Tag Archives: Raven McAllan

Holly’s Christmas Dom (MF) ~ Raven McAllan @RavenMcAllan

From the Author…

Hi, and thank you for having me here today and letting me talk about Holly’s Christmas Dom, my latest book from Evernight Publishing.

This was originally published elsewhere as a much shorter and less intense story. When the publisher in question closed down, I kept getting a niggle that now was my chance to rewrite and lengthen Holly and Mac’s story and show how they decided where their relationship was going—if anywhere.

Do they end up ad they both want? You’ll have to buy the book to find out.

12 Dec 23rd - hollyschristmasdom1l


Winters’ Tales, 1

Holly and Mac have been close friends for years, but never had the chance to get together. Now it’s time.

When Mac shows Holly what he wants and needs—her as his sub—it’s up to her to decide whether to accept him and his lifestyle. She’s waited for Mac for years, but never expected such an ultimatum.

Mac knows Holly’s the one for him. He’s sure she’s a sub—his sub—no one else’s. It’s up to him to show her that.

When they play together for the first time, both of them have to decide—is it for keeps? Or do they part ways when the fun is over?

Be warned: light BDSM, spanking, sex toys


Her jaw dropped and so did her gaze at the smoldering and oh so dominant look he’d given her.

Mac had stood in her hallway and told her starkly, “Holly, you know I want you. I have for years, and now’s the time to ask if you want me.” Her heart leaped, but before she had the chance to reply, he added, “It would be no straightforward relationship. In many ways, I’m not straightforward. I have very definite ideas about what I want from you. You need to think if you want to know what they are.” She’d opened her mouth to ask questions, and he’d stopped them with a kiss that made her toes curl. When he stood back, she’d just stared.

“Dominant, Holls. Think about it. If you want me, you’ll submit to me. I’ll be back, and we can talk. Read this please. Have faith.” He handed her an envelope and left, leaving her standing, wide-eyed, looking at the open door. That had been it.

Until tonight, when she’d glimpsed him across the village green, she still hadn’t believed him. Even after she’d opened the damned envelope and seen his handwriting, she hadn’t dared think of him in a positive way. Because how could she? After reading his ideas, what he needed from her, and not knowing if it was in her to do as he demanded, Holly had worried herself into not sleeping. He wouldn’t come back and ask her. If he did, she couldn’t say yes. Or could she? His demands made her itch to come, except there in the letter it said,

“If you are thinking in any way positive about this, you do not come until I say so. Your climax belongs to me.”

Even if she thought she might agree, she had no faith he would seek her out or that she truly was who he wanted. But she didn’t make herself come.

Now he was here and it was make-your-mind-up time. Her stomach jitterbugged as she drank in his image. Mac. Maybe soon-to- be her Mac. Her lips still tingled from his kiss—the rest of her just tingled.

“Holly, I’ve wanted you ever since you turned from the long- legged skinny kid who whined when Noel and I went off and did boy things into this stunning teenager with curves. A body to drool over and an ass I want to paddle. For all the right—or wrong—reasons.” He stopped speaking and took a mouthful of wine.

His swallow made her mouth dry up. That simple movement, the way his throat moved, and the play of his muscles, was so erotic her skin heated, and her senses went into high alert.

Hell, I have it bad if a simple swallow makes me think of sex. Of him swallowing me, me swallowing him, and—oh shit, I do have it bad.

Mac cleared his throat. So caught up in the moment, Holly realized she’d missed what he’d said.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I was miles away. So you’re going to explain what you want? I’m ready to hear. I…” She hesitated. “To be honest, Mac, I’m interested, but I’m not sure I can be what you want. I’m no subservient. I like to be in charge. Hell, if I didn’t, I’d never have left the village. I’d still be here, working for Mr. McKenzie as his typist. Not even a secretary or PA. Instead, I run my own recruitment agency in the city, have staff, and I’m happy.”

“Are you? Really?” he asked, his eyes more than curious. “I’d say that is only one small part of you.”

