I am thrilled to be
touring around the blogosphere introducing everyone to my new book Bound
to Be a Groom! I loved researching and
writing this steamy story and can't wait for readers to get their hands on it.
Speaking of
hands...while a reviewer was reading an advance copy of the book a few weeks
ago, she bemoaned the fact that she had run out of double AA batteries. This
led to a hilarious conversation on Twitter about the wide range of sex toys and
vibrators at our disposal and my editor, to whom I defer on all things
technical, said the Hitachi Magic Wand was the be-all-and-end-all of
"personal massagers" (<-that's the technical name, just in case
you were wondering). It never runs out of batteries...because it plugs in! So,
of course I went online and bought one (which also involved research because
there are cheap imitations galore...do not be fooled!). And holy hell! Okay.
First of all, it is loud and heavy and enormous...there is no pretending you
are just *whistles innocently* hanging out in bed with a good book. It's more
like shouting, "OKAY NOW I AM GOING TO PLUG IN THE BROBDINGNAGIAN VIBRATOR
AND HAVE AN ORGASM!" Which is also fine. So, yeah, I tried it. Two times.
And then I realized it was really an excellent, LITERAL, personal massager. I
sit at a desk eight hours a day and have tons of muscle strain in my neck and
shoulder. And the Hitachi is AMAZING for that shit. I'm not joking. Give me
five minutes on low, right there at the base of my neck...and I'm ready to walk
upstairs and have sex with my partner.
So to celebrate this
rite of passage (I used a vibrator! Yay!) and save you the trouble of ever
running out of AA batteries (You can too! Yay!), I'm giving away (a brand new
lol!) official (do not accept cheap imitations!) HITACHI HV250R MAGIC WAND
MASSAGER. This priceless (okay,
it's about $75) item will go to ONE lucky winner. The 2nd place winner
will receive a $10 gift card from Riptide Publishing, and the 3rd
place winner can choose any book from my backlist (excluding Bound to be a Groom). Entries close at midnight, Eastern Time, on April 25, and winners
will be chosen on April 27. Contest is valid worldwide. Good luck and thanks for being a part of the blog tour!
What were you reading while working on Bound to be a Groom?
Oh
my. I read about four books a week and this book took eight weeks so…not sure I
can list all, but around that time I was reading: Charlotte Stein, Jackie
Ashenden, Ainslie Paton, Georgette Heyer, Susan Napier, Tawny Weber, Bella
Andre, Jayne Ann Krentz, Miranda Neville, and Anne Calhoun.
If you could be in a band with other writers, who
would you choose as band mates and why?
What kind of music would you perform?
What would be the name of your band?
Oh
man. I am sharing a house in New Orleans for the RT Convention in May 2014, and
other writers who are staying there include: Anne Calhoun, Miranda Neville,
Lexi Ryan, and Lisa Maxwell, along with
bloggers JanetNorCal, RRRJessica, and Sasha from Caribbean Accent. Maybe we
would have a band called the French
Quarter Hussies and we would play French cabaret music and drink scotch.
Lightening
round:
What’s your hidden talent? My tongue is double-jointed.
What would you do if you
weren’t an author? Freak out.
What was the very first
romance novel you read? The Thorn Birds.
Sometimes our wildest dreams come true.
In the tumultuous summer of 1808, Spain and England are close to war
and four young lovers are close to ecstasy.
To carve out an independent life with the woman she loves, ANNA
knows she must leave her quiet Spanish convent to become a courtesan. To gain
experience, she sets her sights on . . .
SEBASTIAN, whose powerful, aristocratic confidence suits Anna’s
mercenary goals. But his arrogance masks a craving for submission that Anna
instinctively satisfies. Sebastian soon begs for her hand in marriage, even if
it means sharing her with . . .
PIA, who trusts Anna completely—with her body and her future—until
she learns of Anna’s hasty marriage. Pia questions their commitment to each
other as they leave for London to meet . . .
