#MidWeekTease

Hi all, It's #MidWeekTease time again.

And as the great Doris O'Connor and I have a book out very soon, (7th) this weeks tease is from it...

The Dukes' Christmas Abductions...

blurb...

Follow your heart and cross space and time…

When Clara lands the job as curator of Faversham House it’s a dream come true. Especially, when her favorite Regency Erotica writer Vicky Hopewell shadows her in the run up to the annual estate ball—a tradition left over from Regency times.

The costume ball is always the highlight of the year, but neither woman expects to be confronted by two drop dead gorgeous Dukes.

Daniel Danvers, the Duke of Hockwell thinks Clara is one of the servants invited to the estate ball.

Kit Capel, the Duke of Aulban cannot understand why his wife Victoria acts as though she doesn’t know him.

As both couples slowly come to terms with the reality of their situations, where does their happiness lie? It can’t be as easy as simply following your heart

and your #MidWeekTease

She realized she was stuck in the semi dark with an unknown man. One who hadn’t clocked her yet, but it was surely only a matter of time before he discovered he wasn’t alone? Vicky groped over the shelf of the mantelpiece she’d found in her fumble along the wall once they’d been plunged into darkness. Clara had been several yards ahead of her, and in the eye line of the two men. Luckily, Vicky thought, as she was behind them, her presence hadn’t been noted.

Where had they appeared from? She could have sworn she and Clara had been the only two in the room when the lights went out.

Wherever it was now she not only had to contend with a storm, and boy she hated storms and always had, but also a drop dead gorgeous, play your cards right and you can have me guy in front of her, and her friend god knew where with this guy’s almost double.

It was enough to make even the hardest woman swoon, and whatever others might think—and her last boyfriend insisted he knew—Vicky was no ball buster. Oh she was an outspoken, in your face feminist, and had long thought women got a raw deal at times, but she also knew given the right man she’d roll over and purr. Unfortunately Maurice—hedge fund analyst and all out asshole—Endon hadn’t been that one.

The guy in front of her lifted the candle he held high in the air and turned in her direction. Vicky bit her lip, slid her hand a few inches further and to her utmost relief touched something cold and hard. She almost groaned her relief out loud. Thank god for small mercies. It might only be another candlestick but it was empty, heavy, and available. As a cosh it would work as long as she had the element of surprise. If it bent and wrapped itself around the bloke’s head it didn’t matter as long as it gave her time to find Clara and they both got away unscathed. Vicky decided she could bet her new iPad mini these two weren’t the sort to kiss a hand and say good bye.

More like kiss somewhere else and demand more.

The man in front of her turned and stared straight at her. His blond hair glittered gold in the candlelight and his blue eyes matched the color of his impeccable evening jacket that sculpted his body. He flexed his long fingers, which gripped the candlestick. Vicky’s mouth went dry. That small gesture made her think of how they would grip her. How he would grip her.

She swallowed as an unholy grin spread over his face and the corners of his eyes crinkled up.

Well,” he drawled. “It seems it was indeed a lucky day I told Lady Allencroft enough was enough, and I preferred to partake of supper elsewhere.” He walked purposefully toward her. “And lo and behold my supper is waiting. Neat and perfect for me.” He stared meaningfully at her breasts.

To her chagrin Vicky felt her nipples tighten to the point of pain … or nipple clamps in place. Then her sex-hazed mind cleared, she processed his sentence and her blood boiled. How dare he suggest she was on the menu? She gripped her unlit candlestick harder and waved it in the air. “You come near me, mate, and I’ll knock your brains out. And as most men’s brains are in their gonads be prepared to sing soprano from now on in.”

He blinked but didn’t miss a step.

 “I don’t sing. Not for anything including my supper,” he said as he reached for her.

Vicky moved sideways and lifted the candlestick above her, ready to strike.

 A flash of lightning was followed almost immediately by a clap of thunder

 Vicky screamed and threw the candlestick in the air. Something—someone—grabbed her, and then the candlestick swung around in lazy circles high above her.

 Almost in slow motion both she and her assailant watched it fall toward them.

 Her last thought was it would hit her not him, and try as she might she couldn’t move.

I hate storms.

Catch the other #MWT here

Happy reading,

Love  R x