By Rachel de Vine

Apology:

Firstly, I owe the readers of this website (If there are any left out there!) a huge apology for my neglect. I see that my last post was in 2020 and so much has happened since then. To be honest, I even forgot I had this site, and was only reminded a short while ago, when something nudged my memory. After my father died in 2019, my health took a nosedive, after the pandemic began, (thankfully, I did not get Covid) but because of my health issues, my brother insisted I leave the large, cold, draughty Victorian family home I had lived in from nine years old, and where I had farmed with my Dad, and I moved south to be closer to my siblings and their families. It took us a year to empty the large house (my parents were mega-hoarders), and also we had to dodge around the Covid lockdowns, and it has taken me more than a year to finally settle into my new home. I did virtually no writing for a time, as the writing urge had simply left me. However, I am now pleased to say that my health (although still not perfect) has improved greatly, and I eventually re-discovered my love of writing. So….I am back! I have kept my Wix website going, so you are welcome to browse there if you wish. (www.racheldevineauthor.com)

Having said all that, I would like to introduce you to my recently published book (title and picture above.) It is the long-awaited third part of a series, NOTHING TO REGRET, and SABINE, although it can be read as a standalone.

She searches for herself; but at what cost?

Séraphine is born in 1960, the only daughter of wealthy parents, Alexis and Sabine Rousseau, in the South of France. She is an art student at the Sorbonne in Paris, at a time when Europe has rebuilt after the Second World War, and life is good for many.  She believes her life is perfect. What can possibly come along to create doubts about who she really is? But life has a way of sneaking up and interrupting a peaceful and privileged existence, when least expected. She receives life-changing news that throws her mind into chaos, and nothing will ever be the same again.

Louis was born in Paris in 1956, the illegitimate son of Beatrice and Charles (English, but living in France.) His father, Charles, is dead, and he is brought up by Beatrice’s husband, Henri, in Paris. He is aware of his background–having been told at a young age–and accepted it completely. He has known Séraphine her entire life, but, meeting after a 5-year gap, he finds his interest in her has become something much more powerful; but will it survive the upheaval that Seraphine’s news causes?

Secrets kept can come back and bite you—as Séraphine finds to her great cost. Will they cost the budding relationship between her and Louis? How many other people end up paying the price too?

The heart leads us to some unexpected places

https://books2read.com/u/4j5vpD. Universal Link

A powerful and heart-rending love story from the author, Rachel de Vine, that takes you from Paris to Moscow, London to New York, without you even leaving your chair. But it is so much more than a love story. It is the culmination and consequence of events started many years earlier, that the two main characters are destined to live through…and, hopefully, survive.

Excerpt 1

The restaurant was dark and intimate, with a pianist and a small dance floor. As soon as we finished eating, I was desperate to put my hands on Séraphine’s warm, inviting bare skin.

“Come. Let’s dance.”

I took her hand and led her to a dark spot to the side of the piano. The pianist was playing a soft, jazz number and as we merged together, I put my hand in the small of her back. It felt warm and smooth, as I was sure the rest of her body would be, and I hoped I would get to feel the rest of it later that night. I desperately wanted to make love to Séraphine, but was understandably nervous. Would she feel the same way? Or was I just the childhood friend, whose company she enjoyed?

I suspected that she too was attracted to me in the way her hands roamed my body while we were dancing. I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and slacks, and Séraphine’s hands moved up and down my bare arms, and across the shirt on my back. Our bodies were close, and I wondered if she could feel the arousal beginning in my groin.

We danced until midnight, before stepping out into the clear, velvet night, with stars that competed with the bright lights of the town. Driving home in Alexis’ open-topped sports car, I felt comfortable after a great night out, but with tingles in my body that the night would not yet be over.

As we stepped from the car, back at the house, Séraphine moved close to me, put her arms around my neck, and planted her soft lips on mine. The message she gave me was clear and unambiguous. But I wondered about her parents.

She took my hand and led me into the house, where the hallway light had been left on for us. Her parents had clearly retired for the night. Instead of heading for the main staircase, leading to my room, she took me along another corridor, and towards a smaller, less grand staircase. As we began climbing the stairs, I whispered to her.

“Won’t your parents…”

But she didn’t give me the chance to complete my sentence. She put her finger over my mouth.

“It’s okay. My room isn’t close to Mama and Papa’s—and besides, they are very tolerant. They know I’m sexually active, and rely on my good judgement. They wouldn’t allow anyone into the house whom they wouldn’t trust; and you’ve passed their approval by a long way. After all, they’ve known you longer than they have known me.”

I smiled. It was true.

Excerpt 2

“My friend, Olga, will be around in less than an hour, with some clothes for you. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and take a bath. It may not be a luxury bathroom, but will be considerably better than what you’ve become used to lately. There’s soap and shampoo on the shelf you can use. I’ll ask Olga to supply you with more feminine items I’m sure you’ll prefer. Although, don’t expect the types of products you’re used to in Paris.”

That was the first time he had indicated he might have been out of the country. But then, with his French being so good, it wouldn’t have been surprising if he had lived there for a while. I must ask him sometime. I headed for the bathroom, and he called after me.

“There’s a clean robe on the back of the door to save your blushes. I will consign your prison outfit to the rubbish bin.”

For a moment, a cheeky part of me wondered what he would do or say if I wandered back from the bathroom naked. But maybe now wasn’t the right time.

I had enjoyed a good long soak in the hot water, when he tapped on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course. It’s your bathroom.”

He opened the door and paused for just a second. I made no attempt to cover myself. The time for pretence was nearly over. He walked to the bath, and sat on the roll-top, facing me.

