Blog Archive

Skip Navigation Links.

Lyla's Blog

8/27/2010 1:05:35 PM

Confession Time: Are You One of These People?

As you can see, I have my drink in hand and am ready to hear confessions. If you’re out there reading this and you're one of the guilty parties, please contact me. It’s hard to believe any of my friends could be one of these people, but if you are, I certainly have some follow-up questions for you.

First off, I’d really like to know: Which of you is eating the little packets that fall out of the shoe box when you buy a new pair of shoes? It says “Do Not Eat” on each one as if I’m going to pull anything out of a shoe and say, “Ummm, look kids! Free snacks!” I mean, even if I found a slice of pizza in my new shoe, I still wouldn’t eat it—not that I wouldn’t be tempted.

And on a related subject: Someone out there has been going a little too far with the multitasking. How do I know? Because every blow dryer I’ve ever bought has come with a warning (drawing included), telling me I shouldn’t blow dry while taking a shower or bathing. Electrocution aside, who would think that washing and blow drying are things that can be done simultaneously?

*Yes, you're right.Since he's

not holding a blow dryer, I suppose

this is just gratuitous nudity. I hope

my readers are not offended. (Ha!)


If you check the Internet, there are all kinds of weird product warning lists, with, for example, pictures of dog medicine that reads, “Do not drive or operate heavy machinery…” Does this mean that some Gomer gave his dog the meds and then said, “Hey, Bubba, I think these are magic pills. Let’s see if they give Rex the power to drive!” (My apologies if your name is Gomer or Bubba and you are a perfectly intelligent person.)

Yeah, I guess most of this is caused by the fact that everyone is always suing everyone in the U.S., but wouldn’t it have to happen once for someone to even think of it?
 
Which reminds me, one day the subject of warnings on products came up in one of my English as a second language classes (full of mostly Korean people). I explained about law suits and how companies were trying to keep from getting sued by putting all those warnings on there. They all looked surprised and said, “Oooooh!”

I thought about their reaction for a moment, then asked, “So, did you think that American products were just much more dangerous than the ones you had back home?”

“Yes!” most of them answered, nodding vigorously. One of them told me she’d been afraid to use any of the small appliances she’d bought since she came to the U.S., fearing death, dismemberment or electrocution. (Those were my words. She hadn’t learned “dismemberment” or “electrocution” in English yet.)

But still, there’s one more thing that’s totally perplexing to me because this one has nothing to do with lawsuits. You see, I rode around all over the country as a child. And as an adult, I’ve been to way more than my share of bathrooms, since I’m that annoying person in the car who’s always the first, second and third that needs to stop and pee. My point is, I’ve researched this carefully, and, apparently, there is someone running around the country stuffing random things into unsuspecting toilettes. I know this because in nearly every bathroom I go to, be it in a restaurant, a department store, or in my massage therapist’s office, there’s a sign asking people not to flush things (other than toilette paper) in the toilette.

My question is, what person (old enough to go to the bathroom alone) hasn’t learned that stuffing random things in toilettes is a no-no and makes said toilettes overflow?

Is it you?

Anyway, all these sign and warning label thoughts came at the same time I was working on my story Captain’s Price and it made me wonder what people in the 1790’s would think if they came forward in time. And can you imagine if Drew’s ship had to have warning labels (circa 1790) posted everywhere?

On ship’s railing: “Warning: jumping could cause bodily injury, drowning, or being dragged to hell by a giant demon octopus.”

On mop: “Warning: Swabbing the deck can lead to blisters and calluses. If at sea more than two weeks, do not sway hips while swabbing to avoid tempting fellow seamen into sodomy.”

On Captain Drew Price: “Caution: High heat. Likely to cause fornication.”

Anyway, Captain’s Price is available, and I’m available for your confessions if you think you or someone you know may have caused a silly warning to be placed anywhere. Or if you just know someone who does really stupid things. Bottom line, stupidity both appalls and entertains me, which I think explains the success of reality shows.

Tallyho! I’m off to try to finish my current story, so you might not hear from me on the blog for a few weeks.


Labels: Lyla Sinclair, Captain's Price, Ellora's Cave, jasminejade.com, stupid warnings

posted by Lyla       16 Comments



8/20/2010 8:07:04 AM

Captain's Price Extended Excerpt!

 Captain's Price is available today and I'm both excited and nervous, since this is my first historical ever. To celebrate it's release (and my birthday), I'm posting an extended UNCUT, UNCENSORED, UNRATED excerpt that you won't see anywhere else.

