Release Blitz & Giveaway - The Wild Irish Girl by C.B. Halverson
The Wild Irish Girl
by C.B. Halverson
The Wild Romantics #1
Publication Date: January 22, 2017
Genres: Adult, Historical, Romance, Regency, Erotic
AVAILABLE NOW!
SYNOPSIS:
Audrey Byrnes doesn’t mind playing the wild Irish princess for London’s elite aristocracy—as long as they buy her novels. With her father’s Dublin theater in ruins and her sister’s illness growing worse, she’s the only person who can save her family from the gutter. As much as she enjoys the occasional passing dalliance, being the primary breadwinner of her Irish family means either marrying well or not at all.
Dr. Joseph Moorland knows it’s wrong to dress in disguise to hobnob with London’s high society, but he figures one night would do no harm—until he meets the charming and mysterious novelist, Audrey Byrnes. Too poor to marry, he hides his real identity until an accident reveals the truth, and what started as a mild flirtation turns to a complex game of secrets, passion, and desire.
Thrown together by circumstance, Audrey and Joseph find themselves in a tense alliance as they try to crawl their way up from their humble beginnings and into the highest echelons of the ton. But when one of the most formidable political players in London sets his sights on having Audrey for himself, she has to choose between saving her family from charges of treason or losing the man she loves forever.
EXCERPT
I swallowed hard. “I’m afraid you know so many of my secrets now, but I don’t know any of yours.”
His face softened, and he nodded. “You do know my most ghastly secret, Miss Byrnes.”
“What is that? That you frequented the Gathering to watch women being whipped and fucked?”
The memory of the erotic display of the Order seemed to settle between us, the air filling with heat. I tilted my head, and his hand reached out, cupping the back of my neck. His grip was firm, the tendons on his wrist tight. The effect on my body was immediate, my thighs dampening from his forceful touch.
“No,” he said in a hoarse voice. “That is not the worst thing I have ever done.”
“Then what is it?” I said, leaning into his hand.
His lips grazed my cheek. “Well, once I dressed up as a sultan to impress a lady.”
I burst out laughing and took hold of his arm. “Oh, Dr. Moorland. If that is the absolute worst thing you have ever done, you are quite the saint.”
“I am not a saint, Miss Byrnes,” he said. “But a sad sinner.”
I pressed my face against his, my shoulders trembling at the thought of our scandal. If someone had walked in…if someone had discovered us…I swallowed my fear and brushed my lips against his earlobe.
“Give me my sin again,” I whispered.
He made a low sound in the back of his throat and pulled me close, crushing his lips against mine. My spine went limp, and my fingernails dug into the fabric of his coat. His tongue darted between my teeth, and I moaned into his mouth, parting my legs as he reached down to my skirts. He rubbed his hand against my mound, and I gasped, sinking back into the pillows as my body surged with overwhelming need. I had dreamt of his kiss, his mouth, his rigid cock in my hands, and those visions had driven me to distraction. I wanted something to sate me, take away that clinging desire.
He stretched out beside me on the bed, his lips still locked onto mine. My back arched in response to the friction, heat pooling between my legs as he shifted his hand back and forth. The smell of clove and cardamom hit my nose, and I breathed in the familiar scent, losing myself in it. His thigh locked me against the mattress as his other hand smoothed up my bodice, cupping my breast. His lips were so full, the dark stubble on his chin scratching my cheek as he broke the kiss, his lips trailing across my face to my ear. His teeth scraped against my earlobe, and I shuddered into his broad chest, grasping onto his strong arms and pulling him across my body until he hovered over me, his delicious weight trapping me beneath him.
“You kiss by the book,” I whispered with a sly smile.
He growled, removing his hand between my thighs and rolling himself into my hips. His hard shaft stabbed into me between our layers of clothing, and I bit into his coat to muffle the whimper rising in my throat. He thrust into me again, and I lifted my skirts up until the lace pooled at my chest, the cool air hitting my sex. His fingers twisted in my hair, pins pattering across the pillow as he brought me to his lips for another kiss. With another sharp push, he
brought the full length of his cock against me, and something uncoiled deep in my belly, a great rush of pleasure sending tremors all across my body. My hands grasped onto his back bringing him lower against my chest, our bodies fitting tight against each other.
