I am very excited to say that both Grey's Lady and its sequel, White Lace & Promises, are both "Hot New Releases" on Amazon Kindle. As of the moment of this posting, Grey's Lady is also a Best Seller for Historical Romance, on both Amazon US and UK. #14 in Books > Romance > Historical > Victorian
#15 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Romance > Historical Romance > Victorian.
Thank you so much to everyone who has purchased a copy of this books. Your support made this possible and it means so much to me.
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"One of the most passionate stories I've read. The characters are very arousing and stubborn, from their own past experience. Really enjoyed this historical romance."
~ Gloria on Amazon
Beth wanted only one naughty carriage ride...
Beth is wild, wicked and wanton...And she's about
to throw Grey Sexton's carefully ordered world into chaos.
"The emotional battle between Grey and Beth and within Grey himself was wonderful to read." ~ Dark Haven Maven Reviews
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©Copyright Natasha Blackthorne 2012, 2013
Grey couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Philadelphian women were the cream of the Republic, but damn if this one didn’t exceed all previous definitions. Curling wisps of hair escaped from her indigo bonnet and trailed down her graceful neck. He’d never seen hair that color, like champagne shimmering in the moonlight.
She looked up, giving him his first full glance of her face. Sky-blue eyes, full of aching, longing…and something else. Abject sadness. Haunting.
Something caught in his chest. Something reminiscent of pleurisy. Well, it wasn’t surprising. Philadelphia air was notoriously insalubrious and the day was oppressively damp. He blinked, glancing away. Was he losing his wits? “Haunting eyes?” What romantic nonsense. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was getting a fever.
He glanced at his pocket watch. God, time was crawling. He’d arranged this series of lectures to entice potential investors, as last week in Boston had been most profitable. However, today, Mason’s Bookstore was packed with adolescent boys who sat with their mouths agape, listening to local captains recounting tales of privateering glory. His own speech on how and why to invest in a voyage had been met with yawns and bobbing heads. What a waste of an afternoon.
Shifting in his seat, he sensed her gaze. Lingering. Burning into him. Against his will, he turned back to her. Those eyes seemed to reach across the room, directly into him to touch his emptiness.
What a fanciful notion. His wits must be addled.
She didn’t drop her gaze, as a modest woman might. Instead, she appraised him, boldly weighing and measuring. A hint of tongue flirted along her pink lips. Her eyes smoldered as if she’d read his every erotic longing and fantasy.
He shifted again, trying to adjust for the heated blood rushing into his cock. The corners of her mouth turned up and humor glinted in her eyes. Clearly, she found his interest amusing. She found him amusing.
By God then, I’ll have her beneath me, writhing and begging me fuck her.
Damned if he wouldn’t.
The fervor of his thoughts shocked him back to his senses. People were talking and laughing and moving around. The lecture was over and he prepared to leave. Yet he found himself standing at the windows, transfixed by the rain sheeting down.
“My goodness.” The breathy feminine voice hit him low in his gut and he didn’t have to look to know who spoke. Something primal pounded through his blood. An urge to turn, grasp her by the back of her hair, and kiss her with such brute force she would run.
Shaken, he took several long, deep breaths before he trusted himself enough to turn to her.
“It’s so hard, isn’t it?” she said, in breathy, bedchamber tones.
“Pardon me, madam?”
“The rain, it’s coming down so hard today. Buckets and buckets full.” Her voice sounded sincere but her eyes glimmered with mirth.
“Yes, it is.” He kept his tone cool, polite.
“And everything is getting so…” Again, she let her little pink tongue snake over her lip. “Wet.”
He should have laughed at such talk. Such a lack of finesse. However, she stood so close, his arm almost touched her breast. So close, her tangy, sweet, gardenia-like scent became intoxicating.
“Pardon me, madam, but do you have some question about investing in a privateer venture?”
“Oh, no, they answered all my questions in the lecture.”
“But how could they have? You came in after the part about investing.”
“I didn’t really have any particular questions. I come to all the lectures here.” She glanced at the chalkboard on the opposite wall where the lecturers were posted. “You are Mr. Asahel de Grijs Sexton of New York?”
“At your service.”
“You middle name means gray, like your eyes, correct?”
“Yes. It’s Dutch.” It had been his mother’s maiden name.
“And you’re here to invest in privateering voyages for the expected war?” She took hold of the curtain’s thick, gold, braided cord.
“I own some ships and take on investors. I also invest in other voyages. It’s a numbers game for safety.”
She gave a soft sigh—no, it was more like a moan. A lush bedroom sound which made his lower belly tighten. “Well, I was wondering…” Her fingers caressed up and down the braided cord in a way that could only be described as suggestive. Sinfully so. Right here in the bookstore.
A tide of lust like he’d never felt before boiled in his blood and stiffened his cock.
“I—I was wondering…” Her fingers trailed one last time before she dropped the cord. A half-smile curved her lips.
“Yes, madam?” The steadiness of his voice amazed him.
“Could you—” She drew her lashes down as her lips spread in a slow, sensual smile. “Would you be so kind as to give me a ride in your carriage?”
The inflection in her voice gave no doubt as to what kind of ride she meant. He definitely should not accept. For years now, he’d held to a steadfast rule against dallying with women under thirty. They could prove so troublesome. And this particular young woman seemed so…irregular, such an odd air of boldness contradicted by an awkward ingenuousness. A little recklessness there, too. In any case, he already kept a satisfactory mistress here in Philadelphia.
