled a warm glow in the pit of my stomach. “Yes. I did read a lot—before.” His lips twitched and his icy gaze softened, inviting my confidence. I basked in his rare, concerted attention. His interest, the sense that he viewed me as worthy, urged me to recklessness. “I used to write, too. Crazy, fantastic stories about impossible quests and eternal love.”
The smile I’d heard in his voice finally bloomed. “I’m not surprised in the least. Nor am I shocked, Adele. Be reassured of that.” To my astonishment, he covered my hand for a moment with his own. His cool, dry palm whispered over the backs of my fingers before withdrawing. Blood heated my cheeks, as if I were still the young girl we were discussing, and a disturbing heaviness grew between my thighs.
“They—ah—were silly things,” I stammered. “Trash. A waste of mental energy, as the Emperor has said.”
“But you poured yourself into those tales, I’m sure. They were part of you.” Those crystal-blue eyes of his gleamed, luminous behind his glasses.
A new wave of panic swept me. What was going on? I pushed my chair back from the table, eager to excuse myself and end this disturbing conversation. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ll retire now. I’ve something of a headache.”
For an instant I thought he’d stop me. Then his smile fled and his body collapsed into itself, his advanced age suddenly obvious. “Very well. I’ll see you tomorrow. But tell me—what happened to those fantastic stories of yours?”
My throat constricted around an impending sob. I could scarcely get the words out.
“I destroyed them, of course.”
My employer regarded me gravely. “Right. Of course.”
AboutLisabet
From my elementary school years, when I devoured everything I could find by Asimov, Heinlein and Bradbury, I’ve been drawn to speculative fiction. Now that I’m an author myself, I create my own futurescapes. My visions are sometimes bleak —but always illumined by desire.
Thank you so much for hosting me on your blog, KD. It’s great to be here and to share about my new release with you and your readers. Veronica COURTESAN is inspired by the life of Veronica Franco, one of the most sought-after courtesans in 16th Century Venice, who was also a poet and writer. She was well-educated at a time in history when most women were barely literate. Yes, she was a self-promoter, but she also loved deeply and was loved in return. In the following excerpt, Veronica is entertaining two of her patrons, aiming to be invited to a literary salon. There she meets Domenico Venier, who becomes her editor. Even in the 16th Century, having an editor was vital to a writer. I don’t know how I would manage without mine, the fantastic John Hudspith, who also worked with me on my time-slip historical romance Lady of Asolo.
Excerpt
We make polite conversation throughout the meal, but, as soon as we progress to the portego for after-dinner drinks and entertainment, I get right to the point. ‘My lord, Signor Ludovico tells me you frequent a literary salon.’
‘That’s right. Domenico Venier’s. ’Tis the most important gathering place for intellectuals and writers in Venice.’
‘Are courtesans welcome there?’
‘I’ve noticed a few. Why?’
I’m seized by a sudden shyness. Will he think I’m being forward? Thankfully, Ludovico answers for me.
‘I’ve told you about Veronica’s abilities. Don’t tease the girl!’
The count laughs and drains his glass. I reach across to refill it, my gaze meeting his. ‘I write poetry. My greatest desire
is to learn from others and improve my own work.’
‘Will you read me one of your poems?’
‘With pleasure.’ I go to my desk and return with the verse on which I’m now working.
‘If you are overcome by love for me,
Take me in far sweeter fashion
Than anything my quill can describe.
Your love can be the steadfast knot that pulls me towards you,
Joined to you more tightly than a nail in hard wood;
Your love can make you master of my life,
Show me the love I’ve asked for from you,
And you’ll then enjoy my sweetness to the full.’
‘Very good!’ Andrew Tron rises from his chair and bows. ‘You have talent, Signora Veronica. I shall be delighted to introduce you to Venier. Pray tell me, in what far sweeter fashion can a man take you than your quill can describe?’
I laugh. ‘Ah, that’s something I have yet to discover – which is why my quill cannot describe it.’
Ludovico, who has been watching us up until now, his lips twitching with mirth, gets up from his chair and goes to close the door. ‘Shall we try and give this lady the sweetness she desires?’
My jaw drops. The count’s blue eyes look into mine. He inclines his head and gives a lopsided grin. Intrigued, I glance from one to the other.
Ludovico unbuttons my skirt. Under it, I’m wearing my breeches. He cups my buttocks, and wetness floods me. ‘What say you?’
I pretend to consider, although I know the answer already. ‘I say, yes.’
Blurb
Veronica COURTESAN
I watch him watching us, imagining how he would take me.
I send him the message with my eyes. This is who I am. I am Veronica Franco. I am a COURTESAN.
I court the cultural elite for fame and fortune, giving my body to many. And I’m good. So very good. After all, I was taught by my mother, and mother always knows best.
How else to please the future King of France than with the imaginative use of Murano glass? How else to fulfil the desires of all yet keep my sense of self-worth?
But when disaster strikes and my life begins to unravel, I’ll have to ask myself one question: Is it too late to give my
heart to just one man?
Siobhan Daiko is an author of romantic historical fiction and a new series of erotic novellas featuring famous courtesans – strong women who held their own in a man’s world. A lover of all things Italian, Siobhan lives in the Veneto region of northern Italy with her husband and two cats. After a life of romance and adventure in Hong Kong, Australia and the UK she now spends her time, when she isn’t writing, enjoying the dolce vita near Venice.
‘Buying the Farm’
Blurb
