I am soooooo excited about the release of The Servant Duchess Of Whitcomb tomorrow: November 27, 2015!! I have a blog tour happening with Pride Promotions and the information is from their website below (thank you Will Parkinson, you ROCK! He totally pulled everything together in like 9-10 days). There’s a HUGE giveaway also.
And on Saturday, November 28th, from 1-3pm, I’ll be on the Dreamspinner Facebook Page from 1-3pm having a chat about the book, the characters, the series, my writing, etc. So buying the book (reading it) would probably be a good idea so you could ask all your questions on Saturday.
Orley Garrick is known throughout Angland not only as the man with
two dukedoms but also as the hero who survived a brutal kidnapping at
the hands of Nafoleon’s army, never once betraying the secrets of His
Majesty. Still haunted by his memories, Orley pushes his crippled body
to dangerous limits, all in an attempt to run from the demons of his
Until he meets Chester Boland, a maid in his friend’s household.
Orley is besieged by desire for this gorgeous male woman, and by a
connection he cannot ignore. But there are those within the Remmington
Realm who take issue with the Duke’s choice—especially given Chester’s
Having stared death in the face and won, Orley proposes they steal
away and elope. However, before they can begin their new life, they
uncover dangerous secrets that go deeper than they could ever
imagine—involving those they trust the most.
Orley and Chester must discover exactly how deep these secrets run
before their enemies make sure Chester is removed from Orley’s arms…
Pages or Words: 304 pages
Categories: Alternate Universe, Fantasy, Gay Fiction,
Historical, M/M Romance, Mystery, Romance, Science Fiction, *Trans,
THE SHARP retort of gunfire exploded around Orley Garrick, Duke of
Whitcomb, and he ducked, 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 desperately looked for the person
who had caught his eye. He heard 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, 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 man’s death
gurgle as he fell to the ground beneath his own horse.
Orley raced on toward the figure in white who didn’t belong on the
battlefield. He called out a warning, telling the woman to be careful,
because there was no way a man would be on a battlefield wearing a long,
flowing white chemise, free of dust and bloodstain, appearing almost
angelic among the crowd of soldiers. The woman didn’t stop. Instead she
walked straight toward the commander of the enemy soldiers, and fear
filled Orley. He wasn’t sure why; he didn’t know the woman, and yet 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 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
aught 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 an anguished shout at the heavens.
ORLEY WOKE, panting and sweating, in the home of his friend, Heathcliff.
Holy. Shit. That one had been very different from his other
nightmares. He rubbed his face with his hand and groaned as 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
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
God, he hated sleeping.
“Enter,” he called out as he sat up and swung his legs off the bed he
was borrowing while visiting Heathcliff and Lucien for their
country-house party. The door opened, and Orley turned to address the
person standing there. He stopped short, almost swallowing his tongue as
he took in the vision of the most beautiful creature to have ever been
Orley had been privileged to see many beautiful people in his life.
Male and female, 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 the Duke of Pompinshire
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 felt the desire 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
The woman nodded, his hazel eyes lighting with relief. Orley wondered
at that. Was his well-being really of great concern, or was it just
because the maid had been sent to look after Orley?
Orley allowed his gaze to rove over the young male’s form again,
taking in every detail intently. He would like to have something to
conjure up in his mind’s eye later on that evening when he put his hand
to his already burgeoning erection.
Wearing the female black dress with a white apron, which was the
maid’s 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
luscious 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 colored, 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 a lovely, toned body.
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 cherrywood 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 from
his mind, wreaking havoc with the lovely, distracting image of
Heathcliff’s maid, whose form even now was causing a pleasurable ache in
“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 honor, integrity, and
character. As a matter of fact, his grandfather, Charles Edrick Garrick
I, the former Duke of Whitcomb, had more than once given him lessons and
lectures on the way a gentleman was to behave. Anyone can strut around
and use his physical strength to try and prove his brawn. But it takes
honor, 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.
Orley had always believed those words from his grandfather, had in
fact lived by those words for his entire life. He’d only strayed 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 light-skirts. And while his grandfather’s words usually guided him,
right now he was seriously considering doing something illicit.
He couldn’t believe the images that were 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 musings, the more it seemed his
“dry, fruitless attraction” was soaked in hope and possibility. And
perhaps it was for that reason that rationality and his grandfather’s
words of character, honor, and integrity grew softer and softer until
they were suddenly silent. All he could concentrate on was how lovely
Heathcliff’s maid was. How round the male woman’s derriere was. How slim
his shoulders were. How graceful his neck was.
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 he gasped softly. “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 he could trust, and they
didn’t often have the time to 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 curtsy, and Orley rose from the bed and
bowed 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 honor 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, and his leg, for the first
time in years, was not throbbing in pain—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.
“You’re asking me?” Chester looked confused. “I was told that men of your standing didn’t ask, that you just take.”
Orley shook his head, saddened by what Chester thought of men of the
ton, but he knew Chester’s assumptions came as a result of dealing with
“men” of a certain ilk. 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 do not have to do
anything you don’t want to do. At least, that is the way it should be in
a perfect world. So if you don’t want to kiss me, we don’t have to.”
Orley would be disappointed, he would be haunted for days, perhaps a
fortnight, by the fullness of Chester’s mouth, but eventually 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 to Chester’s full, pillow-soft mouth. He was fully
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 peace and yet
simultaneous excitement, and the way his heart sped up, were completely
unexpected. He growled and pulled Chester to him, as close as he could
possibly get the woman. He felt a bit like a ravenous beast, wanting to
devour Chester whole.
He lifted his lips to take a breath, opened his eyes, and gazed down
into Chester’s dazed 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 round of kissing.
So he was surprised when he went to lower his head for another kiss
and was met with nothing but air and the sound of his bedroom door
Buy the book:
Dreamspinner ebook| Dreamspinner paperbook| ARe| Kobo| Apple iTunes| Amazon
Meet 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 BDSM 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.
Where to find the author:
Facebook Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorVicktorAlexander
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27422380-the-servant-duchess-of-whitcomb
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Anne Cain
Tour Dates & Stops:
27-Nov: Havan Fellows, Louise Lyons, Prism Book Alliance
30-Nov: Onwards, Upwards, House Millar
1-Dec: Jessie G. Books, Divine Magazine
2-Dec: Tempeste O’Riley
3-Dec: MM Good Book Reviews, Fantastical Worlds, Fiery Love
4-Dec: Mikky’s World of Books, Brightly Books
6-Dec: Love Bytes
7-Dec: Inked Rainbow Reads, BFD Book Blog
8-Dec: A.M. Leibowitz, Antonia Aquilante
9-Dec: Grace R. Duncan’s Blog
10-Dec: Bending The Bookshelf, Book Lovers 4Ever