“I just came to remind you that Olga will be coming shortly; although, seeing you now, I rather wish she would be late, to give us more time. But I’ll restrain myself for now.”

He smiled at me, and ran the back of his finger along my arm, causing me instant goosebumps, which he noticed immediately. He simply looked at me, with a sexy smile that promised much, before rising and leaving the bathroom. 

I rose from the bath; towel-dried my hair and dried my body, before putting on the robe and walking out to the drawing room. He was sitting in an armchair, reading the paper, and sipping from a glass of what looked like whisky. I sat in the opposite armchair and leaned back; not caring much that the robe gaped open slightly; although I was still fairly decent.

“Are you testing me?” 

His voice was deeper than usual, and he was undoubtedly aroused. I rather wished that Olga wasn’t coming tonight. I could wait for the clothes, but I wasn’t sure I could wait for whatever else might be on offer. I uncrossed my legs and pulled the robe close.

“I’m sorry.”

“Never apologise for being tantalisingly sexy. That’s what I like about you. One minute you have the appearance of a pretty, but innocent girl; and the next, you become a sex siren. That’s a very interesting combination, and one I particularly enjoy. But, as with a great banquet, I prefer to take my time in enjoying all that the feast has to offer. And talking about food, I’m hungry for that too. As soon as Olga has left, we can get something to eat. The housekeeper has left supplies in the fridge for us. I don’t often cook, but I’ll enjoy cooking a meal for you.”

Families aren’t always what they seem

My recently published book has a NEW COVER but same great story

After receiving a couple of comments from readers, who said that the cover of my book didn’t match up to the quality of the story, I decided to change it. My previous blog contains the details and excerpts from the book, (so please do scroll back) but I wanted to share with you some of the great reviews I have received for THE ENGLISH PROFESSOR.

Universal Link:  mybook.to/TheEnglishProfessor

REVIEWS:

 A very intelligent, thoughtful, erotic, evocative, thrilling and moving story

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book. The characters, situations and experiences were very well fleshed out, extremely relatable and engaging on a deeply emotional level. I found this book to be a compelling read all the way through. I was actually incredibly impressed at how much content was packed into it, along with how vivid the descriptions and finer details were.

The erotic romance interludes within were very believable, stimulating and endearing on many levels. They never once felt forced but did come off as sensual and well observed. The twists that unfolded in the story kept me very keen to want to know more, I became very invested in the fates of everyone and I genuinely wanted to know how their lives were going to turn out in the end. To me that is very important in a piece of writing, if you truly care about the characters and their lives then the author has done a marvellous job to put us right there in the universe they have created.

Read this book if you want to dive into a very intelligent, thoughtful, erotic, evocative, thrilling and moving story. I definitely want to read a lot more of Rachel’s work thanks to this stellar piece of fiction!

A Wonderfully Written Love Story. (5 stars)

You know that feeling when you finish a book and then you’re a bit sad because it means you can’t read that book any more? There’s probably a term for it – Reader Drop, or something. Anyway, that’s exactly how I felt when I finished Rachel de Vine’s The English Professor.

This is a wonderful book. The story spans twenty years and envelops the reader so completely that by the time you reach the last page, you don’t want to leave.

Eleanor is in her final year of university when she meets English professor, Dan Jamieson. His admiration for her as a talented English student develops into something more and their feelings for one another develop over a mutual love of literature, classic erotica and, eventually, kinky sex.

Their brief love affair is beautifully described and scorchingly hot. Unfortunately, it is also inevitably doomed. Because he is her professor after all, and recreating scenes from ‘The Story of O’ with one of the students in your class is generally frowned upon by University authorities.

The book begins with Eleanor expressing regret for the mistakes of the last twenty years and tells the reader that ‘having met up with Dan again’, she wanted the opportunity to tell both their stories. This serves as warning from the very first page that the paths of these two protagonists isn’t going to be a straightforward journey to sexy, kinky true love.

And, my god, it really isn’t. This book will tie your heart up in knots, then break it and then put it all back together again. In a good way.

Alongside Eleanor and Dan, there are a host of wonderfully realised supporting characters. The best of which is literary agent, Betty Conway, a no-nonsense lesbian with a fantastic line in dry humour and caustic comments who is nevertheless an understated champion of Eleanor and Dan’s love.

The cover of this book – although very pretty – almost does it a disservice. This isn’t a “Seduced by my Sexy Professor” XXXX bit of porny fluff (although to be fair, I do like a bit of porny fluff too sometimes).

This is a story of love, of life, of missed opportunities and a message to the reader that something that has been lost does not have to stay lost forever.

 The English Professor is a satisfying summer read of substance!

With a start that keeps you turning the pages right out the gate, The English Professor is not what one expects from its cover or its opening chapters. It is a beautifully written introspective novel told in first person by two separate points of view over the course of twenty years. It’s about discovering one’s true desires. But it’s also about the obstacles that arise when we settle in life rather than following our true passions or feelings when it comes to love.

Round and interesting characters, the female protagonist is strong, smart, and likable, the male protagonist more likable as the story progresses. With the ability to get into the minds of both characters, more so the woman’s, we can understand the decisions they make, and both scream at them for their stupidity at times and cheer for them at their successes. Without spoilers, there are unexpected twists along the way that keep the reader page-turning and surprised, even when it ends. It even begs for a sequel!

The settings and descriptions are also what one comes to expect from Rachel de Vine’s skilled writing, and I particularly loved the London moments and the excitement surrounding the publishing world a writer only dreams of! The English Professor has some beautifully written erotic moments as well, but it’s its story line and secondary characters that make de Vine’s novels stand out among her peers. She is an adept story-teller, and this one has it all! A satisfying summer read of substance!

