My new book is out from Resplendence Publishing. It's the first of a three book Pirate's Booty Series. This book is called THE VIRGIN PIRATE and I'm very excited about.
Here's just a tiny excerpt from it. You can go to Resplendence publishing for more information.
Excerpt:She stared at him, trying to understand the meaning of his words, then blushed as she thought of how she must seem to him. Carefully, she laid the stripped bone back on her plate and wiped her hands on her bodice. He winced.
“What?” she asked.
“Madam, you’ve just soiled a beautiful ball gown of some considerable value. I doubt that grease can ever be removed by even the most diligent laundress.”
“Are you questioning my manners?” she demanded. “I assure you I’ve been taught by a gentleman how to behave at table.” Which was true. Cedric Bickford had complimented her on her deportment and offered his knowledge on how a lady should conduct herself. Still, she felt the heat of shame mount her cheeks. Obviously, she’d done something wrong in this man’s estimation. She grabbed her tankard and drank deeply of the rich red wine and felt only a little better. This wasn’t going as she’d planned. She’d thought to spend time with an English gentleman and learn more about the world beyond this ship. But she knew she’d wanted more than that. She’d wanted to dazzle this English nobleman with her beauty and intelligence. She wanted… She couldn’t put words to it.
Ever since she’d seen him standing on the deck of his burning ship, she’d felt a stirring such as she’d never known before, and she wanted to explore those feeling. She wanted to be kissed by a man and to feel the passion between man and woman, not the animal rutting she’d seen her men engage in, but the soft, sensuous mating between two people. Bickford had offered her that, in fact, at every opportunity, he’d tried to seduce her into bed, but she’d felt nothing for him. She couldn’t say that about the tall nobleman who sat across from her, his eyes condemning her every move.
Humiliation stung her, and she covered it with anger. “I can always call Skelly to take you back to the brig,” she snapped, slamming her tankard against the table.
“Aye, you could, Madam, if that is your wish.” He regarded her coolly with eyes gone all dark and unreadable.
“Nay,” she said belatedly, “’tis not what I had in mind. As for my gown, it doesn’t matter if I’ve soiled it. I have many more.”
“No doubt acquired in the same manner as this one?”
“What do you know of a lady’s wardrobe?” she inquired sharply.
“I know about that gown. I purchased it, for a dear price I might add, for my fiancée.”
She was left speechless while her thoughts flashed to the dainty creature for whom he’d intended the gown. He could imagine some other woman floating down a grand staircase trailing the lovely silk peacock skirt behind her.
“You may have it back,” she said huffily. “I don’t care much for its color.”
“That’s too bad. The color seems created especially for you. However, I would be remiss not to inform you that you are sadly overdressed.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, looking down at the lovely gown with the greasy smears across the bodice.
“That garment is meant to be worn for an evening gala, not as an afternoon dress.”
She opened her mouth in consternation, but no words of rebuttal came.
“Ah, but no matter,” he said. “A lady may wear what she wishes, when she wishes. Now, tell me, Madam. What have you in mind for me besides ransoming at the end of this voyage?” His voice was deceptively soft. It hummed along her nerve endings and made her long for more, for a touch that would be as soft.
“I…” She raised her head but couldn’t meet his gaze. “Well, you’re a ship’s captain and a…a lord and my prisoner and—”
His gaze was too knowing, too sure. Hell be damned, he was on to her. She pushed her plate aside and walked around the table, coming to a stop very close to him, so he could smell the costly scent she’d poured over herself.
“You are my prisoner,” she said firmly, “and I can do with you. Whatever I wish. And I’ve decided to take you to my bed.”
“Ah, I’m to follow in Bickford’s…er…footsteps.”
“He was never in my bed.” She glared at him.
“’Tis not the tale he gives in London,” he said.
“Then he lies. He wanted to bed me, but I refused. I only wanted him to tell me about life in London society and…how to be a lady.”
“Nevertheless, that is his claim.” His expression showed very clearly which of them he believed.
With a sharp rustle of her skirts, she turned and paced the cabin. “The blackguard,” she muttered.
“Aye, he is that, and if you’ve relied upon him for advice on, what was the word you used? Deportment? I’m afraid he’s failed you there as well.” He watched her pace. “As for you taking me to your bed, madam. You need a willing partner, and I am not he. You might better have taken Bickford while you had the chance. I do not want you.” His tone was mocking, disbelieving of her denials.
Her cheeks grew hot and a red haze blinded her so she could barely see him, barely breathe for the insult he’d paid her yet again. She’d been too considerate, she saw now. She would take what she wanted as her men did. It was her right as captain of this ship, as the victor.
“It doesn’t matter if you want me,” she said and threw herself into his lap. She felt the long, hard length of him against her buttocks and suppressed a shiver. Startled, he made no move, so she ground her lips against his while her hands roved to the front of his breeches and gripped his cock, which had hardened since her assault. Her hand dove beneath the soft cloth of his breeches and gripped his hot flesh. She squeezed and began to pump her hand up and down. She wasn’t sure this was what he liked, but she’d seen a sailor relieve himself in this manner once and he’d seemed to like it just fine.
But Lord Trey Carlyle seemed destined to confound her in every way. His strong hand gripped hers, stilling her frantic pumping action. He pulled her hand over her head and rose so she would have been dumped on the floor if not for his hold on her. As it was, she stumbled a bit before she regained her footing and looked into his eyes. There was the blazing anger she’d seen before, the denial and rejection.
She slashed out with her other hand, striking him hard across his face. A red welt rose on one lean cheek, but he made no acknowledgment of her blow.
“Madam,” he said from between clenched teeth. “Calm yourself.” He released her hand, flinging it from him.
“I am calm,” she said. “You forget, sir, you are my prisoner and you do not give commands.”
She threw herself against him, knocking him backwards and onto her cot. In a tangle of petticoats, she fell on him and, once again, reached for his cock. It was rock hard now. Wasn’t that proof enough that he wanted her. She pressed herself to him, taking a deep breath and one of her breasts popped out of its tight confines. The nipple bobbled near his mouth, and she longed for him to take it into his mouth and suckle her. She pressed forward so, indeed, her soft pink flesh was pressed against his face. He had but to turn his head.
Instead, he took hold of her waist and pushed her to one side so she fell over the edge of the bed and landed on the floor, the skirts and myriad petticoats riding high above her thighs, her legs bare below her lacy breeches.
He swung to his feet and towered over her. She glared up at him.