Groom Of Convenience Giveaway Winner!

Congratulations Jen CW! You are the winner of the Grand Prize: A free Ebook copy of Groom of Convenience and the Limited Edition GoC Wedding Gift Bag!

Woohoo!

I have sent you an email with further instructions. Thank you to everyone who participated and who promoted GoC. You all ROCK!

Groom Of Convenience was #6 on the Romance > Science Fiction Bestseller List on Amazon, was on the Bestseller List on ARe, and is currently in the Top 10 Bestseller List on Dreamspinner Press! That’s because of all of you! And the reviews that you all send to me on FB, in my Yahoo group, etc.? Thank you so much. They mean so much. I’m glad you all think this is my best one yet. I’m determined to keep getting better.

I’ll be announcing the winner from the Rainbow Gold Reviews Giveaway on Monday.

Congratz again, Jen!

 

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Groom Of Convenience Reviewed At Rainbow Book Reviews!

I’m so excited that Groom Of Convenience was reviewed over at the Rainbow Book Reviews by Trish! Here’s what she had to say about the book:

“This is a totally fascinating story that had me hooked from the very beginning! At first, it seems to be just another historical romance set in 19th-century England, but nothing could be further from the truth….This compelling story is a sweeping saga set in a universe where sex and gender are a fluid concept, and if you want a satisfying historical romance with a twist to spend a lazy afternoon reading, then this book will more than fit the bill.”
You can find the entire review: HERE

Excerpt (From Groom of Convenience):

“Here we are,” Rosemary announced, her voice louder than normal, with a false cheeriness to it. Lucien’s eyebrows rose at his mother’s behavior, and he stopped her in front of the closed doors, which once again let Lucien know something or someone was behind those doors that his parents didn’t want him to know about until they’d had a chance to explain it to him.

“Mother, what is going on?” Lucien asked her.
Rosemary looked at Lucien and shook her head. “Why, Luce, absolutely nothing. Why would you ask me something like that?”

Lucien was really concerned, as neither of his parents used his nickname. Ever. He said nothing to her, just staring, unmoving.
Rosemary removed her hand from Lucien’s elbow and raised it to the pearls hanging at her neck to play with them a moment. Lucien was very aware of that gesture; it meant Rosemary was nervous and trying to figure out just what to reveal. He waited expectantly, confident she would let him know what was going on before he had to face his maldy, but when Rosemary shook her head and squared her shoulders, Lucien knew his ploy of silence wouldn’t work this time.

“All you need to know, Lucien, is that everything we do, we do as your parents and because we love you,” Rosemary told him. She raised a hand to his cheek and stroked the skin gently, lovingly. “We were so happy when I gave birth to you and discovered you were a girl. We had been surprised by the pregnancy, as the doctors told me I was past my conceiving years, but you were a delightful surprise. We always wanted a son, and we were finally given one.” She dropped her hand from Lucien’s cheek and lifted it to her face to wipe away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “We do this because we care about you and only want the best for you.”

Rosemary turned back to the double doors of the red rose room and pushed on the handles to open them. She grabbed the skirt of her morning gown in one hand and glided into the room. Lucien stood in shock for only a moment before he followed her.
“Close the doors, Son.” His maldy’s husky voice came from the direction of one of the chairs next to the fireplace.

Lucien nodded and, as he turned to close the doors, saw the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria sitting on the loveseat across from his maldy. He froze in shock for but a moment. Years of etiquette training wouldn’t allow him to just stand in front of the door, but he had never seen anyone in the red rose room who wasn’t family, and now here were two of the most prestigious peers of the realm, not only in their home but in their private family room. Lucien took a moment to compose himself. He smiled at both of them and bowed slightly before turning back to close the doors. After he released the handle, Lucien took a steadying breath and moved to face his parents.

“Well, have a seat, Lucien,” Annabelle directed him.

“Yes, Maldy,” Lucien answered automatically. His maldy was a stern woman. Lucien could only remember one instance where he had ever seen her be soft and loving, though he wasn’t supposed to have. He had woken up in the middle of the night when he was seven years old and had walked out of his room and down the family wing toward his parents’ room. He knew he was too old to actually sleep in the bed with them, but he had wanted comfort from a dreadful nightmare. Halfway down the hall, he’d stopped, frozen in place as he saw his mothers pressed together against the wall next to the bedchamber. They were dressed in evening attire, Rosemary in a gorgeous dress of blue velvet, one hand holding a white shawl, her black hair spilling down her back in a mass of curls. Annabelle was pressed close to Rosemary’s body, her thick blond hair pulled back into a harsh, unforgiving bun, her face pressed into the crook of Rosemary’s neck. Annabelle wore a slim dark green evening gown, embroidered in onyx gems under her small bust and around the hem.

As Lucien continued to watch them, he saw Rosemary lift her leg and circle it around Annabelle’s waist, while Annabelle dropped a hand beneath Rosemary’s skirts. Lucien’s eyes had widened, and he’d turned to leave, not in the least bit interested in watching his parents copulate in the middle of the corridor. It was something he only knew about because he’d overheard his sisters speak of it and because he’d sneaked into the servants’ quarters many times and seen the same thing occurring among the servants. Just as he started to turn away, he saw Annabelle lift the hand that had been pressed against the wall on the side of Rosemary’s head and tenderly stroke Rosemary’s cheek. She had leaned close and kissed Rosemary’s lips gently before lifting Rosemary’s leg higher. It was Rosemary’s gasp and harsh groan of Annabelle’s name that had spurred Lucien to turn and race down the hallway to his room.

 photo GroomofConvenience_headerbanner_zps1eecee1e.jpgSo while one part of him was happy to know his maldy had a gentle side, the self-preservation side of him tried not to remember how he knew that.
Lucien settled himself on the edge of the chaise next to the loveseat where the duke and duchess sat.

“I believe you know the duke and duchess?” Annabelle said, smiling thinly up at Rosemary, who stood and began pouring tea for all of them. Lucien crossed one leg over the other, balanced his teacup and saucer on his knee, and sat straight up—something else he’d learned how to do in his etiquette class—and nodded.

“Yes, Maldy. So nice to see you again, Your Graces,” Lucien said with a smile at two of the highest-ranking members of society. The Duke of Cumbria was a harsh-looking man. His skin had a healthy tan from spending a great deal of time outside, no doubt riding his horse or hunting, like most titled members of the gentry. It was a luxury Lucien wished he would have once he married, but one he believed he would have to go without once that occasion happened upon him.
The duke’s black hair was brushed back from his face and pulled into a queue at the back of his neck; gray had seeped into the dark strands and colored his temples. His eyes were a mesmerizing shade of light gray, almost silver, his chin pointed, a dimple resting in the middle of it.
He had broad shoulders shrouded in a brown morning coat over a startling white dress shirt with a white cravat and a black vest. He wore black breeches, which could barely contain his large thighs, and black boots on his feet.

Next to him, the Duchess of Cumbria wore a morning gown of yellow that caused her pale skin to look sallow. Her red hair, cluttered with gray strands, was pulled back in a bun, tendrils escaping to curl around her rounded face.
Lucien admired the fact that the Duchess had not felt the need to buy a wig of blonde or black hair that would make her much more fashionable. She no doubt felt she didn’t have to, being a superior member of the gentry. Her bonnet rested on her lap, and Lucien wondered if perhaps she had just removed it moments before he’d entered. Where his mother Rosemary had foregone heels for slippers, the Duchess wore a beautiful pair of white heeled shoes with lace and embroidery over the front of them. Her eyes were a deep jade color, and she smiled brilliantly at Lucien when his eyes fell on her.

“And it is indeed a pleasure to see you again, young Lucien,” the Duchess, Jane, if Lucien remembered her Christian name correctly, said, her voice light and melodious.

“I am sure you are wondering why you were summoned to the family home when we did not have a scheduled meal,” Annabelle stated, and Lucien gave the Duchess a final smile before turning his attention to his maldy.

“The thought had crossed my mind, yes, Maldy,” Lucien admitted.

“Well, my dear, we have taken it upon ourselves to make a decision about your life that I am sure you will find not only agreeable but practically miraculous and fortuitous,” Annabelle stated with a pointed look.
That look Lucien knew quite well. Even if he didn’t find the decision “miraculous” or “fortuitous,” he was being ordered to pretend he did in front of the duke and duchess.

“Thank you, Maldy. I am sure that I will,” Lucien agreed. He wondered if he had been offered to be a companion to the Duchess. While it wasn’t at all a notion he would have chosen for himself, it was inherently better than what he thought he’d been summoned to the estate for.

“Your mother and I have decided to accept the suit offered by the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria,” Annabelle told him before calmly lifting her teacup to her lips and taking a sip.

“Suit?” Lucien questioned, looking back and forth between the two couples.

“Yes. You are to wed Heathcliff Eddington III, His Grace, the Duke of Pompinshire, Marquess of Manchester, Earl of Southerby, Viscount of Berkinstock, Baron of Hempstead, heir to the Dukedom of Cumbria, in six months’ time.”

 

 photo GroomofConvenience_postcard_front_DSP_zps01e970c7.jpgGroom of Convenience

By: Vicktor Alexander

Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm, #1
M/M Erotic, Historical, Scifi, Fantasy, Transgender/Intersex Romance

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Release Date: October 17, 2014

Length: Novel/290 pages

Order:
Dreamspinner ebook| Dreamspinner paperback| ARe| Amazon| Kobo| iBookstore| Nook

Add to: Goodreads

Description:

In an alternate universe, in the country of Angland, 1814, the gentry live lives of culture and class. It is a time of courtships, marriages of convenience, and titles, where scandal can ruin an entire family. Gender lines are blurred, and making a good match is of utmost importance. Children are born to men and women, which has led to the acceptance of same-sex marriages.

Lady Lucien Timothy Hawthorne is shocked and angry when he is betrothed against his will to Lord Heathcliff Eddington, III, the Duke of Pompinshire. While drowning his frustration at a popular gentleman’s club, he meets “Robert,” a gorgeous older man whom he sleeps with as “Timmy,” regardless of the potential damage to his reputation.

After their liaison, Lucien corresponds with Robert via letters left at Remmington, and they decide to elope. Before they can get away, Lucien meets his betrothed, Heathcliff, who he is surprised to discover is also his beloved, Robert. Both men desire a marriage of the heart, but they find out that sometimes a marriage of convenience can turn into love under the right circumstances. But Lucien has a secret, and Tlondon isn’t as safe as they once thought.

About the Author:

Vicktor “Vic” Alexander wrote his first story at the age of ten and hasn’t stopped writing since. He loves reading about anything and everything and is a proud member of the little known U.N. group (Undercover Nerds) because while he lives, eats, breathes, and sleeps sports, he also breathes history and science fiction and grew up a Trekkie. But don’t ask him about Dungeons & Dragons, because he has no idea how to play that game. When it comes to writing he loves everything from paranormal to contemporary to fantasy to historical and is known not only for being the Epilogue King but also for writing stories that cross lines and boundaries that he doesn’t know are there. Vic is a proud father of two daughters one of whom watches over him from Heaven with his deceased partner Christopher. Vic is a proud trans* and gay man, and when he is not writing, he is hanging out with his friends, or being distracted by videos of John Barrowman, Scott Hoying, and Shemar Moore. Vicktor has published numerous bestselling novels and has a WIP list that makes him exhausted just thinking about. He knows that he will be still be writing about hot men falling in love with each other, long after he is living in an assisted living facility, flirting with the hot, male nurses.