Holly decided she now knew the meaning of the expression “looked into your soul.” Her body was scorched by that look, her mind playing hopscotch as it jumped from one thought to another. She couldn’t help it—she squirmed.

“Happy? I’m not so sure you are,” Mac said in a definite manner. Even though his voice was low, the ring of sincerity and authority was clear. “Not missing something in your life? I think you are. That indefinable spark has gone from you, Holly. I can provide it if you want. However, you need to be sure. Very, very sure. I’ll stretch you, demand things of you that you didn’t think you were capable of doing.” He lowered his voice even more. “But in return, you’ll learn how to fly. And we will be partners.”


“You say that now, Mac, so define the partnership.” She needed it spelled out. “Because how can you dominate me if are we equals? To me, that’s a very unequal partnership.”

Mac lifted one hand in the air and his fingers splayed in what Holly decided was frustration with her.

Well, tough. I need to understand.

“No, Holly, that’s where you’re wrong. Okay, maybe some people want that, but the whole point of this is it will be our relationship. Ours,” he stressed. “Designed by us, for us. There is no one-scene-fits-all here. I’d say ask ten couples what a Dom-sub relationship means to them, and you’ll get fifteen different answers. But in each and every one, unless they specify differently, the sub is in charge every time. She or he calls the shots. Didn’t you read my letter?”

“Yes, but…” Holly stopped talking as he put a finger over his own lips, and then moved it to hers.

“Shh, you always did talk too much. There are so may other things that gorgeous mouth could be doing.”

Holly had never before heard such determination in his voice. Oh shit. Her clit did the samba, and her pussy joined in at the pictures that rushed into her mind. She pushed them away and concentrated on what Mac was saying—or tried to. It wasn’t easy when all she could see was a naked Mac bending over her and… No, no. Stop it already.

“Will you hear me out? Please? Without interrupting?” he asked. Only the faint shake of the finger over her mouth showed how tense he was. Otherwise, he could have been asking her to make a cuppa. “Then you can ask anything you want.”

She nodded, and he lifted his finger far enough for her to speak. “Okay, but I’m not saying I’ll agree with anything,” she said in a rush as her words tumbled over each other. “And if I have questions after, you promise you’ll answer them?”

He looked shocked. “Ah, Holls, of course I will. As well as show you anything you need a demonstration of.”

That was what she was worried about. What if she didn’t like the demonstrations? What if she did? His short descriptions of what he liked had her cream gathering and would have resulted in several sessions with her vibrator if he hadn’t demanded that she not come. As it was, she was frustrated and jumpy. Holly wasn’t a total innocent. Her experience with a hot male body might be almost nonexistent, but her experience with her purple friend wasn’t. Carol might have Verne, but she had Roger the Rabbit. Or she had until Mac’s letter. Poor Roger was now sadly neglected.

“Yes, well, we’ll see. Okay, Mac, go for it.”


Buy Links:

Evernight  ~  Bookstrand  ~  Amazon (US)  ~  Amazon (UK)  ~  AllRomance

RavenMcAllenAuthor Bio:

Well what can I say?

I’m growing old disgracefully and loving it.

Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.

Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.

I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I’m often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I’m not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.

Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.

Author Links:

Website  ~  Blog  ~  Facebook  ~  FB Fanpage  ~  Twitter  ~  Amazon (UK)  ~  Amazon (US)

The Dukes’ Christmas Abductions (MF) ~ Doris O’Connor & Raven McAllan @mamaD8 @RavenMcAllan

From the Authors…

Thanks so much for having the lovely Raven and me on your blog today. You know, we often talked about writing a book together, but that’s as far as it went. Then our reader group The RavdorChicks started nagging us—in the nicest possible way of course—that they would love us to write a story together.

So, after much frantic skype messaging, where we brainstormed ideas, and one very sleepless night from me, when the start of a workable story actually came to me, the idea was born.

