Do you like erotic historicals with romances that make you squeal in delight and cry in relief?
If so, do I have a contest for you!
To celebrate the release of Forbidden Desire, book 3 in my Pirate’s Prize series, I’m hosting a contest and giving away ALL the books in the series.
Erotic Historicals – Full Length
First Comes Desire – book one
A hunted pirate captain. A reverend’s daughter determined to bring him down.
On a lush, secluded island, one passionate adventure leads to another….
Diana Fletcher means business. The beautiful, innocent, reverend’s daughter has traveled all the way to a tropical island off Madagascar on a mission: To find her brother—and to punish the man who drove him to a life of piracy. But when she comes face to face with the enemy in question, the handsome, powerfully seductive man is not at all what Diana expected…
Tristan Kent never intended to harm Diana’s brother. A man of humble origins, Tristan claims he tried to save him from another ruthless captain. Diana is desperate to believe he is telling the truth…and that the intoxicating desire that escalates between them is true as well. But can she trust him? Or is Tristan’s story—and his heart—nothing more than fool’s gold? Amid the haze of sensual delights and soaring ecstasy Tristan has in store for her, all will be revealed…
Women hadn’t been born to yield. Women could yield. They might even enjoy doing so, but only with the right man. One they desired. First came desire. Respect and love followed.
She could only deliver her heart to a man like that.
Even if Tristan wasn’t facing the gallows, he wasn’t the one she needed. His skin was warm against hers but what of it. He was handsome as the devil, yet there was the rub, because he was also brutal, violent, taking what he wanted. His mouth on hers was something she refused to consider, though she could hardly forget how he’d spoken calmly when she’d railed. She insulted and he smiled. He claimed she wanted the same as him. Diana did not. She wanted to be home. She needed to be free.
Her eyes flew open. A sound or voice had awakened her. Reclined on her side, she faced away from the door. An oil lamp had gone out, telling her she’d slept far too long, recklessly too.
Oh my God. Peter.
Diana rolled onto her back but didn’t check his mattress, knowing he wasn’t there or in the cabin.
Tristan was. His long legs, muscular calves, and thighs blocked her view of the door. He’d placed his precious book on the table. The volume was safe. She was not.
Before she could push to a sitting position or think to fight, he straddled her, his hands circling her wrists, holding her arms to each side. His touch didn’t harm, at least not yet.
Her heart pounded.
He offered a smile.
How dare he be so smug. “Release me at once.”
He tightened his grip slightly and studied her mouth, then her eyes. “Violet.” Awe flooded his face. “I wondered about your eye color but never expected this.”
She pushed and writhed but did no good against his strength. Breathless, she stopped. “What have you done with Peter?”
Tristan stared at her eyes. “Amazing color, quite beautiful. Fits your dark hair and pale skin perfectly.”
She rammed her thighs into him.
He held her more firmly. “Stop that.”
“Not until you tell me what you’ve done with my brother.” She slammed into him.
He scooted down and trapped her legs. “Peter’s on the main deck with the other men.”
“He’s a child and proved it by helping you escape.”
“This wasn’t his doing, and you’ve no reason to fear for his safety. I have James, my quartermaster, looking after him.”
“A bloody pirate, you mean. The same as you. Perhaps even worse than you.”
“No. James is a good man.” A haunted look touched Tristan’s features before he shook off whatever had troubled him and became casual. “He saved my life. He’ll take great care to watch your brother.”
She wanted to retort but couldn’t reconcile her indignation with Tristan’s previous anguish and the mean scratches she’d left on his cheek. Dried blood had gone black, the surrounding skin swollen and red. “What do you mean he saved your life?”
“Just that, ask no more for I’ll give you no other answer.”
“The only thing I want from you is my freedom.”
He stroked her wrists. “You want the same as me.”
She pushed against him, straining with the effort.
He tightened his grip, proving she wasn’t a match for his strength. If he chose to take her now, she’d have no choice except to allow him what he willed.
She didn’t beg. Wouldn’t. Not to him or any man, including Bishop. They could conquer her body but not her spirit, never her heart. Reconciled to her fate, she grew limp as she could, pulse racing. “Take what you’ve come for and be quick about it.”
“I shan’t be quick, Diana. With you, I’ll never be quick.”
Heat stung her face and throat. “You won’t be the last, either.”
