After living a checkered past, and despite an avowed disinterest in domesticity, multi-published erotic romance author Anya Richards settled in Ontario, Canada, with husband, kids, an adorable pup and a cat that plots world domination, one food bowl at a time. Her slightly darker alter-ego, Anya Delvay, emerges occasionally to write erotica.
Interested in all things historical and hysterical, Anya describes herself as intensely curious, (although the word ‘nosy’ has been bandied about) and a life-long people-watcher. Using what she’s discovered about people, places and various weird and wonderful things, Anya has written contemporary, historical and paranormal/fantasy romance novels, novellas and short stories for Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Cleis Press and Spice Briefs.
To find out more, please drop by Anya’s website at www.anyarichards.com, follow her on Twitter or like her on Facebook.
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One (1) full set of ebooks from this tour
Historical erotica (Georgian-set)
Oh, the delicious peril of deception…
Lady Marianne Gillingham has no intention of ending her affair with David Dunscombe, Earl Harrington, despite his pending nuptials. She craves his attentions, and he satisfies her deepest yearnings.
Yet, when his fiancée, the sweet, innocent and oh-so-very young Annabelle Frazier, appears on her doorstep to demand the end of the association, Marianne realizes she does not wish to be second in David’s affections. She also cannot resist issuing a warning. The earl will bed his wife with tedious regularity, but never reveal his more unusual desires.
To Marianne’s amusement, her prediction comes true, with a surprising twist. The countess is back with a new demand: repair the problem her prophetic words created. Taking pleasure in imagining the other woman’s fear and horror, Marianne rekindles the affair to demonstrate exactly how to fulfill David’s lascivious desires—while Annabelle secretly watches from the shadows.
She never expected Annabelle to prove so resilient and surprisingly easy—not to mention delicious—to corrupt. Or that the ensuing erotic tangle would be impossible to put right without heartbreak.
Miss Frasier pales, delicate lips trembling, and for a moment I think she might cry.
I want her to. Base though the sentiment is, I want her to know pain, to hurt as I do.
But, true to her cold breeding, she rallies without even a single tear. Raising her chin, she glares at me, but the rapid rise and fall of her bosom betrays her agitation. I watch that motion of tender flesh, think of David filling his palms with it, and allow myself, for the merest second, to imagine what he would feel.
“You have had your time with Lord Harrington.” Her voice is frigid and stern. Arrogance resonates in every syllable, and my amusement melts beneath the heat of irritation. “As of the date of our marriage, he will no longer require your services.”
Prideful chit, to seek to dismiss me as though I were no more than a housemaid! Rising from my chair to swing my skirts around the intervening table, I step close enough to see the pulse beating in her throat. So close our hems touch and I imagine the frantic pace of her heart surrounds me.
“I doubt, little one, you will be capable of giving David what he needs, so I caution you about trying to be rid of me so soon.” The corners of her lips turn down, my use of Lord Harrington’s given name causing anger, as is my intent. “Many a married lady will tell you, better the mistress you know than the one you do not.”
Her face tightens, grows paler yet beneath the powder, and when she speaks, it is in a disgust-laden rush. “There is nothing you give Lord Harrington I, as his wife, will not.”
I laugh then, for how could I resist? But beneath the laughter lies rage and an honest contempt for her innocent avowal.
“You are correct, of course. There is nothing I give David you are incapable of, although I doubt you would be willing.”
Excerpt Two Question: What is Lord Harrington’s first name?
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