The Food of Love -- #PNR #ForbiddenLove #Merman @AliceRAuthor

By Alice Renaud (Guest Blogger)

“If music be the food of love, play on!” wrote Shakespeare, and both music and food play a big part in my stories. Today I’ll focus on food, which is one of my favourite topics. I was born and brought up in France, where food is an essential part of culture, identity and family life. Every major event and festival is marked by a meal, usually several courses long, with assorted wines. Families and friends stay around the table for hours, eating and chatting. As for romance, an area where the French feel they are experts, food is an essential part of courtship. Dates usually take place around a meal – in a restaurant or at home. Both men and women are expected to cook, and show off their culinary skills to impress potential partners.

One of my university friends was a very beautiful, sexy girl. This guy was mad about her, but she wasn’t interested. Not easily discouraged, he became her friend, and one day, he made lunch for her. Bingo! He was a first class cook. They’ve been married for twenty-five years now and have two beautiful daughters.

However I had a slight problem in this wonderful world of food and romance. I can’t cook. OK, that’s not quite true. Anyone can cook, given the right equipment, ingredients, and instructions. I could do it… with a lot of effort… and coaching from my mum… and hours spent slaving over the cooker… but the results were never quite as I expected. French men have high standards, so I wasn’t very successful in the romance arena, either. Then at the age of twenty-six, I moved to London, UK. Complete change of scene! Whilst the British love to eat and watch cookery shows, they’re not so big on actually cooking. Socialising and flirting usually takes place over a drink… or two. The first date is often in a coffee shop, the second date in a wine bar or pub. When he invites you to a restaurant, you know he’s serious about you.

My first date with the (British) love of my life was in a very nice Moroccan restaurant, that’s how I knew he really liked me and wanted a serious relationship. I didn’t really notice the food… I was focused on his blue eyes and the fact that he’d brought me red roses. On a first date! The guy meant business. We’ve been married for thirteen years now and I’m a very lucky woman. And yes… he cooks all our meals. Well, he understood early on that he had little choice, unless he was ready to live on takeaways for the rest of his life.

The hero of my book A Merman’s Choice, Yann, loves food, and can cook. It’s part of his appeal. Food and drink are a gift for a romance writer, you can create a really sensual scene and show the characters bonding over their meal… enjoying the tastes, and textures… getting closer… and closer… until they’re savouring each other rather than the food. And if your hero or heroine is shy, alcohol is a great way to loosen those inhibitions a little. 

Yann is a shape-shifting merman who falls in love with a human woman, Alex. Mermen are forbidden from marrying humans, so Yann has some serious obstacles to overcome in order to achieve his happily-ever-after with Alex. When Yann and Alex have their first argument, he appeases her by offering her fish and chips (a very traditional British treat), washed down with cider. Later, when they are caught up in a storm, and end up in Yann’s house, he prepares another meal for her – oysters and whisky. Just as whisky is stronger than cider, so the heat level in their relationship goes up a notch… or two. To learn more… read the excerpt below!

I hope you have enjoyed this post and will be tempted to discover more about Yann and Alex’s forbidden love and the world of the merfolk.

Contest and giveaway – Free book! For a chance to win a free PDF copy of my book, just leave a comment on this post! I will select the winner from those who have commented.

A Merman’s Choice – Book 1 in the Sea of Love series

For centuries the shape-shifting mermen of the Morvann Islands have lived incognito among humans. But one of them, Yann, has developed some bad habits. Like rescuing humans, even when doing so risks revealing his true nature. When he fishes Alex out of the sea, he doesn’t expect her to reappear eight months later, and turn his life upside down by asking him to be her guide.

Alex is determined to fulfil a promise to her dying grandmother, by gathering pictures and stories of the Morvanns. But she soon discovers that, on these remote Welsh islands, legends have a habit of becoming true!

Over the course of a few days, Yann and Alex grow close. But some mermen hate humans. Their hostility, and Yann’s secret, threaten to tear the couple apart just as they are discovering that they are soul mates. Can Yann overcome the obstacles in his path and make the right choice?

Book buy links 

https://amzn.to/2QglyeI

https://books2read.com/u/31xw7a

Excerpt

Yann went to the dresser against the wall and picked up a bottle and two glasses. “Would you like a dram of whisky to warm you up?”

Alex slid back down the sofa. His ears registered the squeak of leg against leather, and his mind instantly pictured her sprawled on the cushions, her golden hair fanned behind her head, milky thighs open wide. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the maddening image.

