Blurb
When
her brother tries to force her into a marriage with a detestable
baron, Julianna Halstead flees the family estate she has helped
manage since the death of her parents. But as she makes her escape
late at night, Juliana’s carelessness nearly results in her being
trampled by a galloping horse, and the steed’s handsome rider takes
it upon himself to correct her right then and there.
Though
having her bottom bared and soundly spanked on the side of the road
leaves Juliana blushing crimson, the punishment arouses her intensely
and her body’s helpless response cannot be hidden. To make matters
worse, the gentleman over whose lap she was so firmly chastised turns
out to be none other than Viscount Stonehurst, someone she has known
since childhood.
When
Stonehurst learns of Juliana’s predicament, he decides to make her
his bride. She will be no ordinary wife, however. She will be
something much more shameful. But even as she is leashed, collared,
and put on display in a cage wearing only a tail, then brought out to
be used in ways no proper lady should enjoy, will Juliana come to
love her new life as the viscount’s pet?
Publisher’s
Note: The Viscount’s Pet is a stand-alone novel which shares
the Regency-era setting of Wickedly Used and His Innocent
Bride. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material
offends you, please don’t buy this book.
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Excerpt
The
horse and rider appeared from nowhere.
Julianna
sidestepped and dropped her bag. Her ankle twisted beneath her, and
she tumbled to the ground. When the horseman tugged hard at the
reins, the coal-black stallion reared, its forelegs pawed the air.
She screamed and closed her eyes. Curled into a ball, she waited for
its ebony hooves to pulverize her.
The
rider swore, the horse whickering as it planted its feet in the dirt
by her face. Tiny dust clouds rose from the road. She coughed and
crablike, she scuttled to the fallen oak at the edge of the copse.
The bracken smelled earthy, and the thick foliage cushioned her
bruised ribs.
Her
heart beat overtime when the horseman dismounted and stalked toward
her. Wearing a black greatcoat and muffler, he towered over her.
Grabbing her wrist, he hauled her upright.
Even
in the evening twilight, his hair shone the same blue-black as a
raven’s wing. His features were familiar, but she had no idea why.
One glance at his steeply angled eyebrows and she wondered if he was
the devil come to claim her.
Her
brother would have grabbed her shoulders and shaken her until her
head ached. That or hurled vile insults at her. Instead, the dark
horseman’s eyes twinkled with good humor. She couldn’t decide if
they were midnight blue or ebony black. Their mysterious depths and
sloping eyebrows gave him a demonic air.
His
high cheekbones were so sharp Michelangelo could have chiseled them
from marble. There was a cleft in his square chin that she wanted to
stroke. His broad, kissable lips made her want to lick and taste, but
they were set in a stern, disapproving frown. If he smiled, his dark
charisma would mesmerize any nocturnal creatures. Bats, foxes, and
badgers would flock to his side.
His
utter masculinity sent shudders along her spine. Devilish and
terrifying, he emanated menace and danger. She should be shaking in
fear, but he sparked wicked longings in her soul.
Untouched
and innocent, she hated how her nipples pearled and damp heat creamed
between her legs. She needed his lips pressed against hers and his
hands on her body. For a woman who’d sworn never to marry, that
scared her more than his fury. If not for his tight grip on her
shoulders, she’d have run off into the night.
Her
pulse still raced, but she buried her fear beneath a haughty manner.
“Unhand me, sir. I’m late as it is.”
Rather
than let go of her arm, he tugged her closer. He smelled of citrus
fruits and freshly gathered mint. When her gaze meshed with his,
lightning bolts sizzled between them. Head bent, he moved toward her.
She puckered her lips in anticipation.
Blinking,
he straightened abruptly. “I could have killed you, you little
fool.”
Disappointment
crushed her soul. Her ribs ached from Kit’s assault and her ankle
throbbed from her fall. Sniffing back tears, she thought of her
mother’s pampered cat and tried to out-stare him. “My apologies,
sir. I should have been paying attention, not daydreaming along in
the twilight. Since neither of us is hurt, we can go on our own
ways.”
“Not
until you’ve learned your lesson,” he snapped.
Pulling
free from his hold, she rubbed her wrist. Nervous, she retreated
toward her portmanteau, ready to grab it and run. Shooting forward,
he hoisted her over his shoulder. The undignified position made her
ribs throb. His hand splayed over her rear end, caressing and
stroking it as he pinned her in place.
Five
steps and he’d carried her back to the tree trunk. Once settled on
it, he thrust her over his knee. “Naughty little girls who risk
their lives deserve a spanking. And I’m just the man to give it to
you.”
About
the Author
Alpha
males and their sassy mates rule in Kryssie Fortune's books. If the
hero's a shapeshifter, ex-military, or into BDSM so much the
better.
Kryssie grew up climbing trees and playing with imaginary dragons. She still loves dragons, and if she can sneak one into her books she will.
Her pet hates are unhappy endings and books that end on a cliffhanger.
Kryssie's books are hot and explicit but the plot always comes before the sex. Since she writes erotic romance, she guarantees a happy ending.
Kryssie grew up climbing trees and playing with imaginary dragons. She still loves dragons, and if she can sneak one into her books she will.
Her pet hates are unhappy endings and books that end on a cliffhanger.
Kryssie's books are hot and explicit but the plot always comes before the sex. Since she writes erotic romance, she guarantees a happy ending.
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