I certainly like downloading the long excerpts of other author's books on my Kindle and I thought it would be nice if those of you reading in other formats had the same opportunity. (Keep in mind, it takes a few days for Amazon to get it up, so to speak. I'll announce here and on Facebook when Captain's Price is on Kindle and Nook.) So here's the excerpt. I hope you enjoy it!



By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: CAPTAIN’S PRICE

Copyright © LYLA SINCLAIR, 2010

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One

I stood trembling on the deck at my moment of truth, having no one to blame but myself. After weeks of success in my masquerade—only one short week from my destination, I’d done the unthinkable.

I’d acted like a female.

And now Captain Drew Price—who’d taken no notice of me up to this point—stared down at me as though I were some bizarre creature that had flopped up on the deck from the depths of the ocean.

As I attempted to force down the fear threatening to overtake me, I focused on the fact that at this proximity, I could finally see the color of his eyes. At home, I might have been able to create the shade with my paints if I’d mixed blue and green and gray. His eyes were the color of the ocean.

I watched a muscle twitch in his bronzed jaw. His sun-touched chestnut hair blew in the gentle breeze as everyone on the ship went deadly quiet, waiting for his verdict. Onboard, the captain is judge, jury and executioner.

Captain Price ran a tight ship and tolerated no misbehavior of any kind from his men. And what was I? Not truly one of his men, yet not a paying passenger. My bravery suddenly abandoned me and my eyes dropped to his long, lean trousers.

My untimely unveiling had been caused by that clown they called Jeebers—though I felt certain his mother hadn’t bestowed that name upon him. He’d sneaked up behind me as I was swabbing the deck and attempted to pull down my breeches. Before I’d had a moment to think, I’d squealed, turned and slapped him across the face. The moment I made contact, I realized my mistake.

This was just one in a long line of pranks from the other seamen, since I was a “new boy”. I’d played my role to perfection through everything, until now…until this. I could have hit him with the mop or simply grabbed at my breeches, but no. I’d slapped him.

Afterward, Jeebers had stared at me in shock, holding his palm to his cheek. Everyone on the deck went silent until a voice called out, “He’s a woman!” or something of the sort. The ship’s occupants began stepping closer to examine me, both the seamen and the whores, the latter of whom were part of the cargo being transported to America.

And as one voice after another confirmed the assertion, I watched Captain Drew Price leave the helm and walk toward me with measured steps, his eyebrows lowered, his lips pursed, as though our all-knowing, all-confident captain was giving himself time to decide what to do if the shouters turned out to be correct. When he stopped in front of me and peered into my face, I hoped he couldn’t see my lower lip tremble.

Boy…remove your shirt,” he commanded after several long seconds.

“I cannot, Captain,” I replied, no longer bothering to change my voice or manner of speech.

I watched his eyes grow stormy as he pulled his sword from his sash and pointed the blade at my chest. An instant later my shirt hung open and the bindings on my breasts dropped away.

Sounds of shock and excitement rippled through the crowd. I grasped the fabric and pulled it together to cover my breasts. I’d never felt so humiliated or so afraid. All my internal organs seemed to quake as I tried not to glance to the right, where my poor little maid Bess stood, also attired in boys’ clothes and surely scared to death of what would befall us.

“You…Maggie, is it?” The captain motioned to one of the older whores standing nearby. “Unbind her hair.”

I forced my eyes back up to his, wondering why the hair was necessary when he’d already bared my breasts. I caught a moment of uncertainty in his gaze and guessed this could be another play for time. I’d put him in a circumstance he’d never encountered—or possibly even heard of—and he was trying to determine what in the world to do with me…or to me.

Maggie made quick work of my hair, removing the cap, unpinning the strands and loosening it until my auburn ringlets fell around my shoulders like a cape.

Another set of exclamations reverberated through the crowd. Weathered old Jeebers, gape-mouthed and wide-eyed, reached toward me and took a strand of my hair in his hand, gazing at it as if it were a handful of Spanish doubloons. He quickly dropped it when he heard the captain’s voice.

“Turn this barrel on its side,” Captain Price said. I was filled with dread as I watched a couple of men turn the heavy barrel over and secure it with straps. I’d only seen this done once before. And on that day, a sailor was whipped bloody for thieving from one of his mates. Was my act so egregious?