Her voice dropped into a seductive purr. “I’m quite warm already, thank you. But I can cope with more heat.”

He poured a glass of the golden liquid and brought it to her.

“Thank you.” She sipped it and made a grimace, which turned into a smile. “Even better than cider.”

Her mouth glowed against her milky skin like a forbidden fruit. He thought of the first summer berries, tart redcurrants, juicy raspberries. Would she taste like them?

They needed food. If he didn’t get lunch down her soon, she’d get drunk. The demon voice in his mind whispered that Alex would be great fun if she lost her inhibitions. He tried to shut the demon out. What could he prepare quickly?

He strode to the trap in the floor by the front door and lifted it. The smell and sound of seawater, sloshing in the dark, rose up.

Alex padded over to investigate. “Oh, wow. You have a whole aquarium down there!”

The corner of her blanket brushed his bare arm, sending another twig to feed the fire that smouldered in his loins.

“That’s how Islanders keep their seafood fresh. Why don’t you go and sit at the table, and I’ll open a dozen oysters for you?”

She didn’t need to see the tunnel on the side of the “aquarium,” that led to the lower floor of the house, the level that flooded at high tide and opened onto the sea. The level where a more respectable merman would spend most of his time.

She moved away, to the centre of the room where the oak table stood. Not far enough. He’d become so attuned to her that every one of her movements seemed to ripple across the space and lap against his body. He grabbed a knife and bucket from the tool shelf, snapped the first oyster open and dropped it in the bucket. Now she was crossing her legs, damn her. Did she know that the woollen fabric was opening, uncovering the ivory skin of her inner thigh? Was she flirting with him, or was it his imagination?

“I love oysters.” Her voice wrapped itself around him like a silk scarf. “Pity we don’t have any champagne to go with them, but this whisky is just as good.”

Too late, he remembered that for mainlanders, oysters weren’t a cheap, quick meal. On the mainland, oysters were the food of seduction. An aphrodisiac. What if Alex was misreading his intentions?

Or rather, what if she were reading them all too well?

She patted the bench next to her. “Come and sit here. I can’t eat all these oysters on my own.”

Her grin gave the lie to her words. Her grin said, “I can gobble them all up, and you with it.”

About the Author

Alice was born and brought up in Brittany, Western France, her father was French and her mother British (from Wales). She moved to London, UK, in 1997, where she now lives with her husband and son. She works full time as a compliance specialist in a pharmaceutical company. She has been writing in her free time since she was 14. She got quite a few short stories published in UK magazines, before moving to longer fiction. She wrote three contemporary romance books, but didn’t find a publisher for them. She then realized that mermen, sea witches and water demons were a lot more fun than sheikhs and billionaires!

Her first two paranormal romances did not find a publisher either, then she wrote “A Merman’s Choice,” which was published in January this year by Black Velvet Seductions. It is the first book in a fantasy romance trilogy inspired by the landscapes and legends of Brittany and Wales. The second book, “Music for a Merman,” will be out later this year.

She’s also written a short story, “The Sweetest Magic of All,” that will appear in the BVS supernatural romance anthology “Mystic Desire,” due this fall (autumn). It’s about a sexy apprentice witch and a hot time-travelling warlock who go in search of a magical amulet... and find more than they bargained for!

Alice loves reading and writing stories, and sharing them with anyone who’s interested!

Author links

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AliceRenaudAuthorRomance/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/alicerauthor

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/alice-renaud-author-4219b6166/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alicerenaudauthor/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18670218.Alice_Renaud

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alice-renaud

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Sunday Snog and Giveaway! (#pnr #giveaway #steampunk)

Happy Sunday!

My snog today comes from my steampunk-menage-BDSM-shifter novel, Rajasthani Moon. In case you’re not familiar with this outrageous story, here’s the blurb:

Neither kink nor curse can stop a woman with a mission.

Cecily Harrowsmith, secret agent extraordinaire, is a woman on 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 still has not knuckled under. Cecily undertakes the difficult journey to that rugged, arid land in order 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 Pratan, 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, Pratan changes to a ravening wolf whenever the moon is full. 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 Rajah reveal Rajasthan’s amazing secret source of energy. In the face of almost impossible odds, Cecily has accomplished the task entrusted to her by the Empire. But can she really bear to leave the virile half-brothers and their colourful land behind and return to the constraints of her life in England?

