Saturday, May 30, 2015

Amelia, Book One in The Marriage Market Series


Fresh out of Mrs. Pettigrew's School for Young Ladies, Amelia Westcott and her two best friends are ready for adventure.  Suddenly a life filled with social obligations and meaningless gossip seems unappealing.  On a whim the girls investigate the phenomena of young women heading west to marry, and Amelia is captivated by the freedom such a decision offers.

Hugh Jordon needs a wife.  The severe shortage of women in the Pacific Northwest makes advertising for a bride seems reasonable. As long as he finds a wife who is the exact opposite of his tempestuous mother, he’ll be well satisfied. Studying the applicants, he chooses one that seems to best fit his needs, and delegates his head clerk with the critical task of sending polite rejections to the others. Unfortunately, most of them never get the letter Hugh anticipated and soon the brides descend, all expecting to marry the same man!

 Amelia is horrified, and realizes that the adage "marry in haste, repent at leisure" has never been more true. How could he do that to her? What sort of man was he, to propose to so many women? She simply must have their wedding annulled and return to Massachusetts at once.

Hugh has other ideas. In his opinion, the perfect place for his bride to learn about faith, loyalty and commitment is in his home and over his knee!



Excerpt  # 1

Her feet barely skimmed the gently sloping, verdant lawn as she hurried to a destination she had been to thousands of times.  Reaching the iron gate, she sat the basket down momentarily as she took a small key from her pocket.  It only took a moment to unlock the barrier the fathers had insisted on.  Seconds later she was through and could see the bright sunlight past the thick hedge.

“I’m here,” she called out gaily, nearly skidding to a stop.  “Oh,” she sighed dramatically as she dropped to the ground, the brim of her hat flopping up and down.

“What took you so long?” Grace demanded.  “I’m starving and I almost had to go to the dressmaker with mother.” 

Effie turned up her nose and gave a delicate shiver.  “How horrible,” she drawled as she took the quilt from Amelia and spread it neatly on the ground.

“Don’t make light of it, Effie,” Amelia said with a laugh.  “When mother died, father asked Mrs. Wentworth to take me along to the dressmakers with Grace.  I’ve never been poked so much in my entire life.”

“Sorry,” Effie offered, sitting on the quilt and watching Grace unpack the basket.

“It’s all right,” Grace replied, picking up a pickle and taking a big bite.  “You just have no concept of how exacting my mother can be,” she continued, chewing as she spoke.

“Wouldn’t Mrs. Pettigrew have a fit if she could see us now?” Amelia asked as she sat cross legged, her bare legs showing as she reached for her own pickle.

Effie straightened and placed her hand on her hips.  Looking down her nose she began a perfect imitation of the woman they’d all grown to hate.

“Young ladies, young ladies,” she spat out crisply as she clapped her hands.  “It is not proper to show your lower extremities,” she scolded, eyeing Grace who was sitting on her heels.  “When a lady sits, she does so gracefully, gently sweeping her skirt to the side. She does not cross her legs, nor does she allow anything more than a glimpse of her ankles,” she continued, hiking up her pink dress and pointing her toes inward, giving her backside an inflated appearance.

Grace and Amelia howled with laughter.

 “Ladies, a well-bred young woman does not bellow with mirth,” Effie informed them, wagging her finger.  “She quietly titters behind her fan or a lace handkerchief.  Observe,” she continued, plucking a small lace square from her pocket and holding it to her mouth as she giggled and rolled her eyes.

Grace and Amelia began clapping, yelling, “Bravo!”


Excerpt #2

"It's nothing really," she replied softly with an embarrassing blush. "It was a long trip and I've left my family and my closest friends behind. I guess I was lonely and a bit scared."

"And are you a woman given to tears? I've always found them hard to abide except under certain circumstances."

"No, Mr. Jordon, absolutely not. Usually I'm quite eager to experience new things. As I said, I don't know what came over me."

Hugh sighed and easily lifted her to her feet before he rose, towering over her.

"Well, now that you've somewhat recovered, I suggest we make our way to our hotel where you can uh…freshen up or whatever it is women do after a long journey and rest until it's time for dinner." Taking her hand he tucked it securely in the curve of his arm.

"I am quite rested, Mr. Jordon," Amelia insisted, gripping his arm tightly as he wove their way through the throng of passengers. "In fact, I would love to see some of the city as soon as I've gotten settled in my room."

