Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Welcome Em Brown today


Can a romance/erotic romance heroine be bad? If so, how bad can she be?

And by “bad,” I mean a more traditionally negative sense of the word. Not “badass” as in a Lara Croft type heroine who can kick butt. Not “naughty” as in heroines who experiment with a little BDSM. Not “unconventional” as in the historical romance heroine who curses and drinks like a sailor and refuses to ride side-saddle.

In SEDUCING THE MASTER, an erotic historical, the flawed female protagonist, Miss Terrell, has it bad for Master Gallant. And she’ll go to great lengths to seduce him. But her brazen tactics make her the proverbial bull-in-a-china-shop. Terrell can come across aggressive, cunning and selfish. Others might see her as assertive, resourceful, and a woman who isn’t afraid to go after what she wants. Scarlett O'Hara from Gone With The Wind elicits similar dual responses. She is vain, spoiled and cunning while also seen as strong-willed and resourceful.

Now, “bad boys” abound in romance novels. The male protagonist can be arrogant, ruthless, and coldhearted. He can be a jerk who cares more about money/business than people. Yet we forgive these men their flaws when they fall in love with the heroine. But can it work if the roles are reversed and the heroine starts out with the negative characteristics? Or do we hold women to higher standards?

Have you ever enjoyed a book featuring a “bad” girl? What made her “bad”? Tweet me your thoughts at or #BadGalsInFiction.

ABOUT SEDUCING THE MASTER (Book 1 in the Master and Temptress series)

“Ravage Me.”

No man has ever resisted the charms of Miss Terrell before, but Master Gallant refuses to grant her request and have his way with her.

After losing a wager to the proprietress of the Inn of the Red Chrysanthemum, where patrons take carnal pleasures to wicked and wanton extremes, Charles Gallant reluctantly accepts an assignment to train Miss Katherine, a neophyte, in the ways of submission. His task, no easy undertaking for Miss Katherine is petrified by the goings on at the Red Chrysanthemum, is made more challenging by the constant distraction of a most persistent seductress — Miss Terrell.

A former slave from the West Indies, Terrell depends upon the Red Chrysanthemum for room and board. Her only prospect for a comfortable life is to become the mistress of a man with means. Sir Arthur, a wealthy Member of Parliament, is just such a man. Having staked his claim of her, he expects her full devotion. But Terrell cannot quell her scorching desire for Master Gallant, whose deft hand and command of rope bondage inflame her deepest, darkest cravings.

All this comes at an unfortunate time for Charles as he pursues his own election to Parliament. Succumbing to Miss Terrell would be a disastrous mistake. For her sake, he would not wish to incur Sir Arthur’s wrath. For his own, he risks the endorsement of Sir Arthur, whose support would assure him victory at the polls.

Miss Terrell, however, is intent on seducing Master Gallant. Only one thing can stop her, but it will devastate them both.


He pinned her with a solemn stare. “Behave yourself, Miss Terrell, or I will remove you by force.”

“I should like nothing more than to receive your punishment, Master Gallant.”

He inhaled sharply. The saucy jade. Catching her off-guard with a quick movement, he wrapped his arm about her waist and whirled her over to the other side of the doorframe. She landed against the wall with a soft thud. Disengaging himself, he grabbed the handle of the door and pulled, intending to depart without his usual civility.

To his surprise, the door did not open. At first he thought it to be stuck, but then he noticed that the key was missing from the lock. He turned to look at Miss Terrell, whose lips curled in a slight but telling grin.

He could hardly believe the woman—the chit. Did she truly intend to hold him hostage?

“Produce the key, Miss Terrell,” he commanded.

She returned a smoldering stare. “Dominate me first. Do unto me as you had done to Mistress Scarlet.”

He felt his nostrils flare. He needed no second reminders of her, especially from Miss Terrell, who now tested his patience much like Greta had, but for wholly different purposes.

“You think impudence will gain you what you seek?” he asked.

She leaned toward him. “If my impudence displeases you, then punish me for it. Punish me…hard.”

He stared at her in disbelief. No woman had ever made such a request of him. He wanted to reiterate that she knew not what she spoke. She had witnessed but one instance of the punishment he had applied to Miss Greta.

As if guessing his thoughts, she added, “I can withstand anything you desire to do to me, Master Gallant.”

“That is a bold and foolhardy statement. You know nothing of what I am capable.”

Pressing herself back against the wall, she cupped her breasts and caressed her ribs before resting her hands near her crotch. “Prove me wrong. I dare you to.”

He shook his head. He was done with challenges.

“I vow I can endure more than Mistress Scarlet, more than any person of either sex. I could be the most perfect submissive for you.”

“Unlikely. You have already shown a penchant for misbehavior.”

“You could correct my waywardness.”

He frowned—because the prospect did not repulse him as he would have wanted it to.

“You need have no reservation with me,” she continued. “You would be free to unleash your full strength, to test the breadth of your wicked creativeness.”

His blood pumped forcefully through his veins at her words. She cupped her mons through her skirts, and a renewed sense of urgency swelled in him.

“Miss Terrell, this tête-à-tête serves no purpose. I bid you desist from wasting your time as well as mine.”

Stepping forward, she grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled herself closer to him. Lust burned like anger in her eyes, calling to a primal part of him that he could not ignore. Her skirts brushed against his legs, and her corset nearly touched where his hardened length was fast becoming visible.

“Then ravage me.”

She reached for his burgeoning erection, but, dropping his articles, he grasped both her wrists and pinned them above her head to the door behind.

“Miss Terrell, I am done with this tomfoolery. Produce the key.”

She squirmed a little in his hold. “I should be happy to, Master Gallant, after you have had your way with me. You cannot deny that you desire to do so.”

She lowered her gaze to his crotch. He pressed his lips together in a grim line. The scent of the pomade she used in her hair wafted into his nose once more. Their bodies were far too close together for comfort. She slid her leg along his. Holding her wrists aloft with one hand, he cupped her chin with the other and lifted her gaze to meet his eyes.

“The key, Miss Terrell,” he demanded, unable to keep the vexation from his voice.

She did not blink and demanded, equally hotly, “Ravage me.

Her words rang in his ears like a song of sirens. The air between them grew thin. With a frustrated grunt, he yanked her from the door and dragged her across the room to the sideboard where he kept the ropes.

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