What followed was a fun filled four days with Raven in Scotland, where we put our heads down, fuelled by wine, chocolate, and Gin&Tonics, and our fingers flew.

We had so much fun writing this story I can say this won’t be our last collaboration.  We hope readers will like The Dukes’ Christmas Abductions as much as we loved writing this story.

Much love from both of us!

Stay naughty now, folks.

D & R xxx

12 Dec 15th - TheDukesChristmasAbductions


Follow your heart and cross space and time…

When Clara lands the job as curator of Faversham House it’s a dream come true. Especially when her favorite Regency Erotica writer Vicky Hopewell shadows her in the run up to the annual estate ball—a tradition left over from Regency times.

The costume ball is always the highlight of the year, but neither woman expects to be confronted by two drop dead gorgeous Dukes.

Daniel Danvers, the Duke of Hockwell thinks Clara is one of the servants invited to the estate ball.

Kit Capel, the Duke of Aulban cannot understand why his wife Victoria acts as though she doesn’t know him.

As both couples slowly come to terms with the reality of their situations, can they find happiness? Is it as simple as following your heart?

Be warned: bondage, spanking


Daniel paused mid swatting the delectable arse in front of him to rub, what must be a considerable ache by now, away. His quarry had stopped screaming for this Vicky, at last, and unless his senses were completely off, she was starting to enjoy his attention. Certainly her breaths were coming in short gasps, and instead of struggling, she was raising her bottom into every carefully placed swat of his hand.

The evening was definitely looking up. As was his cock, which was in danger of splitting his evening breeches.

There was one way to find out for sure. Daniel slipped his fingers under the hideous undergarments, and smirked at the all over body shiver his girl gave. Satisfied with not only her reaction but also by the wet, hair-free cunt he found, he let his digits linger.

“Oh, god.”

Her breathless moan spurred him on, and he grinned when he found her hidden pearl. She shivered again when he circled the tight nub, and Daniel set up lazy circles, designed to drive any woman wild. This chit proved no exception. The air grew heavy with the musk of aroused woman, and Daniel inhaled deeply, before he stopped the movement.

A strangled groan escaped his girl, and he tapped her arse again, when she tried to rub her cunt on his fingers.

“Oh, no, you don’t. I want the truth, starting with your name, and maybe then I’ll let you find release. Only on my say so, though, are we clear here, girl?”

“Fuck, yes … ow.”

Her arse cheeks wobbled most satisfactorily, when he yanked that odd fabric down to her knees, and delivered a few more swats to her delectable arse. The woman had a derriere made for fucking, hips to grab onto while he sunk his cock into her body and claimed what was his. That thought made his head come up. His? He had no business having proprietary thoughts toward a servant like that.

“Fuck, we most certainly will, but not without you telling me who you are, so…” He delivered another open handed swat across both of her arse cheeks this time, and her answering deep throated moan made him go so hard it was a wonder he hadn’t spilled in his breeches yet.

“Clara, Sir. My name is Clara.”

Daniel slid his fingers through her sodden slit, and flicked her nub once, causing her to give another one of those cock hardening moans.

“Very nice, but the correct address would be my lord, chit, would it not?”

A strangled groan was his response this time, and when he withdrew his fingers again, she slumped.

“Sorry, My Lord.

The girl, Clara, he mentally amended, had fire, that was for sure, if the intonation she gave his title was anything to go by. A certain amount of boldness was something Daniel certainly appreciated in his bed partners. If Clara was a lady’s maid, she was wasted in that position. As his mistress, however…  His mood improved dramatically as that thought took hold.

It was Christmas, time to be charitable and all that went with such bounty, and what could be better than elevating this lovely creature from her status of mere servant to his mistress.

Mind thus made up, it was time to taste her nectar and to see if what he was suspecting would be true. That Clara and he would mesh perfectly in the bedroom, and he could let his darker desires shine through.

