Today's the start of our
Something
New, Something Naughty Blog Hop. You could win one of our
grand prizes – a $60 gift certificate from
EdenFantasys, or one of
two $25 gift certificates from your favorite bookstore. Every comment
you leave on a blog hop post between today and the 13
th of
January counts as an entry toward the grand prizes.
In addition, every single one of the
thirty five authors participating is offering a prize to one person
who comments on her particular post. In fact, if you visit all the
authors, you're almost guaranteed to win something. You find links to all participants blogs at the end of this post.
For my personal prize, I'm offering
your choice of three recent anthologies in ebook form, each of which
includes a story by me:
Seeing Stars – Science
fiction, includes my award winning M/F/M m
énage
Bodies
of Light.
Just tell me, in your comment, which
you'd prefer.
So today I have something quite
naughty, and extremely new, to share with you. I just finished
(yesterday!) my latest novel, entitled Rajasthani Moon.
And I suspect it's quite different from anything you've read before.
Those of you who follow my blogs know
that I sometimes rail against genre labels as being too restrictive.
Readers come to have specific expectations for a particular genre and
they get upset if those are violated. Furthermore, some readers stick
to only one or two genres, never bothering to find out what they are
missing.
Rajasthani Moon began as
a lark. I wanted to see how many different genres I could combine in
a single story. I didn't expect the effort to turn into a novel, but
the more I wrote, the more ideas I had. I just couldn't fit them into
the ten to fifteen thousand words I originally thought I'd produce.
What genre is this novel? Steampunk –
Bollywood – BDSM – Ménage
– Shapeshifter – Rubenesque. I considered adding some M/M
interaction but I've found that readers of M/M really get bent out of
shape when I mix gay romance with heterosexual romance.
I'm usually superstitious about sharing
excerpts from unpublished (or at least uncontracted) work. However,
I'm making an exception for purposes of the blog hop. Here's the
blurb and an unedited naughty excerpt from Rajasthani Moon.
After you read it, leave me a comment telling whether you think I'm
crazy or not, writing a book like this. Be honest! I promise to draw
the winner at random.
Blurb
Neither kink nor
curse can stop a woman with 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 has not knuckled under.
Cecily Harrowsmith,secret agent extraordinaire, undertakes a
difficult journey to the rugged, arid land of the Rajputs 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 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, the prince/bandit Pratan changes to a ravening
wolf on every full moon. 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 half-brothers reveal Rajasthan's amazing secret source
of energy. Cecily has accomplished her mission. But can she really
bear to leave the virile brothers and their colourful land behind and
return to constraints of her life in England?
Excerpt
“Stop there, Miss Harrowsmith.” The
voice was deep and mellow, with a lazy, smoky quality that reminded
her of full moons and autumn bonfires. The man’s English was
practically perfect. His lilting accent only added to the charm of
his utterance. She found herself almost eager to obey orders
delivered in such a lush voice.
“Kneel up. Let me look at you.”
Cecily tried to keep her gaze averted
as she complied, though she was desperately tempted to see if the
ruler was as handsome in the flesh as in his portrait.
His chuckle sent a shimmer through her,
something like shame but hotter and sweeter. “Very nice indeed. If
all of Queen Victoria’s minions were as delectable, we might be
more willing to return to her fold.” He laughed again at his own
pleasantry. “Guard – the shackles.”
One of the male attendants flanking the
throne strode forward, holding two cuffs of embossed leather. A
slender, silvery chain about a foot long trailed between them. In a
few breaths, the restraints encircled her ankles, leaving her
hobbled.
“Well, Miss Cecily Harrowsmith –
look at me, woman, don’t stare at your hands like some servant girl
– what have you to say for yourself? Are you ready to confess? Do
you admit you’ve infiltrated our realm to spy out our secrets and
force us back under the thumb of your ambitious Queen?”
The Rajah leaned forward in his chair,
no more than a half-dozen feet from her. A welcoming smile lit his
clean-shaven face, but his eyes were black as coal and sharp as
obsidian. Jet curls adorned his forehead, peeking out from under his
turban of gold brocade, and jewel-studded ornaments stretched his
earlobes. His sensitive mouth and smooth cheeks made him seem somehow
softer than his brother - younger, fresher, less jaded. However, the
intelligence she read in his gaze quickly dispelled any notion that
she was dealing with a callow youth.
Cecily struggled to muster her thoughts
in the face of such outrageous male beauty.
“Sir – ah – Your Highness – I
must beg your pardon and ask for your indulgence. It’s true that I
came to Rajasthan to discover how your country has managed since your
ill-advised refusal to share your revenues with the Crown. Her
Majesty was concerned that without a steady supply of viridium, your
people might well be suffering.”
Amir burst into a merry laugh. “The
Queen is concerned about us poor Rajasthanis, is she? Well, as
you can see, we are not suffering in the least. You can report back
that her concern is misplaced. Better she should be concerned for
your well-being, my lady spy.”