Website| Blog| Facebook| Facebook Fan Page| Tumblr| Twitter| Google+


Giveaway:

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Featured Image -- 2011

‘Not At GRL’ Celebration: #Guestpost by Vicktor Alexander with #Giveaway

Originally posted on Rainbow Gold Reviews:

*****

Today we are happy to welcome Vicktor Alexander to our blog. We had a wonderful ‘Not At GRL’ celebration last night and today we will continue with some great Guestposts and even more opportunities to win! Vicktor Alexander will offer 4!!! prizes (2 prizes for comments on this post and 2 rafflecopter prizes) in addition to a wonderful Guestpost, a deleted scene and an excerpt :) Enjoy!!!

*****
GuestPost
Why The Scandalous Whispers of The Remmington Realm?
__________
Thank you so much Rainbow Gold Reviews for having me and for doing this “Not At GRL” Event. I hope it becomes an annual thing. What a great idea!
WHEN I first got the idea for this book, I was beyond excited. You see, I am a member of the U.N. No, not the United Nations (though wouldn’t that be awesome), but of the Undercover Nerds. We’re not an official group…

View original 4,231 more words

Freaky Friday: Groom of Convenience Release Week (IT’S OUT NOW!!!)

So it’s Freaky Friday! It’s also HAPPY HAPPY RELEASE DAY for me!

WOOHOO!!!!

Groom of Convenience (Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm) released today from Dreamspinner Press!

I am soooo excited! And the CAH-RAY-ZEE thing is that IT’S ALREADY A BESTSELLER ON ARe!!!! Oh my Godiva! You guys are too good to me! (Do you like my new saying? “Oh my Godiva” I’m thinking about putting them on some T-shirts or something, not sure if I can. I’ll have to look into that)

Since it is Freaky Friday I thought I’d share with you all a deleted scene from Groom of Convenience.

 photo GroomofConvenience_FBbanner_DSP_zps09e5a2fe.jpgDeleted Scene Excerpt:


1813

The air was muggy and the street was practically deserted as Lady Lucien Hawthorn alighted from his sister Charlotte’s borrowed carriage.

“Luce, you must promise me that you will be safe,” Charlotte whispered harshly.

Lucien looked over his shoulder, shoving the infernal fabric of gown his maldy had forced him to wear to the latest ball thrown by the Viscount and Viscountess of Bolton deep into the cushioned carriage seat. He gave Charlotte a reassuring smile and reached out to touch her gloved hand with his own. He loved that his sister was so concerned about him. To be sure, his reputation could in fact be severely damaged by his appearance at such a lecture, but how could he stay away? Jeremy Bentham was giving a lecture on the abolition of the slave trade and Lucien was determined to listen to it. Especially since Lucien had heard there were going to be men in attendance who could help him in his study of the Tswahili language.

“I give you my word, Char,” he said, using his nickname for her. “I will do my utmost to be ever on my guard. Protecting not only my reputation but my virtue from those who would see it come to ruin.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I care not about your virtue, you ninny. Maldy and Mother have locked away your virginity in the safe at Hawthorn. I am only concerned about you, a gentle-bred young lady, only son of the Earl of Yorkshire, being seen at a lecture of intellectuals. They shall think that you are a bluestocking.”

Lucien snorted and leaned close to whisper into his sister’s ear. “That’s because I am.”

Charlotte laughed. “Oh! Go on then. Rourke and I shall be ’round to fetch you in exactly one hour, Lucien. Be sure to be ready. If you are not, I shall send my great big Tscottish husband inside to fetch you.”

Lucien shivered as he thought of his brother-in-law storming inside, red hair swirling around his shoulders, green eyes flashing, as he tossed Lucien over his shoulder and carried him out. It would completely shame Lucien, horrify the men in the room, and ruin his family’s name. He mentally shook his head. No, he would be ready.

“I assure you. I will be ready.”

With a nod and a final kiss to his sister’s cheek, Lucien ducked out of the carriage and hurried across the cobbled road to the barely lit townhouse where the lecture was being held. Opening the door as quietly as possible, he stood at the back of the room, not caring if he got a seat and listened with anticipation as Jeremy Bentham was introduced. He tried not to clap too enthusiastically, going for a more sedate applause, as the elder, white-haired gentleman approached the front of the room and began speaking. Lucien listened in awe wishing that he’d thought to bring his journal with him so that he could document Mr. Bentham’s powerful words.

A slight movement occurred in the corner and he turned his head and observed the sight of a long leg resting next to a cane, wide, blunt-tipped fingers wrapped around the handle. As his gaze continued to travel up the body attached to those legs all he saw was the back of the man’s head, thick, black hair that he, for some unexplainable reason, wanted to run his fingers through. Swallowing nervously, Lucien turned his attention back to the lecture and away from the tempting, unidentified, faceless, stranger.

“This offering to liberty ought to be determined by lot. Choice, under the pretext of honouring the most worthy, would be a source of cabals: it would cause more discontent and jealousy than happiness. The lot is impartial; it gives all an equal chance of happiness; it spreads the charm of hope among those whom it does not favour; and the dread of being deprived of this chance, on account of any crime committed, would be another bond to the fidelity of the slaves.”

Lucien wanted to applaud. He really did. But he did not. Instead he nodded just like the men in the room. He kept his head lowered, hoping they did not notice that he was a lady among them. Though there were other ladies among them, he did not have the same liberties they did. His maldy would skin him alive were she to find out that he had been consorting among philosophers, discussing slavery and abolition, even though she favored the latter and abhored the former.

When Mr. Bentham concluded his speech, Lucien clapped and made his way quickly to Lord Bryce Cullingham, Marquess of Balmouth, whom he knew was well-versed in Tswahili. They conversed for a moment on the language and Lucien accepted the notes the man had brought with him on the complicated vowels and consanants.

When the door to the townhouse slammed open, he groaned, already knowing who it was. Bloody hell. His time was up.

“Please excuse me, my lord. It seems that I have overstayed my welcome. I must go.” He executed a perfect curtsey. He ignored the gasps around him and hurried towards the hall just as Rourke roared his name.

“I am looking for me brother-in-law! He is the son of Lord York-” Rourke stopped when he saw Lucien appear in the hallway and grinned. He gestured out towards the street. “Ah, there ye are lass. Shall we go?”

Lucien nodded, his face flaming hot. He bowed his head and rushed towards the awaiting carriage.

“I shall send me man ’round to pay for the damage to your door, old chap. Sorry about the bother,” Rourke apologized behind him.

Lucien opened the carriage and scrambled in, sitting across from Charlotte, folding his arms across his chest. She smiled sweetly at him. The carriage rocked as Rourke climbed in beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Did you learn a great deal, Luce?” she asked.

Lucien glared at her and turned his head to stare out the side of the carriage as it pulled away. Rourke chuckled.

“I was,” he mumbled.

“Cheer up, Lucien. It wasn’t as bad as all that,” she said.

He snorted and refused to look at either of them. He knew he was pouting but he refused to care.

“But did you have a good time? That’s what is important,” Rourke asked cheekily.

Lucien turned to look at him, his mouth hanging open. He squeaked indignantly before bursting into laughter. Charlotte and Rourke joined him seconds later. He sat up and began to tell them all about the lecture, his hands gesturing excitedly.

He was animated as he told them everything, describing everyone in attendance.

Well almost everyone.

He kept the black-haired man holding the cane a secret, though he did not know why.
 photo GroomofConvenience_headerbanner_zps1eecee1e.jpg

Excerpt (From Groom of Convenience):

“Here we are,” Rosemary announced, her voice louder than normal, with a false cheeriness to it. Lucien’s eyebrows rose at his mother’s behavior, and he stopped her in front of the closed doors, which once again let Lucien know something or someone was behind those doors that his parents didn’t want him to know about until they’d had a chance to explain it to him.

“Mother, what is going on?” Lucien asked her.
Rosemary looked at Lucien and shook her head. “Why, Luce, absolutely nothing. Why would you ask me something like that?”

Lucien was really concerned, as neither of his parents used his nickname. Ever. He said nothing to her, just staring, unmoving.
Rosemary removed her hand from Lucien’s elbow and raised it to the pearls hanging at her neck to play with them a moment. Lucien was very aware of that gesture; it meant Rosemary was nervous and trying to figure out just what to reveal. He waited expectantly, confident she would let him know what was going on before he had to face his maldy, but when Rosemary shook her head and squared her shoulders, Lucien knew his ploy of silence wouldn’t work this time.

“All you need to know, Lucien, is that everything we do, we do as your parents and because we love you,” Rosemary told him. She raised a hand to his cheek and stroked the skin gently, lovingly. “We were so happy when I gave birth to you and discovered you were a girl. We had been surprised by the pregnancy, as the doctors told me I was past my conceiving years, but you were a delightful surprise. We always wanted a son, and we were finally given one.” She dropped her hand from Lucien’s cheek and lifted it to her face to wipe away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “We do this because we care about you and only want the best for you.”

Rosemary turned back to the double doors of the red rose room and pushed on the handles to open them. She grabbed the skirt of her morning gown in one hand and glided into the room. Lucien stood in shock for only a moment before he followed her.
“Close the doors, Son.” His maldy’s husky voice came from the direction of one of the chairs next to the fireplace.

Lucien nodded and, as he turned to close the doors, saw the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria sitting on the loveseat across from his maldy. He froze in shock for but a moment. Years of etiquette training wouldn’t allow him to just stand in front of the door, but he had never seen anyone in the red rose room who wasn’t family, and now here were two of the most prestigious peers of the realm, not only in their home but in their private family room. Lucien took a moment to compose himself. He smiled at both of them and bowed slightly before turning back to close the doors. After he released the handle, Lucien took a steadying breath and moved to face his parents.

“Well, have a seat, Lucien,” Annabelle directed him.

“Yes, Maldy,” Lucien answered automatically. His maldy was a stern woman. Lucien could only remember one instance where he had ever seen her be soft and loving, though he wasn’t supposed to have. He had woken up in the middle of the night when he was seven years old and had walked out of his room and down the family wing toward his parents’ room. He knew he was too old to actually sleep in the bed with them, but he had wanted comfort from a dreadful nightmare. Halfway down the hall, he’d stopped, frozen in place as he saw his mothers pressed together against the wall next to the bedchamber. They were dressed in evening attire, Rosemary in a gorgeous dress of blue velvet, one hand holding a white shawl, her black hair spilling down her back in a mass of curls. Annabelle was pressed close to Rosemary’s body, her thick blond hair pulled back into a harsh, unforgiving bun, her face pressed into the crook of Rosemary’s neck. Annabelle wore a slim dark green evening gown, embroidered in onyx gems under her small bust and around the hem.

