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: 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.