Looking for a HOT Regency Era read? Love revealed at a courtesan’s ball. Brenton, Lord Mallory, attends his first courtesan’s ball in ten years to appease his concerned friends, though he’d rather stay home and read to his motherless daughters.
‘The upper rooms? Are you mad? A lady cannot go prowling around the bedrooms. There will be couples in those bedrooms having…”
“I’m a widow, not a spinster. I do know what happens.” books2read.com/suzilovePHB
Petunia and the Pearl Diver: A hot Regency romance. Petunia needs money to save her aristocratic family. The pearl diver needs a woman to save him, body and soul. Their night together at a London brothel could solve both problems. But can their relationship survive in the real world? Because walking away becomes impossible when one night leaves them craving more…and more.
Book Hook: Once again, the pearl diver wondered at Petunia’s diction. Too well spoken for a brothel worker. “Who are you?”
She scowled at him, again. “Petunia.” She raised a brow. “You?”
He grinned. “I imagine you’d rather call me slave.” At her blank look, he asked, “Or servant? Footman? Driver?” She shook her head, clearly bewildered. “Isn’t that why you’re here? To pretend you’re a grand lady enjoying a naughty tryst with one of her servants?”
A rush of color flooded her cheeks, turning them bright pink. Not a sight he expected to see in a brothel unless it was rouge lavishly applied to hide a street worker’s age and to make her appear prettier. Petunia was pretty enough without rouge, and her blush screamed innocence.
He yanked at his restraints, suddenly worried that he’d walked into some sort of a nightmarish fantasy. “What the hell is going on here?”
Petunia didn’t look evil enough to have set up the sort of sadistic scene that some men fancied in these sorts of places. And he’d never heard of sadism being a sport particularly enjoyed by women, though he was in no position to know. He’d spent years taking the King’s shilling and fighting the little upstart Emperor all over the continent, and then, when he’d been wounded and shipped back to bonny England, he hadn’t been able to handle continual questions and false sympathy. Leaving for the South Seas had been the best decision he’d ever made.
The diving had strengthened his muscles, mended his weak leg, and allowed him to return to London a rich man. A very rich man. Pity that years of swimming and plenty of coin hadn’t also guaranteed that his sex drive would return. He’d give his entire fortune to reclaim the peace of mind and the virility of his much younger self.
Petunia and the Pearl Diver: A hot Regency romance. Petunia needs money to save her aristocratic family. The pearl diver needs a woman to save him, body and soul. Their night together at a London brothel could solve both problems. But can their relationship survive in the real world?Because walking away becomes impossible when one night leaves them craving more…and more.
Book Hook: The pearl diver looked at the fidgeting Mistress. When she’d first come into the room he’d thought…no fucking chance. Miss I’m-Afraid-of-My-Own-Shadow would waste his time and his money. However, he’d underestimated the sheer brazen determination of the woman, because she was still in this room with him, when he’d have bet another strand of pearls that she’d have turned tail and run in the first three minutes. Hell, the other two girls were seasoned prostitutes and they’d run after getting no reaction from him, due to equal parts of disbelief, frustration, and his howling anger.
“What’s your name?” He didn’t expect an answer, but he’d startled her into a response.
“Petunia.”
She looked more shocked than he was that she’d blurted out what he assumed was her real name. Street walkers, even high class ones, used stage names. The two girls before had called themselves Strawberry and Plum.
She seemed horrified, perhaps even terrified, over her mistake, which made him wonder what the hell she was hiding. If she was employed here, she’d have called herself…another fruit? Pineapple, or lemon? Her expression was sour enough to have sucked lemons.
“John.” She waved at guard number one, the big man with an obvious liking for male physiques. “Turn him over.”
The pearl diver glared at the guard, but they tossed him to his stomach as if he was a lump of meat thrown into a frying pan. “Shit.” He kicked backwards, but missed. The whip cracked near his bare backside and he yelled. “Holy mother of God.” He tried to look at his backside to see if it was marked.
“I’m your mistress, so you don’t speak unless spoken to.”
The whip cracked a second time, but thankfully only stung a little as her aim was so crooked.
“That will remind you,” Petunia announced, “that I’m here to do a job. I need those pearls. So you’re not leaving until I’ve earned them.”
Petunia and the Pearl Diver: A hot Regency romance. Petunia needs money to save her aristocratic family. The pearl diver needs a woman to save him, body and soul. Their night together at a London brothel could solve both problems. But can their relationship survive in the real world?Because walking away becomes impossible when one night leaves them craving more…and more.