Don’t just take the. reviewers’ word for it, take a look for yourselves!

She had the confidence of youth, that many men find hard to resist

Eleanor

From the moment I first looked into his eyes, I knew I was in trouble. He was a man I found impossible to resist—someone who drew me in like a moth towards the light. He found the part of me that craved the enticement he offered. But our relationship was forbidden. He was my university English Professor and he paid a high price for our affair. But would I pay an even higher price if we never met again?

Dan

I knew I should have walked away, but I was weak. At first it was just the thrill of the illicit sex. But it became so much more—until disaster struck. Our lives were destined to intertwine, but the timing was never right. Had I had lost the love of my life? Could I ever recapture the feelings I only had with her?

Note: This book contains some steamy excerpts. If this offends you, please do not buy.

Universal Link:  mybook.to/TheEnglishProfessor

He was willing to teach and she was eager to learn

Excerpt: One

Eleanor

From a distance of nearly twenty years, it is easy to see the mistakes we both made, and how it could have been different. But of course, hindsight’s a wonderful thing. I’m sure Dan too would want to rewrite history if he was able. It would have saved a lot of heartache. But we are where we are. As a writer, I decided to write down our story, as I remembered it. Having met up with Dan again, I asked him to write down his thoughts about the early part of our relationship. These are our stories.

 I thought the English professor was going to be old and staid and…boring—as we imagine an English Professor would be. Surprisingly he turned out to be younger than I was expecting, and somewhat intriguing too. No more than forty I guessed—which was, I suppose, old when compared to my youthful twenty-one. I was beginning my last year at university, and he was new to the faculty. As soon as we met, I knew there was going to be trouble. I was usually good at sensing trouble. He had beautiful hair and “come-to-bed eyes”, with a rich, chocolaty voice. I wasn’t as naïve as some of the girls in my year. He had the look of a predatory fox, let loose in the henhouse—although he never misbehaved in lectures, as some of the guys did. He was perfectly correct, in words or manner, no matter how provocative was the teasing by some of the students. They were cruel, knowing that if the Professor responded in kind, he’d be in trouble with the Dean. I hated their behaviour, which made what happened rather ironic.

I saw him a couple of times at lectures, although we never spoke. It was only when I went to his room to deliver an essay that we had our first conversation. I should have given it to him in class, and was worried about missing the deadline. He was one of the few staff who lived at the college, in a separate block from the students—perhaps because of his single status. It was cold, and he had an open fire burning in his room. There was a smell of toast and old books. Piles of papers and pamphlets lay on top of his desk, and his filing system appeared to be heaps on the floor. I quite liked that sort of disorder. I shared a room with a neat freak, and her obsession with reorganising our limited space drove me wild.

“How can you find anything among that lot?” she would wail, in despair.

“Easy. I rummage through the pile, and by a miracle it appears…eventually.”

Professor Jamieson, Dan, as I later called him, was lean and energetic, with eyes that seemed to see right through any defence his young students employed. He seemed aware that his youthful good looks would make him a target for flirtation by his students, but never responded to it, as far as I knew.

“Ah, Miss Grainger, please come in.” Professor Jamieson grinned at me, and swept a couple of old newspapers from a chair so I could sit down. Students were addressed more formally in those days than they are now, when staff and students are on first names – best mates – terms.

“I’ve brought the essay you wanted, Professor Jamieson. I’m sorry it’s late.”

He looked delighted to see me, however, and not at all annoyed by the lateness of my work. Was his subsequent behaviour in any way predatory? Perhaps, by some standards, it was, but if so, he wasn’t the only predatory person in the room. I had brushed my long, thick hair until it shone, and was wearing a short, tartan skirt with over-the-knee socks, which left a tantalising couple of inches of bare thigh, and my new black Doc Martens. Of course, I would shudder to dress like that now, even if, at the time, it seemed cool and sexy. We all dressed in what we thought was an individual, non-fashionable way—and ended up all looking alike. How I laugh now. Back then, however, we were desperate to make our mark; to look different from everyone else; especially the few older women on campus, who we mocked in our arrogant, juvenile way, as we swore we would never become as boring as them.

Perhaps I was naïve, but more likely I was a bit provocative as I flashed my bare thigh and maybe even a glimpse of my knickers as I sat down in my short skirt. I knew he was aroused. I could feel it in the air. And because he was aroused, I was too. There’s nothing that makes a person feel sexier, than to sense the effect they are having on another. It made me feel powerful, back then. In fact, it still makes me feel powerful, even though I know the power is slowly slipping away from me as I move away from youth and into middle age. Not that I consider nearing forty to be middle age. As an older woman, I still have a half-decent figure and attractive face; though I need to rely a lot more on my brain and personality these days—oh, and experience, of course. There’s no-one more powerful than a sexually experienced woman, in my opinion. The confidence radiates from us. No need for childish games any more. We tell it as it is. And if some men back away in fear, then we say “adios” and ask them to close the door on the way out.

Excerpt Two:

Dan

I knew as soon as I met Eleanor, she was a woman I would find hard to leave alone. I was completely aware of the dangers lurking for a reasonably young professor, amid large numbers of young, attractive and impressionable female students. I had seen a couple of colleagues in the past, fall victim to temptation, and it rarely ended well. Until now I had managed to avoid such attachments, even though the opportunity had presented itself more than once. But I knew the risk to my reputation and career, as well as the damage such infatuation could cause to the young women involved. But meeting Eleanor had knocked me for six. It was more than her physical appearance, attractive as it was. There was something in her eyes, her demeanour, her expressiveness, that shrieked of sensuality. Something I had not seen in a woman of her age before. It drew me in like a magnet.

Despite meeting and becoming attracted to Eleanor, I wasn’t a man who only had eyes for younger women. I’d dated plenty of women of my own age. It was inevitable, however, when surrounded by nubile young women with perky breasts, long, bare legs and flirtatious manner, that the temptations to stray were strong. I had managed to ignore the obvious come-on signals from my current students. And had succeeded admirably until Eleanor. She wasn’t even one who made come-on signals. I can’t explain why I had such a strong reaction to her as soon as I saw her. She had an aura of sensual sexuality that went straight to the thinking part of my anatomy—my cock. I’m being facetious here, of course. I did try to use my brain in matters of sex, but I was simply bowled over by this girl—or young woman, should I say? At twenty-one she wasn’t a child. And at thirty-nine, I couldn’t be described as a dirty old man, could I? The fact remained, however, that there were strict rules back then regarding fraternisation between staff and students. In the years since, there seems to have been a relaxation in these rules—too late for me however.

Reviews:

 A very intelligent, thoughtful, erotic, evocative, thrilling and moving story

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book. The characters, situations and experiences were very well fleshed out, extremely relatable and engaging on a deeply emotional level. I found this book to be a compelling read all the way through. I was actually incredibly impressed at how much content was packed into it, along with how vivid the descriptions and finer details were.

Read this book if you want to dive into a very intelligent, thoughtful, erotic, evocative, thrilling and moving story. I definitely want to read a lot more of Rachel’s work thanks to this stellar piece of fiction!

Star-Crossed Lovers

A lot happens in this relatively short novel, and the plot never lags. The writing careers of the two central characters are enviable, and Eleanor is a kind of Cinderella heroine who rises into a higher social class than the one in which she was raised.

 Fans of erotic romance are likely to enjoy this one because it has all the necessary features: sexual heat, secrecy, moral dilemmas, jealousy, and a well-earned happy ending.

 

I’m sorry I have been ‘missing’ on this site for so long. 2019 was a challenging year for me, but I am still battling on!

I decided to make a new cover for Sabine, and the end result is above. I hope you like it. In honour of the new cover, I am running a two day Amazon Countdown Deal on March 5 to 7, when this book, as well as the first in the series, Nothing to Regret, are both on SALE for just 99c / 99p each. (Sorry, only available on e-books in the USA and UK.)

If you haven’t already bought these two, I hope you will take advantage of this special deal. The books can be read as standalones, but for a better experience, I suggest you read them both.

ALSO, if you are not yet signed up, why not receive a FREE regular monthly copy of Rachel’s Retreat? This month’s issue contains a yummy Easter sponge cake, a free steamy short story, some humour, and other goodies. Just send an email to

racheldevineuk@gmail.com and quote Rachel’s Retreat, and I will be happy to send you a copy.

To keep in touch with me, here are my links:

Amazon Author Page (Rachel) https://www.amazon.com/Rachel-de-Vine/e/B00N58ULQW/

Amazon Author Page (Juliette) https://www.amazon.com/Juliette-Banks/e/B01K0EIMNW/

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/racheldevinewriter 

Twitter:  www.twitter.com/racheldevineuk 

Twitter: www.twitter.com/juliettebanksuk

Website: www.racheldevineauthor.com

Happy Reading!

 

When the man she loved, let her down, could she trust anyone again?

 Blurb:

Finding herself alone again, after a passionate three-way romance, Sabine is overjoyed to make a fresh start in the South of France with a new job and a new man. It is 1961, and the post-war world is changing fast. Rich people begin flocking to the French Riviera in search of the good life. But criminals are also attracted to this new source of money. Russia is still a closed Communist state, but some are able to bribe their way in and out of the country for the rich pickings of the Mediterranean life. Sabine’s world comes crashing down, when she finds herself a pawn in a power game, and is taken hostage by a gang of Russian criminals. There begins the most tumultuous year of her life. A year packed with love and tragedy. This is a fast-paced, hot and steamy story, that will have you on the edge of your seat, as Sabine tries to overcome danger and heartache. Will she ever find her rainbow’s end?

Sabine is the follow-on book to Nothing to Regret, but can be read as a standalone.

UNIVERSAL LINK: https://bookgoodies.com/a/B07ZLRMMWQ

SABINE is now available for pre-order at the price of 99c, to increase to $2.99 after the publication date of November 2.

How could she be attracted to the man who had kidnapped her?

Excerpt 1. (Steamy!)

 

It was after five p.m. when Alexis returned. He seemed like a man on a mission; and I recognized the look on his face. He wasted no time, and turned to lock the shop door and drew down the blind.

“That bastard, Sergei. I can’t stand the man, but I have to do business with him. I wouldn’t trust him further than I could throw him. But now, let’s forget him. I want to do some business with you.”

I saw the familiar glint in his eyes. He was not the most romantic of men, in terms of words, but the language that came via his eyes was easy to understand and impossible to resist. He grabbed my hand and led me into the stock room behind the shop. Taking hold of me around the waist he drew me towards him.

“I’ve been thinking of this moment all day, and I can’t wait a second longer.”

He kissed me hard, leaving me with no doubt as to the urgency of his need. His lips forced mine apart, and his tongue entered my mouth. Lowering his hands to my hips, he pulled my body in tightly to his, his arousal very obvious.

I responded with equal enthusiasm.

“You mean I didn’t satisfy you enough last night?” I demanded.

“My love, I could fu*k you three times a day, and still want more. I take one look at your beautiful breasts, or your delicious ass, or your sweet face, and I want you every time.”

 

He might have killed her, but he fell in love with her instead.