As Lucien continued to watch them, he saw Rosemary lift her leg and circle it around Annabelle’s waist, while Annabelle dropped a hand beneath Rosemary’s skirts. Lucien’s eyes had widened, and he’d turned to leave, not in the least bit interested in watching his parents copulate in the middle of the corridor. It was something he only knew about because he’d overheard his sisters speak of it and because he’d sneaked into the servants’ quarters many times and seen the same thing occurring among the servants. Just as he started to turn away, he saw Annabelle lift the hand that had been pressed against the wall on the side of Rosemary’s head and tenderly stroke Rosemary’s cheek. She had leaned close and kissed Rosemary’s lips gently before lifting Rosemary’s leg higher. It was Rosemary’s gasp and harsh groan of Annabelle’s name that had spurred Lucien to turn and race down the hallway to his room.

So while one part of him was happy to know his maldy had a gentle side, the self-preservation side of him tried not to remember how he knew that.
Lucien settled himself on the edge of the chaise next to the loveseat where the duke and duchess sat.

“I believe you know the duke and duchess?” Annabelle said, smiling thinly up at Rosemary, who stood and began pouring tea for all of them. Lucien crossed one leg over the other, balanced his teacup and saucer on his knee, and sat straight up—something else he’d learned how to do in his etiquette class—and nodded.

“Yes, Maldy. So nice to see you again, Your Graces,” Lucien said with a smile at two of the highest-ranking members of society. The Duke of Cumbria was a harsh-looking man. His skin had a healthy tan from spending a great deal of time outside, no doubt riding his horse or hunting, like most titled members of the gentry. It was a luxury Lucien wished he would have once he married, but one he believed he would have to go without once that occasion happened upon him.
The duke’s black hair was brushed back from his face and pulled into a queue at the back of his neck; gray had seeped into the dark strands and colored his temples. His eyes were a mesmerizing shade of light gray, almost silver, his chin pointed, a dimple resting in the middle of it.
He had broad shoulders shrouded in a brown morning coat over a startling white dress shirt with a white cravat and a black vest. He wore black breeches, which could barely contain his large thighs, and black boots on his feet.

Next to him, the Duchess of Cumbria wore a morning gown of yellow that caused her pale skin to look sallow. Her red hair, cluttered with gray strands, was pulled back in a bun, tendrils escaping to curl around her rounded face.
Lucien admired the fact that the Duchess had not felt the need to buy a wig of blonde or black hair that would make her much more fashionable. She no doubt felt she didn’t have to, being a superior member of the gentry. Her bonnet rested on her lap, and Lucien wondered if perhaps she had just removed it moments before he’d entered. Where his mother Rosemary had foregone heels for slippers, the Duchess wore a beautiful pair of white heeled shoes with lace and embroidery over the front of them. Her eyes were a deep jade color, and she smiled brilliantly at Lucien when his eyes fell on her.

“And it is indeed a pleasure to see you again, young Lucien,” the Duchess, Jane, if Lucien remembered her Christian name correctly, said, her voice light and melodious.

“I am sure you are wondering why you were summoned to the family home when we did not have a scheduled meal,” Annabelle stated, and Lucien gave the Duchess a final smile before turning his attention to his maldy.

“The thought had crossed my mind, yes, Maldy,” Lucien admitted.

“Well, my dear, we have taken it upon ourselves to make a decision about your life that I am sure you will find not only agreeable but practically miraculous and fortuitous,” Annabelle stated with a pointed look.
That look Lucien knew quite well. Even if he didn’t find the decision “miraculous” or “fortuitous,” he was being ordered to pretend he did in front of the duke and duchess.

“Thank you, Maldy. I am sure that I will,” Lucien agreed. He wondered if he had been offered to be a companion to the Duchess. While it wasn’t at all a notion he would have chosen for himself, it was inherently better than what he thought he’d been summoned to the estate for.

“Your mother and I have decided to accept the suit offered by the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria,” Annabelle told him before calmly lifting her teacup to her lips and taking a sip.

“Suit?” Lucien questioned, looking back and forth between the two couples.

“Yes. You are to wed Heathcliff Eddington III, His Grace, the Duke of Pompinshire, Marquess of Manchester, Earl of Southerby, Viscount of Berkinstock, Baron of Hempstead, heir to the Dukedom of Cumbria, in six months’ time.”

 

 photo GroomofConvenience_postcard_front_DSP_zps01e970c7.jpgGroom of Convenience

By: Vicktor Alexander

Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm, #1
M/M Erotic, Historical, Scifi, Fantasy, Transgender/Intersex Romance

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Release Date: October 17, 2014

Length: Novel/290 pages



Order:
Dreamspinner ebook| Dreamspinner paperback| ARe| Amazon

Add to: Goodreads

Description:

In an alternate universe, in the country of Angland, 1814, the gentry live lives of culture and class. It is a time of courtships, marriages of convenience, and titles, where scandal can ruin an entire family. Gender lines are blurred, and making a good match is of utmost importance. Children are born to men and women, which has led to the acceptance of same-sex marriages.

Lady Lucien Timothy Hawthorne is shocked and angry when he is betrothed against his will to Lord Heathcliff Eddington, III, the Duke of Pompinshire. While drowning his frustration at a popular gentleman’s club, he meets “Robert,” a gorgeous older man whom he sleeps with as “Timmy,” regardless of the potential damage to his reputation.

After their liaison, Lucien corresponds with Robert via letters left at Remmington, and they decide to elope. Before they can get away, Lucien meets his betrothed, Heathcliff, who he is surprised to discover is also his beloved, Robert. Both men desire a marriage of the heart, but they find out that sometimes a marriage of convenience can turn into love under the right circumstances. But Lucien has a secret, and Tlondon isn’t as safe as they once thought.

 

About the Author:

Vicktor “Vic” Alexander wrote his first story at the age of ten and hasn’t stopped writing since. He loves reading about anything and everything and is a proud member of the little known U.N. group (Undercover Nerds) because while he lives, eats, breathes, and sleeps sports, he also breathes history and science fiction and grew up a Trekkie. But don’t ask him about Dungeons & Dragons, because he has no idea how to play that game. When it comes to writing he loves everything from paranormal to contemporary to fantasy to historical and is known not only for being the Epilogue King but also for writing stories that cross lines and boundaries that he doesn’t know are there. Vic is a proud father of two daughters one of whom watches over him from Heaven with his deceased partner Christopher. Vic is a proud trans* and gay man, and when he is not writing, he is hanging out with his friends, or being distracted by videos of John Barrowman, Scott Hoying, and Shemar Moore. Vicktor has published numerous bestselling novels and has a WIP list that makes him exhausted just thinking about. He knows that he will be still be writing about hot men falling in love with each other, long after he is living in an assisted living facility, flirting with the hot, male nurses.

Website| Blog| Facebook| Facebook Fan Page| Tumblr| Twitter| Google+

Giveaway:
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thursday Pimping: Groom of Convenience Release Week

It’s Thursday Pimping, ya’ll! And usually this is the day when I pimp out new releases, but since this is Groom of Convenience Release week, I’m going to share ONE more exclusive excerpt with you all before the book’s release TOMORROW (-cue MASSIVE freakout-) from Dreamspinner Press.

So enjoy, and don’t forget to enter the giveaway below and LEAVE A COMMENT!!!

 photo GroomofConvenience_FBbanner_DSP_zps09e5a2fe.jpg
Excerpt:



HEATHCLIFF ROBERT Eddington III was livid. No, he was beyond livid. He was enraged. After picking up a vase from the stand it rested on, he hurled it across the room and watched with satisfaction when it exploded into pieces. His father’s words, written emotionlessly across the piece of parchment paper that Heathcliff—called Heath by his friends, few as they might be, and “Pompinshire” by everyone else—was clutched, completely crumpled, in his hand. He didn’t need to look at the letter again to know what it said. The words were engraved on his brain, his father’s tightly scrawled handwriting echoing in his mind.

Heathcliff,

Per our agreement, your mother and I have made a splendid union for you. You will wed Lady Lucien Hawthorn six months hence at St. George’s Cathedral. The engagement announcement will go in The Times on the morn’ of the 15th. You will present yourself to the Yorkshire Estate for a dinner on the evening of the 16th, at which time you will begin to get to know your future husband. On the 19th you will accompany me to the Yorkshire Estate to negotiate the marriage contract, and on the night of the 20th there will be an engagement ball, which you will attend. Your mother has made sure to include a schedule of balls, dinners, operas, plays, and musicales to which you would be wise to invite your betrothed. The young lady is eight and ten years of age, so it will be your duty to lead him in your relationship. And do not act poorly, for your reputation is now tied to his, and while yours is one filled with debauchery and stains, his is one of pristine innocence and upstanding character.

 photo GroomofConvenience_headerbanner_zps1eecee1e.jpgAs Always,

Cumbria

Letting out a growl, Heath picked up the vase stand and heaved it into the wall as well, watching with grim satisfaction as it not only splintered but left a gaping hole upon impact. He turned his head at the hesitant knock at the door to his study, and, raking his fingers through the thick black strands of his hair, mussing his queue, Heath marched to the door and wrenched it open.

“What?” he growled out into the face of his butler, Annise.

“Your Grace? Are you quite all right?” she asked him.

Whereas the other servants had no doubt raced away in terror, Annise had been with Heath since he was a young boy and understood his temperament. She was a man of upstanding character and was the soul of discretion, never remarking on the number of males who trooped in and out of his bedchamber on an almost daily basis. She merely gathered their coats and escorted them out. Even the number of times Heath had stumbled into his large town house completely foxed had not deterred the older man. She had merely helped him into his bedchamber and woken his valet, Thomas, to make sure he helped change and ready Heath for bed.

Heath was not at all surprised to find Annise standing on the other side of his door inquiring about his well-being. What did surprise him was the fact that Annise stood there holding an ice pick and looking for all the world as if she were prepared to fight someone. The sight so shocked him that Heath was immediately stunned out of his anger, and he chuckled.

“Are you looking to kill me, Annise?” Heath asked her.

“No, Your Grace, but it sounded as if there was a brawl going on within your study, and I just wanted to be sure—” Annise hesitated for a moment. “—that you were all right.”

Heath laughed again. “You mean you wanted to make sure I had not killed someone who you would have to try to explain to the constable, correct?”

Annise blushed before straightening her shoulders. “I would do it, should I need to, Your Grace,” she told him staunchly.

Heath reached out to grip her shoulder. “I know you would, Annise. You are a good man, but it is not needed. I was just venting my frustration over my father’s actions,” he admitted, turning to look at his study and wincing at the destruction.

“Again?” Annise asked as she stepped into the study past Heath. He followed her into the room and shook his head. He didn’t understand why he not only still allowed his father to rouse his emotions to such heights but also to still dictate his life. While Heath was the only one of his parents’ children to survive infancy and was the heir to his father’s dukedom, Heath had become a duke in his own right when his grandfather, his mother’s father, had died the year before with no heirs besides Heath, since his mother’s sibling had no offspring.

