1. The Heroine
The heroine, Lady Elizabeth Blayneton is an heiress, but she can’t inherit until she marries or turns thirty. Her uncle and guardian is determined she will marry his slack-mouthed son, but she’d rather stay single than wed him. Only she doesn’t want to die a virgin.
2. The Hero
Brigade Major Lord Rothbury carries the wounds his first love inflicted when she threw him over for his father. To silence the gossip, his father packed him off to fight in the Peninsular War and squandered the family fortune on his new bride. When the current Lord Rothbury inherited, there was nothing but mortgages and debts. He’s been trying to put things right and provide for his sisters ever since. Waterloo looms, and he’s recalled to Wellington’s staff. Then there’s this serving girl who keeps ending up in his bed, only wedding her would cause another scandal and ruin his sisters’ future.
3. The Genre
Historical Regency romance - set in the aftermath of Waterloo. My hero's injured and lost. His family is all that matters. Then he meets a healer who soothes his inner scars.
There’s always a strong plot, with lots of adventure. Then there’s the sex. My pet hate is cliff hangers. Each book in either of my series can be read as stand-alone romance. Add in that I’m a sucker for a happy-ever-after, and you’ve got Kryssie Fortune's writing style.
4. Character Names - Main or incidental.
The Main Characters have names that fit the times. My heroine gets into trouble in Raleigh Gardens. There are scenes at the ball the Duchess of Richmond held on the eve of Waterloo. The officers and aristocracy were named for me. When it came to Harriet's family, I hated them, but I tried not to give them names so horrible that they made me cringe.
5. Reading order.
Kryssie Fortunes first regency romance, Wickedly Used is a standalone adventure. It is the first of three Regency romances that share some characters. Each on is stand-alone.
Wickedly Used Blurb
While he is no stranger to pleasurable company from ladies of the night, Major Richard Rothbury of the royal dragoons is not the kind of man who will stand idly by as a woman is taken against her will, and when he witnesses a disreputable cad attempting to force himself on a girl in a back alley, he does not hesitate to intervene.
But after the grateful young woman offers herself to Rothbury, he is shocked to discover that not only was she no harlot, she was a maiden and he has deflowered her. Furious at the girl’s scandalous behavior and her carelessness with her own safety, Rothbury chastises her soundly.
Though she is due to inherit one of the largest fortunes in England, the fact that she cannot touch the money until she marries or turns thirty has kept Elizabeth completely at the mercy of her cruel uncle, and for years she has been treated as if she were a servant. Her encounter with Lord Rothbury is by far the most exciting thing that has ever happened to her, but while he shows great concern for her safety, he refuses to believe that she is anything more than a serving girl.
Despite having made it clear that he doesn’t consider a match between them to be possible, when Elizabeth disobeys him Rothbury proves more than ready to strip her bare, punish her harshly, and then enjoy her beautiful body in the most shameful of ways. But can she dare to hope that he will one day make her his wife, or is she destined to spend her life being wickedly used?
Publisher’s Note: Wickedly Used: A Dark Regency Romance includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
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A man reared up from the bench, silhouetted by the lone candle burning behind him. Good heavens, his breeches are around his ankles. His lust-filled grin, all sharp teeth and evil intent, chilled Elizabeth’s blood. He leered and closed one hand around his cock. He used the other to haul up his breeches. “Come on in, Blondie. Show us what you’re hiding under that cloak.”
Elizabeth’s pulse beat a staccato rhythm. Her brain froze, right along with her feet. Her mouth soured as he moved toward her. Like a rabbit transfixed by a bright light, she could barely breathe let alone move. His hand shot out and he shackled his fingers around her wrist. The movement sent his breeches tumbling back down his legs. Don’t look down. Don’t look down, she thought, blushing as her eyes rebelled against her.
Unlike most young ladies, she understood the mechanics of sex, but horse and pigs were one thing. A gentleman shouldn’t bare his nether parts in public. And did that thing between his legs twitch? The letch with bare balls leered at her and yanked her closer. His dark gaze felt threatening and evil. Behind him, a whore straightened her clothes and rose to her feet.
The look the woman gave Elizabeth said she’d find no help there. “Release me,” Elizabeth demanded. Her voice came out high-pitched and tremulous. The pulse in her neck fluttered wildly. She tried to pull free, but his fingers felt like an iron band she couldn’t break. His breath—all brandy fumes and onions—made her heave.
Behind his mask, her captor’s eyes shone with lust. “Don’t play games with me, missy. Respectable women don’t flaunt their curls or walk alone in places like this.”
Frantic, she glanced around for an escape route. Earlier, she’d enjoyed the atmosphere, even pictured herself tempting that dragoon with her body. Now the darkness choked her. She’d been a fool to think she could walk this place unmolested.
More about Kryssie Fortune.
Kryssie reads everything and anything, from literary fiction to sizzling romance. Her earliest memory is going to the library with her mother. She can’t have been more than two at the time. Reading, especially when a book’s hot and explicit, is more than a guilty pleasure. It’s an obsession.
Kryssie loves to visit historic sites, from Hadrian’s wall to Regency Bath. The first book she fell in love with was Georgette Heyer’s The Unkown Ajax. After that, she devoured every regency book she could. After a while, they went out of fashion, but part of Kryssie’s psyche lives in in in Regency London. She longs to dance quadrilles and flirt behind fans. Of course, Kryssie’s heroines do far more than flirt.
Kryssie lives in Bridlington on the Yorkshire coast –about thirty miles from Whitby, where Bram Stoker wrote Dracula. She enjoys gardening, travel, and socializing with her author friends. You’d be surprised how many erotic romance authors live in the North of England
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