FARLEIGH, the seemingly feckless duke who thinks he’s over
Sebastian, the potent Spanish soldier he bedded two years ago.
What begins as a series of erotic escapades soon evolves into a
deep, unbreakable bond. Two men and two women who yearn to explore are about to
make their wildest dreams come true.
CHAPTER THREE
She turned in his arms, staring into those
blue-green eyes of his, wondering how honest she could afford to be. Some
version of the truth would free her to ask all sorts of relevant questions, to
make him an accomplice of sorts. He seemed like he’d be game.
“Sebastian . . .” They’d been properly
introduced, but it was wholly improper for her to call him by his first name.
Then again, she was already alone with him, unchaperoned, having recently lost
herself in the sensation of sucking his fingers until her sex was throbbing so
hard she’d forgotten her own name. Calling him by his Christian name did not
seem to sit quite so high on the long list of improprieties. What with one
thing and another.
“Yeeessss . . .” he drawled. He’d begun
swaying her gently in his arms, as if they were on the deck of a slow-rolling
ship.
“I . . .” She hesitated and then cursed her
unfamiliar cowardice. He was quite right in letting her know she couldn’t very
well play the blushing virgin when she’d more or less lured him into their
current embrace. He was staring at her mouth again—making love to her mouth
with his eyes, really—which made it easier to blurt out a portion of the truth.
“I would very much like to . . . do things . . . with . . . to . . . I would .
. .” Well, this is going abominably.
He smiled and kept up that gentle motion,
pulling her nearer with each sway. “That all sounds positively delightful,” he
said, “but perhaps a bit vague.”
“Vague?” she prompted.
He inhaled. “I tend to prefer very clear
directions.” He was quite close by then. In fact, the hard pressure of his cock
was resting against her stomach at that very moment.
“You do?” she asked, surprised and
delighted at her good fortune.
He nodded and then looked adorably sheepish
as he pressed his length along her belly.
I can do this, she thought.
He felt big, but certainly no bigger than
anything she and Pia had used to penetrate one another. Fingers at first. Then
tongues. Then more fingers. Anna’s whole hand one time, after much patient,
delectable coaxing. Anna felt the heat pool in her belly at the memory, at the
way their shared desire had ultimately opened Pia up to her so completely.
She closed her eyes, overcome with
memories.
***
Abbey of Santa María la Real de Las
Huelgas, Burgos, Spain – September 1807
Initially, they had tried to ignore the
heat that flamed between them. For many months in the spring and summer, they
would catch one another’s eyes and quickly look away—in vespers, in the library,
at mealtimes. They would speak of art and nature and herbal remedies, books and
political ideas and astronomy . . . but never of feelings.
Anna had tried to quash her feelings
through petition and penance, with prayers for forgiveness and relief from her
agitation. She had tried to deny how deeply she loved Pia, to convince herself
that she only loved her as a friend. She had tried to persuade herself that her
physical desire was part of a childish infatuation or sinful temptation, a
brief flare of unfamiliar lust that would pass soon enough.
But it hadn’t passed. It had grown.
So, when she began to suspect that Pia felt
the same way, there was nothing for it. Anna finally decided to declare her
feelings one warm afternoon in September, when the two of them were sent to the
surrounding forest to collect some late-summer herbs that would be dried during
the long winter. Pia appeared serious and thoughtful as always, but Anna’s
heart thudded wildly, emboldened by their exceptional solitude. The novices
were rarely granted times to speak privately, so Anna saw it as an opportunity
to dash her foolish hopes. Perhaps she had imagined Pia’s answering gazes, and
Pia would put an end to her madness once and for all.
“Do you look forward to spending your life
in the convent, Pia?” Anna tried to sound casual as she bent to snip an herb.
Pia turned her head slightly. “I never
think about it one way or another. It will be my life whether I look forward to
it or not.”
Her moderate, equable nature was something
Anna had come to love about Pia because it was the shell she wanted to break
apart, to see what roiled beneath.