Perhaps it was a matter of familial honor and tradition. Or perhaps it was his mother. Whenever he got it into his head to tell his father to go to the devil, he would see her sweet face looking at him beseechingly, begging without words for him to hold his tongue. And Heath always did, to the point where he found himself absently agreeing to most anything his father suggested just to get the old blowhard to go away.

Which was how he found himself engaged to some young cherry who didn’t know anything about the world, how to please a man, or even the more innocent of relations between two persons.

Heath had gone to visit his parents for their weekly Sunday brunch, enjoyed after spending the morning in church, when he’d been confronted by his father about his need to get married.

“Heathcliff, you are eight and thirty. It is high time you took for yourself a wife. Male or female, it does not matter, but you need one who will provide you with heirs and will not be too clingy as to make your life miserable. You have duties, and the men in the House of Commons do not tend to trust those who have no one depending on them for their well-being,” his father stated exasperatedly.

Heath had shrugged and teased, “Well, Father, since you have such a firm definition of what type of woman I need to marry, why don’t you find the male for me and make it happen?”

The table had grown silent; not even the clink of silverware on the fine china dishes could be heard. Heath had stared his father in the eye while lifting his glass of wine to his lips, then took a sip. He had been startled when his father had clapped his hands and said, “Well done, Son. I am glad you are finally seeing things my way.” He hadn’t expanded upon that statement, and Heath had to admit he had forgotten about the conversation entirely.

Until now.

“Yes, again,” Heath retorted as he walked to his Chesterfield sofa and fell onto it in quite a dramatic fashion.

Annise chuckled and began to straighten the room around him while Heath groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. He knew he was exaggerating things to a certain extent, and that as a man, he was to display no emotion beyond pride, confidence, and arrogance, but he was in his own home, and no one was there to see his very “unmanly” display but her.

“I am sure things are not as bad as you think they are, Your Grace,” Annise said before tsking when she noticed the hole in the wall and the shattered pieces of furniture and vases on the floor. “I’ll have to get a few of the maids in here,” she muttered, and Heath winced.

“I am sincerely apologetic about the mess in here, Annise, but I assure you, this time my father has gone too far,” Heath apologized. “He has seen fit to marry me off to some young chit of only eight and ten! Lady Lucien Hawthorn. Why, I’ve never even heard of him.”

 photo GroomofConvenience_postcard_front_DSP_zps01e970c7.jpgGroom of Convenience

By: Vicktor Alexander

Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm, #1

M/M Erotic, Historical, Scifi, Fantasy, Transgender/Intersex Romance

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Release Date: October 17, 2014

Length: Novel/290 pages

Order:

Dreamspinner ebook| Dreamspinner paperback| ARe| Amazon

Add to: Goodreads

Description:

In an alternate universe, in the country of Angland, 1814, the gentry live lives of culture and class. It is a time of courtships, marriages of convenience, and titles, where scandal can ruin an entire family. Gender lines are blurred, and making a good match is of utmost importance. Children are born to men and women, which has led to the acceptance of same-sex marriages.

Lady Lucien Timothy Hawthorne is shocked and angry when he is betrothed against his will to Lord Heathcliff Eddington, III, the Duke of Pompinshire. While drowning his frustration at a popular gentleman’s club, he meets “Robert,” a gorgeous older man whom he sleeps with as “Timmy,” regardless of the potential damage to his reputation.

After their liaison, Lucien corresponds with Robert via letters left at Remmington, and they decide to elope. Before they can get away, Lucien meets his betrothed, Heathcliff, who he is surprised to discover is also his beloved, Robert. Both men desire a marriage of the heart, but they find out that sometimes a marriage of convenience can turn into love under the right circumstances. But Lucien has a secret, and Tlondon isn’t as safe as they once thought.

About the Author:

Vicktor “Vic” Alexander wrote his first story at the age of ten and hasn’t stopped writing since. He loves reading about anything and everything and is a proud member of the little known U.N. group (Undercover Nerds) because while he lives, eats, breathes, and sleeps sports, he also breathes history and science fiction and grew up a Trekkie. But don’t ask him about Dungeons & Dragons, because he has no idea how to play that game. When it comes to writing he loves everything from paranormal to contemporary to fantasy to historical and is known not only for being the Epilogue King but also for writing stories that cross lines and boundaries that he doesn’t know are there. Vic is a proud father of two daughters one of whom watches over him from Heaven with his deceased partner Christopher. Vic is a proud trans* and gay man, and when he is not writing, he is hanging out with his friends, or being distracted by videos of John Barrowman, Scott Hoying, and Shemar Moore. Vicktor has published numerous bestselling novels and has a WIP list that makes him exhausted just thinking about. He knows that he will be still be writing about hot men falling in love with each other, long after he is living in an assisted living facility, flirting with the hot, male nurses.

Website| Blog| Facebook| Facebook Fan Page| Tumblr| Twitter| Google+
Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

WIP Wednesday: Groom of Convenience Release Week

Welcome to W.I.P. Wednesday!!!

Again, it’s Groom of Convenience (Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm) Release Week so the WIP has something to do with the GoC world.

So today’s WIP is from The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb (Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm: 2) -gasp!- You mean there’s a book 2???? But VIC!!!! Book 1 is not even out yet!!

I know. LOL. Book 2 isn’t even written and I’m already plotting out books 3-8. How’s that for thinking ahead?

Anyway, in honor of WIP Wednesday, here is Chapter One of The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb (Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm: 2)
 photo GroomofConvenience_FBbanner_DSP_zps09e5a2fe.jpgExcerpt:

Chapter One

The sharp retort of gunfire exploded around him and Orley Garrick, the Duke of Whitcomb, Marquess of Cumberland, Earl of Dembigh, Viscount of Cardiff, Baron of Rutland, of the most prominent peerage of the realm, ducked his head trying to avoid the debris and the bodies of fallen soldiers around him as he surged forward. The smoke from the countless rifles burned his eyes as he tried to see through them, desperately looking for the person whose figure had caught his eye. He could hear the cries of the dying calling out to him as he rode his horse farther into the thick of battle. Using his sword, he cut down an enemy soldier who raced toward him, his mouth open as he let out a battle cry. Orley closed his eyes against the spray of blood across his face and blocked out the sound of the other man’s death gurgle as he fell to the ground beneath his own horse.

Orley raced on towards the figure in white who Orley knew didn’t belong on the battlefield. He called out a warning, telling the woman to be careful, because there is no way a man would be on a battlefield wearing what the figure before him was wearing. The woman didn’t stop, instead walking straight towards the commander of the enemy soldiers and Orley felt fear fill him. He wasn’t sure why that was, however, he didn’t know the woman and yet he knew that he could not let anything happen to her.

At that moment the woman turned to look at him and Orley gasped when he realized the woman in front of him was not female as he’d suspected but male. Why in the world was a lady on the battlefield?

“You should not be here!” he yelled trying to warn the male but just as he got close enough to lift the woman up onto the back of his horse, an enemy soldier plunged his sword through the woman’s back and out through his chest. Orley watched helplessly as the woman’s eyes widened, moments before he collapsed to the ground and a grief unlike he’d ever experienced ripped through him.

He was not sure how he knew but the dying woman belonged to him and someone had just taken him away.

Tossing his head back Orley let out a sound of complete anguish as he shouted at the heavens.

 photo GroomofConvenience_headerbanner_zps1eecee1e.jpg****

And woke up, panting and sweating in his friend Heathcliff’s home.

Holy. Shit. That one had been very different from his other nightmares. He rubbed his face with his hand and groaned as a pain raced through his leg, the one that would never be the same. All because of war, a battle. All because of…

Orley shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to think about that. Someone knocked lightly on the door and Orley winced as he realized that his plan to come to his room and take a quick nap after his taxing journey out of Tlondon, had turned into a deep sleep and a brand new nightmare.

God, he hated sleeping.

“Enter,” he called out as he sat up in bed, swinging his legs off the bed he was borrowing while visiting Heathcliff and Lucien in their home for their party. The door opened and Orley turned to address the person standing there and stopped short, almost swallowing his tongue as he took in the vision of the most beautiful creature to have ever been born.

Orley had been privileged to see many beautiful people in his life. Men and women, he was a lover of aesthetically pleasing images and didn’t discriminate. However, all of them paled in comparison to the lovely light brown-skinned woman in front of him. Orley’s stomach clenched, his groin tightening as he inhaled sharply. The lovely scent of jasmine wafted up to his nostrils and his eyes slid closed as he relished in the delightful fragrance emanating from the male who had just entered his room.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I was sent to bring you a light repast and perhaps something to wash up with? His Grace Eddington thought that perhaps you would like to freshen up before joining the rest of the guests downstairs.” The woman’s voice was soft and lyrical, with a slight lilt to it and Orley wondered if perhaps he sang. He would have no problem lounging around on the settee listening to him sing or even just talk. Of course, as he took in the male’s appearance, he would love to do much more than just listen to him.

“Your Grace? Are you ill?” the servant asked and Orley swallowed, shaking his head.

“N-no. I’m fine. Just a bit out of sorts I’m afraid. I appear to have overslept during my nap and now I am feeling quite peckish,” he lied.

The woman nodded his head, his hazel eyes lighting with relief. Orley wondered at that. Was his well-being really of great concern to the younger male or was it just because he had been sent to look after Orley?

Orley allowed his gaze to rove over the young male’s form again, taking in every detail intensely. He would like to have something to conjure up in his mind’s eye when he put his hand to his already burgeoning erection, later on that evening.

Wearing the female black and white maid uniform that was standard in most homes of the gentry, the young woman had honey blond hair that was currently pulled back in a very thick chignon at the nape of his neck and Orley could only imagine how long and thick it was. An image rose to his brain of that hair hanging down over his face as the young woman slid up and down his cock and he pressed a hand to the sheets covering his waist. The young male’s skin was almond coloured and all Orley wanted to do was spend hours licking every inch of his body. He was not overly tall, only a few inches taller than Lucien, Heath’s husband, but still much shorter than Orley. And where Orley was all hard, thick muscles, the male maid before him was slender, though still with toned muscles of his own.

His slim-fingered hands held a covered silver tray and Orley gestured him forward with a beckoning wave.

“Well, far be it from me to refuse such generosity from His Grace. You can just place it there on the nightstand,” he directed, watching the sway of the servant’s hips beneath the skirt of his maid’s gown as he walked toward the cherry wood nightstand. Orley shoved his fingers through his blond locks, messing up his hair and throwing his queue into disarray. He was unnerved as the vestiges of the nightmare faded away from his mind wreaking havoc with the lovely, distracting image of Heathcliff’s maid whose form even now was causing a pleasurable ache in his balls.

“Is there anything else that I can do for you, Your Grace?” the maid asked, his voice hushed, eyes downcast and a slight tinge of red to his light brown skin.

Orley prided himself on being a man of honour, integrity and character. As a matter of fact, his father, Charles Edrick Garrick, the former Duke of Whitcomb, had more than once given him lessons and constant lectures on the way a gentleman was to behave. Any one can strut around and use his physical strength to try and prove his brawn. But it takes honour, patience, gentleness, character, integrity, fortitude, knowing when to fight, knowing when to walk away, knowing when to love, how to love, and when to let go, and most importantly, knowing when to use your physical strength and when to be humble that makes you a man.

