I have managed to grab hold of Lady Felicity Oakley, heroine in Raven McAllan's Nash's Niche, publisher by Evernight Publishing.
Just look at this cover. Lovely!
So over to Lady Felicity -
Now Michaela, I
understand you want to interview me?
Well, my name is Lady
Felicity Oakley.
In my era that which you
call Regency, I'm considered to be a little long in the tooth. Almost an old
maid, because I wasn't married before I was one and twenty.
My papa said he was happy
about it, that I could chose a husband I loved. Then all of a sudden? Phht. He
is trying to make me marry a prosy, fussy, bore, and I will not have it. He and
Mama were in love. I expect the same thing.
So I plotted and
planned. Poor Raven had no idea.
(I
never do—R)
Now let me see. What would you be interested
in? Hmm, well as a lady of the ton, I don't wear drawers. Only the lower
classes and well fast women do. Giggle. I think that's a silly expression, because surely to be fast, the less
clothes the better? I really do detest corsets and as for damping my muslin? Shudder
Ugh. Wet muslin against the skin. So clammy and slimy and oh no, not for
me. I prefer to wear my gown undampened. I am no hussy… Raven be quiet. A
little cheeky, yes, a minx, probably, but a hussy no, not ever.
(I
never said a word—R)
Where was I? Oh yes. Me. Well I can drive a
phaeton and pair better than a lot of men, and ride to the hounds as well. I
like exercise… stop sniggering, and
well, blush I have a tattoo.
Nash? Oh my Nash. I
didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when things came together. Oh dear that
sounds bad doesn't it? giggle Well yes that as well. Maybe I am a hussy
after all? Perhaps I should just say, I'm glad my impulsiveness, and hoydenish
ways were not in vain.
Now I was told you
want quick fire answers, so I'm ready.
Pink,
Hounds… oh I have to
let you write the questions down? Sigh very well.
Favorites…
Color—pink
Animal—hound
Food—anything Andre
the chef cooks when not under the thrall of Harold. Otherwise Maggie's oyster
and ale pie. I hate liver.
Town or
country—country with Nash. The town for perhaps a week or so a year, to replace
my wardrobe, and go to a few balls.
Pastime—too much
information would be needed.
Author—rolls eyes Perhaps I should say Miss
Austen, but it wouldn't be correct.
You can find Felicity
in Nash's Niche, available from
Blurb
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?
.
A wee tease
Felicity was having a
beautiful dream. Her brandy-filled, hazy mind was full of body thrumming
pleasure. Someone was playing with her curls and increasing her juices. His—she
knew it was a he—fingers teased and played with her nub, and then with an
exquisite slowness pushed inside her cunt. She moaned and wriggled as he thrust
into her channel. She squirmed. Why fingers? Why not his tool? A thought struck
her. Dreams didn't talk. She opened her eyes and from out of the mist that
surrounded her, and the semi lightness of the night, she saw a large figure. It
loomed over her and she jerked back, no easy feat, as his hand clamped onto her
skin like a limpet. The wicked fingers increased their pressure both inside her
and over the tiny nub, which she had learned could give her so much pleasure.
He pinched her, and
she tried to pull back even as the sensation of a climax began to roll through
her. Felicity had oft thought how lucky she was to know what the tingles and
goose bumps that bombarded her could herald, how to enjoy every last nuance
until her juices coated whatever digit or toy she used, and let her body
shudder in completion. Only once had she known a true climax—well, not once she
allowed, but one night. However, now wasn't the time to think about that. Now
was the time to extract herself from this predicament.
She screamed, even as
she matched his movements.
There was a growl, a growl for heaven’s sake, what sane man growled,
and those magic fingers moved ever faster. She couldn't help but match them.
Then he said the silliest thing ever, and told her not to move. Felicity
thought there was as much likelihood of that happening as the King recovering.
She ignored him and thrust against him. She was so very close to coming, and
surely he wouldn't deny her?
It seemed he would.
The deep velvet voice flowed over her, and increased her arousal. The words did
stop her in her tracks though. "I have a weapon, and I will use it."
If anything was
guaranteed to stop her coming, those words were it. Felicity's arousal
disappeared as fast as a pickpocket with a fob watch. She heaved a sigh and
pulled as far away from him as possible. There was a rustle and the mattress
shook, before she heard the noise of a match scraping over a tinderbox. A flare
of light as it caught, and then a candle sent long shadows dancing over her
skin.
Felicity narrowed her eyes and watched as a
man—a tall, dark-haired, and incredibly handsome man set the candle into a
sconce. She looked him up and down, and couldn't help the chuckle escaping.
Apart from a fine
linen shirt, he was naked. And just below the hemline that seemed to frame it,
his long, thick, and hard cock waved a welcome. Felicity looked at his face,
then let her gaze drift lower to admire his prick. Then she stared back at his
face again. Her stomach churned, as the gentleman—even only wearing a shirt,
and with a rampant staff that stood out proudly from his body, he couldn't be
anything else other than a gentleman—stared at her. Her pulse jumped. She would
bet her pin money she knew him—in the biblical way. If only her brain wasn't
brandy-fuddled and his shirt would lift just one more inch, she could be
certain. However, even in the flickering candle light Felicity was sure. It was
the one man she had glimpsed heaven with, and vowed to leave well enough alone,
who threatened her. She thought quickly. He had no idea who she was, and she
intended to keep it that way.
"Well now,"
she said slowly. "You're right, you most certainly do have a weapon. I do
hope you know how to use it properly."
Now some nosy links
Raven lives in
Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown
the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings
in her books.
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)