His teeth nibbled at the tendons in my throat before he lowered his face to my chest, planting hungry kisses on the globes of flesh peeking from my dress. With a firm hand, he brought one free, clamping hard on my nipple with his perfect mouth. The seductive sultan was gone, and all that was left was a starving man, ravenous. Desperate.
His hips thrust hard into me again, pushing the bed back against the wall. He paused at the sound, our breaths mingling. He flashed me a dark stare, his brown eyes dilated, and then hefound my nipple again. With his other hand, he locked onto my hips, sliding me closer against him. The possessive movement sent me into a spiral, and I writhed against him like a cat, the rough wool of his trousers creating the perfect friction against my sex. I must have cried out because his mouth pressed against mine, and he sucked in my cries.
“Shhh, quiet now…” he whispered.
The sound of his voice burned through my body, and I raised my hips from the mattress, locking my ankles against him as heat pulsed through me.
“Shh...shh…” he breathed against my ear even as he crashed against me.
He pulled me close to his chest with a low groan, squeezing me tight until I thought he would crush my lungs. I thrust my sex one last time against his cock, and a bright light flooded my eyes. I squinted them shut, tearing at the back of his neck with my fingernails. My core hummed and vibrated with endless pleasure, and I fought for breath.
He gasped into the curve of my shoulder, his lips sucking hard as he shuddered against me. His muscles tensed, shoving me against the headboard, and then he collapsed. Wrapping his arms around me, he turned sideways, nestling me against his chest. The curve of my cheek fit perfectly in the hollowed space right where his shoulder began, and I pushed his coat away, curling up close against him.
He cleared his throat. “That was unexpected.”
I lifted my head, flashing him a wide smile. “I knew I was going to kiss you the minute you opened the door.”
As soon as I spoke, I knew the words to be true, as strange as they were to me. I shook my head, cursing myself inwardly.
He raised an eyebrow, his lips parted in mock surprise. “My, Miss Byrnes. I did not think it would take so little to get back into your good graces.”
I lifted a finger and pressed gingerly against my raw scar. “Well, those blasted stitches itched so. I suppose I was overcome with gratitude to see you.”
He lowered his gaze to his damp trousers. “I believe it is I who am overcome, Miss Byrnes.”
I laughed and pressed a small kiss to his lips. I wanted to kiss him forever, the whole afternoon at least. He tasted like warm tea on a cold day, like the smoke from a brush fire in autumn. I wanted more. So much more.
His face softened, and he nodded. “You do know my most ghastly secret, Miss Byrnes.”
“What is that? That you frequented the Gathering to watch women being whipped and fucked?”
The memory of the erotic display of the Order seemed to settle between us, the air filling with heat. I tilted my head, and his hand reached out, cupping the back of my neck. His grip was firm, the tendons on his wrist tight. The effect on my body was immediate, my thighs dampening from his forceful touch.
“No,” he said in a hoarse voice. “That is not the worst thing I have ever done.”
“Then what is it?” I said, leaning into his hand.
His lips grazed my cheek. “Well, once I dressed up as a sultan to impress a lady.”
I burst out laughing and took hold of his arm. “Oh, Dr. Moorland. If that is the absolute worst thing you have ever done, you are quite the saint.”
“I am not a saint, Miss Byrnes,” he said. “But a sad sinner.”
I pressed my face against his, my shoulders trembling at the thought of our scandal. If someone had walked in…if someone had discovered us…I swallowed my fear and brushed my lips against his earlobe.
“Give me my sin again,” I whispered.
He made a low sound in the back of his throat and pulled me close, crushing his lips against mine. My spine went limp, and my fingernails dug into the fabric of his coat. His tongue darted between my teeth, and I moaned into his mouth, parting my legs as he reached down to my skirts. He rubbed his hand against my mound, and I gasped, sinking back into the pillows as my body surged with overwhelming need. I had dreamt of his kiss, his mouth, his rigid cock in my hands, and those visions had driven me to distraction. I wanted something to sate me, take away that clinging desire.