Excerpt 2

“Max, it’s Sabine. I’m sorry to wake you, but I’m worried about Alexis, er, Monsieur Dubois.”

Well that’s a bit stupid, I thought, calling him by his full name, when Max knew very well that I was ringing from Alexis’s apartment. Max seemed immediately awake and at attention.

“Is he not there, Madame?” He always called me by my formal title. Max didn’t believe in too much informality, even where his fellow employees were concerned.

“No. He went to the casino for dinner, with some business associates, and told me he would be back at ten p.m., but he hasn’t returned. The casino closes at two. Even if he wanted to gamble, he would have been back long before now.”

There was a brief pause, while Max was clearly reviewing his options. He resumed the conversation.

“I’ll immediately alert the hotel security guard, and I’ll ring the police to see if an accident has been reported. Did Monsieur Dubois leave in the hotel car, or in that of his dinner guests?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Very well. Stay in Mr Dubois’ room. I’ll ring you back when I have anything to report.” He put the phone down.

I replaced the receiver and sat up in bed, my mind in a turmoil. I knew Alexis didn’t much care for gambling, and I knew he was in the company of that awful Russian man, Sergei. I was doubtful that he would have wanted to remain in his company for any longer than necessary. Maybe he was engaged in a poker game? He did occasionally play – but usually only with good friends, and not at the casino – usually either here, in his apartment, or in the villa of one of his friends. It would be so embarrassing if I raised the alarm, and something like that had happened; Alexis might be annoyed with me checking up on him. After all, I was not yet his official girlfriend. On the other hand, if something had happened to him, they needed to find him as soon as possible. Any delay might prove costly.

It was a long fifteen minutes before Max rang back.

“The hotel car took M. Dubois to the casino. But received a call a few hours later that he wasn’t required to drive him home—that he had alternative transport.”

“Was it Monsieur Dubois himself who cancelled the car?”

“No, someone else called him.”

“So, what can we do now? Do you think we should call the police?”

Max’s calm, reassuring voice came over the line.

“Not yet. One of the security staff has gone to the casino, to see if he can find out where he went. He will ring with any news. Just stay and do nothing until you hear from me again.”

I prowled the apartment, not wanting to get back into bed. I’d never been there alone before. Alexis had always been present. Part of me wanted to look around to see if I could find any clue about the man I thought I knew, but actually knew little. I was reluctant to snoop into any of his cupboards and drawers. My guilty look would give me away immediately if Alexis asked me. But this wasn’t a normal occurrence. The man might be in danger, in need of help. Or was I just being melodramatic?

I knew Alexis kept a handgun in the drawer of the bedside table. I’d seen it once when he went in there for something, and he laughed at the shocked look on my face.

“It’s my wartime revolver,” he told me. I never handed it in when the war was over. It’s just for my peace of mind—in case an intruder breaks in.”

I sat on the side of the bed and looked at the closed drawer. Should I take a look? The temptation was too great. I reached out and slowly opened the drawer. The gun was missing. I bent to see to the back of the drawer, in case it had been pushed backwards. Still no gun. My heart skipped a beat. Alexis must have taken it with him, and if so, he must have been expecting trouble.

“I want to take you to the edge; make you cry with need for me.”

Excerpt 3

I had to admit that I was coming to like the enigmatic Russian more and more. There was no doubt he possessed a sexual aura, a mixture of good looks, power and a physical presence. Under other circumstances I would be sexually attracted to him, for sure. But these weren’t ordinary circumstances, and I tried to ignore him when he was watching me with those dark, smouldering eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was fall for my gangster captor.

The sexual tension got to me sometimes, and in the privacy of my darkened room, I indulged in stroking and massaging myself to rid myself of the frustration I felt. Sex had always been an important part of my life, but right now survival was more important. Nevertheless, I sometimes became aware of my body becoming heated and on edge, when I saw he was studying me in his intense manner. If I was sexually frustrated, I was sure he was too. Perhaps he went with women, on the occasions he was absent from the house. I had no idea.

One day, in the late afternoon, I was coming from the bathroom, wearing a thin robe they had given me, and with my wet hair wrapped in a towel, and carrying my clothes. In the corridor, Gustav was approaching from the opposite direction. He stopped in front of me.

“Ah, good, you’ve finished in the bathroom. I feel sticky from the heat and need to bathe before dinner.”

I was embarrassingly aware that my thin robe was sticking to me because of the heat and the moisture, and that the front of the robe was gaping a little. I couldn’t really do anything about it because of the clothes I was carrying. I could see admiration in Gustav’s eyes. I’ve been around men long enough to know when they are sexually aroused. I lowered my eyes to his groin, to look for a suspicious bulge in his pants, and hurriedly raised them again when I realised what I had done. It had been instinctive, and I hoped that Gustav hadn’t noticed. But, of course, he had. The corner of his lips turned up with amusement, and his eyes glinted.

“You make a very delectable sight, Sabine, standing just a few metres from my bedroom, and clearly naked under that robe.”

He stopped talking and just stood in front of me. I began to feel uncomfortable. Yet at the same time, I was definitely turned on by his magnetism, and my own unfulfilled needs. After several seconds he gave a brief laugh.

“Well I had better bathe. I’ll see you at dinner. Oh, by the way, wear the red velvet dress tonight.” He stood aside to let me pass. I hurried back downstairs to my room and sat on the bed for a moment to regain my composure, and stop trembling. There was no doubt about it, I was sexually attracted to my captor, and, seemingly, him to me. What, if anything, was I going to do about this?