And while Orley had always believed those words from his father, had in fact lived by those words for his entire life—only straying from them when he’d served in His Majesty’s military and on those rare occasions when he’d allowed Blaine, Heathcliff, and Quincy to talk him into traveling down into the Lower East End to partake of the wares of the lightskirts there rather than his doing the honourable thing and either marrying or having a companion he paid for on the edge of town—right now he was seriously considering doing something illicit. He couldn’t believe the images that were even passing through his mind. Flashes. Quick, as if they were memories like his time spent on the battlefield, rather than the salacious, hopeful yearnings of a desirous, dry, fruitless attraction. However, the longer he spent in the company of the object of his mind’s current musing’s, the more it seemed that his “dry, fruitless attraction” was soaked in hope and possibility. And perhaps it was for that reason that rationality and his father’s words of character, honour and integrity grew softer and softer until they were suddenly silent and all he could hear was how lovely Heathcliff’s maid was. How round the male woman’s derriere was. How slim his shoulders were. How graceful his neck.

How full his lips were and how much Orley desperately wanted to kiss them.

“I think I would really like to know your name,” he heard himself saying.

The maid’s eyes widened and a soft gasp escaped. “Me, Your Grace?”

Orley chuckled. “Of course you. There is no one else in the room but you and I and I assure you that I already know my own name. Unless it has changed in the time I have been asleep. It hasn’t, has it?”

The maid giggled and covered his mouth, shaking his head. Orley found himself even more enchanted. When was the last time he’d heard someone allow themselves to be so free that they just giggled? His life was constantly surrounded by danger, drama, gossip, backstabbers, and intrigue. He had a very small group of people that he could trust and they didn’t often have the time they could smile, much less giggle. Being around someone who could giggle was a relief. It was like a bright ray of sunshine. Orley absolutely had to have the maid’s name.

“No, Your Grace. Your name hasn’t changed.” The maid glanced away for a moment as if embarrassed and then looked back. “My name is Chester.” He executed a flawless curtsey and Orley rose from the bed, bowing low, smiling at Chester’s gasp. He knew Chester was surprised that a member of the gentry, and a duke no less, would bow to him, but he would soon learn that Orley was unlike every other duke out there.

“It is an honour to meet you, Chester. I am extremely happy to be in your presence and very happy that you will be serving me, and now…” Orley stepped close to Chester, looking down into the young woman’s hazel brown eyes. His heart was pounding, his leg, for the first time in years, was not throbbing in pain, and perhaps that was because only one thing on his body could be throbbing at a time, and his cock already had that covered. “I would very much like to kiss you.”

“Y-you would?” Chester stammered.

Orley nodded, lifting his hand to brush his fingers against the side of Chester’s cheek.

“Is that okay, Chester? I find you to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life and I would really like to kiss you. May I?”

“You’re asking me?” Chester looked confused. “I was told that you lot didn’t ask, that you just take.”

Orley shook his head, saddened by what Chester thought of men of the ton, but knew that Chester’s assumptions came as a result of dealing with “men” of a certain ilk. He knew he would be speaking with Heathcliff about those matters later that week, but at that moment, all of his energy and attention was focused on Chester.

“Of course I am asking you. You always have a choice. Not just with me, but with every single man in the world. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. So if you don’t want to kiss me, we don’t have to.” Orley knew he would be disappointed, but he would get over it.

Chester nibbled on his bottom lip and then grinned. “I would love for you to kiss me, Your Grace.”

Orley wanted to let out a loud yell of triumph, but he held back and lowered his lips down upon Chester’s full, pillow soft lips. He was full expecting the surge of lust that spread through his limbs. Maybe he was even expecting the tingle that spread through his fingers and toes. However, the lightheaded feeling that drowned him in a feeling of peace and yet simultaneous excitement, and the way heart sped up, were completely unexpected and so he growled and pulled Chester closer to him. As close as he could possibly get the male woman. He wanted to devour Chester.

He lifted his lips to take a breath, opened his eyes and gazed down into Chester’s dazed hazel brown ones. Chester smiled slowly up at him. Orley grinned back, rubbing his hand up and down Chester’s back and already preparing for the next set of kissing.

So he was surprised when he went to lower his head for another kiss and instead met with air and the sound of his bedroom door closing.

Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm
*Projected Book Titles| ~Definite Book Titles
 
  1. Groom of Convenience~
  2. The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb~
  3. The Servant’s Gentry Lover~
  4. The Haunted Marquess~
  5. Loving Arlington*
  6. The Priceless Viscountess
  7. The Duchess of Norfolk
  8. The Duke Dom of Suffolk*
  9. Untitled
  10. Untitled
  11. Christmas in the Remmington Realm
  12. The American Duchess of  Liverpool
  13. Joining the Gloucester Estate*

 photo GroomofConvenience_postcard_front_DSP_zps01e970c7.jpgGroom of Convenience

By: Vicktor Alexander

Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm, #1
M/M Erotic, Historical, Scifi, Fantasy, Transgender/Intersex Romance

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Release Date: October 17, 2014

Length: Novel/290 pages





Order:
Dreamspinner ebook| Dreamspinner paperback| ARe| Amazon

Add to: Goodreads

 

Description:
In an alternate universe, in the country of Angland, 1814, the gentry live lives of culture and class. It is a time of courtships, marriages of convenience, and titles, where scandal can ruin an entire family. Gender lines are blurred, and making a good match is of utmost importance. Children are born to men and women, which has led to the acceptance of same-sex marriages.

Lady Lucien Timothy Hawthorne is shocked and angry when he is betrothed against his will to Lord Heathcliff Eddington, III, the Duke of Pompinshire. While drowning his frustration at a popular gentleman’s club, he meets “Robert,” a gorgeous older man whom he sleeps with as “Timmy,” regardless of the potential damage to his reputation.

After their liaison, Lucien corresponds with Robert via letters left at Remmington, and they decide to elope. Before they can get away, Lucien meets his betrothed, Heathcliff, who he is surprised to discover is also his beloved, Robert. Both men desire a marriage of the heart, but they find out that sometimes a marriage of convenience can turn into love under the right circumstances. But Lucien has a secret, and Tlondon isn’t as safe as they once thought.



About the Author:

Vicktor “Vic” Alexander wrote his first story at the age of ten and hasn’t stopped writing since. He loves reading about anything and everything and is a proud member of the little known U.N. group (Undercover Nerds) because while he lives, eats, breathes, and sleeps sports, he also breathes history and science fiction and grew up a Trekkie. But don’t ask him about Dungeons & Dragons, because he has no idea how to play that game. When it comes to writing he loves everything from paranormal to contemporary to fantasy to historical and is known not only for being the Epilogue King but also for writing stories that cross lines and boundaries that he doesn’t know are there. Vic is a proud father of two daughters one of whom watches over him from Heaven with his deceased partner Christopher. Vic is a proud trans* and gay man, and when he is not writing, he is hanging out with his friends, or being distracted by videos of John Barrowman, Scott Hoying, and Shemar Moore. Vicktor has published numerous bestselling novels and has a WIP list that makes him exhausted just thinking about. He knows that he will be still be writing about hot men falling in love with each other, long after he is living in an assisted living facility, flirting with the hot, male nurses.

Website| Blog| Facebook| Facebook Fan Page| Tumblr| Twitter| Google+


Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Teaser Tuesday: Groom of Convenience Release Week!

-cue the sound of men moaning-

Oh wait! I think I can actually find a Youtube video that has that!

-clears throat-

Ummm…. yeah.

Sooooooooo…….

Wait. What was I doing???

Oh. Yeah. That’s right.

Today is Teaser Tuesday!!!

I’m bringing you a hot and steamy excerpt from a book. And since this week is ALL about Groom of Convenience the excerpt is coming directly from there. So sit back and enjoy!

And if you want to play the clip above while you read?

Well…. be my guest.

And no… that clip is not me. LOL. So sorry to disappoint.

 photo GroomofConvenience_FBbanner_DSP_zps09e5a2fe.jpg

Excerpt:





“Would you like me to help you?” Heath offered, though he was enjoying the show.

Timmy blushed and shrugged. “It may make the process go faster,” he said softly.

Heath stepped close to Timmy and wrapped his arms around Timmy’s waist, crouching slightly as he pressed his mouth to the base of Timmy’s throat, laving the skin there, before moving up to capture his lips. He slid his hands up Timmy’s back, one hand clenching in his glorious blond hair and the other pressed against his lower back. He tilted Timmy slightly, deepening the kiss and making sure Timmy felt his engorged cock.

Timmy’s moan vibrated through him, and Heath shivered, his eyes sliding closed as the taste of Timmy flowed over his tongue. Lifting Timmy back into a standing position, Heath released his mouth with a smack and grinned as he slowly untied the cravat from around Timmy’s neck, tossing the scrap of cloth to the side.

Heath lowered his hands to the uppermost button on Timmy’s dress shirt, which was made of the finest cotton, unbuttoned it, and placed a soft kiss on the revealed expanse of flesh. He smiled at Timmy’s hiss of pleasure and continued down his chest. Reaching the final button on his shirt, Heath pulled the panels of the shirt apart and down Timmy’s arms until they were stopped by Timmy’s still buttoned cuffs. Heath lifted his head and admired Timmy’s chest. He licked his lips at the pale skin before him.

His mouth watered at the sight of Timmy’s light blush nipples, now hardened into nubs, and, giving in to his urge, Heath lowered his head and licked one. When Timmy’s body jerked, Heath wrapped his hands around his waist to hold him still and sucked the pebbled flesh. He bit gently on the nub and sucked it between his lips, lashing it with his tongue. He opened Timmy’s cuffs and pulled his arms free before wrapping his arms back around his waist.

Heath winced slightly when Timmy buried his hands in Heath’s hair and tugged on the strands. Heath lifted his hands and gently disengaged Timmy’s fingers from his hair. He stood to his full height and dropped his hands to Timmy’s trousers. As a lady, Timmy was expected to wear breeches more often than trousers because they would both outline and yet hide his shape from the wandering gaze of gentlemen around him, but the fact that he wore trousers let Heath know Timmy was not like the other ladies of Heath’s acquaintance. For some reason that made him happy.

Heath could only hope that his future husband, who had agreed to marry some man he didn’t even know, wasn’t of the simpering, dutiful, no-brain-in-his-head type. He preferred someone like Timmy. A part of him, soft and barely distinguishable as the romantic part of his soul that rarely saw the light of day, wished his future groom was Timmy, but it was a foolhardy notion. A dream. Best that he cherish this moment with Timmy and then struggle to put it from his mind when he married Lucien, only bringing it out when he was alone.

Heath shook his head at his foolish, romantic notions of longing and fond dreams and set about undressing Timmy. He’d barely talked to the young lady, yet he was fawning over him as if they were long-lost lovers, brought together for one night before being mournfully wrenched away from each other again.

