#MedievalMonday ~ Thorleif (The #Vikings, Episode IV)

Skål, Viking Lovers! Today’s excerpt comes from Episode IV in the Vikings of Normandy series. These stories contain detailed #sex scenes that feature #bondage, male #domination, #spanking, and other things you might expect from a group renowned for raping and pillaging. If these topics make you uncomfortable, please do not buy this book. Not sure? Read on for an excerpt from Thorleif.

Thorleif slowly undid the laces at his waist while glancing around the room, looking for a means of escape. In one motion, he pulled his shert, tunic, and hauberk over his head. There were two other doors, one on each side of the hearth that could lead to nowhere, but one way or another he would find out.

Grasping a bedpost with one hand, he toed off his boots and worked his way out of his braies. By the time he turned his attention back to the queen, he was naked as a babe, and she had the look of a hungry wolf.

He held out both arms and made a slow turn, so she could see him from all angles. It should have been humiliating, to be so examined, like a slave at market. Yet, he found her scrutiny oddly exciting.

“Big enough?” he asked.

She breathed deeply. Her chest, constricted as it was, rose and fell with each breath. “We shall see,” she said. She refilled the two goblets and downed one. She moved across the room, giving him a wide berth as she did so, and pulled aside a curtain to reveal a tub of water.

She faced him with a wrinkled nose. “You need to bathe. As good as you look, you smell worse than a farm animal.”

Thorleif had never been so pleased by an insult. He gazed at the still water. How long had it been since he’d had a proper bath? He retrieved the two goblets, pausing first to refill hers, and moved to stand beside the tub.

“Will you join me?” he asked, handing her the wine. This time when his fingers brushed hers, she lingered, meeting his gaze. Her tiny pink tongue darted out to lick those full lips he was so anxious to taste.

Would she take him in her mouth? His naked cock twitched at the vision of that tongue sliding over the engorged tip. His balls constricted, sweetly painful.

He reached up and threaded his fingers through her hair, brushing it away from her face and baring her throat. She remained as still as a statue as he leaned forward, lips parted, and slid his tongue from her collar bone up the column of her throat. She moaned softly when he took the fleshy lobe of her ear between his lips and suckled her.

With a sharp intake of breath, she stepped back from him, her dainty fist poised beneath her nose. She shook her head. “Nay. You must first wash away the stench of battle and death and who-knows how many days’ grime. Besides,” she glanced at the tub with a shrug. “The bath was drawn earlier in the day and will be cold. I shall wait for you by the fire.”

Check  back next week for an excerpt from Episode V, Magnus.

BLURB: Thorleif Rolvsson has been captured by the enemy. The steel of the executioner’s axe is cold against the base of his skull. Will a single night of passion change his fate? Or will he dine with his sons in Valhalla?

The Queen of the Franks has needs. She believes God has sent the pagan Norseman at her feet to fulfill those needs. But can she claim the blessing she has prayed for without losing her heart?



#MedievalMonday ~ Bron (The #Vikings, Episode III)

Many of you know I teach 8th grade World History in my spare time. Well, today marks our final week before summer vacation, and I could not be more excited. Today I’m sharing an excerpt from Episode III in my erotic #Viking series. If you haven’t read the first two, never fear. These can stand alone, but they are so short, why miss one? All five episodes are now available for download. Here is an excerpt from Bron.

Bron yanked the door open. One look at the waif on his stoop sent a spear straight through his heart.

Dark hair framed a face that was swollen and tear-streaked. Even in the gloaming, he could see the redness of her cheeks. She was a pretty little thing. Skin as smooth as the waters of a still pond, lips full and lush, a mouth made for kissing and—other things. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of him, and she sucked in a gasp. Her bottom lip trembled.

Her reaction did not surprise him. Women had reacted similarly his whole life. Long before he was old enough to know the pleasures of women, a training accident had split his cheek open from the corner of his mouth all the way into his hair, which he kept shorn close to his scalp to show off the markings etched there. His face had been marred with the jagged scar so off-putting, his first maid had kept her eyes firmly closed while he did his business, then hurried away afterwards without looking back. Numerous battles had left him with more scars until his visage was enough to frighten children as if he were a troll.

It would certainly strike terror in such a wisp of a girl.

“Well, do not just stand there,” Bron said. He reached out and, taking her by the arm, pulled her across the threshold.

She stood in the center of his house, trembling, which both irritated and melted him at the same time. Irritated because he had done nothing to make her fear him. Melted him because—well, how was he to know why? It just did.

“Do not be afraid, girl. I will not hurt you. As long as you do what you are told, everything will be fine.”

“And if I do not?”

The strength and conviction in her voice surprised him, that she would show such courage in the face of the unknown. Despite her display, she flinched when he raised his arm toward the door. “You are free to leave whenever you want,” he said.

They stood there, staring each other down.

Soon she began to fidget under his scrutiny. “I have nowhere else to go,” she mumbled.

Bron nodded. “As I thought,” he said. “Now come.” He sat on the edge of his bed, pulled his shert over his head, and began to remove his boots. “Take off your clothes and let me see what I have gotten myself into.”

Check  back next week for an excerpt from Episode IV, Thorleif.

BLURB:  After escaping the brutal tyrant who holds her under his boot, Leda’s newfound hope is shattered to discover her safe-haven to be nothing more than a den of brutal Norsemen, intent on conquering all of Francia and claiming its riches for their own. When she is offered as a bed slave to the fiercest Viking of them all, she despairs to realize freedom comes at a price.

Brondulf Adilson has struck terror into his enemies for as long as he can remember, as well as the women who share his bed. Shunned for his frightful appearance, he doesn’t expect compliance from his new thrall and is resigned to forcing her to his will.

But he finds himself saddled with a beauty who may just steal his heart.

BUY LINK:    Amazon

#MedievalMonday ~ Wulf (The #Vikings, Episode II)

Skål, gods and goddesses! Today’s Medieval Monday excerpt comes from Episode II in the Vikings of Normandy series. I’ve found the need to add a disclaimer here. These stories are full of detailed #sex scenes that feature bondage, male domination, spanking, and other things you might expect from a group renowned for raping and pillaging. If these topics make you uncomfortable, please do not buy this book. Not sure? Read on for an excerpt from Wulf.

Wulf was sitting in the hall with Harald when Arik sauntered in pulling his new thrall behind him. She was a beauty, that one. Despite recent trials, her face glowed against the framework of silky-looking hair, the color of rich earth, that fell in a thick mass to her waist. Freckles dotted her nose. She had full, red lips that begged kissing, and by the gods, Wulf wanted to oblige.

There were many women available from which to choose. Unlike the cold north, the weather here was temperate, even in winter. The soil was fertile and would yield an abundance of crops. They would do well to remain here beyond winter.

Not one to keep a thrall, Wulf had considered taking a wife for himself. He watched Arik and his slave, Farin approach. Full, ripe breasts filled the thin smock she wore, threatening to spill over the neckline. His c**k twitched at the outline of pert nipples straining against the material. He bit his tongue to keep his mouth from slacking open. It wasn’t like him to be so affected by a woman.

Especially one that belonged to another.

Check  back next week for an excerpt from Episode III, Bron.

BLURB: When her village is overrun by vicious barbarians from the north, Farin becomes a bed slave to the most savage of them all. Will her growing affection for her master’s friend get in the way of the revenge she has planned?

After losing his wife and infant son, Wulf let his friends convince him to give up the life of a simple farmer and become a raider under the leadership of Gunnar Sigurdsen. Now they’ve captured a stronghold in Francia, fat with treasure and slaves.

One slave in particular, a haunting image of Wulf’s wife, threatens to drive a wedge between him and his friend, a breech he cannot afford.


#MedievalMonday ~ Gunnar (The #Vikings, Episode I)

May has arrived in the forest, gods and goddesses. Now if only the temperature would warm up, right? I hope you are enjoying nature wherever you live. While our Medieval Monday hop is on hiatus, I thought I’d share my Viking series with you. While these short stories are set in the Middle Ages, they are quite a bit different from my paranormal romances. There are no paranormal elements in these stories and the plot revolves mostly around…..shhhh…..sex. Lots of it! And it’s really spicy!!! So if you don’t like erotic romance filled with bondage, spanking, and dominant males, DO NOT BUY THIS BOOK. (If you do like such stories, good news: there are 5 episodes in this series.) Here is an excerpt from Episode I, Gunnar.

Gunnar stopped at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath. Why did these Franks insist on putting the lord’s chamber at the top of the tallest tower? Could he not be just as comfortable in a luxuriously furnished room at ground level?

There was only one door on this landing. A massive rough-hewn portal with iron rivets and bands near the top and bottom. He wished he had dragged one of the women from the hall and had her fetch that bath.

Resigned to go to bed dirty, he pushed open the door.

Hanging from a hook in the ceiling was a woman, her tiny feet barely touching the floor. Her arms were suspended over her head, bound at the writs by a rope that was connected to the hook. Her thick, blonde hair hung down her back. A blindfold covered her eyes.

Except for her shoes and knee-high stockings, she was completely naked.

Check  back next week for an excerpt from Episode II, Wulf.

BLURB: Gunnar Sigurdsen needs a place for his band of Norsemen to hold up for the winter. An unguarded stronghold at the mouth of the Seine River is the perfect target.

Oliana du Fossé waits helplessly for her brute of a husband to claim her. She doesn’t realize she is being seduced by an invader from the north until it is too late.

Will Gunnar and Oliana set aside their differences long enough to create a safe haven that just might last longer than a season?



#MedievalMonday ~ Mask of the Highlander

It’s our last round of Medieval Monday for this session. We will have a new theme and start up again in just a few weeks. In the interim, I’ll be plying you with more Medieval Romance to stock your TBR pile (or folder ;-). For this finale, I’m giving you the excerpt from Mask of the Highlander in its entirety.  Peace and Love, gods and goddesses!

Kenna stood rooted to the spot, just inside the door of her husband’s bed chamber. Little had changed. The hearth, cold and dark, gaped like the maw of Satan, large enough to consume any unsuspecting human who ventured too close. The bed to which he had bound her sat against the far wall. The blood-stained linens long since replaced. A trunk, where he kept his instruments of torture, stood at the foot, an ominous reminder of what lay in store for her.

Mrs. Dingwell cleaned the room regularly, but the air reeked of a mustiness brought on by disuse. There was an unearthly silence to the granite walls, hung with faded tapestries and notched with arrow slits at random intervals. A single window let in light from outside, but it was not enough to chase away the gloom. Or the memories.

Kenna choked back a sob. The last time she had been in this room, she had prayed for her own death. Now she pleaded silently for the Lord to strike Ty Vass dead where stood. She fantasized about stepping over his dead body, leaving it to whither and rot while she returned to her duties, running the household, raising her daughter, overseeing the welfare of the people she had come to love in the laird’s absence.

When that did not happen, she gave in to her debilitating fear and gave up trying to remain calm. She shook so hard, she worried her knees would give way. Just a few hours ago, she had been at peace, content in the belief that her husband would never return, and they could live out their days in peace. Oh, the difference in such a short time.

She yelped when his hands closed around her shoulders from behind. He gave them a gentle squeeze and rubbed his palms down her arms.

“Ye are trembling, lass.”

She was surprised by his gentleness. He almost seemed to be…comforting her. Indeed, his entire demeanor since arriving had hardly been what she expected. He had smiled more than once, a real smile. Not some sadistic grin that spoke of unvoiced threats, but a genuine smile that lit up his face and revealed a man glad to be home. He had tried to tousle Robby’s hair and had even teased Mrs. Dingwell. The housekeeper had actually blushed.

Kenna tried to relax, but found it impossible to do so. His touch did not threaten to leave marks, but worse was yet to come. She was sure of it. What game did he play at?

Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, all she could do was swallow hard and dig deep for any vestige of courage she could muster. She forced her thoughts to Isla. Kenna would suffer any torment to distract Ty from her existence. She would keep her secret as long as possible, trusting Mrs. Dingwell to keep her daughter out of sight.

“Why so afraid?” he asked. His continued stroking of her arms only increased her discomfort. He glanced around the room. “It does not seem so bad.”

His flippant dismissal of her distress infuriated her. Was he so daft as to think she had forgotten the abuse he meted out? She had survived more in three days that most women suffered in a lifetime, had lived through the suffering and pain and come out stronger. Kenna was struck with the sudden realization that she was no longer the weakling he left broken and battered five years ago. His brutal treatment of her body, and her survival of it, had given her a strength she had not realized she possessed until perhaps this very moment.

She jerked away from him, empowered—albeit frightfully so—by his surprise. She glared at him with the full might of a woman capable of commanding grown men to do her bidding, smart enough to run a large, complex household, and brave enough to protect those she loved. “Ye dare make light of the suffering ye inflicted?”

His dark brows drew together. Confusion crossed his features. Had he forgotten?


“Ye bound me to this very bed, brutally plowing through my maidenhead, laughing at my cries for mercy.”

Kenna’s chest rose and fell with the strength of her ardor. Further empowered by his silence, she continued her tirade. “For three days, I suffered at the hands of the very man who should have been my greatest champion, who instead treated me worse than the lowliest whore. Ye turned what should have been the happiest days of my life into a nightmare. I was a girl, an innocent.”

By now the muscle in his jaw twitched with gusto. His handsome features were clouded with fury. She ignored the warning in her head, and surged ahead. “Now ye return home, expecting your wife to greet you with open arms—and legs, no doubt—while ye callously belittle the torture ye inflicted in this very room.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, a tiny voice screamed inside her head. You will only make it worse. But Kenna could not stop, despite the every-growing rage that seemed to render him speechless and the certainty that he would punish her for her insolence.

Perhaps she, too, had forgotten. Had her recollection faded over the years? Had she lived with such fear until now it was little more than a faded memory, its intensity diminished by time? She stood taller, squaring her shoulders and fixing him with a look of disdain that would make most men shuffle their feet and look away in shame.

His expression, however, did not reveal a man ashamed of his actions. Only a devil, enraged at being dressed down by a wisp of a lass and plotting the best ways to punish her.

Kenna clenched her fists at her sides, wishing she had a blade hidden in the folds of her smock. She glared at him, her eyes locked on his despite the murderous rage she saw there. “Do with me as ye will. It is yer right as my husband. But know this: I willna cower in fear of ye. Not again. I willna suffer yer abuse submissively. You will have to kill me this time.”

BLURB: Once she was afraid to touch him. Now she’s afraid to let go.

Forced to marry to avoid war between clans, Kenna Cleary endured three days of her new husband’s painful brutality before he rode off to battle the English. In the five years of his absence, she bore him a daughter, increased his holdings, and gained the love and respect of his people. Now he’s home. Must she and the clan learn to endure his cruelty once more?

Can an ancient Celtic god find peace in the mortal world?

The Laird of Domhnul has returned from war a changed man—moreso than his wife or clan can possibly know. Now the warrior faces a new battle, one for his wife’s heart, and his peoples’ trust. He must walk the knife’s edge of deception and danger, while proving he is no longer the cruel tyrant they came to know all too well.

But when his father embroils both them in a deadly plot, can the couple find a way to prevent war between the clans?

BUY LINK: Amazon

#MedievalMonday ~ Ruth A. Casie

Greetings gods and goddesses. My guest today is Ruth A. Casie. Ruth lives in New Jersey with her husband, three empty bedrooms and a growing number of incomplete counted cross-stitch projects. Before she found her voice, she was a speech therapist (pun intended), client liaison for a corrugated manufacturer, and international bank product and marketing manager, but her favorite job is the one she’s doing now—writing romance. She hopes her stories become your favorite adventures. Today she is sharing an excerpt from her Medieval Romance, The Guardian’s Witch.

Relief surged through her. She rose, retrieved her dress lying in a pool of sunlight, and quickly slipped it on. She calmed the restless warhorse with her gentle touch and whispered words. When she ventured a glance at the knight, she found herself staring into his compelling gray eyes. His gaze was riveted on her face. A fresh spasm of coughing took him, and she turned to leave.

Next week read the full scene at Ruth’s website www.RuthACasie.blogspot.com Leave a comment below for a chance to win a digital copy of The Maxwell Ghost, part of The Stelton Legacy.

BLURBEngland, 1290

Lord Alex Stelton can’t resist a challenge, especially one with a prize like this: protect a castle on the Scottish border for a year, and it’s his. Desperate for land of his own, he’ll do anything to win the estate—even enter a proxy marriage to Lady Lisbeth Reynolds, the rumored witch who lives there.

Feared and scorned for her second sight, Lisbeth swore she’d never marry, but she is drawn to the handsome, confident Alex. She sees great love with him but fears what he would think of her gift and her visions of a traitor in their midst.

Despite his own vow never to fall in love, Alex can’t get the alluring Lisbeth out of his mind and is driven to protect her when attacks begin on the border. But as her visions of danger intensify, Lisbeth knows it is she who must protect him. Realizing they’ll secure their future only by facing the threat together, she must choose between keeping her magic a secret and losing the man she loves.

BUY LINKSAmazon  B&N  Kobo  iTunes

#MedievalMonday ~ Cathy and DD MacRae

Medieval Monday is my favorite day of the week. Today, I’m excited to have the super writing team of Cathy and DD MacRae. Cathy is an Amazon best-selling author who enjoys weaving tales of romance in the Highland mists. Her stories feature strong heroes and feisty heroines in pursuit of their happy-ever-afters in medieval Scotland.  When not writing, Cathy can be found curled up in a chair with a book or enjoying the outdoors with her corgis and maybe a German Shepherd or two. Today they share with us an excerpt from their Medieval Romance, The Highlander’s Crusader Bride.

“The expectations should be ours and no one else’s,” Arbela pointed out. “What others think of us should not influence how we live our lives, or how we treat each other.”

“I had no expectation of bedding ye,” Caelen replied bluntly. “I will admit the thought crossed my mind, but I leave the matter to ye.”

Join Cathy and DD next week on Lane McFarland’s blog http://lanemcfarland.com/blog/ for the next excerpt from The Highlander’s Crusader Bride!

BLURB: Born in the Holy Land only a few years after the Third Crusade, half-Armenian, half-Scot Arbela MacLean is a true daughter of the desert, beautiful and untamed. Trained to be a warrior to avoid her gentle mother’s fate, Arbela has honed her skills with Turkish bow and arrow, sword and throwing darts—and dreads the day her father choses a man for her to marry. After more than thirty years in the Holy Land, Donal MacLean, Baron of Batroun, is recalled to Scotland, the last son available to take up leadership of clan MacLean. He brings with him knights, treasure, trade—and a daughter of marriageable age.

Caelen MacKern, known as the Bull of the Highlands, is cynical about women. His first marriage formed an alliance, and he did not grieve when his spoiled, immature bride passed away. He has agreed to marry again—against his better judgement—for the men, means and coin to recover from a devastating pestilence that all but wiped out his clan.

Though more than a little resentful at finding himself forced to remarry, Caelen’s proposal to Donal MacLean’s headstrong daughter nevertheless piques her interest. Each will receive what they want most from life—the ability to live as they please without interference from a meddling spouse. But their marriage of indifference will soon change to one of passion that neither Arbela nor Caelen could have predicted.