He indulged himself by sliding several digits through her wet cunt, lubricating them with her juices, before he slipped one finger into her tight channel, and brought his thumb to press against the puckered hole, guarding that entrance.

Clara stiffened slightly, but she didn’t voice any protest, and when he started to thrust the finger in her cunt slowly in and out of her, she gasped. Her hips rose in involuntary jerks, which told him how close she already was to exploding under his ministrations. Her untutored responses made him want to hurry this along, but Daniel was never an inconsiderate lover. He would give her several releases before he claimed his own.

“Good girl, and who do you work for?”

Clara moaned and writhed against him, her internal muscles fluttering around his fingers in rippling moves, which signaled her impending orgasm as clearly as the rosy flush spreading across her skin. So beautifully responsive. She jerked when he tapped her nub, and then withdrew his hand.

“Faversham Estate. Oh god, please, My Lord … I.” The rest of her pretty little plea was lost in a screech as he swung her off his lap and onto his bed.  Her breasts bounced most satisfactorily, and her lovely almond shaped green eyes widened further when he crawled onto the bed with her, and straddled her midriff. Daniel grasped her arms and brought them high above her head. The action made her breasts rise up in silent offering, and Daniel smirked.

“Hmm, that would mean you work for me. How delightful. Whatever position you hold here, I much prefer you in this one, unable to move and at my mercy. I’m going to tie your wrists together and tether you to one of the posts, sweet Clara. Is that acceptable to you?”

banner jo and me

Buy Links:

Evernight  ~  Bookstrand  ~  Amazon (US)  ~  Amazon (UK)  ~  AllRomance

Author Bio’s & Links:

Doris O'ConnorDoris O’Connor

Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get.  From contemporary to paranormal, Time Travel, Sci-fi, BDSM, F/F, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

Happily married for the last twenty-five years, she lives with her husband and their brood of nine in a far too small house filled with love, laughter, and chaos.

Stalk her in these places:

Website  ~  Blog  ~  Twitter  ~  Facebook  ~  Pinterest  ~  Evernight ~  Amazon  ~  Bookstrand  ~  All Romance
~  Barnes & Noble  ~  TSU  ~  Reader Group

RavenMcAllenRaven McAllan

Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband—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.

A lover of reading, she appreciates the history inside a book, and the chance to peek into the lives of those from years ago. Raven admits that she enjoys the research for her books almost as much as the writing; so much so, that sometimes she realizes she’s strayed way past the information she needs to know, and not a paragraph has been added to her WIP.

She admits she’s no domestic goddess, and wonders why tourists think she might run the local bed and breakfast. She doesn’t.

Her lovely long-suffering husband is learning to love the dust bunnies, work the Aga, and be on stand-by with a glass of wine.

Stalk her in these places:

Website  ~  Facebook  ~  FB Author Page  ~  Twitter  ~  Amazon  ~  All Romance  ~  Bookstrand

Sybille’s Lord (MF) ~ Raven McAllan @RavenMcAllan

From the Author…

moon curse-first three-EvernightPublishing_JAyAheer2015-large-series-3DrenderWaves madly Thank you so much for letting me hijack your blog.

I’m so excited. Sybille’s Lord is ready to jump onto your eReader.

This is the third story in the Moon Curse series, and I’ve had so much fun writing them.

Compromised, the first story is a prequel, and a free read. That’s Theo and Mijo’s story. The rest of the books are their children’s stories as they try to make their family’s fortunes

You can download Compromised here on the Evernight website, or from Amazon, Are or Bookstrand

The second story is Lord Suitor. That’s Tessa’s story. You can buy that here on Evernight, or from the aforementioned sources.

And now drum roll book 3, Sybille’s Lord is out on 11th September and yes you can get it from Evernight here

That of course is Sybille’s story.

09 Sep 15th - sybilleslord1l


Cursed Treasure, 2 (Book 3)

She has to marry to save her family’s fortune, and the man of her dreams wants her hand. It should be perfect…

Having witnessed a love match in the shining example of her parents, Sybille is not prepared to settle for anything less than true love. Lord Thomas Jeavons might have proposed, but does he love her? Especially after she tells him her secrets?

Thom is enchanted, and far from being put off by Sybille’s demands. He vows to do everything in his power to convince her that he is the only man for her—both in and out of the bedroom. With her family’s good name at stake, can they solve all their issues before it is too late to find their own happy ever after?

Be warned:  bondage



“Consider yourself properly betrothed. Shall we celebrate?” He put her down, but didn’t let go of her.

Luckily. The room spun as she tried to stand, and she clutched the arms that held her. “Er, one moment.” She shut her eyes and then opened them cautiously. Nothing moved. Satisfied she wouldn’t disgrace herself and be sick, she nodded. “How?”

“Oh I’m sure we can think of something.” He snagged a bottle of wine and two goblets, and with his arm over her shoulder, steered her toward the door. “Shall we see what we can come up with?”

Several hours later, Sybille opened her eyes and realized she lay snuggled and sated next to Thom in a sumptuous four poster. They had, she decided, indeed seen what they could come up with. Several times. In a myriad of ways. Who knew a cravat could have so many uses? Her body flooded with heat as she remembered how he’d covered her eyes and told her to use her senses and just feel.

Even better were the scenes that flashed though her mind when he’d handed the now mangled cravat to her, and with a wicked grin, said simply, “your turn now.”

She used it to tie his hands, an act that both surprised and excited her, and, she judged, him as well. Eventually, after he’d entered her in more ways than she’d thought possible, culminating with her on her knees and him behind her—no pamphlet she’d seen had talked about that—they had collapsed in a heap on the bed. Sweaty, happy, exhausted, and in her case, knowing it was perfect.

It seemed Thom agreed.

As he slid out of her, he rolled to one side, scooped her up and settled her in the crook of his arm. “That was everything…” He yawned. “All…I love…” He sighed, yawned again and snored.

Sybille stifled the ready giggle that begged to be released. Mind you, he had worked hard, been incredibly inventive and…she yawned as well. Ten minutes wouldn’t matter.

Those ten minutes had turned into many hours. She turned her head, and noticed the first rays of dawn were showing though the windows. They’d hadn’t even got around to closing the shutters before they’d tumbled onto the bed.

Sybille moved her head cautiously and looked at the slumbering man who held her tight in his arms. He looked so innocent, which was a description she decided could never be used when he was awake. However, at that moment, she itched to see how long the expression or attitude would last. She reached behind her and used her forefinger to poke the easiest bit of flesh she could reach. His stomach.

Thom jumped, grunted, snorted and snored. Sybille wasn’t sure whether to laugh or shout in his ear. At least he hadn’t passed wind.

She had no idea what time it was, around five or six she decided, and although not the time she would normally rise, even in the country, she wanted to talk. She wriggled around, and did her best to ignore the part of his anatomy that was once more making its presence known to her, by pressing on her rear.

No, she amended her thoughts, needed to talk. To find out what happened next. She poked him again.

“Stop wriggling woman, unless you want to wake every inch of me.” His voice was husky from sleep, and the grumbling note in it was patently false. “It’s barely daylight. Time for a snooze and then wake up and play. I need rest, you wore me out.” He didn’t sound at all concerned, more the opposite.

“We need to talk,” Sybille said. She tried to twist around to look him in the eyes, but Thom merely sighed, yawned and tightened his grip.

“Later, much later.”

“No, now. I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh lord,” Thom, and pressed a feather-light kiss on her neck. His breath was warm in the early morning air, and Sybille shivered.

“Cold? I can help.” Thom purred the words. “I seem to have been woken up and now I’ve got an appetite.”

She wriggled a little more. “Well, something’s woken up.”

Thom had her on her back and had moved over her so fast she hardly had time to blink.

“So shall we feed it?”

Sybille opened her legs and welcomed him inside her. The warmth of his staff in her, his body around her and showing her what she meant to him, was oh so welcome. She met him thrust for thrust, reveling in the way his breath became increasingly choppy and his skin dotted in perspiration.

Thom stiffened, the corded veins on his arms standing out as he did his best to stave off his climax. As her own climax crested and threatened to break, Sybille tightened her inner muscles and dug her heels into his back.

“Syb… sweet lord, I can’t hold back.”

“Good…ah…” She let her own climax peak and crash, as with one last thrust, he shouted his own completion.

It was several minutes before Sybille was able to think coherently once more. She realized that Thom was still slumped over her and although she reveled in how she could be responsible for the state he was in, she became ever more conscious of the state she was in. Pins and needles in one leg and a desperate need to use the chamber pot. Which luckily was in the bathing chamber.

If only she could work out how to get to it.

Buy Links:

Evernight  ~  Bookstrand  ~  Amazon (UK)  ~  Amazon (US)  ~  AllRomance

RavenMcAllenAuthor Bio:

Well what can I say?

I’m growing old disgracefully and loving it.

Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.

Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.

I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I’m often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I’m not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.

Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.

Author Links:

Website  ~  Blog  ~  Facebook  ~  FB Fanpage  ~  Twitter  ~  Amazon (UK)  ~  Amazon (US)

Lord Suitor (M/F) ~ Raven McAllan @RavenMcAllan

From the Author…

It’s no secret that I fell into writing Regency romance by accident. And definitely no secret how much I love both the writing and the research. It’s so much easier these days, with search engines as well as very helpful librarians on our library van. (Once a week into the village and they get almost everything I ask for.) Once I decide I need information everything else gets forgotten about as I flit from one thing to another. Sometimes I end up nowhere near what I was looking for, but oh boy I’ve enjoyed it.

The idea for this series came about, strangely when I saw a stately home and it’s contents were threatened to be parted due to mismanagement over years and of course death duties.

I didn’t dwell on the death duty bit, but I’ve got an idea plotted around it…, but I did have a light bulb moment about someone with a fortune and someone without…

Of course, I didn’t know then that the fortune was said to be cursed.

Or that Id have a prequel of the story of how… and why… before the grown up children decided to rid the family of the curse and make a fortune again…

That’s a free read from Evernight and me…  COMPROMISED


And no, they’re not paranormal…

They just have cursed treasure in them…

Lord Suitor is Tessa’s story…

08 Aug 12th - lordsuitor1l


Cursed Treasure, 1

A smuggler and an aristocrat. Who should Tessa choose?

Both profess their love for her, both intrigue her. How can she pick one over the other?

When Tessa is accosted by a smuggler, her life takes a turn for the better—or so she believes. Until Nathaniel, Lord Fenniston, indicates his interest in her. She has to marry to help her family, but her loyalties are torn.

Luckily, fate has its own way of deciding…



“You’ve gone and done it now, youngster. She be dead. How you goi’n t’splain that to his Lor’ship, eh?” The rough voice echoed and fluctuated like the sound of waves rushing in and out of one of the numerous caves in the cliffs below Birch House. Tessa took a sharp inward breath and winced as one of the drums of the local regiment played a brisk march on her skull. How dare they? She needed to sleep, not be entertained in such a manner.

“She’s not dead,” the smooth-as-her-morning-chocolate voice said. “I didn’t hit her that hard, a mere tap. Just to let the ponies get on. See, she’s still breathing, you fool. Look, her bosom is heaving like a ship under full sail.”

A ship under full sail indeed. She may be nicely endowed in that area, but not to those extremes. That picture in her mind conjured up Lady Frame, whose bosom was akin to his description.

Tessa moaned and struggled to sit up. Strong hands held her firmly.

“Don’t wriggle, woman. You may well do me a mischief if you do, and I swear you might not welcome the results.”

She stilled immediately as a distinct bulge made its presence known in the cleft of her arse.

“There now, see? She’s wakening.” The velvety, cultured voice spoke once more.

Was it familiar? Tessa couldn’t get her thoughts straight enough to work that out.

“Come on, sweetheart, show us you’re back with us again.” Those strong arms—she had no reason to believe it was any other—gathered her up, and she felt safe and cossetted as a calloused hand stroked her cheek and then gave it a gentle tap. “Stop pretending.”

If she considered she was cosseted before, now she felt scolded like a recalcitrant child.

“Get you off, young sir.” The rough voice had become urgent. “Leave her with me. I’ll knock her out again and get away afore she comes around again.”

“Rubbish, enough of the violent thoughts. You go and do your bit, and I’ll speak to you tomorrow. She won’t see my face. The men need to know all is well, and you can reach them better than I can. I’ll do what is needed here. Off you go before my lady opens her eyes and clocks your ugly phizog. It might send her off again.”

There was a cackle of laughter, then a rustle and the fading sound of someone walking over what sounded like shingle.

“Come on now, I know you’re awake. Your breathing changed. Stop playing the dead man, and let’s get on.”

She bit her lip as she tried to open her eyes. They didn’t want to cooperate, and she suddenly realized why.

“Why am I blindfolded?” Was that weak and whinging voice really hers? “Take it off at once.” There, surely that sounded more in command?

It seemed not. Someone laughed.

“Sorry, sweetheart, nothing doing. It’s in your own best interest not to see anything. Look to the wall while the gentlemen do their work.”

Buy Links:

Evernight  ~  Bookstrand  ~  Amazon (US)  ~  Amazon (UK)  ~  AllRomance

RavenMcAllenAuthor Bio:

Well what can I say?

I’m growing old disgracefully and loving it.

Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.

Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.

I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I’m often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I’m not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.

Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.

Author Links:

Website  ~  Blog  ~  Facebook  ~  FB Fanpage  ~  Twitter  ~  Amazon (UK)  ~  Amazon (US)

The Racing Driver’s Wife (M/F) ~ Raven McAllan @RavenMcAllan

From the Author…

What is it with some men and their attitudes?

Hot bods, hot blooded and often hot tempered. You know, speak first, regret it later.

Yeah, them. They might make you shiver quiver and tingle—however that level of hotness can be hard to live with. They can’t help themselves, bless them, sometimes, when they try to shield their love from all the nasties that could affect them.

And we all know how damned annoying that is. Why do they think we’re such fragile little flowers we can’t cope. Because if they think that, sometimes, we begin to think it as well…

And that’s where the problems can start…

My first book in this series, called their Wives is already out. (The Rock Star’s wife)

07 Jul 23rd - theracingdriverswife1l


Their Wives, 2

Some risks are worth taking…

Racing driver Gael Lorenzo is used to taking his life in his hands, if only he could say the same for his errant wife. He meant his wedding vows, and there will never be another woman for him, but what can he do to win her back?

Darcy thought she knew the risks of being married to a man who lives for his sport. The reality of the race track, however, proves too much for her. Nevertheless, giving Gael up entirely is not an option either.

When circumstances force them back into each other’s company, neither one of them can let this chance go. Together they are stronger than apart, and their marriage is worth fighting for, isn’t it?


Gael Lorenzo ducked the remote control as it flew through the air in his direction, and caught it in one hand.

“How on earth you ever get from A to B when your coordination is so bad I have no conception,” he said as he walked into the room and put the control down on the table. He made sure it was well out of Darcy’s arm reach. He knew how sneaky she could be if she thought the occasion warranted it. Damned if he wasn’t more nervous then before a race. He was under no illusion that the next few moments were going to be sticky. “That was more likely to hit the window than me.”