Cecily remained silent, suspecting that
the clever Rajah would twist her words regardless of her excuses.
Amir rose from his throne to loom over
her kneeling figure.
“You may know that Rajasthanis are
renowned for their ferocity. The usual punishment for espionage or
treason involves a distinctly unpleasant combination of branding,
disembowelling and then being left out in the desert to die.” He
cupped her chin and raised her eyes to his. “It would be a pity to
subject such a lovely creature to that sort of - indignity – but
still, there’s no question that you deserve it, is there?”
His smile grew broader but his eyes
remained hard.
She swallowed her rising terror,
striving for a rational, conciliatory tone. “Please, Your Highness
– I’m not a spy, merely the Empire’s envoy. The Queen sent me
to reopen diplomatic relations. She would like to re-establish
contacts with Rajasthan, a connection between equals...”
“Really? If you’re on an official
diplomatic mission, why were you travelling in disguise?”
“As you note, Sir, your countrymen
are known for their violence and lawlessness. A woman openly
journeying as Her Majesty’s representative would be especially
vulnerable to attack by brigands and highwaymen...” Cecily stopped
short, overwhelmed by memories of her time with Pratan. Her nipples
knotted under the thin silk of her bodice and moisture painted her
thighs. Once again embarrassment heated her face. She tried to tear
her eyes from the Rajah’s but he would not allow it.
He shook his head. “I really don’t
know what I should do with you.” He flipped the gauzy train of her
sari off her shoulder, exposing the swollen nubs that strained the
fabric of her top. “Though I imagine I’ll think of something.”
For an instant she expected him to
reach for her brazenly erect nips, to pinch or twist them. She knew
he’d be cruel. A shudder of anticipation raced through her. She
sucked in her breath, expecting – no, craving – the debasement.
He didn’t touch her. Instead, he
favoured her with an ironic grin and settled back into his chair.
“Sit here, then.” He indicated a nest of pillows piled to one
side of the throne. “For now, I shall pretend that you’re telling
the truth, Cecily, and treat you as the honoured representative of a
foreign monarch.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Cecily
released the air she’d been holding in her lungs. A bit awkward,
she crawled past Amir’s feet to curl up among the cushions, her
legs tucked under her. The silver chain tangled in her sari. As she
tried to remedy this, she gave it a quick tug to test its strength.
The delicacy of the chain was misleading. It seemed as unyielding as
the robotic bonds Pratan had employed.
“The festival will begin as soon as
the crescent moon rises above the palace walls.” He favoured her
with another brilliant smile, his eyes softer now. “It’s quite a
spectacle.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she
answered, since he seemed to expect a reply. Leaning a bit closer,
close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his
silk-clad form, she lowered her voice and loaded it with honey. “But
Sir – is it really necessary that I be shackled like some common
criminal?” After all the effort I made to get to Rajasthan, to
obtain an audience with Your Highness, do you really think it’s
likely I would flee?”
“I don’t plan to give you the
opportunity, my lovely. In any case, I like seeing you in chains.
They suit you.” And now he did touch her, flicking a jewelled
finger across one of her still-taut nipples.
A blade of pleasure sliced through her.
She couldn’t control her gasp.
“You’ll find that’s one of the
many things my brother and I have in common – a fondness for
rendering beautiful women helpless.”
As if conjured by the Rajah’s words,
a door swung open behind the thrones – Cecily could see now that
although the canopy was temporary, the tiered viewing platform was
built into the wall – and Pratan stepped onto the platform.
“Amir! I see that you’ve already
made Miss Harrowsmith’s acquaintance, Your Highness.” Apparently
heedless of royal protocol, the bandit prince bestowed an
enthusiastic hug on his brother. “Be careful. She’s a caged
tiger. Good evening, Cecily...”
Pratan crouched in front of Cecily and
without the slightest warning, fondled her breasts.
“I – you - release me this instant,
you...” Cecily sputtered, fighting the arousal that flooded her.
“How dare you?” she added when he didn’t obey, only too aware
of the contradictions between her words and her reactions. She
gripped his arms, trying to tear his hands from her hungry flesh and
noticing despite herself the way his biceps flexed under his satin
tunic. He simply ignored her, crushing her aching nipples in his
palms. One hand traced the line of her hips then wandered across her
belly, finally coming to rest near the juncture of her thighs. All
the while, he held her eyes – challenging her to deny her
irrepressible lust.
Amir could scarcely contain his
laughter. “Ah, brother, clearly you know our guest far more
intimately than I do. But I plan to remedy that soon.”
Pratan cupped Cecily’s pubis for a
moment longer. He teased a finger back and forth along the damp
fabric covering her cleft before he rose to seat himself beside his
brother. Cecily choked down her cry of frustration. “You’ll find
it well worth your while, Amir-ji, but don’t let down your guard.”
***
Let me know your thoughts. Don't forget
to leave your email address as part of your comment, and also to tell
which anthology you would prefer.
Participants in the Something New, Something Naughty Blog Hop