I turned my head slightly so I could see Bess. She was trembling and tears were flooding her eyes. She’d been my maid and companion since we were girls, but because I was the youngest in my family, I’d treated her as the little sister I’d never had. She was completely loyal to me. What if she threw herself down at the captain’s feet and begged for mercy for me? I couldn’t have that. I’d gotten her into this horrible situation. She needed to go one more week undetected.

I gave her my most steely look and the slightest shake of my head. I knew she understood when she wiped her eyes inconspicuously and turned her head to gaze off into the distance. I prayed she had the strength.

They laid me roughly over the barrel and secured my hands with leather ties. I swallowed and summoned all my courage. The captain leaned over, propping his hands on either side of me. I was surprised by the action, but even more so by my body’s reaction to it. He smelled different than the other men, a combination of soap and spice and ocean breeze that caused me to suck in a deep breath and hold it for several seconds before releasing.

The front of his trousers brushed the back of mine, and I had the scandalous urge to push my backside into him. His lips were against my ear and he spoke quietly, for my ears only.

“I suppose you are too idiotic a female to grasp the gravity of what you’ve done. Do you understand that my men expect me to turn you over to them so they can run their hands through that devil’s hair of yours and stick their cocks up your twat?”

I was shocked at the coarse language, but horrified at the idea of those filthy, foul-smelling men laying any part of themselves against me.

“No,” I said meekly. “I didn’t know.” But I did know that rules onboard were quite strict and certain customs adhered to without fail. Was this one of those customs? Tears filled my eyes. I blinked them back until they became a sickly swirl in my gut. If Bess saw me fall apart…

“I assume by the way you speak, you’re not simply a whore trying to get free passage.”

“No, sir.”

He blew out a disgusted breath. This situation would indeed have been simpler if I were a whore.

“There is one other option,” he said quietly. “If I clearly mark you as mine, and give the word, my men will accept it. What is your preference?”

I glanced around at the crew. Several were licking their lips as though I were a long-awaited meal. Jeebers panted nearby. I nearly heaved at the thought of his toothless mouth on mine.

Or there was the handsome, sweet-smelling captain, whose nearness had already made me feel—

No. I’d promised myself to another. Another who was the entire reason I’d undertaken this journey. Whatever happened with the captain, I certainly could not enjoy it.

“You,” I said simply.

He breathed in deeply. “Are you…untouched?”

I thought I knew what he was asking. “I’ve never been with a man,” I said.

“Damn it to hell, woman. The last thing we need on this boat is a bloody virgin.”

I heard his sword again, and suddenly my bottom was cold. My breeches were in two pieces at my feet. The sky grew darker, the wind colder on my naked skin…or was it just my imagination?

“Do it, Cap’n!”

“Fuck her and let us ’ave a turn!”

Could there be a more humiliating position for a woman than facedown, bare bummed for the world to see?

Captain Price pushed his pelvis against my buttocks and I was shocked to feel his naked member slide between my thighs. A shiver of excitement passed through me at what was about to happen. No, not excitement. Surely. I was confusing my fear for excitement.

“Act as if you are in pain…or enjoying this, one way or the other,” he said into my ear.

His cock glided through my thighs again from behind, and the tip made contact with the nub between my nether lips. I was startled by the sensation. I gasped. Even the slick dampness from my own body was surprising and pleasurable.

He began thrusting, sliding through my lower lips, repeating the motion time after time. A jolt of pleasure shot through me each time he hit that nub.

“Oh…oh!” I cried out before I was aware of what I was doing.

The screams of encouragement from the crowd were soon drowned out by the sound of blood rushing past my ears and a series of grunts from the captain. I realized everyone else thought he was inside me.

His hands grasped my bare hips, his fingers digging into my skin as I felt the pressure build between my thighs. A part of me didn’t want this to end. In fact, that part of me wanted him to enter my most important and holiest of places and pound me like I’d seen the whores on the ship get pounded every day since we set sail. I’d gotten quite an education in the previous weeks.

I cried out again, in pain from the fingers that were surely digging holes in my skin and in pleasure from his appendage, which was bringing me to the brink of…something…

The pressure built inside me until it was like a roar, a wild animal calling for its meal…or its mate. I was about to burst. I was about to die. And it was magnificent! My hips began undulating and I realized my body was trying to align itself to his for entry. I was too desperate to be shocked at myself. I wanted more.

“Storm! Cap’n, storm!” I heard someone yell. And I became aware of rain hitting my back. A crash of thunder shook the barrel. The captain was suddenly away from me and calling out orders to his men. I suppose I should have been afraid of a storm at sea, but in that moment, all I felt was abandonment and disappointment.