Choosing her words carefully, Anna said, “I
think about it.” I think about taking you away with me.
Bending to pick a stalk of malva, Pia spoke
without looking up. “As well you should. That is your future, is it not? To be
a lady-in-waiting at court next year?”
Anna couldn’t look away from the turn of
Pia’s long back and strong shoulders. She could stare at her for hours. She was
desperate to touch her. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Anna?” Pia was standing in front of her by
then, stepping closer.
“Yes?” She licked her lips in the one
nervous gesture she’d never been able to conquer.
Pia looked at her mouth for a split second.
“Are you unwell?”
“I don’t know . . .” Anna whispered, her
heart pounding.
“What is it?” Pia’s voice had softened to a
near whisper, as well.
Anna gathered all her courage. “I believe
I’m in love with you.”
Pia didn’t gasp or step back, as Anna had
half hoped she would. They stood like that in the dappled glade—staring at one
another—until the autumn noises of the forest were like clanging cymbals all
around them. Insects skittered and dried leaves crackled into the air. An acorn
falling might as well have been a hundred-year-old oak crashing to the earth
for how the small sound resonated.
Finally, after what felt like an entire rotation
of the moon, Pia’s eyes blinked slowly, then drifted shut. The sparsely filled
basket slid out of her weak hold. “Touch me,” Pia pleaded. “I beg you.”
That was all the encouragement Anna needed.
Within seconds, she had pinned Pia against one of the large oak trees. After so
many months of wondering and hoping, the reality of Pia’s lips and skin and
hair threw Anna into a sort of frenzy. Kissing her lips and then along the
strong turn of her ivory neck, nipping at her ear, Anna reveled in the physical
reality of Pia in her arms. The smell of her—a mixture of fresh autumn air and
spices from the convent kitchen where Pia had baked bread that morning. The
sound of her—a loving compilation of supplication and devotion.
Anna began removing Pia’s clothes without
asking permission, pulling desperately at her tightly wound coil of hair. The
more Anna pushed, the more Pia bent. As if they were both perfectly attuned to
the moment and its meaning: that they were both discovering their true natures.
Pia was made to soften and sway into Anna’s controlling, greedy hands.
“You are so beautiful, Pia, so strong and
wise,” Anna gasped between kisses and fumbling fingers. “I watch you all the
time, how you manage everyone without flouting the abbess’s authority.” Her lips
trailed down Pia’s neck. “I’ve seen your lovely drawings and your modesty about
them. I’ve seen your patience with the younger girls. I love watching you.”
“I’ve watched you too, Anna,” Pia
confessed, her breath shallow. “I’ve watched you grow into this woman who knows
her own mind. I see how you look at the world. How you will take what you
want.”
“I will take you. I know that now.” Anna’s
voice was low and demanding, and she watched as Pia’s body responded to its
strength—her strength. “My wild ideas about you have become so real to me.” Pia
whimpered at the words, and Anna kissed her full on the lips, savoring the
texture and taste, the feel of Pia’s tongue against hers.
Anna broke away for a moment. Pia leaned
her forehead against hers and said, “I’ve dreamt of you so many times, Anna.”
She reached tentatively to hold a strand of Anna’s silky blonde hair between
her curious fingers. “You come to me at night, into my bed, like an angel.”
Anna laughed, low and mischievous. “If I am
an angel, I’m an angel of darkness.” She spoke as she worked, removing the last
of Pia’s clothes with rough, tugging movements. Every time she gave a firm pull
at a piece of fabric, Pia seemed to come emotionally, as well as physically,
undone. “The thoughts I have about you, Pia, they are dark and heathenish.
Beautiful and raw.”
Megan Mulry writes sexy, stylish, romantic
fiction. Her first book, A Royal Pain,
was an NPR Best Book of 2012 and USA
Today bestseller. Before discovering her passion for romance novels, she
worked in magazine publishing and finance. After many years in New York,
Boston, London, and Chicago, she now lives with her family in Florida.
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