Once he had Timmy completely nude, his blond hair hanging in thick waves around his face and shoulders, Heath lifted him into his arms and carried him to his massive four-poster bed. Laying Timmy down onto the cool sheets, the covers turned down for him by his valet, Heath stood and quickly removed his own clothing. He watched as Timmy’s eyes traced over his body before landing on his thick, hard shaft. Timmy’s eyes widened, and he jumped when Heath touched his ankle lightly.

“Don’t worry. It will fit. I will make sure that it does with little to no pain for you,” he promised, and Timmy swallowed before nodding.

“I trust you,” Timmy responded.

Heath nodded and lowered himself down between Timmy’s legs, his hands resting on either side of Timmy’s head, and kissed him deeply and passionately again. He stroked Timmy’s slender frame, bringing his mind back to a fevered, passionate state and away from the fear of being penetrated for the first time. When Timmy began moaning and shifting beneath Heath’s body, he kissed his way down Timmy’s neck, over his torso, avoiding his nipples this time, to his belly, and down to his groin. Looking up into Timmy’s eyes, Heath licked the tip of his erection, where a pearl of precum had formed.

“Oh God preserve me,” Timmy moaned and gripped the sheets on either side of his body. Heath chuckled and, balancing himself on one hand, reached down to grip the base of Timmy’s cock before lowering his lips over it. The taste of Timmy flooded Heath’s mouth, and he moaned as he sucked and licked at the shaft. He sucked harder on the thick erection, amazed at Timmy’s size, as he’d been led to believe that many male ladies were less endowed than male gentlemen. Heath relished in the girth that filled his mouth. He lowered his hand to Timmy’s small testicles and rolled them in his palm, pulling on them and squeezing them.

“Oh, oh God. What’s happening to me?” Timmy gasped out, and Heath lifted his head and smiled.

“Just let go and experience it, Timmy. It’s called le petite morte, or the little death. It is by and away the most pleasurable thing you will experience and a sign that you enjoy what I’m doing to you,” he said before taking Timmy back in between his lips again. He continued to suck, lifting his hand from Timmy’s balls and sticking two fingers into his mouth alongside Timmy’s erection, getting them wet. Once his digits were sufficiently coated in his saliva, Heath lowered them back beneath Timmy’s testicles. He watched Timmy’s face for any sign of discomfort or unease as he slid his fingers down to Timmy’s crease. He stroked his finger over Timmy’s opening before sliding it in to the first knuckle. Timmy’s body grew taut as a bowstring, and he let out a keening wail before spilling his seed onto Heath’s tongue, filling his cheeks.

Heath swallowed the fluid, which was sweetly bitter, before sliding his finger free of Timmy’s body. Timmy panted on the bed, his eyes closed, his hair in an array all over the pillows beneath his head. Heath smiled and brushed back the sweaty strands of Timmy’s hair from his forehead, remarking that the damp hairs had begun to curl.

“My mother has Tspantish ancestry. She passed that trait on to all of us. When my hair gets wet it curls,” Timmy panted. He opened his eyes and looked up at Heath with a shy smile. “Was that it? I was led to believe that your member had to penetrate my… derriere for copulation to be complete. But surely there can’t be anything more to the act?”

Heath chuckled before leaning down to place a gentle kiss on Timmy’s lips. He wasn’t sure how Timmy would feel about tasting himself, so Heath kept his mouth closed. Some of Heath’s lovers had enjoyed savoring themselves on his tongue and lips, males and females alike, but some had not. He wouldn’t make Timmy taste himself if he was averse to it.

“There is much more to things, Beauty. Trust me,” Heath said before leaning over to his night table and grabbing the bottle of oil he’d left there from the last time he’d brought a male home. Pouring some of the liquid on his fingers, Heath lay on his stomach between Timmy’s legs and with his dry hand lifted Timmy’s limbs until his feet were placed on the sheets and he was spread open for Heath’s perusal. He placed a gentle kiss on the inside of Timmy’s thigh, licking and nibbling on the flesh as he gripped one of Timmy’s cheeks and exposed his puckered entrance. Heath groaned as he took in the tiny pink hole. Overcome, he leaned down and placed a kiss on Timmy’s guardian sphincter. It was something he’d often heard of, mostly from his friends who had visited the Continent or had traveled to Tfrance, but Heath had never had an interest in doing so himself. Not until Timmy. Sticking out his tongue, he licked from the bottom of Timmy’s testicles to his hole and around the clenching entrance.

“Wh-what are you doing? Robert, don’t! That’s unclean,” Timmy explained, trying to lower his legs and pushing against Heath’s head with his hands. Heath jerked his hair out of Timmy’s grip, settled his massive shoulders more firmly between Timmy’s thighs, and continued to lick, kiss, suckle, and nibble on the most intimate of places on Timmy’s body. The taste of Timmy was much more potent here. Heath stuck out his tongue and breached Timmy’s hole slowly. He moaned and heard Timmy gasp and plead with him. Heath ignored him and began to slowly fuck Timmy’s rectum with his tongue. Heath was in a haze of passion as he continued to probe Timmy’s body in a new way. He finally slid his tongue from Timmy’s pucker when his own cock began to throb painfully, pressed against the sheets of the bed.

Pushing his body up to kneel, Heath spread open Timmy’s rear with one hand and pressed his finger deep within Timmy’s hole. He was amazed at how relaxed Timmy’s channel was and wondered if it was because of the orgasm he’d already experienced or a result of Heath’s tongue penetrating him. Knowing he could mull over such things later, Heath pressed his finger deeper within Timmy’s hole. Timmy’s back arched, his head pressing down into the pillow. He gasped out “Robert,” and while the use of his middle name wasn’t familiar to Heath’s ear, the sound combined with Timmy’s moans made Heath feel like a god. Feeling Timmy’s chute relax around his finger, Heath began slowly sliding the digit in and out of Timmy’s body. When the finger glided in and out easily, Heath slid in a second. Timmy’s body went rigid, and he hissed. Heath lifted his other hand and placed it on Timmy’s stomach. He stroked the skin, trying to comfort him. For a moment he imagined what it would be like to have Timmy’s belly round with his child, but he pushed those imaginings from his mind, knowing he had a fiancé and so did Timmy. They would never be together, but for this one night. It would have to be enough. Heath would make sure that it was.

Pushing and pulling his two fingers in and out of Timmy’s body, Heath spread the digits apart slowly, twisting them, making sure Timmy was stretched enough to accept a third. When they slid in and out of Timmy’s rectum without much resistance, Heath leaned over Timmy and took his lips in a demanding kiss even as he continued to fuck Timmy’s body with his fingers, pumping them in and out of his channel without restraint.

He gloried in the feel of Timmy’s nails digging in his shoulders as he kissed him back. No longer able to wait, Heath lifted his mouth from Timmy’s lips and leaned back on his knees. He smiled down into Timmy’s face before reaching over to his night table and opening one of the drawers. He pulled out a Tfrench skin condom.

“What’s that?” Timmy asked.

Heath looked up as he smoothed down the sheath over his shaft. “It’s called a Tfrench condom,” he explained.

Timmy gasped. “It’s illegal to have those,” he pointed out.

Heath nodded even as he finished placing it on his hard length. “Yes, but this way we can prevent children from being born of our union,” he pointed out.

“Oh,” Timmy responded, biting his lower lip. “Does it hurt you?” he asked.

Heath was touched. None of his other partners had ever asked him such a question. It either showed how naïve Timmy was that he would ask such a thing or showed the gentleness of his nature. Either way Heath was enchanted and felt his heart turn over just a bit more for the young lady.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” Heath stated. He shifted on the bed, and, gripping the bottom of the Tfrench condom, Heath placed his hardened cock against the entrance to Timmy’s rectum. He pressed forward slowly within Timmy’s body. He stopped after the head of his dick popped into Timmy’s guardian muscle, allowing Timmy to adjust to his girth before he pressed the rest of the way inside. Once he was fully seated, Heath exhaled deeply.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, and smiled when Timmy chuckled breathlessly.

“And you’re so big,” Timmy panted out.

Heath opened his eyes—he couldn’t even remember closing them—and looked into Timmy’s gorgeous blue ones.

“Are you all right, Timmy?” he asked.

Timmy nodded. “So is this it?” he asked, looking disappointed. In response, Heath pulled back his hips slightly and surged forward. Timmy gasped and tightened his hands on Heath’s biceps.

“Not by a long shot,” Heath responded. He began a slow slide outward and a quick thrust in, building up their pleasure to a fever pitch. He rocked in and out of Timmy’s hole, the tight grip of the young lady’s rectum on his cock causing Heath to grit his teeth to prevent himself from spilling too early.

He felt a weird sensation on his cock where it was buried within Timmy’s body, but he didn’t stop pumping his hips. Timmy’s voice had grown louder, and he continued to groan and gasp as Heath snapped his hips quicker, his groin slapping against Timmy’s bottom. He gripped Timmy’s legs and wrapped them firmly around his waist, then sat back on his heels, sitting Timmy on his lap. His thrusts sped up, and he watched as Timmy slid up and down on his erection. Reaching down, Heath gripped Timmy’s dick in a firm grasp. He stroked him in time with his own pumps into Timmy’s body.

“Oh God, it’s happening again!” Timmy exclaimed before tossing back his head and letting out a harsh groan, his blond hair spilling down his back. Heath leaned forward and licked the sweat that trailed down Timmy’s neck. He opened his mouth and bit down gently on the tender flesh and plunged deeply once more into Timmy’s entrance. His figure shook, and his hands tightened on Timmy’s hips as he spilled himself deep inside of Timmy’s clenching channel.

Heath wrapped his arms tightly around Timmy’s waist as the aftershocks of his orgasm continued to rip through him. He released Timmy’s neck from between his lips and licked and kissed the abused flesh, pressing a soft kiss on the marked skin as he sighed and loosened his grip on Timmy. The young male looked down at Heath and grinned sleepily.

“Well now I know why everyone wants to do that,” Timmy breathed.

Heath chuckled and turned to deposit Timmy gently down on the mussed bed. Gripping the bottom of his softening erection, keeping a firm grip on the Tfrench condom, Heath slid free of Timmy’s body. He kept his gaze on Timmy’s face as he started to remove the sheath and stopped when he felt the torn material.

He gasped and looked at Timmy in horror.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Timmy asked, sitting up.

Heath swallowed nervously and looked back down at his completely softened cock, poking obscenely out of the tip of the Tfrench condom.

“The Tfrench condom broke,” Heath explained.

 
 

 photo GroomofConvenience_postcard_front_DSP_zps01e970c7.jpgGroom of Convenience

By: Vicktor Alexander

Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm, #1
M/M Erotic, Historical, Scifi, Fantasy, Transgender/Intersex Romance

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Release Date: October 17, 2014

Length: Novel/290 pages





Order:
Dreamspinner ebook| Dreamspinner paperback| ARe| Amazon

Add to: Goodreads

Description:
In an alternate universe, in the country of Angland, 1814, the gentry live lives of culture and class. It is a time of courtships, marriages of convenience, and titles, where scandal can ruin an entire family. Gender lines are blurred, and making a good match is of utmost importance. Children are born to men and women, which has led to the acceptance of same-sex marriages.