Two of the whores kindly untied me. One of them wrapped me in a shawl.

“James!” the captain called to his first mate. “Take the woman to my cabin and tie her to my bedpost.”

He turned to Bess. “And boy,” he said to her with one raised eyebrow. “You’d best go down and wait in the cabin next to mine.” Bess looked as if she would faint, but hurried to follow as I was led below by the first mate.

* * * * *

An hour or so after the storm died down, the door opened and the captain strode in with Bess trailing behind. Still dressed as a boy, she kept her eyes glued to the floor as if not looking at the captain would make her invisible. She stood quietly near the door.

Captain Price didn’t spare her a glance. His eyes were intent on me as he stopped next to the bed, legs splayed, arms crossed over his chest.

“What’s your name?”

“Julianna Bur—”

“It’s time you explain yourself,” he interrupted, my full name apparently of no consequence to him.

“I needed to get to Portsmouth. I didn’t have money for passage and didn’t think I could pretend to be a…um…”

“Whore?”

“Yes.”

“But you thought you could pass yourself off as a boy?” He motioned toward my partially covered body as though it was a ridiculous idea.

“My plan was successful until today,” I said defensively. “I chose the Redemption—which is a ludicrous name for this ship, by the way—because I thought the crew would be too distracted by the more obvious women to notice a—”

“Beautiful woman dressed in boys’ clothes,” he finished for me.

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It was silly to feel flattered by his description, under the circumstances, but as he stared blatantly at me, I felt a flush coming on. “I was careful,” I replied weakly.

The captain shook his head as though I were the most foolish female he’d ever laid eyes on, which only confirmed my feelings about myself at the moment. But then I noticed his gaze was riveted to the front of my body, where I was holding the shawl together over my breasts with my unbound hand. Heat coursed through me at the thought of how nearly naked I was on his bed.

He reached down and pulled my hand away, lifting it toward him. As he examined it, surely noting the redness it had developed over the past few weeks, embarrassment washed over me. I realized I’d rather he’d been admiring my breasts.

When I tried to pull away, he held fast and turned my hand palm up. He rubbed a thumb over one of the blisters. I winced. He reached into a drawer in his writing desk and pulled out a dagger, using it to cut the bindings off my other wrist.

“Ladies do not do sailors’ work on my ship,” he said, frowning at my hand.

“Oh, I’m not a lady—”

“You’re certainly no barmaid. You speak as if you were raised at court.”

That was an obvious exaggeration, since I’d been raised in the country, but it still pleased me for some silly reason. “My father has been fortunate in business pursuits. He hired tutors. He wanted to be sure I was fit for…”

A fresh anger overtook me at my father’s lack of care for my wishes. My only purpose as his daughter was to be used as a bargaining chip. Nobles sometimes find their coffers low and are forever greedy. A comely daughter with a nice dowry could buy a man a baron or an earl, or maybe even a marquis, along with a whole new status for the family…if that father had no care for his daughter’s hopes, dreams or loves.

Captain Price watched me for a moment, but when I didn’t finish my explanation, he let the subject drop and released my hand. “Regardless, you can’t be allowed to stow away on my ship.”

“I didn’t stow away! I’ve worked hard!” I said angrily. I wasn’t sure if the anger was directed at him or at my father for putting me in a situation in which I felt I had to flee instead of waiting patiently for my intended, as I’d planned to do.

“Well, you certainly can’t work side-by-side with the men now,” he said. “And we’re at least a week away from port.”

“Perhaps I can work in the galley?” I thought it was a stroke of genius. The cook was an old man, surely not a threat to my virginity.

“My crew is one of the best at sea, but they are also some of the most superstitious seamen I’ve ever known. The cook is the worst of the lot.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“They believe a woman on a ship is bad luck.”

“But…” I tilted my head toward the cabin door, indicating the thirty-some-odd women on the other side of it.

“Whores don’t count, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” I said sarcastically. Funny how men constantly made and changed the rules to their advantage.

“And why is it so important that you get to Portsmouth?” the captain asked.

“Jeffrey is there,” I said. “He was going to send for me after he made his fortune.”

“And what sort of man would allow his beloved to travel unescorted across the ocean?”

“It’s not his fault,” I cried. “We’ve loved each other since we were children, but my father had other plans for me. He was insisting I marry to his advantage soon. Jeffrey…” I let my voice trail off because I noticed that the captain’s jaw tightened when I mentioned my intended.

