Are curses real or merely imagined?
Violet Creed is a colored New Orleans debutante. She was brought up with servants and a strict set of rules regarding propriety, and her papa never approved of her interest in Voodoo. One night she sneaks out of the house and attends one of Marie Laveau’s gatherings—where she loses her virginity and her reputation. Turned out by her papa, Violet is destined for a life on the streets until Madam Dawn saves her.
Cursed to live as a wolf shifter, Mark Afton is a wealthy lawyer and heir to the Bayou Pack. Unfortunately, he can’t take over leadership from his uncle without a mate. Wanting to escape his mother’s endless matchmaking attempts, he accepts Madam Dawn’s invitation to sail on the maiden voyage of the Southern Rose and enjoy the pleasurable company of her ladies.
One of Madam Dawn’s recent hires catches his attention. He is drawn to Violet immediately. Could she be his mate or is their attraction merely Voodoo?
A thick ball of saliva slid down her throat. The more he played with her breasts, the more hot honey drenched her tight tunnel. One hairsbreadth at a time she pressed a single finger inside her molten passage. Stopping when she’d buried her finger up to her knuckle, she wiggled it a bit, getting used to the feel. She withdrew her finger just as slowly, hearing the slippery sound of her own juices.
His hand circled her wrist and he lifted her finger to his mouth. His warm tongue licked her wet skin. “Your nectar is so sweet,” he crooned.
Her heart pounded with such intensity her chest ached. This intimate connection was not what she had expected. She had wanted to just lie there and let Madam Dawn’s customers have their way with her.
Active participation would be unseemly.
His tongue swirled around her finger, sucking in every drop.
The longer he licked her finger, the stronger her need to feel him, until she nearly demanded he thrust his manhood inside her moist heat. Suddenly, she wanted to be with this man more than anything, more than breathing.
She rose up, pressing her chest firmly into his hands. “Please,” she said. “Please.” Her voice grew louder. Perhaps a little encouragement would get him to satisfy her pressing need.
Her thighs fell open even wider, as if offering herself up to him.
Ignoring her encouragement, he continued watching her and occasionally brushing across her sensitive breasts.
The man was going to make her do it. He said he would, but she had hoped he’d change his mind and seek to satisfy himself, too. By the bulge in his trousers, it was apparent his needs were growing.
Where to Find Haley Whitehall
About the Author
Haley Whitehall lives in Washington State where she enjoys all four seasons and the surrounding wildlife. She writes historical romance set in the 19th century U.S. When she is not researching or writing, she plays with her cats, watches the Western and History Channels, and goes antiquing. She is hoping to build a time machine so she can go in search of her prince charming. A good book, a cup of coffee, and a view of the mountains make her happy.
Midnight Caller – Moonlight Romance Book 1
Midnight Heat – Moonlight Romance Book 2
Midnight Kiss – Moonlight Romance Book 3
Soldier in Her Lap
Wild and Tender Care
Civil War Valentine