~ ~ ~

Want me to enter you in a drawing for a free copy of this book? Just leave me a comment below (including your email!), telling me what you think of my snog!

And when you’re finished here, head over to Victoria Blisse’s SundaySnog page for more sexy kisses.

Morning sun filtered through the latticed windows, the intermittent light adding new patterns to the intricately-woven carpet. Cecily stirred in the nest of cushions Amir had scattered upon the floor at the foot of his bed. She stretched her bondage-stiffened muscles, wincing as embroidered satin abraded her punished backside. The Rajah’s spanking appeared to have irritated the welts from the flogging administered by his brother. What a pair of deviants!

A short chain tethered her ankle to the massive mahogany bedstead. Otherwise she appeared to be free—not counting, of course, her deadly collar. Rising to her knees, she peered at Amir, who lay careless and relaxed in sleep upon the fine linen sheets. With his eyes closed, luxurious lashes brushing his smooth cheeks and full lips slightly parted, he looked boyish, fresh and innocent. How appearances could deceive!

Was he merely feigning sleep? Cecily scrutinised his naked form, studiously ignoring the tell-tale swell below his waist. She could not detect the slightest evidence of tension. His gloriously-muscled chest rose and fell in a slow, regular rhythm. She held her palm above his luscious mouth and felt the warmth of his breath upon her skin. A faint aroma of almonds hung around him. She recalled the scented oil with which he’d greased her rear channel and shuddered, half disgusted, half aroused.

For the moment, the Rajah appeared to be in her power. Cecily knew many techniques for quickly and efficiently terminating a man’s life, without the need for excessive force or blood. It would be quite simple to eliminate this enemy of the Empire.

The train of thought came automatically, a consequence of her training. She dismissed it as impractical. She would still be a prisoner, and a proven assassin rather than merely a seeker of intelligence. Besides, what purpose would such a murder serve? Amir was far more valuable to her alive, as a source of information.

Underneath all her rationalisation, Cecily was keenly and shamefully aware of the fact that she could never kill this man—no matter how vicious or dangerous he might be. He had a hold on her, far stronger and more difficult to escape than his silvery chains. Her quim was still tender and raw from the effects of his infernal instruments—his sparks, his clamps and his cock—but she felt herself moisten as she gazed on his slumbering beauty. In his presence, what she truly wanted was to give in, to have him use her like the helpless captive she was.

Helpless? She shook her head as if to scatter her offending thoughts. What was wrong with her? Had the Rajasthani ruler cast some sort of spell over her? She should be focusing on escape. She might not have ferreted out all the Rajah’s secrets, but already she knew much that was of value. Furthermore, if she managed to get out of the palace, she could disguise herself and engage in some additional sleuthing…

“Good morning, pet.” Amir’s piercing eyes fluttered open and pinned her gaze, while his lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. Any semblance of innocence fled. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’m not your pet. Furthermore, I scarcely had a comfortable moment all night, due to the after-effects of your tortures.”

“Tortures? Please! Based on your reactions to my little games, I don’t think ‘torture’ is exactly the appropriate term, my delectable spy.”

He reached up, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down on top of him.

“Ow!” Cecily began as the chain bit into her skin. His voluptuous lips sealed off any further commentary. She wanted to struggle but his arms were steel bands confining her. Her breasts mashed against his solid chest, the nipples plump and swollen as grapes, while the sweet rigidity of his cock poked into her from under the sheet.

It felt far too pleasant—outrageously so. Amir prised her mouth open and probed deep with his brazen tongue. She could not help imagining that tongue rooting in her cunny. Desire shimmered through her as she opened to him, savouring his flavour of cinnamon and fennel.

Clearly he sensed her surrender. He released his hold on her torso so that he could trace her bountiful curves, down over her hips to her buttocks. Seizing two handfuls of her opulent flesh, he ground his cock against her mound. His fingernails scored her arse and woke twinges of remembered pain that only fanned her need. Awkward because of her chains and his still-tight hold upon her, Cecily tried to spread her thighs, so that his erection would provide more direct stimulation. The sheet that separated their flesh was soaked by their pooled secretions.

She wanted to roll away, so that they could remove that barrier. Amir held her fast, determined, perhaps, to frustrate her, while he continued to ravage her mouth with astonishing ferocity. Even Cecily’s well-honed muscles were no match for his strength. She gave up, closed her eyes and allowed him do whatever he pleased. For now, at least, he was in control—and if she was honest with herself, she didn’t mind.

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