I have a treat for you today. I have the charming Raven McAllan and she’s going to give us a look inside why she’s writing Regency and her latest release in the Behind Closed Doors series, Nash’s Niche. Enjoy! 🙂
If you told me two years ago I’d be writing Regency stories, and loving it I may well have scratched my head. Oh I enjoyed reading them, but write them? Mind you I guess I’d’ve said that about writing anything. I was so not sure. It’s one thing ‘writing’ in your mind, another actually typing those words out. Like lots of things, it was a ‘one day’ scenario.
Then one day I knuckled down, got researching, got hooked, and got writing!
I love the depth of mystery in that period. It might look regimented and staid, but like most things, there are hidden depths, and oh my are those depths murky in places.
This book Nash’s Niche is book four in the Behind Closed Doors series, about the Brigstock family. A most unusual family, with more murky depths than most. Convention hardly touches them, and when it does it ends up unconventional.
Nash is the third son, and one who family decree and history said should became a cleric. As Nash himself says, he couldn’t think of anyone less suited to go into the Church. Instead he runs a hunt in Rutland, and tries to keep out of mischief’s way. He doesn’t succeed.
Felicity is on the run from what’s expected of her. As ever in Regency times, no one listens to what a young lady wants. But she’s going to fight for it. I really understood how difficult it must be for her, and oh boy did I want her to be happy. Is she? You’ll have to read the book to find out 🙂
Behind Closed Doors, 4
by Raven Mcallen
A chance meeting at a masked ball leads to explosive and unforgettable sex for both Nash and Felicity.
Reunited under dangerous circumstances, they realize they may have to fight for their love, especially when Felicity is promised to Nash’s brother.
With the future of the country at stake and unsure who to trust, can there be a future for the star stuck lovers?
And a wee tease…
Felice—he thought of her by that name—let herself be ushered toward the house. Once inside Nash turned toward the hallway, where a lamp burned low, awaiting his return.
“Would you like to leave your cloak?” She shook her head.
“Your mask? Your dress?”
She laughed. “No, no and no, not here.”
He slung his cloak over a chair. “Then after you, it’s to the right at the top of the stairs.” He lifted the lamp to show them the way.
Madame Felice nodded and gathered the hem of her cloak and dress up, which gave him a perfect view of pair of trim and shapely ankles.
“If you raise your skirts further, perhaps I could see your arse as well as your feet?” he said in a deep voice. “It would appeal to my baser instincts.”
She took the first three steps and turned to look over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have though you were so jaded as to need titillating, My Lord.”
“Minx.” He couldn’t help but admire her retort. “I don’t need stimulating, but your arse does need tanning. I will take great pleasure in watching it turn the color of your lips.”
Her lips parted and a soft sigh escaped. Her face suffused with color. “What?” She turned away and continued up the staircase. Nash noticed a little more of her legs were now visible, and then a quick flash of a garter. His lady was teasing. They would see just who teased whom before long. He took the stairs two at a time to catch her up, and then opened the bedroom door, to usher Madame Felice inside.
“We won’t be disturbed until I ring,” he said as he put the lamp down and lit another one. He wanted to see his lady in all her nakedness. “Now strip.”
Would his crude and blunt demand appeal or repulse her?
She smiled and undid her cloak. “You will need to play ladies maid, my lord. I didn’t expect to undress without one.”
That was something Nash could do. His cock protested that it was ignored and hardened to such a degree that he wanted to take it to hand and give himself some relief there. Instead, Nash stroked his lady’s neck and rejoiced in her tiny erotic quiver as he began to undo a row of diminutive buttons, which stretched from the nape of her neck to the enticing cleft in her arse. The dress undone and in a swirl of silk at her feet, Nash began on the ties of her petticoat, pleased her body was such that she didn’t need a corset. When he reached her chemise, Madame Felice shivered.
“I can finish. I feel distinctly underdressed here.”
“The mask,” he reminded her.
Her hand went to her face. “The mask stays,” she said firmly. Nash decided it wasn’t worth arguing over. He’d undo it later. Once she was in the throes of passion, she wouldn’t realize what he was doing.
He bowed, and pressed a series of nipping kisses to the nape of her neck. She shuddered and moaned.
“My Lord … ah … that sends such feelings through me.”
“Good. Take off your chemise and get into bed whilst I disrobe. Then I’ll show you what other feelings I can give you.” He’d never shrugged out of evening wear so fast, and even used a jack for his boots. By the time Felice had slipped her chemise off, and he’d had a brief glimpse of rounded thighs and a perfect globe of her arse, he was naked alongside her. “Wait,” he said hoarsely. “I need to taste.” Before she had a chance to ask what he meant, Nash held both her hands in one of his, bent his head and suckled each nipple in turn. Her keening cry was enough to make his juices gather at the tip of his engorged cock.
He lifted his head with reluctance. “On the bed, lie on your back and spread your legs for me. If you don’t want this, now is the time to say so.” He waited, his body tight with anxiety less she did say ‘no more’. She didn’t.
Nash’s Niche is available from www.evernighpublishing.com
If you want to know more about Raven, here’s her nosy links,
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
A lover of reading, she appreciates the history inside a book, and the chance to peek into the lives of those from years ago. Raven admits that she enjoys the research for her books almost as much as the writing; so much so, that sometimes she realizes she’s strayed way past the information she needs to know, and not a paragraph has been added to her WIP.
Her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.
You can find out more about Raven here…
https://www.facebook.com/rmcallan (my page)
https://www.facebook.com/ravenmcallan (author page)