"All right, if that is your preference," he agreed.

"Thank you, Mr. Jordon," she said, looking up at him with a small smile.

"I think you'd better call me Hugh."

"Oh, I couldn't," she gasped. "Not yet. After all, I hardly know you."

"Amelia," he began, his lips twisting in an ironic smile. "You jumped into my arms, cried all over my shirt, sat on my lap and blew you nose into my handkerchief. I believe we've moved beyond the formalities," he teased, patting her hand.

"Yes, Hugh," she whispered back. "I'm sorry if I caused you any embarrassment by my actions and I'll understand if you want to withdraw your proposal."

Hugh stopped and turned to her. Her dry eyes were now a beautiful clear gray as she slowly lifted her chin. There was a spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose he hadn't noticed. She'd said she was small of stature, but that would be true standing next to a normal size man. Beside him, the top of her head didn't reach his shoulder, but she was perfectly lovely. Her pink lips formed a sweet bow and her curls spilled over her shoulder, having escaped from her cock-eyed hat. The faint scent of lilacs drifted past his nose, as he lowered his head to speak quietly in her ear.

"Not only do I not wish to withdraw my proposal, but I fear even if you should like to change your mind, I could not allow it. While you're not quite what I expected, I am not at all disappointed. I will hold you to your promise, Amelia," he said firmly. "When we board the ship for home, you will be my wife."


Excerpt #3

"I'm sorry," she said with a somewhat indignant sniff, her shoulders stiff. "I didn't realize how serious you were."

"Yes, I can see that," Hugh sighed. At first he was only going to scold her, but her tone struck a chord that was strangely reminiscent of one he'd heard his mother take with his father a thousand times. While not exactly argumentative, it did have a bite of sarcasm. Clearly she was affronted and it bordered on disrespectful. It was a recipe for a marriage full of constant bickering and was not on his agenda, now or ever. He would not put up with having his authority constantly challenged. Releasing one arm he picked up her hairbrush and hefted it in his hand.

"I'm sorry you did not understand how serious I am about your well-being. I'm about to remedy that right now," he told her as he pulled her to the bed.

Amelia didn't resist. It wasn't until he sat down and pulled her over his knees with ridiculous ease that it dawned on her what his intentions were.

"You can't be serious, Mr. Jordon," she squeaked out, too stunned to struggle.

"Hugh," he reminded her as he gathered both of her wrists at the back of her waist. "Because we are not yet wed, I'm going to emphasize my feelings over your skirt. Once you become my wife, should this be necessary in the future, rest assured it will be on your bare bottom."

Amelia couldn't help it, she began to laugh.

The hand that held the hairbrush stopped in mid-air as soon as he heard it.

"Are you laughing?" he demanded incredulously.

"No, oh no," she replied before more snickers escaped.

Hugh's arm dropped to her back, still holding the brush.

"Would you mind telling me what's so all fired funny about this?" he asked, stunned.

Amelia laughed harder and turned to look at him over her shoulder.

"Mr. Jordon, I mean Hugh," she began, her eyes twinkling. "I am a young woman on my own for the first time. I've traveled thousands of miles, slipped away from my family and some very dear friends, all in my quest for adventure and independence. I clearly stated in my letter that I believed in the emancipation of women. I've known you approximately two hours, and in that time, I've made of fool of myself in front of hordes of strangers, made my prospective husband think I'm incapable of following the simplest instructions and am about to get spanked for the first time in my life. I find the absurdity of the situation remarkably amusing."

"Well let me see if I can take some of the amusement out of the situation for you," he growled, raising the brush and bringing it down smartly on her backside.


Excerpt #4

“What are you going to do about getting your bride back?” Duncan asked, draining his glass.

“I plan to wait a few days and let the dust settle while I get to the bottom of this.  Then I will present her with the evidence of my innocence.  Hopefully, she will realize it’s all been a horrible mistake and come home with her loving husband,” he said, placing his hand on his chest and giving a small bow.  Picking up his glass he drained it and slammed it down on the mantle.

“When we get home, I will teach her a very valuable lesson regarding marriage, commitment and trusting one’s husband.”

“And if she refuses?”

“Oh she can refuse at the top of her lungs; she’ll come home under her own steam or over my shoulder getting her ass swatted every step of the way.  If it comes to that, I plan to take the long way home, right through the center of town.”

Duncan scoffed.  “You’ll never get her out of the house that way.  Not unless you plan to do battle with you mother.”

“I was hoping you would take care of that part,” Hugh said.  “It’s time you stood up to her father, and you know in your heart I’m right.  She’s taunted you for years; it’s almost like watching someone poking a sleeping bear.  She flits here and there doing lord knows what.  Now she’s tossed you out of your own damn home.  Where does it end?  Divorce?”

“Never,” Duncan roared.  “I’ll no give her a divorce under any circumstances!”

“Then do something about her,” Sam sighed.  “She’s out of control, has been for years.  If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for us, for any grandchildren we may give you.  Hell, do it because you love her and it’s for her own good.  She’s not getting any younger you know and neither are you.   What are you waiting for? Isn’t nearly thirty years of her tantrums and spending frenzies enough?  Think of the example she’s setting for Amelia, and if I ever get married, I certainly don’t want my wife behaving like that.  How will I argue against it when my own father tolerates it?”

“Ach, it’s a sad day when a man has to take his hand to his wife,” Duncan sighed, his shoulders slumping.  “I’ll think on it.”


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You can find Stevie at:

Twitter:  @steviemac1175



Thursday, May 28, 2015

SORROWLANDS: Flora and the Demi-Gods - Introductory Low Price!


Just released by Mystic Books, Sorrowlands is the tale of Flora, a dryad, wrongly accused by Hades of her husband's murder. Condemned to death, her sentence is commuted to exile and she is sold as a concubine to one of Hades sons, Ragnold. While the God of the Underworld plots to seize Olympus, Flora steals a sacred chalice, the source of his power.  Aided only by a reluctant soldier and an over-sexed satyr, she escapes her bondage and must cross the deadly Sorrowlands to return what she has stolen.  The only question is, will she able to complete her mission in time?

Link to buy the book: Sorrowlands


There were no plush furnishings in Maljandra’s apartment. Flora was left unguarded and unchained and she wondered why they hadn’t made her more secure. The moment they left, she walked cautiously to the terrace. As she drew close, her vision faded. She shook her head and stepped back. The moment she retreated, her vision returned. How strange, she thought. She turned and made a dash for the door. She put her hand on it and her sight left her completely. She turned too quickly, and lost her balance. Fear engulfed her and her heart pounded in her ears. She spread her hands out blindly and sought a solid surface to latch onto. A gasp escaped her when she brushed against the silken tunic of a man.

“There’s no use to trying to escape,” said a cold, clear voice. “My apartments are enchanted.”

“I cannot see,” Flora cried. “Give me back my eyes or I shall go mad.”

“The enchantment will lift when I tell it to and not a moment before. Clearly you tried to do something you should not.”

She flinched as Maljandra’s hand touched her shoulder. The wizard let it linger there, and then turned her body toward him. She recoiled at his touch but he only sighed pleasantly. With one quick maneuver he pushed the tattered silk garment off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. “Such a pity,” he said. “You’re quite a beauty. Still, you’re to be marked for Hades, so I cannot touch you now.”

“I heard you were a great wizard, prove your goodness and set me free.”

Maljandra laughed a low, hollow laugh. “If you’ve heard anything at all, I’ll wager you’ve heard of my indifference to the pleas of desperate women.”

He took her hand and jerked her arm. “Follow me.” She stumbled, but quickly got her feet under her for fear he would drag her across the floor. She reached out to keep herself from running into anything and her hand connected with a doorway as they passed through into another chamber. The sound of trickling water reached her ears. “You must be prepared for the ritual. Wait here.”

Perhaps he left for only a few seconds, but to Flora, blind and naked in a strange place, it felt like an eternity. She stood vulnerable and trembling, and felt more fear than she’d ever known before. Her empty stomach roared for attention, and if she did not eat soon, she would faint. She had need of Dero’s courage, and she turned the ring still on her finger. A warm sensation crept through her tired limbs and her hunger faded at once, but not even Dero’s magic was enough to erase her fear of pain. What will he do to me? What form will the sacrifice take? How much will I suffer?

She did not have to wonder long for the mage soon returned.

“Come,” Maljandra said. He took her hand and led her forward. Slowly, they walked down a couple of steps and then water rose over her foot. As they descended the steps, the water rose up her legs and she realized they were in a pool. This must be his bathing chamber. The water was warm and soothed her blood-stained skin. Nevertheless she advanced cautiously, and her legs locked, afraid she might slip and fall. As he brushed by her, Flora felt the wizard’s bare skin and knew he’d undressed to bathe her.

The slightly rough surface of a sponge rubbed across her body as the mage wiped away the stench of stale blood and the dungeon. He washed her slowly and carefully, and left no part of her body untouched. She trembled with every stroke, and she sensed her fear pleased him. As his hands washed her hair, he was close up against her, and Flora felt both his desire and frustration.

“Do you always do as you’re told?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Ragnold is your master, is he not? You are in his service and do his dirty work.” She put her hand on his bare chest. “Set me free and I could reward you. Return my sight to me and help me escape.”

Maljandra’s hand cupped her right breast and he caressed it gently. “You want me to set you free?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes, I beg you, let me go.”

He squeezed, but the pain she felt in her breast was nothing to the pain she felt throughout her body. It twisted within her, eating into every part of her, leaving nothing unscathed by its sharp teeth. A scream tore from her, leaving her throat raw, followed by another. She screamed more than she’d ever done before.

“And who would free me from the wrath of Hades?” he asked. His breath was hot against her ear. “You think me as weak as any mortal man? Do you think the temptation of a little dryad would easily turn me? Know this, foolish woman. You’ll remain blind till I take you to the temple. I’ll restore your sight long enough for you to see Ragnold’s gauntlet rip out your heart.”

In spite of the pain wrenching through her, Flora spat, praying she spat in the mage’s face, but he didn’t strike or hurt her again. The pain stopped as instantaneously as it began and Maljandra put his hand on Melinoe’s necklace. His hand hesitated against the dark circle, as if he sensed some power within it. A low growl emanated from him and she winced as he wrenched it from her neck.

Once her body was prepared, he led her from the pool and left her alone. From the other chamber the sound of fabric on skin reached her and she guessed he was drying his body and dressing. He soon returned.

“Kneel,” Maljandra commanded. The urge to run gripped her, but some invisible force pushed her to her knees. She couldn’t sense where in the room they were, but she smelled smoke and heard the crackling of a fire. “You were supposed to be branded this morning as a concubine, but now the brand will be the mark of Hades.”

Again, the urge to run overwhelmed her, but Maljandra’s magic was tighter than any bond. A hiss filled the room, followed by the roar of flames. Flora recognized the sound from the slave market in Bartom. It was the sound of a branding iron being turned in the fire. She closed her eyes tightly and her throat clicked when she tried to swallow. Gods, my throat is so dry!

“They say to be branded is one of the most intense pains known to man.”

Flora began to shake violently. She wanted to turn Dero’s ring again but she couldn’t move her arms. The heat of the iron warmed her skin as it passed by her face. Maljandra was teasing her, letting her feel its heat before the dreadful moment.

Her heart seemed frozen in her chest and tears of anguish fell down her face.

“Very good,” said Maljandra. “You are tamed at last. But that will not save you now.”

When the branding iron was pressed into her skin, a searing pain such as she’d never known before washed over her. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air and her scream echoed off the walls. Her anguish died in her throat, as she fell, mercifully, unconscious to the floor.


Iris Woodbury is an English author born in London, England who was later thrust into the bosom of the United States. She lives very happily in the beautiful state of Maryland where she hopes to stay forever. Follow her on FB at or tweet away to your heart’s content to @IrisWoodbury.  Feed her chocolate. She likes that.
Thanks you for reading!

Monday, May 25, 2015

Title: Protected by the Knight (#3 in the Loving the Knight Series)

I have the privilege to present snippets from Sadie Dane's latest book, Protected by the Knight. Sadie is an American Author from Portland Oregon, where she lives with her husband. So, without further ado, I give you, Protected by the Knight.


Summary: Sir Edward Caldwell is not the type of knight to entertain notions of love. He has seen how little it takes to break a vow, and refuses to ever end up the fool. So when he's ordered to protect a visiting princess, he seizes the opportunity to add a royal notch to his bedpost. What he never expected was that the princess would be just as much of a player as he is.

Princess Lotte has mere weeks before her arranged marriage is to take place and, despite her personal guard's wishes, plans to spend that time experiencing everything life has to offer. Luckily, fate sends her just the knight for the job. But when she finds herself over his knee, with her heart on her sleeve, she realizes she's playing a dangerous game - without knowing the rules


Chapter One

"Of course, dove. You are my everything. Without you there is no meaning." Edward performed his lines with the perfection of a seasoned actor. He gripped the supple cheeks of the vixen straddling him. She bit her lower lip, an amazing actress by her own right, as her bright blue eyes burned. They both knew the parts they needed to play.

"What if my husband finds out?" she whispered as if their love had robbed her of enough air to speak at a normal level.

Edward let his hands slide up her torso where he held a breast in each palm. His cock hardened at the dessert that was to come. He'd sampled this treat before and knew it was worth the theatricality required to taste it. "Let him find out," Edward hissed, his lips vibrated against her neck. "Let the world find out!"

She wailed in longing, their scene had reached its climax and now it was time for Edward to reach his. His cock celebrated its near victory. His hands joined the party as he lifted the sultry siren up enough to delve into her silky folds.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Someone knocked urgently at his door. Edward turned his head from the sound and lifted his hips. The woman froze, wide eyes transfixed on the very door Edward was happy to ignore.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Piss off!"

The woman shrieked. "What if it's my husband?"

Moments from glory, Edward clucked his tongue and shook his head softly. "No, no," he placed a soothing hand on her cheek. "I'm sure it is nothing import—"

"Urgent message from the King!" came the voice from the other side of the door.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Edward bit the words out, sliding from beneath the beautiful, blonde filly. He watched her slide back and out of sight before yanking the door open, not bothering to cover himself. "What is it?"

A young, very serious looking messenger glanced once at the parchment he held before speaking at a volume loud enough for the entire castle to hear. "The King requests your discreet presence at a secret—"

"Excuse me," Edward interrupted the messenger, leaning one arm up and against the doorway, "if it is a secret, should you be screaming?"

The messenger remained, his mouth wide open, his forehead crinkling as if he was pondering life's greatest questions. Edward looked past the goldfish and spied a smirking figure lurking in the shadows on the other side of the path.

"I am quite busy," Edward said to the figure in the shadows.

Caldwell leaned forward and crossed his arms. "Not anymore."
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Sadie Dane was born and raised in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, a place where coffee is an acceptable beverage choice at any hour and where umbrellas are for quitters. Her love of romance novels brought her to an early life of crime and deception as she became an expert at stealing her mother’s old bodice rippers, memorizing exactly how they were placed on the shelf and returning them, unnoticed. She is happy that these days she can read and write freely, using less covert tactics.

Links to other works:


Blog: Saucy Sadie-

Facebook: Be my friend!



What prompted you to write Protected by the Knight?

Protected by the Knight is actually the third book in my Loving the Knight series. Each book before was written to be enjoyed as a stand-alone, however there are repeat, or cameo, characters. That being said, Edward appeared first in the second book of the series, Possessed by the Knight as the hero’s brother. Edward was such a fun, sexy character to write, I was immediately intrigued about who he would end up with, what his sexy story was. I was able to discover that with Protected by the Knight and have to say (though I am biased) that he couldn’t have ended up with anyone better.

Which fictional character would you like to have a drink with?

This is a rough question because as soon as I think and decide on one person a new, better character pops in my head. Not to sound narcissistic but I would love to catch a pint with every single one of my own characters (if they can stop shagging long enough). Dumbledore is another one that keeps popping up. I bet that guy is a party.

. Why do you think sex sells?

Because it’s fun? I know why I enjoy reading erotic romance and it is for the same reason I read most fiction, to escape and explore. Only with erotic romance you are escaping into the arms of hot men and exploring…well you get it.

How much does your own sexuality come into play when you are writing a book?

It’s hard to not let my own turn ons and offs creep into my writing, but I try to stay out of it. If anything, I will hear about a kink, research it so I can write it and then after writing it, think that it may sound like fun. I am sure my husband is worried about this every time I write about something that is out of his comfort zone! Joking. Kind of.

. Blushing Books is known for their sexy spanking and domestic discipline stories, do you live that life?

This question of living the life gets asked a lot. I like to say first that I write erotic romance, do I live that life? I guess, yes, I do have sex. Sometimes it is even romantic. J As for some of the other aspects, I like to dabble--experience this or that--but I don’t think I could live one way all day every day.