by Beverley Oakley
This has been a busy year with three erotic Regency or Historical
releases.
Two weeks ago my English Civil War erotic romance - The Cavalier - was published by Total-e-Bound. This was almost immediately following the release of my erotic Regency romance Lady Lovett's Little Dilemma, which features quite a different kind of hero and heroine from my
usual.
My January release, Rake's Honour, featured a fiery, feisty heroine but
this time, in Lady Lovett's Little Dilemma, it was fun to write about a sweet, passive, happily married heroine.
As was normal 200 years ago, Cressida is not equipped with the vocabulary or
knowledge to explain that while she wants to continue her loving relationship
with her husband she can't bear to be intimate when she knows the consequences
may well be another pregnancy.
Prompted by her jealous, bullying cousin to discover the truth, Cressida
stumbles upon the means to please both her husband and herself, as well as a
20-year-old mystery. It's now that she uses her sweet nature - and hidden
determination - to secure someone else's happy ending as well as her own,
showing surprising depths of courage, daring and spontaneity along the way.
Here is a little about it:
The eight—year marriage of the once mutually-adoring couple,Lord and
Lady Lovett, is rejuvenated through the anonymous counsel of Lord Lovett’s
former mistress.
Eight years of marriage has not dimmed Cressida, Lady Lovett’s, love for
her husband, but the birth of five children has cooled her ardour.
Now rumours are circulating that the kind, dashing and seemingly
ever—patient Justin, Lord Lovett, has returned to the arms of his former
mistress and Cressida believes her choices are stark—welcome her husband back
to the marital bed and risk a sixth pregnancy she fears will kill her, or lose
him forever.
With the astonishing discovery that methods exist to enable the innocent
Cressida to transform herself into the vixen of her husband’s dreams without
expanding her nursery, she seeks to repay the woman responsible for her
empowerment...only to discover her unlikely benefactress was, and perhaps still
is, her husband’s mistress.
Excerpt
Wind
whipped the branches of the tree against her bedchamber window. A storm was
brewing, said Tom, the footman. He should know, for he was a farmer’s son.
But
Cressida was a parson’s daughter and she knew nothing about anything except
what was required of her to be a good wife.
She
drew the counterpane up to her chin and shivered, wishing it were with
anticipation at the same time that she wished Justin were cuddled warmly
against her. But that was not to be, not tonight.
At
first, the limpid look in Justin’s eye when he’d held her hand in that tawdry
sitting room at Mrs Plumb’s had sliced away at her soul. She’d seen the hunter
in him size up his quarry. At eighteen she’d been easy prey, falling into his
arms during their first waltz. There’d been no chase on Justin’s part, for
their hearts and minds had been as one from the start.
He’d
quickly realised it was Cressida, though, in that shabby little sitting room in
that wicked house. She knew Justin too well. His sudden stillness and the
change in his tone had alerted her to the fact that he knew exactly who she
was.
Without
missing a beat he’d continued the charade while her brain had been in a whirl
as to whether to admit her identity. Yet when Justin so willingly endorsed
their play-acting, the exciting possibilities had quickly taken on a life of
their own.
He’d
agreed to an assignation a week hence. Her body pulsed at the thought before
fear intruded that he’d come to her too soon. How could she hold him at bay? In
a week she’d have all the tools and knowledge she needed to be everything
Justin could desire.
She
didn’t have them now. She was as ignorant of the practicalities as she’d ever
been, but she knew now that precautions were possible.
Of
course, her kindly friend at Mrs Plumb’s would advise her to explain everything
to Justin. But how could Cressida tell him everything? Panic banished reason.
All she wanted was one more week—then she’d be all-powerful in her knowledge.
Miss Mariah could help her with the words she needed. Cressida had not the
vocabulary, much less the knowledge, to say what she needed to.
A
familiar step sounded just outside her room. With a start of horror she jerked
upright, drawing the counterpane up to her neck as the door opened slowly,
faint light spilling in from the corridor.
Her
breath caught, the words she might have used—should have used—dying in her
throat.
Beverley writes erotic historicals as Beverley Oakley and Regency Romances with lashings of intrigue as Beverley Eikli. She loves hearing from readers and you can visit her at:
website: www.beverleyoakley.com
Twitter:
@BeverleyOakley
You
can also get the book here:
