Today we're celebrating at Craving Erotic Romance. Anytime a new book is out, we jump for joy! Virginnia's latest book simply sizzles and we're sharing!
Virginnia states, "Memoirs of Lady Montrose" is my first serious erotica. Although some of my other novellas are classified as erotic there's many more sex scenes in this one. Plus the requirement was to write about a menage a trois. I really had to use my imagination here, not having any experience in this field! I enjoyed the challenge and the process so much I have written a second erotic novella. As yet it hasn't been accepted for publication, but it's close. (Just a few changes required.) It's called "Landscapes of Lust" and I hope to have it released within the year."
Blurb:
Lady Helen attends
a Brighton Establishment to be sexually satisfied by their staff. Her husband Henry pays for this arrangement
and together they relive the descriptions of her experiences there.
This idyllic arrangement
falls apart when Christopher Mortlock, from Brighton, recognises Lady Helen in
London and endeavours to blackmail her. He is unaware of Lord Henry’s
involvement and Mortlock’s blackmail plot is turned around to the benefit of
all three of them.
Mortlock agrees to
a new arrangement to satisfy Lady Helen’s sexual needs and is inventive and
athletic in his labours as their gardener and employee; until the day he
introduces her to ‘Fairy Dust.’ Lord Henry’s wrath descends to save Lady Helen
from addiction and punish Mortlock for his audacity.
A sexual romp that
will titillate your senses as much as it delights Lady Montrose!
Excerpt:
“Good evening Mrs. Brown”
someone murmured at her shoulder.
Helen’s stomach lurched.
Her heart leapt in her chest and pounded at speed. Fear fizzed down her spine and turned her
stomach over. Only a small group of
people knew her as Mrs. Brown and those people would not mix with, or be known
to the present company. The cream of London’s society eddied around her,
dressed to impress for their night at the Albert Hall. The interval afforded an
opportunity to be seen and husbands attended with no interest in the musical
recitals of Mozart and Chopin, let alone Beethoven’s Pastoral pieces.
She turned around, her
gaze searching the moving crowd. Three men walked away through the theatre
patrons, one younger than the others.
From the rear he looked well built with wide shoulders, dressed in
formal attire and walking with a slight swagger. The voice she heard had
sounded young. Could it be him? Even if she could see his face she wouldn’t
recognise him. When in the persona
of ‘Mrs Brown’ she always requested a blindfold.
If she had enjoyed his company, she
wouldn’t know.
“Helen.” Charlotte touched her arm to attract her attention
and she turned back to concentrate on the moment and get her nerves under
control.
“Sorry Lottie, sorry.”
“Lady Helen, may I introduce the
Honourable Stuart Whitmore, Member of Parliament for Minderhurst.” Charlotte
indicated the gentleman who’d arrived while her gaze had been fixed elsewhere.
“Mr. Stuart Whitmore, may I introduce you to Lady Helen Montrose.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t talk at the moment. Excuse
me.” She inclined her head towards the fawning Member of Parliament and gave
Charlotte a quick smile. “I must go, Charlotte. I’m worried about Henry. He was
a little poorly when I left this evening.”
“But the programme is
only halfway through.”
“I must go Lottie. I‘ve a
feeling something is terribly wrong.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
They abandoned Mr.
Whitmore M.P in the crowd. He would no doubt turn and inveigle his way into
another group. More important things
weighed on Helen’s mind than the ladder-climbing hopes of a back bencher.
Lottie accompanied her through the throng that filled the foyer. The combined
conversations hummed like a nest of wasps.
They nodded politely to those who moved forward, hurrying past until
they reached the entrance to wait for an available taxi.
“Helen, you’re quite
pale. Are you ill?” Charlotte had known
her for many years but this was one secret Lady Helen could not share, even
with her best friend. The nausea held its place, churning her insides and she
couldn’t explain her pallor to Charlotte, no matter how desperate her need to
share the burden. Only to Henry could she talk. “Are you sure it isn’t you who
is feeling unwell?
“I’m fine Charlotte, just
tired. I’ll be happy to get home.” The
driver waited, holding the door open. “Thank you for your company this
evening.” Helen gave Charlotte a quick
kiss on her soft powdered cheek then climbed into the back of the black
taxicab. Her heart-beat had slowed since the man had called her ‘Mrs Brown’,
but the lump in her throat still hurt. The
sour taste of distress filled her mouth and her breath came in fast gasps as if
she were panting. She leant back against
the upholstery and inhaled several deep, slow breaths in an effort to calm her
apprehension. Thank God Henry would
still be awake when she got home. She needed
his wise counsel, his old frail arms around her, his liver-spotted hands
stroking her hair.
She opened the taxi’s
door, pushing notes in to the driver’s hand, Her relief to be home made her
ignore the cabbie’s call about her change.
In her haste to reach Henry’s side she slammed their front door, the
heavy oak connecting with a thud, and ran up the staircase to their bedroom on
the second floor.
Friends of Henry’s
considered her a ‘decoration on Henry’s arm’
and said as much behind her back, not loud enough for Henry to hear, but
sufficient for her to catch the phrase.
Despite being thirty years her husband’s junior theirs was a love-match.
At first their age
difference had meant nothing, but of late the effects of Henry’s age had torn a
hole in their lovemaking. Henry’s
kindness and his concern for her physical needs was the foundation for the
state of panic now coursing through her. She threw her evening wrap over the
chaise longue, kicked off her evening shoes and climbed into bed beside him.
“What is it?” He tossed
his book aside, reached and wrapped his arms around her to pull her close.
“A man called me ‘Mrs.
Brown’ this evening. Someone from Brighton has come to London and recognised me. It can only mean trouble , Henry.”
“Sshh. Quiet, darling. Let’s think this out.”
She rested her head on
his chest and stretched beside him. He moved aside the bodice of her low cut
dress to stroke her breasts with a smooth caress, his hands no longer the
strong. With a soft touch he wrapped his hand under the giving mass, cupping
it, circling her nipple with his
fingertips in feather-light dance.
“Did he say anything
else?”
“No, I turned around but
several men were walking away from me, one a younger man. He had a thick mop of hair and his stride
held an arrogance not seen in our circles . It
could have been him, but even if I’d seen his face I wouldn’t have known who he
was, Henry. You know I always wear a blindfold - so I can pretend it’s you.”
“Sssh, darling.
Don’t panic so.”
Lady Helen listened to
the steady, slow beat of Henry’s heart
knowing his thought process could not be rushed. After a minute he said, “No
doubt he’ll try to blackmail you.”
She shuddered.
Aren't you shuddering too? You can pick up this book today. It's already getting rave reviews!
When you’ve learned to take possession in stride, love should be easy. Right? It might be if your life and the lives of people you loved weren’t threatened by an invasion of monsters..jpg)
J.M. Bray lives in Southern California with his college sweetheart and their two dogs. After a lifetime together, they are happier than the moment they met. 
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