He stretched out beside me on the bed, his lips still locked onto mine. My back arched in response to the friction, heat pooling between my legs as he shifted his hand back and forth. The smell of clove and cardamom hit my nose, and I breathed in the familiar scent, losing myself in it. His thigh locked me against the mattress as his other hand smoothed up my bodice, cupping my breast. His lips were so full, the dark stubble on his chin scratching my cheek as he broke the kiss, his lips trailing across my face to my ear. His teeth scraped against my earlobe, and I shuddered into his broad chest, grasping onto his strong arms and pulling him across my body until he hovered over me, his delicious weight trapping me beneath him.
“You kiss by the book,” I whispered with a sly smile.
He growled, removing his hand between my thighs and rolling himself into my hips. His hard shaft stabbed into me between our layers of clothing, and I bit into his coat to muffle the whimper rising in my throat. He thrust into me again, and I lifted my skirts up until the lace pooled at my chest, the cool air hitting my sex. His fingers twisted in my hair, pins pattering across the pillow as he brought me to his lips for another kiss. With another sharp push, he
brought the full length of his cock against me, and something uncoiled deep in my belly, a great rush of pleasure sending tremors all across my body. My hands grasped onto his back bringing him lower against my chest, our bodies fitting tight against each other.
His teeth nibbled at the tendons in my throat before he lowered his face to my chest, planting hungry kisses on the globes of flesh peeking from my dress. With a firm hand, he brought one free, clamping hard on my nipple with his perfect mouth. The seductive sultan was gone, and all that was left was a starving man, ravenous. Desperate.
His hips thrust hard into me again, pushing the bed back against the wall. He paused at the sound, our breaths mingling. He flashed me a dark stare, his brown eyes dilated, and then hefound my nipple again. With his other hand, he locked onto my hips, sliding me closer against him. The possessive movement sent me into a spiral, and I writhed against him like a cat, the rough wool of his trousers creating the perfect friction against my sex. I must have cried out because his mouth pressed against mine, and he sucked in my cries.
“Shhh, quiet now…” he whispered.
The sound of his voice burned through my body, and I raised my hips from the mattress, locking my ankles against him as heat pulsed through me.
“Shh...shh…” he breathed against my ear even as he crashed against me.
He pulled me close to his chest with a low groan, squeezing me tight until I thought he would crush my lungs. I thrust my sex one last time against his cock, and a bright light flooded my eyes. I squinted them shut, tearing at the back of his neck with my fingernails. My core hummed and vibrated with endless pleasure, and I fought for breath.
He gasped into the curve of my shoulder, his lips sucking hard as he shuddered against me. His muscles tensed, shoving me against the headboard, and then he collapsed. Wrapping his arms around me, he turned sideways, nestling me against his chest. The curve of my cheek fit perfectly in the hollowed space right where his shoulder began, and I pushed his coat away, curling up close against him.
He cleared his throat. “That was unexpected.”
I lifted my head, flashing him a wide smile. “I knew I was going to kiss you the minute you opened the door.”
As soon as I spoke, I knew the words to be true, as strange as they were to me. I shook my head, cursing myself inwardly.
He raised an eyebrow, his lips parted in mock surprise. “My, Miss Byrnes. I did not think it would take so little to get back into your good graces.”
I lifted a finger and pressed gingerly against my raw scar. “Well, those blasted stitches itched so. I suppose I was overcome with gratitude to see you.”
He lowered his gaze to his damp trousers. “I believe it is I who am overcome, Miss Byrnes.”
I laughed and pressed a small kiss to his lips. I wanted to kiss him forever, the whole afternoon at least. He tasted like warm tea on a cold day, like the smoke from a brush fire in autumn. I wanted more. So much more.
ABOUT C.B. HALVERSON
As a child, Colleen Halverson used to play in the woods imagining worlds and telling stories to herself. Growing up on military bases, she found solace in her local library and later decided to make a living sharing the wonders of literature to poor, unsuspecting college freshmen. After backpacking through Ireland and singing in a traditional Irish music band, she earned a PhD in English with a specialization in Irish literature. When she’s not making up stories or teaching, she can be found hiking the rolling hills of the Driftless area of Wisconsin with her husband and two children. She also writes as C.B. Halverson.
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