Darcy made a sound somewhere between a scream and a snort. “Ass. You scared the living daylights out of me. And as for your one-upmanship, how on earth you lie so successfully and don’t bat an eyelid, I have no conception,” Darcy said. “‛My wife is my life’,” she parroted and rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, that’ll be right. After your car, your team and…”

“And nothing, cara.” One-upmanship? He’d thought he was very restrained. He made no mention of open doors, lack of security, self-preservation or the like. “You believe what you will, but I speak the truth. If my wife would let it be so.” He shrugged. “Then it would be. However, she chooses to live her own life, and I have to accept that.” He winced as he became oh-so-very Italian. It was a measure of his concern and the knowledge of just how important this meeting was.

Darcy turned toward the television where the bouncy idiot he’d had to endure warbled on in her happy-clappy manner. Gael braced himself. He knew what was about to come, and he’d hoped to speak to Darcy beforehand. It seemed a tractor and trailer, and a laden log lorry who just knew they owned the road, had put paid to that. He’d spent twenty minutes breathing their fumes, before passing in a spot only the brave or foolhardy would use. It wasn’t that you couldn’t see any oncoming traffic—the road ran straight for nigh on half a mile. It was the width of the ruts and gravel that was tricky. Gael got by with no more than an inch on each side and a dozen or so scratches from the gravel where it jumped up and scored the paintwork. As it was a hire car, he guessed that his chance of a cheap rental ever again had just disappeared down the toilet.

“…and so you say this woman is lying?” The voice reverberated around the room. “In fact you’re happily married? There is a wife, but she’s not hidden away somewhere? So why isn’t she with you? Are you estranged?”

Darcy turned to him, and if he had one wish, it would be to banish the pained look in her eyes. Heaven help him, he’d done his best to avert the interview, but some ferrety reporter had discovered he was married and of course it was full bodied fodder for the gossip columns. Gael knew fine and well how his boring, no companion, race, practice, test, train and sleep regime annoyed them. Even more so because in his youth he’d kept most of them in business.

“Cara, I…”

“Shh, I’m listening to what my husband has decided to say.” Darcy turned her back on him. “Even if he chooses not to say it to me. Strange, that.”

Gael spent a few seconds admiring the curve of her spine and the way a few tendrils of reddish brown hair tickled the nape of her neck before he shrugged and wandered into the kitchen. After several wrong attempts he found mugs and coffee and set the stovetop machine on the hotplate to percolate.

It was inevitable this day would come, but he wished it hadn’t been mid season, where his chances for in-depth discussion would be few and far between. Unless he could persuade Darcy to accompany him to the track, and after today there was less likelihood of that than persuading her to fly to the moon.

He was pouring the liquid into two mugs when a sound alerted him to her presence. She leaned against the doorjamb, her long legs bare and a tiny skirt and strappy top covering what needed to be covered to preserve her decency.

“What a load of cobblers you spouted.  ‘My wife has a busy life and we prefer to have our time together without interruptions. Those moments are precious and I’m greedy enough not to want to share them with anyone else. Lucky for me she feels the same’.” Darcy parroted his explanation in the interview in a sarcastic tone. “Yuck, so icky-sicky. Why didn’t you just divorce me?” She held her sunglasses by one of the arms and spun them around before jamming them on her nose. “You have grounds. I left you.”

It was a pity, because Gael could no longer see her eyes to gauge her reaction to his words. “Sadly I couldn’t find any Italian coffee, but I’ve done the best I could.”

“You get whatever was on offer and lump it. I buy for myself, not for unwelcomed guests.”

He winced very theatrically, and was immediately ashamed when she coloured and looked away from him.

“Why should I divorce you? I took my vows in all faith, and intended to abide by them. I still do. In sickness and in health, in good times and bad. Etcetera. The fact we are apart does not negate my love for you. That strengthens every day. It is above everything. It’s your choice not to be with me, and I have to accede to your preference.” He took a swallow of coffee and grimaced. “It was pigs’ swill on sale, cara. You were robbed if they called it coffee. False advertising.”

“Join the real world, caro. See how the most of us live.”


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RavenMcAllenAuthor Bio:

Well what can I say?

I’m growing old disgracefully and loving it.

Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.

Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.

I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I’m often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I’m not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.

Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.

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