Captain Price’s eyes traveled slowly down the length of my body, stopping at my shockingly bare thighs.

“You’ll work off the remainder of your fare here in my cabin.” His voice was hard, as though he were talking to an unruly sailor. “It’s been a long trip. I could use some female entertainment.”

“But surely you don’t mean—”

“You’ll remain unclothed in my cabin and entertain me in any way I see fit.” He must have noted the panicked look in my eyes. “I can take anything but your maidenhead. That you can save for your undeserving Jeffrey.”

“But I can’t—”

“Unless you’d rather your companion take your place.” He turned and gestured toward Bess.

“But he’s a boy,” I said.

“He’s as much a boy as you are. Your maid, I’d wager. So will it be you or her?”

I noticed a sudden quickening of Bess’ breathing. She smiled shyly. “Anything for you, miss. I’ll take your place here and everything will be set to rights.”

The captain smiled at her enticingly and as he did, I was overcome by such anger at Bess that I wanted to pull her hair from her head. Never had I been violent toward her and I should have been grateful for such loyalty. Why did I feel as if she were trying to steal something away from me?

“No! She’s little more than a child,” I said, telling myself that protecting Bess was my only motivation. She was three years younger than I, just barely eighteen.

“We have an agreement, then,” the captain said. “You entertain me in whatever ways I require and your passage and hers will be considered paid in full…and I won’t throw either of you overboard.”

Bess gasped at this, but I saw the mischievous gleam in his eye and knew he was teasing.

And my heart skipped a beat.

* * * * *

Captain’s Private Journal, May 30, 1790

 As I sit here, just a few feet away, I must say my bed has never looked lovelier. No linen has ever been woven—even from the elaborate silks of the East—that is more luxuriant than my current bedcover. The one that lies dozing on her stomach, her face turned toward me, her elegant auburn hair splayed out like a fan of ringlets.

I found her onboard today masquerading as a seaman and was forced to make a show of the situation for the men’s benefit. I can’t ever afford to appear soft with this lot. Some of the best seamen can often be the most unruly, in my experience.

But, in truth, there were many ways I could have rectified the situation. I chose that one. The one that allowed me to bury my face in her radiant hair and press my cock against her lovely round bum and slide into her sweet warmth.

In truth, I knew the moment my eyes met hers how badly I wanted her. Before the clothes were removed, before her hair was let down. She has an allure that is all her own, beyond the window dressing necessary for most females.

In those few seconds I told myself the action was necessary, considering her public unveiling, and that I had every right to satisfy my lust on this lying wench.

However, watching her now in innocent slumber, I’m remorseful for my actions. I believe that, indeed, she is naïve—and foolhardy—enough to set off on this voyage to be with her “true love”. A ridiculous thing, perhaps, but when faced with the choices she claimed to have had, I would have done the same.

Fathers make poor parents, in my experience. Selfish, uncaring and disregarding of any interests save their own.

So now I’m in the odd predicament of needing to protect my stowaway, and yet the temptation to run my hands through those lovely locks and place my mouth on her burgundy lips is nearly overwhelming.

When I entered my cabin after the storm, I certainly didn’t plan to make such a lewd bargain with her, yet as I stared down at her wide eyes and sumptuous body, my desire—no, my raw lust—completely overwhelmed my good intentions.

Perhaps when we get to port, I should ask this Jeffrey character how it feels to have a woman love you to the extent that she puts her own person in jeopardy. I should like to know that feeling.

Bah! I’ve obviously been at sea too long if the sight of a comely chit can reduce me to such romantic drivel.

---Excerpt from Captain's Price by Lyla Sinclair


Labels: Captain's Price, Lyla Sinclair, Ellora's Cave, jasminejade.com, erotic romance, romantica, historical romance

posted by Lyla       6 Comments



8/12/2010 12:59:51 PM

My Editor Asked for Something Unusual This Time

Did she make the right call? When you get to the bottom of the page, you can be the judge!

First, let me just say I love my editor. If we were lesbians, I’d probably try to marry her. She manages to combine a really funny, snarky sense of humor with glowing validation and brutal honesty when necessary. Her name rhymes with Belly, so I think I’ll call her that here, just in case you don't like her unusual idea.