He couldn’t tolerate complications in his personal life.
The shimmering beauty of her eyes seemed to dim and composure seemed to falter, as though a lovely flower were wilting for lack of water and sunlight. As though she sensed his forthcoming rejection.
Did it matter so much to her then?
His heart pounded into a galloping beat. A heady thrill that could not be said to be wholly carnal. A sense of arousal like he’d not known in years. He craved to experience this peculiar, audacious girl.
And what true gentleman could disappoint a lady? He offered his arm. “Come then.”
She raised fine, pale, gold brows. “I cannot be seen leaving here in your company.”
“Drive around the block and wait there. I shall come along presently.”
“It’s raining like the flood. You cannot walk in that.”
“Do you think I shall melt?” Her deep and throaty laugh resonated deep in his balls.
“I think a gentleman doesn’t expect a lady to walk in the rain.”
She laughed again. “Oh, but I am not a lady.”
“Don’t talk like that.” His harsh tone puzzled him. Where had it come from? But her self-denigrating tone angered him.
“Did my fine silk gown fool you?” She plucked her coarse wool skirt. Her fingerless nankeen gloves revealed digits reddened as though they spent hours soaked in lye. The sharp contrast with her refined loveliness made his throat burn and he swallowed tightly.
She sighed. He glanced up. Her face was sincere now. Beautiful. How many times had he repeated that today? God, he was making a jackass of himself. But what did she really want from him? She was bold, yes, but she lacked the hardened look of a girl on the town. Maybe poverty had forced her into temporary whoring.
He noticed, painfully, the obvious worn quality of her clothing. He’d always believed that for a man of wealth like himself to pursue an impoverished woman was like a fox narrowing his attention on a henhouse.
Maybe she didn’t really want this. Maybe she was simply desperate for coin.
“You need money?” The hoarse terseness of his whisper surprised him. But if she were doing this only because she needed money, he’d give it to her. And watch her walk away.
“I don’t want your money.” She turned her gaze to him. Bold, blue, and full of unmistakable longing. “I only want a ride.”
* * * *
Alone with her in the carriage, Grey took her hand. “What is your name?”
He exhaled her name, cupping her face and rubbing his thumbs over the hollow beneath her cheekbones. The sensation was pure luxury, a texture like creamy satin.
She closed her eyes, lifted her face. Barely aware he still moved closer, he felt her soft mouth under his with a sense of shock. She moaned and opened her mouth, all hot, wet, and spicy-sweet, like mulled cider against his tongue.
He moved his hands down the coarse wool of her back, pulling her closer. The folds of his cravat rustled, crisply crushing. She cried out.
Damn. His cravat pin.
He leaned away, stripped his coat off, plucked off the offending pin and came back to her. She laughed and tugged at his cravat until it came loose. Her grip tight on the two loose ends, she pulled him close to her face and held him in place.
Her taste was so intoxicating. He ravished her mouth without mercy. She returned his strokes measure for measure until they were forced to stop and pant for breath.
Fuck, she was so intense.
So willing and wanton and womanly.
Her fire consumed him. Part of himself, the gentleman, watched appalled as he hooked his hand around the dampened hem of her coarse wool skirt, pushed it up in one swift motion, baring her to the waist. She gasped then laughed again.
Now his determination to possess her body and soul threatens to expose her secret sexual life to public shame.
"Grey is a hot and demanding hero." ~ ARe Café honored Grey's Lady with its "Recommended Read" Award.
Excerpt From GREY'S LADY
©Copyright Natasha Blackthorne 2012, 2013
Once defined, their liaison would start as he intended to go on, no different than with any of his mistresses. There would be no room left for emotionalism. No distasteful power struggles or disappointments.
He entered and locked the door. Soft footfalls sounded on the polished footboards. He turned to see her running towards him. She was completely naked. The vixen.
She flung herself up at him. On instinct, he caught her, reeling backwards a little. While he struggled to stay on balance, her hands latched onto his shoulders, her legs wrapped about his waist and gripped tight. He braced her bare, satiny bottom.
"This was an intriguing look into the sex lives of two people constrained by the era they were born in. ... Grey and Beth were perfect for one another but feared revealing themselves fully. ... A very emotional read..." ~ Chris of Night Owl Reviews, Sept 21, 2011
Beth and Grey's passionate battle of wills continues in WHITE LACE AND PROMISES, Wild, Wicked and Wanton series, Book Two.
"Ms. Blackthorne certainly has the ability to create a story so hot it steams up the glasses! At the same time, the character development is great...Even the nasty characters were a delight to read because they were so real!" ~ Sugarbeat's Reviews
If you are looking for an erotic read, a great love story, loads of drama, and tons of buried secrets than this book is so for you. I encourage everyone adult 18+ to pick up a copy of White Lace & Promises and let Beth and Grey's love story fill you with hope and promises." ~ Skyla 11377
"White Lace & Promises is a historical novel that absolutely rocks!...very well written and the pacing is great...flows smoothly and is intense at the same time...Natasha does bring closure to each of the characters, giving the book a happy ending that I saw very fitting...an excellently executed sequel to Grey's Lady." ~ FirePages Reviews
"White Lace and Promises will take you on a roller coaster ride of erotic sexual encounters, lies, deception, and near misses, on its journey towards it's naughtily ever after...I fell in love with Grey in the last book and all over again in this one. This was a marvelous sequel!" ~ Close Encounters with the Night Kind