Even though Damned If You Do is a paranormal romance, it’s mostly realistic. The setting is contemporary; the supernatural rears its head only occasionally.
If you enjoy over-the-top fantasy, you might want to check out my steam punk / ménage / shifter / BDSM / Rubenesque / Bollywood erotic romance Rajasthani Moon. It’s quite a contrast.
I really allowed my imagination to run wild in this book. The book started as a personal challenge, a curmudgeonly reaction to the way the romance world slices and dices stories by sub-genre. I set out to write a book that would seamlessly meld as many of those sub-genres as I could. The result is steamy, outrageous and great fun.
Neither kink nor curse can stop a woman with a mission.
Cecily Harrowsmith, secret agent extraordinaire, is a woman on a mission. When the remote Indian kingdom of Rajasthan refused to remit its taxes to the Empire, Her Majesty imposed an embargo. Deprived of the energy-rich mineral viridium, essential for modern technology and development, Rajasthan was expected to quickly give in and resume its payments. Yet after three years, the rebellious principality still has not knuckled under. Cecily undertakes the difficult journey to that rugged, arid land in order to determine just how it has managed to survive, and if possible to convince the country to return to the Empire’s embrace. Instead, she’s taken captive by a brigand, who turns out to be the ruler’s half-brother Pratan, and delivered into the hands of the sexy but sadistic Rajah Amir, who expertly mingles torture and delight in his interrogation of the voluptuous interloper.
Cursed before birth by Amir’s jealous mother, Pratan changes to a ravening wolf whenever the moon is full. Cecily uncovers the counter-spell that can reverse the effects of the former queen’s hex and tries to trade that information for her freedom. Drawn to the fierce wolf-man and sympathising with his suffering, she volunteers to serve as the sacrifice required by the ritual—offering her body to the beast. In return, the Rajah reveal Rajasthan’s amazing secret source of energy. In the face of almost impossible odds, Cecily has accomplished the task entrusted to her by the Empire. But can she really bear to leave the virile half-brothers and their colourful land behind and return to the constraints of her life in England?
Want an excerpt? Of course you do! Warning: this one is incendiary!
“How are you feeling, Miss Harrowsmith?”
The mockery in his tone was not enough to prevent a surge of renewed lust, which she struggled to suppress. “I presume that’s a rhetorical question, Your Highness,” she replied after a moment. God, but his eyes are hypnotic! “Given that I’m stark naked and trussed up like a turkey about to be roasted.”
“Not entirely rhetorical.” The handsome Rajah circled around to inspect her from the rear. “It seems to me that you’re distinctly damp.” With a chuckle, he swept a finger down the length of her cleft, gathering her moisture. Her inner muscles clenched as sparks struck her clit. When he smeared her juices across her bum, she wanted to sink through the floor. “Based on the available evidence, I’d say that being bound excites you.”
“Nonsense—” she began. Her attempts at a cool, sarcastic response were interrupted by the ferocious slap he landed on her arse. “Ow! Oh…” The sting from his spank vanished, overwhelmed by the delicious sensation of his fingers playing in her cunny. “Oh…ah…”
“And it’s clear that, like many of your compatriots, you find corporal punishment arousing.”
“No—ow! That’s ridiculous…Ow! Ah! Ow!”
He alternated sharp blows to her buttocks with exquisite explorations of her cunt.
“Fondness for punishment is one of the many intriguing cultural phenomena I encountered during my sojourn in your dank country.” He circled her back hole with a slick finger, then probed gently. “I suppose that being exposed to those notions at a tender age might have shaped my own predilections in that regard.”
She tightened her sphincter, trying to keep him out, without success. Guilty pleasure rushed through her as he wiggled his digit just inside the entrance. “Oh—you…uh—you spent time in England? Ah…” Though he pulled out, the effects of his lewd touch continued to ripple through her body. Her sex gaped, hungry, dripping with excitement she couldn’t hide. If only he’d stop chattering and simply take her…
“I was schooled there. Pratan as well. My father believed in the value of knowing one’s enemy.”
“I’m not— We’re not—oh!—your enemy, Your Highness. Ow!”
The Rajah had pinched one of the welts raised by his brother’s whipping. “Hmm. We’ll see. Speaking of Pratan, it looks as though he did quite a job on you yesterday. Perhaps I should refrain from inflicting any further damage on your delectable bottom at present.”
Cecily bit back a moan of disappointment. She hung her head, appalled by her reaction. Her hair tumbled around her face, hiding her shame.
“Fear not, sweet Cecily. I have other ideas about what to do with you—equally nasty and painful, I guarantee.” He gave both her butt cheeks a solid squeeze, waking echoes of her previous beatings, then moved away.
She heard a lock click on some chest or cabinet behind her. He must be seeking some new instrument of punishment or humiliation. She shuddered, from fear or anticipation, or perhaps both at once.
“Where is Pratan?” she ventured as the noise of his rummaging continued. At the moment, she would have felt safer in the company of the bandit.
“He’s—um—indisposed at the moment. That is why I was delayed. Ah, here we are! Don’t worry. I fully intend to share you with my brother.”
Share? Each man was fearsome in his own right. But together…
She pushed the thought away. Focus. Be strong.
If you like the sound of this, you can get your very own copy here.
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