 

Your chance to buy the previous book,Nothing to Regret

Nothing to Regret, a steamy love story set in 1950s France, is now ON SALE for 99c for a limited period, until after the follow-on book, Sabine, comes out in late October. They are written as standalones, but reading the first one will give you an interesting background into Sabine’s early life.

Universal Link:  https://bookgoodies.com/a/B07PGJM4NV

 Beatrice, fresh from university, is determined to become a writer, but her sheltered life in 1950s England, as a vicar’s daughter, ill-equips her emotionally to become one. She decides, just ten years after a major world war has ravaged Europe, to travel alone around the continent, to not only discover a life outside her protected bubble, but to discover herself.

Arriving in France in 1955, she meets Sabine, a beautiful, older French woman and her lover, Charles, an Englishman, a French resident for many years. Both Charles and Sabine are captivated by the beautiful, but naïve and sexually innocent English girl, and Beatrice is willingly drawn into a three-way steamy love affair with the two.

But Charles, although charismatic, is sometimes moody and melancholic—a relic from his dysfunctional childhood. He falls desperately in love with Beatrice—with tempestuous results. When all seems lost, and Beatrice is in despair, help reaches her from an unexpected source. Will another man, waiting in the wings, help her to pick up the pieces of her fractured life?

About the author:

Rachel de Vine (who also sometimes writes as Juliette Banks) lives in a rural part of England, but loves travelling the world. Most of her recent books can be classed as “steamy”, because she is a woman who is not shy in giving her characters passionate sex lives. She also like to incorporate interesting stories, as well as the steamy passion, and her readers tell her they enjoy the thrills and adventure that some of her characters experience. You can find out more about her using the following links.

Her website is:        www.racheldevineauthor.com

Her Amazon Author Page (USA)

https://www.amazon.com/Rachel-de-Vine/e/B00N58ULQW/

Her Amazon Author Page (UK)

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Rachel-de-Vine/e/B00N58ULQW/

Her Facebook page is   https://www.facebook.com/racheldevinewriter

Find her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/racheldevineuk

 

Join Rachel’s mailing list, to receive her magazine-style newsletter, (Rachel’s Retreat) which usually contains humour, a free short, erotic story, a recipe, and book excerpts, by e-mailing to:

racheldevineuk@gmail.com  (quoting Rachel’s Retreat on subject line) and she will be happy to send you a free copy from time to time. (Usually one a month, or less.)

 

Sorry I’ve been ‘missing’ for a while. My dear old Dad passed away in March, so it has been a bit of an up and down year. He was 95 and had a good, long life, but sadly his last months were difficult ones, with dementia and other problems. This was one of the last pictures of him, taken in February, during a very unusually warm period, when we could sit outside, which he loved to do. Sadly, a month later, he was gone. But I was with him right to the end, and I am grateful for that.

He would have been horrified to learn that he passed on the day my last book was published. But I didn’t mind. There will be other books, but never another Dad. Just to add to the problem, Amazon wrongly classified the book, and it became impossible to find without the link, so the book was a bit doomed. I have now written the follow-on story, called SABINE, (although the books can each be read as a standalone), so I thought I would relaunch the first book as a special sale before the next one is released. For the next few weeks, therefore, NOTHING TO REGRET, will be ON SALE for 99c. If you haven’t already read the first book, why not give it a try?

 

Universal Link:  https://bookgoodies.com/a/B07PGJM4NV

He taught her the ways of love, but didn’t know how to love.

Beatrice, fresh from university, is determined to become a writer, but her sheltered  life in 1950s England, as a vicar’s daughter, ill-equips her emotionally to become one. She decides, just ten years after a major world war has ravaged Europe, to travel alone around the continent, to not only discover a life outside her protected bubble, but to discover herself.

Arriving in France in 1955, she meets Sabine, a beautiful, older French woman and her lover, Charles, an Englishman, a French resident for many years. Both Charles and Sabine are captivated by the beautiful, but naïve and sexually innocent English girl, and Beatrice is willingly drawn into a three-way steamy love affair with the two.

But Charles, although charismatic, is sometimes moody and melancholic—a relic from his dysfunctional childhood. He falls desperately in love with Beatrice—with tempestuous results. When all seems lost, and Beatrice is in despair, help reaches her from an unexpected source. Will another man, waiting in the wings, help her to pick up the pieces of her fractured life?

This steamy love affair has an emotional centre that will tug at your heart—and other parts too, as Beatrice travels from innocence to maturity in just a few, short months. But will she achieve her dream of becoming a writer? Or will she return home with a damaged heart?

What reviewers have said about Nothing to Regret

“This book has it all! Love. Friendship. A love triangle. Eroticism. Romance. Heartbreak. Art. Paris. Italy. And a twist you won’t see coming!

I adored each word as I strolled with Beatrice through her journey of self-discovery and sexual awakening in the most beautiful and well-crafted prose. I could envision each setting and nuance de Vine painted in her words. The writing is clean and wonderfully crafted for the senses. And the character development is so rich. I grew to know and understand each of the characters, even in this first-person narrative. Sabine’s tenderness; Charles rough edges; and Henri’s acceptance all come together with such vision and satisfaction for the reader.

It’s clear that de Vine takes her time building her story-telling craft, settings, and characters until I found myself crying at the end. For sadness or joy or both, you will have to read to find out!”

 

“Rachel has done a fantastic job of telling the story of a young womans sexual awakening and coming of age in the middle of the twentieth century. The story draws you in and takes you along for her journey into womanhood. A great heartfelt story from beginning to end. Do not pass this book up! It is an absolutely wonderful read!”

I will be introducing you to SABINE in my next blog, but just as a hint, the South of France and Russia are featured, as is a kidnapping, a criminal gang, and lots of passionate sex between the main characters. Don’t miss it!

 

 

He taught her the ways of love, but he didn’t know how to love.

Beatrice, fresh from university, is determined to become a writer, but her sheltered life in 1950s England, as a vicar’s daughter, ill-equips her emotionally to become one. She decides, just ten years after a major world war has ravaged Europe, to travel alone around the continent, to not only discover a life outside her protected bubble, but to discover herself.

Arriving in France in 1955, she meets Sabine, a beautiful, older French woman and her lover, Charles, an Englishman, a French resident for many years. Both Charles and Sabine are captivated by the beautiful, but naïve and sexually innocent English girl, and Beatrice is willingly drawn into a three-way steamy love affair with the two.

But Charles, although charismatic, is sometimes moody and melancholic—a relic from his dysfunctional childhood. He falls desperately in love with Beatrice—with tempestuous results. When all seems lost, and Beatrice is in despair, help reaches her from an unexpected source. Will another man, waiting in the wings, help her to pick up the pieces of her fractured life?

This steamy love affair has an emotional centre that will tug at your heart—and other parts too, as Beatrice travels from innocence to maturity in just a few, short months. But will she achieve her dream of becoming a writer? Or will she return home with a damaged heart?

Due for publication on March 22. Special pre-order price 99c

Universal link: https://bookgoodies.com/a/B07PGJM4NV

Excerpt 1

Summer 1955

I leaned against the ship’s railing on that sunny August morning, watching as the white cliffs of Dover receded from view. The lump in my stomach had been there all day, yet hadn’t stopped me from boarding the ferry for Calais at mid-day. The Second World War had now been over for ten years. Yet I was still nervous about what I would find when I stepped on to French soil for the first time. Would there be terrible damage from the bombs? Would the language barrier make travelling difficult for me? I knew some schoolgirl French, but I wasn’t sure if that would be enough.

I looked up and caught the gaze of a middle-aged woman standing a few feet away.

“First time abroad, dear?”

I paused for a moment, unwilling to reveal my complete lack of experience. Finally, I turned and gave a half smile.

“Yes. Yes, it is. Does it show?”

“It was just the wistful look you gave at the sight of the Dover cliffs. Made me wonder if you were a bit nervous about leaving home, dear.”

I smiled, but didn’t answer—not wanting to get into conversation, but be alone with my thoughts. The woman turned back towards her companion.

Was it so obvious that I was utterly inexperienced in the ways of the world? Oxford had been such a bubble—cut off from reality. Mixing with academics and fellow students, reading, reading, reading, writing essays—it all seemed to take place in a secret world where the real world rarely intruded. Then back home to the vicarage for a month, feeling as though I no longer belonged to my previous life. My friends and family had not changed, but I had. I suppose many people leave university planning to experience the world of their dreams—perhaps some make it, but many drop back into the safe and comfortable existence they had known until then. I was determined to be among those who reach the life they dreamed about—had dreamed about since childhood in fact—or I would die in the attempt.

I’d always known I wanted more than the life into which I was born. Safety, security, and predictability—they were not for me. I wanted to grab life with both hands, experience everything that was offered and eventually to write about it. The thought was both exciting and terrifying.

I walked a little further along the deck and resolutely turned my eyes away from the receding cliffs and towards the open Channel, determined to look forward to the future. The screeching seagulls that had followed the ferry since we left Dover began to diminish in number as they headed back to port. Part of me desperately wanted to do the same. But the brave part of me—that which had kept me determined about my goals—was still dominant.

“But darling, what will you do on your own over there?” My mother had found it impossible to understand why I, or anyone she knew, would want to drift off into the unknown, with no destination in mind and no obvious ambition, other than to travel and experience life.

From innocence to maturity, in a few passionate months

Excerpt 2

Finally, dinner was over. My nerves were becoming more and more shredded as each moment passed, before what I knew was going to be the most momentous event of my young life. Would I make a fool of myself? Suppose I began to giggle with nerves. How I envied Sabine’s sophisticated manner. Nothing seemed to make her nervous.

It was Sabine who made the first move. She rose from the table and took my hand.

“Come, Beatrice, let’s go in the other room and dance. I love to dance.”

She led me into the salon, and Charles followed, carrying the painting, which he set down on the elegant sofa. He walked over to an old gramophone that had seen better days and picked up some discs, selecting one and placing it on the turntable. The unmistakeable voice of Edith Piaf filled the room with “L’Hymne á l’amour”, which I recognized from my short stay in Paris. I’d heard it at one of the many cafes on the Boulevard Saint-Michel, which I’d frequented during my stay in the capital. I went there knowing that some great French writers had worked at these tables in the past. Perhaps I felt that their talent could be absorbed through my skin in such hallowed surroundings?

Seeing Sabine kick off her heels, I followed suit. The floor was wooden parquet, once highly polished, but now looking somewhat neglected. Sabine held out her hand and gently pulled me towards her and we began a slow dance together. Charles sat on one of the Louis Quinze reproduction sofas, his arm slung casually over the back, watched us intently. He’d removed his jacket and shoes, and looked relaxed. I trembled deep inside and was sure that Sabine would sense this. But she continued dancing, drawing me into her chest so I could feel her perfect breasts move up and down with each breath she took. I’d never been so close to another woman before, but somehow it felt completely natural.

I didn’t know what to do, or how to behave. Should I move my hand along her arm? I was such a novice at all this. I didn’t need to worry. Sabine knew exactly what to do. She bent her face closer to mine and kissed me gently on the lips. My first intimate kiss—and it was from a woman. Did this mean I was now a lesbian? I’d heard the word at university, used to describe a female lecturer who had an affair with one of the students, and was dismissed from the college. I ceased to think about anything, however, as Sabine kissed me again—this time more firmly, her soft, luscious lips pressed hard against mine. I felt a little giddy, and it wasn’t just because of the amount of wine I’d consumed. I felt wicked, deliciously wicked. Was I now condemned to a descent into Hell, as my father might have described it? I didn’t know, and what’s more, I didn’t care.

As her lips eventually released mine, I looked over at Charles, who had a half smile on his face, as one hand lazily moved up and down in his groin area. Was he pleasuring himself? I didn’t even know if that was the correct word for such an action. I smiled at him, which seemed to make him happy.

….because the end is the beginning of forever

I’m so pleased to have been invited to contribute a story to a new anthology by the Writers of The Nu Romantics. These talented writers have produced six sensual stories that are quite different from other romance stories. In fact, their ambition is to redefine romance. I hope you will take a look at this anthology to see if they have succeeded.

The book is due to be published on January 31, but it is now available for pre-release purchase at the special price of 99c. You should not miss it. This is the universal link.

bookgoodies.com/a/B07MXS4FJQ

A taste of the stories inside……

“Beyond the Rain” by R.B. O’Brien

Young love is like the first time one sees a shooting star; it’s bright and magical. But not all stars can be seen through the rain. When Julietta and Max fall in love one romantic and lustful summer, etching their forever promises into the big oak under a night sky, neither could predict what the stars had in store for their future. Will their love last beyond the rain?

“Beyond Forever” by Sebastian Nox

Is this life a dream within a dream? For lovers Adam and Abigail, it may be their reality, a universe of two. Or is it a prison? Beyond their love. Beyond Forever.

“Beyond The Call of Duty” by Rachel de Vine

Fearing death, he learns how to live. But can he forget the girl he left at home for a brief taste of heaven? The call of duty during the First World War tested people and relationships to their limit.

“Beyond the Mask” by Mark A Morris

In a world where most people hide behind masks, can Kathleen and Sean find truth?

“Beyond Mercy” by Summer Layne

One night. Three lives forever changed. Mercy never imagined finding love in the arms of two men or how much it would hurt to leave them. Can they find their way back together?

“Beyond the Last Breath” by Ashlee Shades

While his wife lay in the hospital bed, barely clinging on to life, Thomas reflects on their years together and the happy memories they created. When they pledged, ”Till death do you part,” no one ever explained the pain of loving beyond the last breath.

 

And now a couple of extracts for you to enjoy:

From Beyond the Rain by R.B. O’Brien

There was a sexual energy in that summer of ’69. It was a summer where girls’ breasts swelled and boys’ legs stretched for miles; where tummies were sucked in and stretched flat; where girls wished their hips were round enough to hold up the strings of their bikinis and boys hoped they were round enough for different reasons; and it was the summer Max and Julietta would fall in love.

Max was the first to dive off the dock that day they all followed each other down to the lake, chasing each other on their bikes, the girls ahead until they weren’t. He was such a show-off, such a boy’s boy, to everyone else, but to Julietta, he would come to be known as a romantic, a side only she got to see. It made her feel special. He always made her feel…so many things.

Max’s lean body dove head-first, the blonde of his summer-kissed hair, darker after the Mountain Peaks’ water wet it, his eyes looking at her, always, first, before anyone else in their large group, causing her skin to blush and goose-pebble. She hated to dive off the dock, the water always getting in her ears, the sunblock fading off her face, making the freckles she hated that much more susceptible to the sun’s razor beams, that much more visible. The two were complete opposites. He was tan and tall and gregarious; and she, skin like ivory, was shy and bookish and too voluptuous for a 13-year-old.

But he never threw her in and as the summer days crept on, Julietta and Max slowly began to find other things to do than jump off docks or hang out with the gang. Though they never spoke much those first few weeks, there was an invisible force pulling them, an electric charge between them, something unspoken, and she discovered how to touch herself at night in just that way that made her body shudder as the stars and moon witnessed her ecstasy through her open window, where she’d say his name quietly into the pillow, and feel things in her belly like the fluttering of a caged bird being let free for the first time. It made her feel as if being thirteen should be forever stopped still in time…

From my own story, Beyond the Call of Duty

But their teenage existence didn’t last long. After six months of courting, the talk of war became more vocal. People stood in huddles in each other’s living rooms, listening to the wireless for news about what might be ahead.

“If there’s a war, Tom, shall we go?” Archie’s eyes sparkled at the thought of adventure.

Tom was not so sure. “I don’t expect we’ll get much choice. But I’d go anyway—especially if all my pals are going. I wouldn’t let you go without me. Besides, it’s our patriotic duty, isn’t it?”

“Dolly,” he whispered to his sweetheart one evening when everyone was absorbed with the news on the wireless, “I think we should wed. I want to marry you before I go to war.”

A tear sprung in Dolly’s eye at this less than romantic proposal. There was no chance that she would turn down his request, even though she’d hoped for something a little more exciting—perhaps Tom getting down on one knee and pledging his eternal love would have been grand, but still, a proposal was a proposal when all was said and done.

“Yes,” she whispered back.

Of course, being under age, they would need parental consent. It was swiftly given, and at the end of June 1914, the two were married in the tiny parish church at the end of the road. Dolly wore her best dress and carried a small posy of flowers, while Tom’s mother stretched her budget to buy a ready-made suit for her only son, and put a flower in his buttonhole from the bride’s posy.

“I’m not having my son wed in someone else’s suit. You know how people gossip and judge.”

bookgoodies.com/a/B07MXS4FJQ Your universal link for Amazon