Book Hook: When the captain stepped towards Petunia, she planted her feet and stifled her desire to flinch and run. Control, or the portrayal of it, mattered. If she followed Madame’s instructions to the letter, the man should bend to her will, because Madame had assured her that men came here to play games and one of those romps was being dominated by a woman. Most of them were wealthy noblemen who were used to giving orders and being unquestioningly obeyed, so in this sexual arena they enjoyed reversing the roles and serving a strong woman.
The diver had what she needed, the means to earn money, and fast. She only had one goal. Win the pearls, so her siblings would have the money they needed before they realized there had been any problem. Gripping the whip’s tail against the flexible handle, she pointed the furled end towards the man.
“Stop right there, or I’ll leave and my assistants will take care of you. John and Jim like to play games, and they’ll handle your pretty body a lot rougher than I would.” She cracked the whip again and saw her assistants silently approve of her new prowess. “Truthfully, my men prefer patrons who resist our methods, because they enjoy hearing the upper classes beg for mercy.”
The captain eyed her two guards, shrugged, and grinned. “Do your worst. I’m beyond caring.”
Petunia felt the sorrow in his words to the depths of her soul, though her purpose here wasn’t to feel compassion for a soldier wounded in defense of his country, but to dominate a paying customer.
She waved the whip towards the bed. “Take off your trousers and lie on the bed.”
He gave another couldn’t-give-a-damn shrug, before opening the sole button still holding his trousers in place. They dropped to the floor and he kicked them aside, careless of his nudity. His deep all-over tan showed that he’d worked unclothed in the South Pacific.
Her eyes widened and she barely smothered her shocked gasp. As a widow who’d enjoyed intimacy with only her late husband, she’d seen a man’s penis plenty of times, but the size of this one took her by surprise. She’d never imagined that men varied so much beneath their trousers.
Petunia and the Pearl Diver: A hot Regency romance. Petunia needs money to save her aristocratic family. The pearl diver needs a woman to save him, body and soul. Their night together at a London brothel could solve both problems. But can their relationship survive in the real world?Because walking away becomes impossible when one night leaves them craving more…and more.
Book Hook: Petunia pointed the whip at the pearl diver a second time. “Move.” She gave him her sternest look. “Onto the bed.” The whiptail ran smoothly back and forth through her fingers, hopefully reinforcing the idea that she was an experienced mistress of punishments. “Now.”
The captain’s eyebrows shot upwards and he finally focused on her face, or as much as her sleek leather mask allowed him to see. Good. Without his full attention, Petunia had no hope of carrying out this farce. He unwound his lean length the way she imagined he’d unwind coiled rope on his pearl trawler. Slowly, carefully, and as sensually as a dancer, he straightened to his full height, putting him a good foot taller than her. Her heart thudded in her chest and her pulse raced.
If he stirred her lust merely by standing up, she’d never survive the sensual overload if they danced at a ball and he held her in his arms. She shivered. Dancing with him was one of the things that must never happen, because the close contact might trigger the memory of when her brother had introduced them. If they met at a formal social occasion, she prayed he’d never associate that well-bred lady with a girl he’d paid for in a brothel, because she’d heard that war had changed him and she didn’t know if it was for the better, or worse.
1821, April 1st; Duke of Stirkton’s residence, Mayfair, London. Being the object of someone’s ridicule might be a novel experience for Maximus Meacham, Duke of Stirkton, but it wasn’t one he cared to repeat, even if the woman laughing at his proposal spoke like a queen and looked like a goddess.
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As the Duke of Stirkton, he was well accustomed to being watched. Young pups copied his dress style. Toad-eaters mimicked his behavior in futile attempts to ingratiate themselves into his life. Conservative groups applauded his somber public behavior, while cartoonists ridiculed his straight-laced demeanor and suggested he take a mistress. Or two.
Whichever way people viewed him, no one had dared ridicule him to his face. Until this evening. The Countess had side-stepped his butler and marched into his drawing room as if an unannounced call upon an unmarried duke was something she did regularly. Max had informed her, in great detail, of the extensive search he and his cousin had undertaken to locate her and the other women. She’d huffed and rolled her eyes. Normally, his month-about- mistresses gleefully accepted his proposal because sharing a duke’s bed for a month would set them up for the rest of their lives. Apart from the financial benefits, he was a generous lover. One benefit of his abnormal upbringing had been an early and full education into what women wanted in a bed partner. Until the Countess had laughed at him, he’d never had reason to doubt his sexual prowess. In the brief time she’d been in his house, she’d challenged several of his beliefs.
