Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: Raven McAllan
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to Raven McAllan, whose new erotic romance novel A Shimmer of Silk is now available from Evernight Publishing. The second book in The House On Silk Street series, A Shimmer of Silk is a delightfully wicked erotic Regency romance with a hint of mystery, and follows the story of Deborah, one of the house’s performers, and Oliver, Lord Craster, a very dominant noble who senses his other half in Deborah. But can she submit to the one man who may be able to unlock her soul?
And now, here’s Raven!
Thanks so much for inviting me here.
The thrill of a new release hits me every time. Tempered with a very large dose of self-doubt, and nail-biting scariness. What if nobody buys it? What if those that do hate it? And maybe, just maybe, people will buy it and will like it.
After all, Evernight know what they want, and they wanted this. So give over already. Yeah, easy to write, a lot harder to do, and it still doesn’t stop me stalking the sites that host it to see if it’s sold.
I’ve always loved writing; and now, writing and being published and people reading what started off in my murky mind gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside.
A Shimmer Of Silk, which was recently released by Evernight Publishing, is the second book in the series The House On Silk Street. It follows Silver Silk Ties, and can be read as a stand alone. The series are Erotic Regency, with a dash of mystery. The answer to the mystery will become clear in the final book, but not knowing doesn’t spoil how you read the other books.
The house on Silk Street, is not your ordinary mansion. Things go on within its doors that most members of the Ton either don’t know, or don’t wish to know about. Those ladies and gentlemen who do go there don’t broadcast the fact. Their activities are very unusual, and very personal.
As far as anyone knows, Deborah is in the house on Silk Street as an entertainer. During her performance, she catches the eye Of Oliver.
During one of her performances at Silk Street, she attracts the attention of Oliver, Lord Craster. Known for his extreme tastes, he sensed a kindred soul in Deborah.
Persuading her that their needs mesh proves a challenge, even to a man of his experience. Will Oliver be the man she needs to unlock her secrets? Or will his dominance scare her too much to even try?
Are the nightmares simply too strong?
It was one thing to agree to accompany Oliver; it was another to do it with insouciance and style. Deborah hung onto her composure by a thread. One word out of place, one unaccustomed challenge, and she feared she would fall to pieces. But deep inside her was an excitement she had never felt before. The recognition of hope and arousal that she sensed would over come any negative feelings, or doubts, within her.
He took her hand and tucked it into his as they walked along a brightly lit, deserted corridor. There were no doors to break the flow of the walls, just lamps at regular intervals. “We will see no one unless you wish it. My apartments are mine alone. Nevertheless, Felton knows you are with me, and I have given him my word, as I did to Luc, we will do nothing without your acceptance. I promise you this also. Our life will be ours. Not for us anything others want, it will be as we desire.” He stopped suddenly and pulled her into his arms.
His cock pressed against her quim, and Deborah’s breath hitched. Her mouth was dry, as she felt her juices run. It seemed preferable not to look down, for she was sure the pantaloons she wore would show the marks of her excitement. As Oliver’s lips touched hers, she opened her mouth and let his tongue in, to mimic the act she knew they would enjoy later. As he thrust, she couldn’t help but grind her cunt against his prick.
Oliver lifted his head. “Soon, love. You taste of nectar.”
He tastes of hope.
Within minutes she was standing in a small entrance hall. Deborah looked round her, hoping to get an idea of the preferences of the man. It was bland, almost conventional with cream walls and a pale green a chaise set next to a drum table against one wall. The only splash of color was a bright gold and red cushion thrown carelessly to one end of the chaise. Oliver had evidently picked up on her puzzlement.
“This is for servants to deliver food, etcetera. For visitors to wait in and for us to pass through as swift as we can. Are you ready? If not, now is the time to say so. You can pull the rope and a servant will escort you to your room.”
Her stomach was churning, but with excitement, not fear. The shivers she felt were those of anticipation, not worry.
“I thought this was now my room? To share with you? Are you reneging, my lord?” His face was a picture of astonishment. Deborah couldn’t help herself; she burst into laughter. “Oh, my lord, you should see your expression. It is a sight to behold. Truly, if I ever feel threatened, uncomfortable, or unable to sustain aught we do, I will say so. My safe word is sauf.”
“Your safe word?” he said slowly. “What do you know of safe words?”
“Nothing except if we are to discover my limits, we need to decide on one. A word which if I utter, you will desist immediately in whatever activity we are partaking. That is not to say you will not return to the, er subject at a later date, once we have discussed any reluctance or questions I may have. Ah, Oliver, do you think I did not know the reasons why this house exists? Even if our, that is mine and Luc’s enquiries, had not told us enough, Lord Dalrey was insistent we knew where and the likes of whom we were entertaining.”
“And you are happy with this?”
She giggled. “Until I taste what you have in mind for us, how do I know?” Deborah thought it was a reasonable question in the circumstances. “In theory, I know some activities will be good, some will push me, and strain my thoughts and mind. Indeed, some things may be beyond my endurance and I cry stop. But which fits where has yet to be determined. Nevertheless, I wish to see what you deem suitable for us. I need, I must, discover myself.” She dare not say more. Indeed, she would have been hard pressed to do so. Deborah had no idea how to describe the turmoil her emotions were in.
He gave her a sharp glance but didn’t comment.
“Sauf it is.” Oliver pushed open a door. “After you.”
An imp of mischief made her curtsey and she saw the glint in his eyes.
“One day, your sauce will be your undoing, my love, I will remember.”
She was sure he would. In a strange way she looked forward to it.
Where To Buy
About Raven McAllan
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats — their children having flown the nest — surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland — the midge.
Her very understanding and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types furiously.)