Scientific
research has shown that women are just as responsive to erotic imagery as men
and that women are not lesser sexual beings than men (testosterone is not the
only the contributing “ingredient” for arousal), but women have long faced the
belief that “nice” girls aren’t supposed to be overly sexual. As the saying
goes, “Girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice.”
Nice. Not naughty.
Naughty girls might have sex just for the pure
physical enjoyment of it. Nice girls wouldn’t have sex unless affection or
commitment was involved. Naughty girls might have sex with different partners.
Nice girls don’t sleep around.
But in the erotic romance genre, “nice” girls
can be naughty, too.
I’ve written both kinds of heroines: the
virginal, inexperienced or sexually repressed young woman (รก la Anastasia
Steele) and the more experienced woman with a healthy (sometimes voracious)
sexual appetite. With the former, there is something exciting about one’s first
sexual awakening. With the latter, the tension between two people more evenly
matched can lead to a myriad of erotic possibilities. In my Punishing Miss Primrose series, the
heroine is completely comfortable in her sexuality and has no trouble asserting
it—to the consternation (and arousal) of the hero, Lord Carey. The bedchamber is
the setting for a power struggle between two very passionate people, each vying
in their own way to right a wrong and avenge the past.
Which kind
of heroine do you prefer to read about? I'd love to hear, so feel free to drop
me a line at www.EroticHistoricals.com.
ABOUT PUNISHING MISS
PRIMROSE, PARTS I-V
Miss Primrose needs
to be punished.
A member of the wickedly wanton Inn of the Red Chrysanthemum, where the most taboo and illicit pleasures are indulged, Miss Primrose—or Mistress Primrose, as she prefers—left Nicholas Edelton a shell of a man. Now his older brother, Spencer Edelton, the Marquess of Carey, intends to provide her a set-down she will never forget.
Weary from exacting her revenge upon the man who raped her sister, Beatrice Primrose has had her fill of men of privilege and presumption, but she accepts a fateful invitation from a handsome nobleman to spend a sennight at his estate for a grand sum of money. She soon learns, however, that she will not get to reprise her role as Mistress. To her horror, she finds his lordship expects her to submit to him!
But Beatrice won’t give in so easily.
In a clash of wills, fueled by vengeance and lust, Lord Carey and Miss Primrose wrestle for dominance in, and out of, the bedchamber. Their biggest struggle, however, may be against their own desires…
Can Miss Primrose take what she dishes? And will Lord Carey succumb or succeed in punishing Miss Primrose?
A member of the wickedly wanton Inn of the Red Chrysanthemum, where the most taboo and illicit pleasures are indulged, Miss Primrose—or Mistress Primrose, as she prefers—left Nicholas Edelton a shell of a man. Now his older brother, Spencer Edelton, the Marquess of Carey, intends to provide her a set-down she will never forget.
Weary from exacting her revenge upon the man who raped her sister, Beatrice Primrose has had her fill of men of privilege and presumption, but she accepts a fateful invitation from a handsome nobleman to spend a sennight at his estate for a grand sum of money. She soon learns, however, that she will not get to reprise her role as Mistress. To her horror, she finds his lordship expects her to submit to him!
But Beatrice won’t give in so easily.
In a clash of wills, fueled by vengeance and lust, Lord Carey and Miss Primrose wrestle for dominance in, and out of, the bedchamber. Their biggest struggle, however, may be against their own desires…
Can Miss Primrose take what she dishes? And will Lord Carey succumb or succeed in punishing Miss Primrose?
This book is available FREE at
most major retailers:
EXCERPT FROM
PUNISHING MISS PRIMROSE, PART I-V
“I thought I told you to
wait in your chambers.”
The voice at the library
entrance startled her, and she dropped the book. Turning, she held up her lamp.
His lordship stood with his hands at his hips. He had removed his coat, and his
hair was slightly disheveled, as if he had run his hands through it several
times. There was a gloss to his eyes that she had not noticed during
dinner.
“A Mistress does not
receive commands. She gives them,” she informed him as if he were her student.
She set the lamp on a table nearby.
The corner of his mouth
twitched, as if he were about to smirk.
“And you take great
pleasure in commanding others,” he said as he advanced toward her.
Did he mean to accuse her?
she wondered.
He stopped and picked up
her book, noting its title. “How fitting.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Your pardon?”
“Have you read it?”
“Some years ago.”
“And do you find a kindred
spirit in the heroine, a whore, thief, and felon?”
The antagonistic edge in
his tone made her defensive. She snatched the book from him, though it was his
property.
“Through Moll Flanders, the
author has painted the plight of women with great sympathy. One cannot help but
admire the determination and resourcefulness of Mrs. Flanders.”
“A woman of loose virtue,
dishonest, scheming—by her own admission. In the end, she and her husband live
in sincere penitence for their wickedness.”
“A luxury not afforded to
many.”
He paused in thought. “You
believe her actions were compelled by her circumstances.”
“A woman must make her own
fortune and seek her own justice. She cannot expect these will be granted to her
in any easy form. She may be the most moral and honest and intelligent creature,
but these virtues are not always awarded. And if a wrong be done to her, who
will defend her? Will it ever be made right?”
Seeing his look of
surprise, she realized she must have spoken too vehemently. She glanced away to
hide her emotion.
“An unfortunate reality,”
he said, after a pause, with more compassion than she expected. “But one’s
circumstances, no matter how dire, do not absolve a man of wrongdoing.”
“You would that a beggar
submit to starvation rather than steal a loaf of bread?”
“Are your circumstances
comparable to that of a beggar?”
She stared at him. Why
would he ask such a question? What a strange evening this had become! Though she
was partly excited to be engaging in a discussion on the merits of virtue—she
could think of no one of late with whom she had had such interesting discourse,
and he had listened to her opinions without hastily dismissing them—it was
wholly unexpected, leaving her perplexed and a little rattled.
“My circumstances are no
affair of yours,” she said.
Hoping to place some distance between them so that she could
compose her thoughts, she turned away from him, but he reached for the bookshelf
beside her, blocking her path with his right arm. He was now closer to her than
ever, and she detected the aroma of brandy upon him. Her pulse quickened. She
had neglected to devise a strategy for her engagement with this patron, and she
sensed the danger of not having done her due diligence, especially as she found
herself responding in a most inconvenient fashion to his nearness.
No comments:
Post a Comment