Anyway, I was pretty nervous about Captain’s Price because it’s the first historical thing I’ve written, EVER, unless you count history class book reports. Getting the edits back from your editor is always a nervous experience, but I had no idea what to expect with a historical. This is how it went:

Just after the first time the captain “speaks” to us, through an entry in his private journal, Belly wrote “I liked the story before this, but now I’m in love!”---Yes! That’s the same sort of thing my friend (another historical writer) said.

But on the last page, Belly totally freaked me out by telling me my ending was missing something. She didn’t know what it was, but it just wasn’t hitting the mark. (No, this isn’t the unusual part, yet.)

I’d liked my ending, but a creative person is not always the best judge of her own work. Normally I can pull edits out of my…um…backside, but the ending I’d already written was sticking in my brain like a booger you can’t get off your finger—ewww! Belly said she’d go ahead and send it in like that, but, although I argue with her at times about character motivations, actions, etc., I really value her opinion and endings are very important to me. They control the feeling the reader is left with when she closes the book.

Finally, I thought back to my other endings and realized they all had something this one didn’t--The completion of the heroine’s emotional journey with herself. Even if they’re very successful or very smart, my heroines have something keeping them down emotionally at the beginning, but they’re freed and empowered by the end of the novel. I sent in a new ending and Belly said I was a genius! Yay! I basked in the glow of her praise and my self-satisfaction.

It was downhill from there—or so I thought. All I had left was to write the blurb—the description you see when you go to buy the book. That was no problem for me since I used to be a marketing writer. I love writing blurbs…except…

This time Belly threw down the gauntlet with a new and different challenge.

Instead of a normal blurb, she wanted me to write one in the voice of her new love—Captain Drew Price. She wanted it to be set up like one of his journal entries in my book. At first it sounded like a great idea, until I sat down to write it and remembered I use completely different parts of my brain for marketing writing than I do for fiction writing. So, I had to come up with a way to integrate the information a reader needs to know—something about the basic plot, conflict, etc., including a hint of hotness--while writing in the historical fiction part of my brain.

I wrote one. I thought I liked it, but wasn’t sure if it was what Belly had in mind. So I wrote her another “normal” blurb for comparison. She chose the captain’s journal entry.

 So, I’m including both blurbs below for you to weigh in on. Did Belly make the right choice—don’t worry, she can take it, she loves brutal honesty—or did she just have a bad case of Drew-love and fall prey to her need to hear from him just one last time?

You be the judge! (See Below.)

Captain’s Price--More Typical Blurb

Julianna Burton never imagined she’d be tied naked to a ship captain’s bed. She was simply trying to escape her father’s terrible plans and find her love Jeffrey, who went to Portsmouth to seek his fortune so they could marry.

But now she must pay the price the captain requires for passage—her body as his entertainment. His only concession is that he will leave her maidenhead, the one thing she can save for Jeffrey. Yet as Drew shows her sinful pleasures she’s never imagined, her temptation grows…

Captain Drew Price is a man who is always in control, never overcome by passion. But when he gazes into Julianna’s wide, beckoning eyes, he finds himself making an unseemly bargain he immediately wants to break. For the first time in his life, he is losing control, desperate to take all that he needs from this wanton little virgin.

But will the ultimate price of their bargain be more than either of them can afford to lose?

 

Captain’s Price—Blurb Belly Liked:

Captain’s Private Journal, May 30, 1790

My heart pounds hard in my chest as I think of her--the lass who awaits me, naked in my cabin as I commanded. She was discovered masquerading as one of my seamen, yet I am still appalled at myself for demanding such a lewd price for her passage. But when I looked into her eyes—wide, but somehow beckoning—I was filled with a need deeper than any I’d ever known.

For her. For Julianna.

Can I truly touch her and taste her and satisfy my lust on her without taking the maidenhead meant for another she crossed an ocean to find?

I am a man of impeccable self-control—the asset that has redeemed my family and ensured I did not become my wayward father. Then, what has taken hold of me? Each moment, the urge to go to her and steal away all that belongs to another grows more irresistible. I must touch her. I must hold her. I must drive myself into her.

I must not.

So let me know what you think. Oh, and don’t forget, Captain’s Price will be out August 20, just in time for my birthday!


Labels: Captain's Price, Lyla Sinclair, Ellora's Cave, jasminejade.com, historical romance, erotic historical romance, erotic romance, hot

posted by Lyla       40 Comments



1 2 3 4 5  ... 
Top

Captain's Price

Captain's Price

August 20, 2010

Get the Latest Lyla Updates:

Sign up for email notifiations whenever new releases become available.

Follow Lyla on:

Facebook gmail