His gray eyes darkened as storm clouds do, danger building in them. “What do you mean?”
“When you’re finished with me, I go to the man to whom I truly belong. Nothing will change that no matter how long you intend to take raping me.”
Despite her harsh words, he didn’t flinch or frown.
“Who is this man with whom you’d willingly lie?”
“Willingly?” She laughed. “You believe I’ve chosen him any more than I’ve chosen you? The fact is you’ve driven me to him.”
“What do you mean? Who is he? Tell me.”
She turned her face away.
Tristan brushed his lips over her cheek and buried his face in her hair.
Her scalp tingled. She could scarcely draw enough air to speak. “I said, be quick about it.”
He took his time, his lips soft and warm against her temple and ear, breath heated and sweet.
She tensed even more, determined to resist.
“Why do you fight me when you want this as much as I do?” He kissed her jaw.
Pleasure rushed through her, delight making her come alive as she never had, the feelings new, troubling, far too exciting. Her lids slid down.
“Tell me who the man is.”
Tristan’s scent surrounded her, surprisingly clean, tinged with musk.
“Tell me, Diana.”
He suckled her neck.
She trembled, an unfamiliar ache building between her legs, tension mounting within her. Flustered, she fought his hold and failed, growing weak from his imposing size. However, she refused to surrender, wanting him to know what he’d done to her. “He’s a wealthy merchant who agreed to help me find Peter if I promised to become his mistress, which I shall.”
“Never.” His breath skipped over her skin. “No one will have you but me.”
She fumed, her previous weakness gone. “You’ll take me. You’ll never have me.”
“Nor will the wealthy merchant. He owns this ship? Is his name Benedict Bishop?”
Tristan kept surprising her, giving her no defense. She pushed against him.
He eased back. “Is that the merchant’s name?”
“Yes. He’s the man to whom I belong.”
“Not any longer.”
Days of Desire – book two
In a pirate’s lair, nothing is as it seems . . .
Shipwrecked! When Royce Hastings is found washed up on the shore of a verdant tropical island, he tells the natives he is a merchant headed for Mozambique. The truth, however, is far more mercenary. Noble by birth, the once favored Royce has lost his fortune and family; now he is a hired henchman on the trail of an elusive pirate. His “shipwreck” was a fake. He’ll stop at nothing to infiltrate the island and capture his prey. His mother and sisters’ lives depend on it.
The last thing Royce expects is to be captured himself. But the lovely young woman who tends to his wounds in the tropics quickly takes hold of his heart. Simone is the island’s healer, and her skilled ministrations not only awaken his soul but disturb his conscience. His path has been predetermined; his identity must remain concealed at all costs. Yet the passion he feels in Simone’s sultry, loving arms cannot be denied. With his loyalties torn, Royce must make an agonizing, unthinkable choice. . . .
He squeezed past the door into the shadowed space. Simone’s fragrance surrounded him, the musky undertones muddying his brain.
She sat on the floor in the corner, grains, seeds, and berries to her side, spread out for the pigeons. They poked their heads through the metal slats in their cage and ate like gluttons. Chickens strutted freely, pecking their food.
Simone stood. The hens scattered. “Are you all right?”
Exhausted and aroused. “Fine.”
“You’re bleeding again.”
“Not much. You shouldn’t be doing this.”
Her chin trembled. “What? Speaking to you? Asking questions? You want me to be silent and unseen?”
He longed to be in her arms, comforted and warmed. Anchored to all the good he’d never really known. Her words proved true. This island had wonderful people. The best life had to offer. Nothing he deserved. “You’re a healer, not someone who tends chickens and birds. Peter should be doing this. Is he a lazy boy?”
She lowered her face, hiding her smile. “A surly one. He thinks he knows everything. Too many times, Diana has promised to thrash him.”
“Good for her. A proper man needs manners. Let me help you.” Eager to reach her, he strode recklessly.
A hen flapped its wings, going right and left to escape his crutch, its squawk ear-piercing. The other chickens scattered, many getting in his way. He twisted to keep from falling.
“Take care.” Simone slipped her arm around his waist, her precious breast pressed to his side.
Surrendering to loneliness and enchantment, he leaned in, his face to her hair. The English countryside couldn’t compete with her blessed scent. Nature had met its equal in her. He nuzzled her glossy tresses. No matter how wrong and irrational his desire, for some reason he’d found home at her side.