“It’s the ideal solution.” And something he needed. “I will help you search my grandfather’s boxes by day and, in exchange, you’ll make yourself available to me in the evenings.” Max waited, unsure what to expect. An odd situation for a man who prided himself on reading adversaries as easily as he tallied the accounts.
Pleasure House Ball: Brenton, Lord Mallory, attends his first courtesan’s ball in ten years to appease his concerned friends, though he’d rather stay home and read to his motherless daughter. Though mortified that Brenton unmasks her at a scandalous ball, Lady Lillian Armstrong doesn’t regret their night together. Book 3 Irresistible Aristocrats books2read.com/suzilovePHB
Excerpt: For himself, Brent was past caring if he was seen at a courtesan’s ball, even stark naked, but he’d never risk Lillian’s reputation. The only garment within reach in the cupboard they were hiding is was a silk robe covered in pink and purple cabbage roses and with a frilled neckline but, deciding that beggars couldn’t be choosy, he shoved his arms into the sleeves and tied the belt at his waist.
Lillian clamped two hands over her mouth to stop giggles from escaping, but he gave a what-else-can-I-do shrug and pretended his masculinity remained intact, despite the feminine gilding. Thankfully, she seemed composed, which was in direct contrast to his own distress, emotional and physical, at not managing their time together better.
Counting backwards from a hundred usually calmed him and had taken the edge of the anger and frustration he’d suffered during the last months of his marriage, so he closed his eyes and focused on counting. One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven—
‘Bloody hell,’ Brent yelled. Lillian had wrapped a hand around him just as the wardrobe’s door flew open and four faces peered inside.
Lillian screamed. Brent pushed her firmly behind him and she burrowed behind his broad back and pulled the scarf across her face. He addressed the occupants of the room as if it was an every day occurrence to hide in a cupboard at an orgy. ‘Hello Browning, and Browning’s guests,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Having a nice foursome?’
Before Lillian had dipped her head, she’d glimpsed the faces of their four onlookers. Faces that showed emotions ranging from utter amusement from their host, Browning, curiosity from his companions. Perhaps for them hiding in a cupboard was normal. The thought made her giggle again and she tried to poke her head out from behind Brent’s silk clad bottom to see what Browning would do, but Brent reached behind him and pushed her head down again.
‘Glad you’re enjoying yourself, Mallory.’ Browning’s amusement sounded in his voice, and she sensed that he was attempting to shift Brent aside so he could get a look at her face. ‘Didn’t think naked romps were your cup of tea these days, old boy.’
Pleasure House Ball: Brenton, Lord Mallory, attends his first courtesan’s ball in ten years to appease his concerned friends, though he’d rather stay home and read to his motherless daughter. Though mortified that Brenton unmasks her at a scandalous ball, Lady Lillian Armstrong doesn’t regret their night together. Book 3 Irresistible Aristocrats books2read.com/suzilovePHB
Excerpt
‘Lillian,’ Brent hissed through gritted teeth. ‘Have you been paying attention to me? I know most of the gentlemen attending this ball and there isn’t one of them that’s good enough for you.’
‘Not even you?’ At his shocked look, she waved her hand between them. ‘Sorry. I know you’re not interested in me. Not in that way, anyway.’
She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, hard. Was she mistaken? Did he find her attractive, after all? Because, Lord knew, she found him, and his muscled body, very enticing. Many a time she’d ridden behind him purposely so she could watch his taut behind rise and fall in the saddle, his thighs stretched tight as he rose slightly in the stirrups and his coat pulling across wide shoulders. She’d secretly been pleased that he wouldn’t allow visitors to his house, declaring that he and his daughter were still grieving. Though she knew that was a fabrication to prevent his mother from bringing a constant stream of eligible ladies to visit, she enjoyed being the only woman who saw him dressed down and carefree as they rode together. Which they did often.
With her head tilted to one side so she could peer up at him, she said, ‘Are you? Interested in me that way? As a woman.’
She heard the hiss of his indrawn breath and sensed she was about to be rejected. Being rejected by her husband had wounded her feminine pride, though even that pain hadn’t destroyed her. By contrast, if her best friend, the man that knew her better than her mother, turned away from her, the pain would kill her. She spun towards the door, desperate to escape.