Lady Lucien Timothy Hawthorne is shocked and angry when he is betrothed against his will to Lord Heathcliff Eddington, III, the Duke of Pompinshire. While drowning his frustration at a popular gentleman’s club, he meets “Robert,” a gorgeous older man whom he sleeps with as “Timmy,” regardless of the potential damage to his reputation.

After their liaison, Lucien corresponds with Robert via letters left at Remmington, and they decide to elope. Before they can get away, Lucien meets his betrothed, Heathcliff, who he is surprised to discover is also his beloved, Robert. Both men desire a marriage of the heart, but they find out that sometimes a marriage of convenience can turn into love under the right circumstances. But Lucien has a secret, and Tlondon isn’t as safe as they once thought.
About the Author:

Vicktor “Vic” Alexander wrote his first story at the age of ten and hasn’t stopped writing since. He loves reading about anything and everything and is a proud member of the little known U.N. group (Undercover Nerds) because while he lives, eats, breathes, and sleeps sports, he also breathes history and science fiction and grew up a Trekkie. But don’t ask him about Dungeons & Dragons, because he has no idea how to play that game. When it comes to writing he loves everything from paranormal to contemporary to fantasy to historical and is known not only for being the Epilogue King but also for writing stories that cross lines and boundaries that he doesn’t know are there. Vic is a proud father of two daughters one of whom watches over him from Heaven with his deceased partner Christopher. Vic is a proud trans* and gay man, and when he is not writing, he is hanging out with his friends, or being distracted by videos of John Barrowman, Scott Hoying, and Shemar Moore. Vicktor has published numerous bestselling novels and has a WIP list that makes him exhausted just thinking about. He knows that he will be still be writing about hot men falling in love with each other, long after he is living in an assisted living facility, flirting with the hot, male nurses.

Website| Blog| Facebook| Facebook Fan Page| Tumblr| Twitter| Google+




Giveaway:

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Man-oh-Man Monday

With Groom of Convenience (Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm) releasing from Dreamspinner Press on Friday, the 17th, I’ve decided to do a post every day this week, giving you background, insight, deleted scenes, pics, etc. all tied into the theme days of the week that I have.

So here’s what to expect:

Monday: Man-oh-Man Monday: Two pictures are given and a short flash is written based on the pictures. This week I am going to give you the two pictures that most resemble Lucien and Heathcliff from GoC and give you an excerpt from the book.

Tuesday: Tantalizing Teaser Tuesday: A naughty, teaser, excerpt from GoC will be shared and the blurb. Usually it’s a tantalizing, seductive excerpt from a book and the blurb.



Wednesday: Work-In-Progress Wednesday: An excerpt is shared from a current WIP. Because this week is all about GoC, I will be sharing an excerpt from The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb as well as insight into the other books in the series.



Thursday: Thursday Pimping/New Release: Information is shared about a new release. Cover, blurb, excerpt, buy-link, etc.



Friday: Freaky Friday: Anything can happen on this day. Since this week is dedicated to GoC, the same thing applies… anything can happen.





Since today is Monday it’s Man-oh-Man Monday so I’m going to share the two pictures that are attributed to Lucien and Heathcliff and an excerpt from the book. Enjoy! Don’t forget to sign up for the Rafflecopter giveaway at the bottom as well!

Lucien






Heathcliff






Excerpt:



The Year of His Majesty, 1814
HE WAS going to be sick. No, not sick. He was going to hurl himself through the window of his carriage and put himself out of his misery.

The clacking of the wheels of Lady Lucien Timothy Hawthorn’s barouche echoed in his brain, and he raised a slim-fingered hand to his head and lightly pressed against his temple. He would be beyond ecstatic the moment this infernal trip was over and he could get back to his school chums at the Remmington.

Had he his own bit of blunt and perhaps a town house that was not in his mothers’ names, he might have had the fortitude to reject his parents’ missive, but he was only eight and ten years of age. The law would only see him as independent if both his parents, Annabelle and Rosemary—the Earl and Countess of Yorkshire—were to perish along with his older sisters, Mary, Amelia, Frances, and Charlotte. And while his life often seemed completely unbearable, Lucien would not wish death on his only living relatives.

He sighed and settled more firmly in the cushion of the luxury carriage that belonged to his mother, Earl Annabelle Hawthorn. Annabelle’s parentage was one of the oldest and most distinguished in the country, and, growing up, all Lucien had heard was that not merely as the only son of an earl, but as the youngest child, more eyes would be upon him to make sure he lived a life of honor and sophistication. Those two words had the power to make Lucien’s testicles draw up close to his body. He knew what was expected of him; it had been drummed into his head since he was old enough to understand, but while his mothers and sisters seemed to love being out among society—attending balls, dinners, and musicales—all Lucien wanted to do was sit around at home and read. It was one of the reasons Mr. Madison Kipling, son of Viscount Cavendish, never so much as glanced in his direction, no matter how many balls he was forced to attend. Lucien was not the beautiful one of his siblings. He was the quiet one; it was why he’d had an unrequited love for Mr. Madison two years ago. Thanks to his books, however, he’d quickly gotten over it.

He sighed again as he thought about the book by Don Jonne sitting on his night table at home. How he longed to be there reading it, or back at the Remmington getting totally sloshed. He could only hope this mandatory meeting with his parents ended quickly and he could return to his friends.

Lucien watched as the town houses, buildings, storefronts, and parks of Tlondon passed by outside his barouche, and allowed his mind to drift. He thought of the gorgeous man who had walked into the Remmington just as Lucien was leaving. The stranger had been tall, extremely tall, with broad shoulders, black hair, piercing gray eyes, and a scar on his face. His jaw was square, and his lips pulled into a thin line as he’d perused the gentlemen’s club.

For all intents and purposes, Lucien shouldn’t have been in the Remmington. He wasn’t a lord or anything of that nature—because of the uterus he’d been born with, he was a lady. He would spend the rest of his life taking care of children and his spouse, whoever that turned out to be. Lucien didn’t mind that so much; he wanted to stay inside and do that. He was just nervous that he would end up marrying a female.

Lucien wasn’t really attracted to females. He couldn’t see the appeal of them. With all of their curves and extremely delicate features, Lucien wouldn’t know where to put his hands or how hard he could hug one.

Not all females were dainty. Some were born with a distended clitoris that hung between the folds of their womanhood and was used for penetration. Those females tended to look a little more like the males Lucien saw around the club all the time. Lucien was attracted to males. He always had been. Any time he had ever even entertained the notion of being with a female—perhaps they were dancing at a ball or chatting at a musicale—the thought of it made him so confused and concerned it ruined the moment. It had happened more than once.

Their society was built and run by the notion that those born to do the penetrating of their partners, to sire the children, to rule the country—those born to be dukes, lords, earls, etc.—were superior to those who were born to receive during sex, to conceive the offspring, and to take care of the house and the progeny. Titled women were required to stay home, manage the estate, and take care of the children. Lucien had heard tales of women who were forced to work, and he found the notion absolutely fascinating. He had only brought it up to his maldy once, and she had informed him in no uncertain terms that he had no need to work. He would marry a man of substance, one with a title and wealth who would take care of him. Lucien had acquiesced, albeit reluctantly, and hadn’t brought it up again.

Their plans for him were all well and good, but sometimes Lucien thought it was all a load of bullshit. Though his body was crafted to give birth to the offspring of his future spouse, though he was created to take on the role of homemaker, a lady who enjoys being cared for and being a lovely bit of fluff for his spouse, Lucien wanted more. He had goals and plans for his life. He wasn’t exactly sure what those plans were, but he knew whenever he chose to pursue them, they would be huge.

“We have arrived at the Yorkshire Estate, milady,” the driver’s voice came through Lucien’s open window.

“Thank you, Kingston,” Lucien responded. He immediately sat up to smooth out any wrinkles in his clothes from lounging around inside the barouche. He heard the gliding of the gates as the estate’s entrance servants pulled them open, and he looked through the window and smiled at Elaine and Joseph. They both smiled back, and Lucien felt just a little bit better about coming home.

He had made quite a number of friends with their help when he had still been living under his parents’ roof, but for the past two months, he had been living in the Red Rose Town House, so named for his maldy Annabelle’s love for the flower.

Lucien kept his back straight and eyes forward, just as he’d been taught in his etiquette classes with his sister Charlotte, the only one of his sisters born with a uterus. Charlotte was a lady just as Lucien was, while Mary, Amelia, and Frances were lords. It made Lucien and Charlotte extremely close, for which Lucien was exceedingly grateful.

Growing up a Hawthorn wasn’t an easy thing. While they were not the wealthiest family in the country, they were one of the oldest families in the area. Lucien could remember countless hours spent sitting at his grandfather’s knee, listening as the earl told him about how the Hawthorns, Remmingtons, and Harringtons had been the first families to settle in Angland.

Lucien had been fascinated hearing all about the history of the country and the way society used to run. History was one of his favorite subjects, and one of his beloved pastimes was taking one of his history books and riding his gelding, Lucky Star, out to the park, sitting under a tree, and losing himself in the pages of wars, culture, and historical events. His mothers indulged his fascination with history and hadn’t pushed him into marriage just yet, even though all of his sisters were married off to different members of the gentry. He had a sinking feeling that was all about to come to an end.

Lucien was startled out of his musings when the barouche came to a stop and a footman opened the door.

“Good afternoon, Lady Lucien,” Gavin, one of the footmen, greeted him, holding out a hand and helping Lucien step out of the carriage. Lucien’s boots clicked on the paved circular driveway of his parents’ estate, and he smoothed down the front of his blue tailcoat before touching his cravat to make sure it was straight. He ran his fingers through his thick blond locks and accepted the top hat Gavin held out for him.

“Thank you, Gavin,” Lucien said softly, a wave of shyness rushing over him. Gavin was gorgeous, and if the circumstances of his birth had made him a titled man or the son of a titled man, Lucien might have asked his mothers to allow him to marry the man. Though with Gavin’s good looks, he no doubt would have been married by the time Lucien had been presented to society.

Gavin stood at six foot four, towering over Lucien’s own five foot eight. Gavin’s hair was a deep chestnut color, and his eyes were a brilliant hazel. His shoulders were broad, which was more a result of his Tscottish heritage than because of any type of work he did on the estate, though Lucien could possibly be wrong about that. His bottom lip was fuller than his top lip and his nose had a small bump in the middle—something he’d gotten when he’d engaged in a brawl as a young man, or at least that’s what Gavin had told Lucien when he’d asked him about it years ago. His hands were big, the fingers wide and nails blunt. He was dressed impeccably in the livery uniform, his breeches a dark green, gorgeously complementing the gold waistcoat he wore.

Lucien had spent many years in his room looking down at the servants as they worked and wishing he could join them in hard labor. Five minutes after he would begin fantasizing about having one of the male servants bend him over the nearest flat surface, his governess would say his name sharply and pull him back to his studies.

Lucien and Charlotte were much more learned than other ladies, which was no doubt due to his family’s name and heritage. So while his general studies of history, science, math, and geography should have ended earlier so he could learn about running a household, Annabelle had paid for a governess and tutor to continue teaching and training Lucien and Charlotte until they had both reached the age of seven and ten.