Pity he’d managed that too late.
He should have moved away but hadn’t the will.
She guided him to a bed nearly as large as the one in his chamber. This lavish room, like his, boasted a marble floor and whitewashed walls. A lovely place for a new life to take its first breath.
She laid his crutch to the side. “Sit before you fall.” Gently, she pushed him on the silk-covered mattress.
He made a show of falling down.
Her laughter pealed through the room.
Royce feigned insult. “Are you making light of me?”
His laugh produced happy tears. “Have you no pity for a poor cripple?”
“I have never seen a stronger man.” She held her hands behind her, breasts thrust out, and swayed her hips slowly.
Aphrodite in the flesh. “Is that what you think of me?”
“What I know. You survived a storm that nearly tore our isle from the earth and flung it into the sky. You are no mere man. You are close to a god.”
He was a liar when honor demanded he do nothing to ruin anything here. He was a besotted fool when duty required he see to his family. His mother and sisters had no power to liberate themselves. Without his help, Katie, especially, would know nothing except a life spent in hard labor, cowering at harsh words, dreading the next beating or something equally horrible.
Simone cupped his face. “What is it? Is the pain bad again?”
The worse a man could face. Having to choose between angels: the one in here now with him, or those in his family who he’d been trying to save.
Forbidden Desire – book three
In paradise, the only limits to passion lie in your imagination . . .
After a life filled with hardship, landing on a lush tropical isle is heaven on earth for mariner Heath Garrison. And it comes complete with two angels who bring out the very devil in him. Identical twins Netta and Aimee are guileless and seductive, living and loving without jealousy. Days of longing, nights of carnal bliss make choosing one over the other seem impossible, but hungering for both sisters is taboo.
Aimee and Netta’s devotion to each other helped them survive the vicious pirates who overran their home. Will a virile Englishman come between them now? When their enemies return, determined to vanquish the islanders for good, Heath races to save them along with his countrymen. But survival will bring a choice—between the life Heath has known, and a love that changes all their destinies . . .
Heath Garrison swept his spyglass northwest past the Mozambique Channel. Thousands of miles in the distance lay England. Home. Odd word for a place where he’d faced unending struggle and barely survived. Still, a man couldn’t easily dismiss his birthplace, even when compared to this island paradise.
A balmy breeze grazed his naked chest and tugged his hair. Sun poured down. Lush vegetation, the sea’s tang, and flowers perfumed the air.
Or perhaps the sweet fragrance came from elsewhere.
Despite his captors’ innumerable warnings, he inched his glass to Netta and Aimee, island women no more than twenty. Born identical twins, a cruel pirate’s rule had put an end to their exact resemblance.
To Heath, they couldn’t have been more perfect.
He settled the glass on them.
His pulse quickened.
Their backs were to him, their focus on the leaves and flowers they gathered. Wind stirred their dark brown hair that hung straight and long to their waists. Both women wore silk tied low on their lush hips, one’s cloth a deep rose shade, the other’s bright blue. The fabric fluttered above their bare feet.
They abandoned the bush in favor of another.
He edged to the side, careful not to snap a twig that would disturb them. An insect buzzed near his ear. He brushed it away.
White petals overflowed Aimee’s palms. She dropped them into the silk sack Netta held. The difference in their hands gave away their identities.
He edged closer for a better view of Netta’s old wound.
A lemur cackled on its perch. Its companions jumped from tree to tree, rustling branches and leaves.
At the sound, Aimee and Netta turned. Their naked breasts quivered. The enticing nipples pebbled, ideal for a man’s mouth.
Previous warnings rang in his head. He wasn’t to approach, talk to, or look at the island women. Didn’t matter. Weakened with desire, he couldn’t back away or flee even though they spotted him.
Their lips parted.
Their softened gazes and heightened color showed their approval at seeing him. Willing surrender registered in their dark eyes. Rose bloomed in their light brown cheeks, their skin satiny, flawless with youth, and surely scented with musk. An invitation no sane man could resist. If he didn’t mind being beaten or possibly set adrift from this isle located a week or more from even the most primitive civilization.
Heath lowered his glass. Face down, he called himself a bloody fool for entertaining the idea of enjoying two women at once, much less sisters. This place certainly wasn’t London, but that hardly meant he could behave like a rutting animal.