Hello, Katherine, and thanks so much for
having me on today! Lady of Thorns
is the third book in a series that was never supposed to be a series. I’ve been
describing it as “Lady Mary from Downton
Abbey goes head to head with Alan Shore from Boston Legal—and hijinks ensue!” While I’ve resigned Danaë and
Matthias to the background for now, fear not, Mattaë fans—book four will run in
parallel to the events of Lady of Thorns and covers what happens when
Matthias arrives in Hellas for his first official visit after the wedding.
In the meantime I
do hope you enjoy the story of Amelie and Alain, and I can promise that they’ll
make another appearance down the line as I now know where I’m going with this
series. All I will say about that is: buckle up, because it’s going to
be a bumpy ride. Mwahahahaha…
Love was never supposed to be part of
the deal…
Lady Amelie de Clerq’s prickly demeanor
and earth mage abilities have earned her the nickname “Lady of Thorns,” keeping
potential suitors at bay and making her the butt of the nobility’s jokes. Determined
to attract a husband who will love her for herself rather than her fortune, she
decides to embark on a journey of sensual self-discovery.
Alain LaPorte, wily lawyer and toast of
the capital’s social set, has been summoned to Lierdhe to oversee business
negotiations with a neighboring earl. When Amelie asks Alain to tutor her in
the bedroom arts, he agrees to introduce the virgin mage to pleasure. But
lessons in lovemaking soon turn into a matter of the heart, forcing both Amelie
and Alain to confront their fears about intimacy, loyalty, and love.
BUY LINKS:
EXCERPT
LaPorte returned with two goblets of
wine and handed her one, the deep garnet of the liquid lit with reflected fire
from the candlelight. “I’m glad you came. I must admit, I was afraid you’d
changed your mind.”
Amelie took a deep sip, hoping the cool,
tart wine would help soothe her nerves. “I had to persuade my maid that I
didn’t require help getting ready for bed.” As it was, she wasn’t sure that
she’d convinced Jeanette with her excuse that she planning on going back down
to her office. “I apologize if I kept you waiting.”
“No apologies necessary.” He showed her
to a pair of chairs set on either side of the fireplace and sat down. “You look
lovely.”
She plucked at the light blue wool of
her gown, wishing she had worn something more alluring, or at least with a
lower neckline. Her mother’s closet was full of silky, clingy dresses with
daring necklines, and she would have given a great deal to rummage through
them. Instead, I come to him dressed like some awkward girl.
Which
I suppose I am.
“Thank you. You look very handsome.”
He smiled at that. “Thank you, my lady.”
A silence fell after that. She fidgeted
with the goblet, wishing she didn’t feel like such a fool. The weight of his
attention was tangible, causing her stomach to flutter. “I don’t know what to
say now,” she confessed.
“You don’t have to say anything. Drink
your wine and let me look at you.”
Her mouth dried again at that and she
took a quick sip from her goblet. “I’m sorry about the plainness of my gown.
I’m afraid I don’t have anything appropriate to wear to—” A seduction.
“—something like this.”
His lips quirked at that. “I asked you
to leave what you had on because I liked it. Pretty gowns make for lovely gift
wrapping, true, but it all comes off in the end anyway. Besides, there’s a
certain appeal to a gown such as yours.”
“I don’t see what that could be,” she
muttered into her goblet.
“It’s what it represents. Youth,
innocence, an unknown territory ripe to be explored. I suspect it’s the reason
why so many men have a fondness for deflowering virgins—they relish being the
first man a woman has known intimately.”
She tried to lock the question behind
her jaws, but it popped out. “Do you like that?”
“Deflowering virgins?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She slouched lower in her chair. “Oh.”
He held up a hand. “Not to say that I
have anything against it, mind you. Everyone has to start somewhere, after all.
But I don’t fetishize it to the degree that other men do. I see it more as a
starting point on a very pleasant journey.”
She hadn’t thought of it that way. “And
you don’t think less of me for my request?”
“Not at all, my lady. You know what you
want, and you wish an experienced tutor to help you achieve it. It’s all quite
reasonable to me.” He settled in his chair, sipping his wine. “As I’m playing
tutor to you in this area, are there any questions you wish to ask me?”
There were, actually. “Will it hurt
much?”
“It shouldn’t. If I make sure you’re
aroused and open first, you should be able to take me without discomfort.”
Take him. Those simple words set warmth
rolling through her lower belly. “So, no gushing blood or rending pain, then.”
He rolled his eyes. “That might be the
case if a maid beds a huge brute of a man who’s only interested in his own
pleasure. But that won’t be the case with you, I can assure you. I’m confident
enough in my ability to couch a lance without causing you harm.”
Even if there would be pain, she was
prepared to bear it for the promise of pleasure afterwards. She wondered how
many women he’d taken to bed, but found she didn’t want to know the answer.
“How do we do this? Go from sitting here to naked and in bed?”
Alain studied her, then drained his
goblet. “Like this, my lady.”
Fantasy Romance, Erotic
Romance, MF
Word Count: 75,000
Series: Two Thrones (Book Three)
Heat Level 4
Published by Belaurient Press
ISBN: 978-1-53-783376-7
ABOUT NICOLA:
Nicola Cameron is an
expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and
keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently
located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of
"y'all," much to her Chicago family's dismay.
Despite a healthy interest in
sex since puberty, it wasn't until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing
about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing
career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she
wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable
identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major
telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s
just plain torture...).
