After living a checkered past, and despite an avowed disinterest in domesticity, multi-published erotic romance author Anya Richards settled in Ontario, Canada, with husband, kids, an adorable pup and a cat that plots world domination, one food bowl at a time. Her slightly darker alter-ego, Anya Delvay, emerges occasionally to write erotica.
Interested in all things historical and hysterical, Anya describes herself as intensely curious, (although the word ‘nosy’ has been bandied about) and a life-long people-watcher. Using what she’s discovered about people, places and various weird and wonderful things, Anya has written contemporary, historical and paranormal/fantasy romance novels, novellas and short stories for Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Cleis Press and Spice Briefs.
To find out more, please drop by Anya’s website at www.anyarichards.com, follow her on Twitter or like her onFacebook.
Steampunk erotic romance
Ellora’s Cave: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9557-beyond-prudence.aspx
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Prudence-ebook/dp/B005M2ANYE/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1333830388&sr=1-4
The mysterious device in Prudence Hastings’ basement could be the answer to her prayers, if she could just figure out what it is. Needing William Foreman’s help, she’s prepared to do whatever it takes to gain it. Even putting aside her dislike of machines and volunteering to test the risqué apparatus he’s developing for the Acolytes of Concupiscence.
Will’s expecting a lightskirt for a test subject and is horrified when he realizes the tempting woman he just debauched is very much a lady. But despite his best intentions, something keeps drawing him back to her, and it isn’t just the thought of discovering the inner workings of her uncle’s last invention. Unlocking their passion is turning out to be a far more pleasurable, if dangerous, job.
Beset by desire, automatons, secrets, an unintelligible maid and the danger of utter ruin should their association become known, Will and Prudence haven’t a chance in hell of remaining unscathed.
Fire up the boiler, open the sluices and take cover. Something’s about to explode…
Finally Ollie landed on another perch outside an impressive wooden door, thickly banded with steel but possessing no visible handle. Shaking his ruffled feathers, the owl winked at her and clicked his beak, but when he spoke it was with all the solemnity of an undertaker.
“We have arrived, Master.”
He winked again and Prudence suppressed the nervous giggle rising in her throat. If all mechanical beings were as fun as Ollie, perhaps she wouldn’t be so set against them.
The inventor didn’t bother to reply but, with a whisper of sound, the door opened, emitting a widening slice of bright light. Putting aside her mirth at the owl’s antics, Prudence tried to prepare herself for whatever lay ahead. Lifting her chin, she marched into the room and came to a gaping, incredulous halt.
Surely he couldn’t be William Foreman?
The figure bent over one of the many machines in the laboratory bore no resemblance to the stooped, white-haired old man she’d envisioned. It didn’t even approach her second guess, loosely based on Uncle Harry, of an elderly, bald, slightly rotund and vaguely elf-like figure.
William Foreman, if that truly was him, was neither elderly nor elfin. He was, indeed, indecently gorgeous. Looking at him in three-quarter profile, Prudence immediately thought of her favorite painting of Lord Byron. Mr. Foreman had the same strong jaw, handsome nose and deep-set eyes, but where Byron’s lips had a tendency to appear sulky or hint at debauchery, the inventor’s were firm, masculine…
Realizing her mouth was agape like an urchin’s in a ballroom, Prudence tried to pull her suddenly scattered, and far from businesslike, thoughts together. Thank goodness he’d ignored her entrance, and she had time to compose herself before he looked up from whatever he was tinkering with. It also gave her a few more moments to admire the way the light gleamed on his brown curls and shadowed the strong planes of his face. She would paint him in oils—the bold lines of the subject demanding an equally strong medium—or sculpt him in bronze. It had been forever since she’d had the urge to capture the human form in her art and this sudden, driving need caused excitement to gather and swell inside.
Then William Foreman glanced up with a disinterested flick of his eyes and said, “Well, don’t just stand there. Take off your clothes.”
Scavenger Hunt Question:
What type of paint would Prudence use if she were to paint William’s portrait?
One (1) full set of ebooks from this tour