“My dear Lucien!” sounded from the direction of the large mansion, and Lucien turned and smiled at the sight of his mother, Rosemary, coming down the steps with her arms outstretched.

“Mother,” Lucien called back in greeting, hurrying toward her. Rosemary was only an inch shorter than Lucien; he and Charlotte had obviously inherited their height from her. As he wrapped his arms around his mother’s waist, Lucien was enveloped in the scent of lavender and vanilla, his mother’s signature fragrance. They stood in the drive hugging for a long moment before Rosemary finally released Lucien from her tight grip. One would have thought they hadn’t seen each other for an age, when the truth was they had just had brunch together three days prior.

“Have you been well?” Rosemary asked, turning and linking her hand on the inside of Lucien’s elbow.

“Yes, Mother,” Lucien said with a smile.

Rosemary wore a green paisley morning gown with a high waistline, the hem brushing against the ground as they walked up the stairs to the front door. She wore no bonnet on her raven black hair—the only thing Lucien didn’t inherit from her; he got his blond hair from his maldy, Annabelle—and had on no gloves. Looking down at her feet, Lucien tried to see if she’d surrendered her heels in favor of slippers, and when the tips of her slippers peeked from beneath her wide skirt, Lucien chuckled.

Rosemary looked up at him with a smile. “What are you laughing at, Son?”

Lucien gestured toward her feet. “I was right about you wearing your slippers today,” he told her, and delighted at the musical sound of her laughter as she led him through the large entrance hall to the red rose room. The red rose room was one of the only private receiving rooms, reserved for family members only, but still Lucien felt tension flood his body. Usually when his parents summoned him, they would meet him in the yellow room or his maldy’s office to discuss some grievous error he had committed or caution him about his friends. For them to take him to the red rose room meant the blight was on their record and not on his. They had done something he wasn’t going to like and were using the red rose room to tell him so.

“Yes, well, your maldy decided to close the grounds to unexpected visitors, so I thought I might as well be comfortable,” Rosemary said as she continued to lead him down the long corridor. Lucien wanted to fight against the upcoming meeting, maybe remove his arm from his mother’s grip and rush back to his barouche and then back to his town house, but he knew it was futile. His mothers would only follow him in their own carriage and tell him their news in his home. Lucien had no options that he could think of; no matter what move he made, his family would act as well. Bloody hell.

“Here we are,” Rosemary announced, her voice louder than normal, with a false cheeriness to it. Lucien’s eyebrows rose at his mother’s behavior, and he stopped her in front of the closed doors, which once again let Lucien know something or someone was behind those doors that his parents didn’t want him to know about until they’d had a chance to explain it to him.

“Mother, what is going on?” Lucien asked her.

Rosemary looked at Lucien and shook her head. “Why, Luce, absolutely nothing. Why would you ask me something like that?”

Lucien was really concerned, as neither of his parents used his nickname. Ever. He said nothing to her, just stared, unmoving.

Rosemary removed her hand from Lucien’s elbow and raised it to the pearls hanging at her neck to play with them a moment. Lucien was very aware of that gesture; it meant Rosemary was nervous and trying to figure out just what to reveal. He waited expectantly, confident she would let him know what was going on before he had to face his maldy, but when Rosemary shook her head and squared her shoulders, Lucien knew his ploy of silence wouldn’t work this time.

“All you need to know, Lucien, is that everything we do, we do as your parents and because we love you,” Rosemary told him. She raised a hand to his cheek and stroked the skin gently, lovingly. “We were so happy when I gave birth to you and discovered you were a girl. We had been surprised by the pregnancy, as the doctors told me I was past my conceiving years, but you were a delightful surprise. We always wanted a son, and we were finally given one.” She dropped her hand from Lucien’s cheek and lifted it to her face to wipe away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “We do this because we care about you and only want the best for you.”

Rosemary turned back to the double doors of the red rose room and pushed on the handles to open them. She grabbed the skirt of her morning gown in one hand and glided into the room. Lucien stood in shock for only a moment before he followed her.

“Close the doors, Son.” His maldy’s husky voice came from the direction of one of the chairs next to the fireplace. Lucien nodded and, as he turned to close the doors, saw the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria sitting on the loveseat across from his maldy. He froze in shock for but a moment. Years of etiquette training wouldn’t allow him to just stand in front of the door, but he had never seen anyone in the red rose room who wasn’t family, and now here were two of the most prestigious peers of the realm, not only in their home but in their private family room. Lucien took a moment to compose himself. He smiled at both of them and bowed slightly before turning back to close the doors. After he released the handle, Lucien took a steadying breath and moved to face his parents.

“Well, have a seat, Lucien,” Annabelle directed him.

“Yes, Maldy,” Lucien answered automatically. His maldy was a stern woman. Lucien could only remember one instance where he had ever seen her be soft and loving, though he wasn’t supposed to have. He had woken up in the middle of the night when he was seven years old and had walked out of his room and down the family wing toward his parents’ room. He knew he was too old to actually sleep in the bed with them, but he had wanted comfort from a dreadful nightmare. Halfway down the hall, he’d stopped, frozen in place as he saw his mothers pressed together against the wall next to the bedchamber. They were dressed in evening attire, Rosemary in a gorgeous dress of blue velvet, one hand holding a white shawl, her black hair spilling down her back in a mass of curls. Annabelle was pressed close to Rosemary’s body, her thick blond hair pulled back into a harsh, unforgiving bun, her face pressed into the crook of Rosemary’s neck. Annabelle wore a slim dark green evening gown, embroidered in onyx gems under her small bust and around the hem. As Lucien continued to watch them, he saw Rosemary lift her leg and circle it around Annabelle’s waist, while Annabelle dropped a hand beneath Rosemary’s skirts. Lucien’s eyes had widened, and he’d turned to leave, not in the least bit interested in watching his parents copulate in the middle of the corridor. It was something he only knew about because he’d overheard his sisters speak of it and because he’d sneaked into the servants’ quarters many times and seen the same thing occurring among the servants. Just as he started to turn away, he saw Annabelle lift the hand that had been pressed against the wall on the side of Rosemary’s head and tenderly stroke Rosemary’s cheek. She had leaned close and kissed Rosemary’s lips gently before lifting Rosemary’s leg higher. It was Rosemary’s gasp and harsh groan of Annabelle’s name that had spurred Lucien to turn and race down the hallway to his room.

So while one part of him was happy to know his maldy had a gentle side, the self-preservation side of him tried not to remember how he knew that.

Lucien settled himself on the edge of the chaise next to the loveseat where the duke and duchess sat.

“I believe you know the duke and duchess?” Annabelle said, smiling thinly up at Rosemary, who stood and began pouring tea for all of them. Lucien crossed one leg over the other, balanced his teacup and saucer on his knee, and sat straight up—something else he’d learned how to do in his etiquette class—and nodded.

“Yes, Maldy. So nice to see you again, Your Graces,” Lucien said with a smile at two of the highest-ranking members of society. The Duke of Cumbria was a harsh-looking man. His skin had a healthy tan from spending a great deal of time outside, no doubt riding his horse or hunting, like most titled members of the gentry. It was a luxury Lucien wished he would have once he married, but one he believed he would have to go without once that occasion happened upon him.

The duke’s black hair was brushed back from his face and pulled into a queue at the back of his neck; gray had seeped into the dark strands and colored his temples. His eyes were a mesmerizing shade of light gray, almost silver, his chin pointed, a dimple resting in the middle of it.

He had broad shoulders shrouded in a brown morning coat over a startling white dress shirt with a white cravat and a black vest. He wore black breeches, which could barely contain his large thighs, and black boots on his feet.

Next to him, the Duchess of Cumbria wore a morning gown of yellow that caused her pale skin to look sallow. Her red hair, cluttered with gray strands, was pulled back in a bun, tendrils escaping to curl around her rounded face.

Lucien admired the fact that the Duchess had not felt the need to buy a wig of blonde or black hair that would make her much more fashionable. She no doubt felt she didn’t have to, being a superior member of the gentry. Her bonnet rested on her lap, and Lucien wondered if perhaps she had just removed it moments before he’d entered. Where his mother Rosemary had foregone heels for slippers, the Duchess wore a beautiful pair of white heeled shoes with lace and embroidery over the front of them. Her eyes were a deep jade color, and she smiled brilliantly at Lucien when his eyes fell on her.

“And it is indeed a pleasure to see you again, young Lucien,” the Duchess, Jane, if Lucien remembered her Christian name correctly, said, her voice light and melodious.

“I am sure you are wondering why you were summoned to the family home when we did not have a scheduled meal,” Annabelle stated, and Lucien gave the Duchess a final smile before turning his attention to his maldy.

“The thought had crossed my mind, yes, Maldy,” Lucien admitted.

“Well, my dear, we have taken it upon ourselves to make a decision about your life that I am sure you will find not only agreeable but practically miraculous and fortuitous,” Annabelle stated with a pointed look.

That look Lucien knew quite well. Even if he didn’t find the decision “miraculous” or “fortuitous,” he was being ordered to pretend he did in front of the duke and duchess.

“Thank you, Maldy. I am sure that I will,” Lucien agreed. He wondered if he had been offered to be a companion to the Duchess. While it wasn’t at all a notion he would have chosen for himself, it was inherently better than what he thought he’d been summoned to the estate for.

“Your mother and I have decided to accept the suit offered by the Duke and Duchess of Cumbria,” Annabelle told him before calmly lifting her teacup to her lips and taking a sip.

“Suit?” Lucien questioned, looking back and forth between the two couples.
“Yes. You are to wed Heathcliff Eddington III, His Grace, the Duke of Pompinshire, Marquess of Manchester, Earl of Southerby, Viscount of Berkinstock, Baron of Hempstead, heir to the Dukedom of Cumbria, in six months’ time.”

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Raising Shawna is a FINALIST!!!

Holy. Shize!! Raising Shawna (Love and Life in the Panhandle1), my book from Rooster & Pig Publishing is a FINALIST in the Gay Paranormal Romance Category for the Rainbow Awards!!!!

O. M. G.

I am floored!!

I’m so excited, and thankful, grateful, and humbled.

Just. Wow.

Groom of Convenience Cover Reveal Tour is Coming…Tomorrow!!!!

Remember Torchwood’s Season (or Series if you’re in the UK) 3: Children of Earth when all of the children of the world are chanting?

We.

We.

We. Are.

We. Are.

We. Are. Coming.

We. Are. Coming.

We. Are. Coming. Tomorrow.

We. Are. Coming. Tomorrow.

Well….. imagine that (but in a none creepy way) for my announcement:

WOOHOO!!!!

Tomorrow is the BIG Groom of Convenience (Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm) cover reveal tour!!!

I. Am. So. EXCITED!!!!

There’s even a giveaway going on as well!!! So awesome!

Here are the stops for the reveal, make sure you go and check it out!

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-Vicktor Alexander

Where Author Vicktor Alexander Ties Up Romance and Makes It Say His Name

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