‘Ah, there you are.’ Her companion, Maggie, stepped through the balcony doorway and strode towards her. She eyed Brenton, slowly appraising him from top to toe, before turning her back to him. ‘I was worried when I couldn’t find you. Are you all right?’
Brenton stepped around Maggie and gave her the same disdainful look as she’d given him. He gave a small bow and said, ‘I’m Brenton. And your name is…?’
Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘I know better than to reveal myself here. And I already know who you are, my lord.’
Lillian squirmed when Brent’s gaze flicked towards her and back to Maggie. ‘I’ve told my friend about you, Brent.’
‘I see.’ He turned to Maggie and leaned in close. ‘And what sort of friend are you that you brought a young woman to an event that caters to less than respectable ladies?’
‘The best sort, my lord.’ Maggie didn’t flinch form Brent’s blunt question. ‘The sort of friend who recognizes that a woman has been scarred by men and life and needs a chance to enjoy herself without censure. Needs a night of fun and frolic, rather than one of fear and loneliness.’
‘Loneliness?’ Brent repeated the word in surprise and looked at Lillian. ‘Is she correct? You’ve been lonely.’
‘In my marriage, yes, I was lonely. Geoffrey didn’t like me to see my own friends or family too much. He wanted me at home, where he could keep me under control, or attending events on his arm. A decorative addition to enhance his reputation as a man who purchased only the best quality goods. Immaculate clothing, flashy carriage, well-bred horses, and a household where he ruled supreme. There was little room for me to breathe.’
He touched her arm. ‘I’m sorry to have failed you so badly. I was so swept up in my own misery and battling to keep my wife’s affairs under wraps that I gave no thought to how your life was when in London.’
Pleasure House Ball: Brenton, Lord Mallory, attends his first courtesan’s ball in ten years to appease his concerned friends, though he’d rather stay home and read to his motherless daughter. Though mortified that Brenton unmasks her at a scandalous ball, Lady Lillian Armstrong doesn’t regret their night together. Book 3 Irresistible Aristocrats books2read.com/suzilovePHB
Excerpt
‘Brent, why are you eager for me to risk a repeat of my miserable marriage?’ Lady Lillian asked. ‘When you’ve declared that you’ll never marry again.’
‘Because you’re a woman and I’m a man.’
Lillian’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s a very biased view, and I thought you better than that.’
Brent groaned. ‘You’re right. It’s unfair to tell you to risk more unhappiness when I won’t.’
‘Everyone knows you’re avoiding your family because they push eligible ladies towards you. They want you to remarry and give your daughter a new mother.’
‘They’ve no right to interfere in our lives, mine or my daughter’s. We’re happy as we are, the two of us.’
‘Your wife hurt you, deeply, and so you’ve refused to even speak to the women your mother thinks suitable.’
‘I speak to you.’
‘Only because I visit you and drag you away from your house to go riding. I refuse to let you retreat from the world. You’re a wonderful man with a lot to give to another woman. To another wife.’
‘You’re the only lady that I can tolerate being near for more than ten minutes.’
‘And you’re the only man I’d select for a second husband, and you’re against marriage.’ She looked towards a group of men smoking at the far end of the verandah. ‘Hence my venture into the unknown tonight. The sedate balls are full of married men or old lechers, as all the exciting men are here instead.’ She pointed towards the cluster of five or six young men. ‘Perhaps one of them might be the boost I need to restore my faith in the male gender. A virile young man who knows about pleasurable sex.’
He scowled as he watched the young men laugh and slap each other on the back. ‘Those pups are too inexperienced to give a woman pleasure. At that age, it’s all over too quickly. You need someone who will leave you limp with pleasure.’ He shook his head and seemed to collect himself.
Lillian swallowed. She didn’t doubt that Brent knew many ways to make sex exciting and unforgettable, but there was no point imagining herself with him when she knew how studiously he avoided contact with women these days. Well, except for her and his cook.
‘Not all men are cruel,’ he was saying when she paid attention to his words rather than the way his trousers stretched across his groin when he had his hands on his hips and his coat tails pulled aside. ‘Some husbands value their wives and treat them like queens.’
She sighed. ‘A nice thought, Brent, but unless you can introduce me to one of those paragons of husbands, I’m reduced to finding my excitement with one of the gentlemen here tonight.’
Pleasure House Ball Book 3 Irresistible Aristocrats. Love revealed at a courtesan’s ball. Brenton, Lord Mallory, attends his first courtesan’s ball in ten years to appease his concerned friends, though he’d rather stay home and read to his motherless daughters. books2read.com/suzilovePHB
