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About the author:
I live with my partner in the Battersea area, have an avid interest in Tudor and medieval history, an addiction to horror movies and virtual reality computer games, and am a complete Game of Thrones fantasy geek.
What inspired you to write your book?
I have always been inspired by the Tudor period and am especially intrigued by Henry the Eighth’s court and the drama that surrounds his numerous marriages. Catherine Howard, Henry’s fifth wife, has always been considered a somewhat flighty figure, so in my story, I wanted to expose a deeper, more sensual Catherine, with real passions and feelings for her lover Culpepper, as I like to imagine that she might have been.
Here is a short sample from the book:
I remember the first time I saw him, Thomas Culpepper, strong and fine in his velvet doublet and breeches, his russet hair shining. Broad shouldered, tall, handsome and green eyed, his figure, powerful and well-muscled as he stood there in my husband’s chamber. My gaze couldn’t help but fall to the bulge of his codpiece, and his eyes followed mine down, an expression of mirth curving over his lips. It was as if he knew then that he would have me completely.
“Your majesty,” he said to me, bowing low reverently, even as his green eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Master Culpepper,” I said demurely, bobbing my head to acknowledge him coolly, though inside I was aflame with desire. He truly was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on, and even in that moment, before I knew what it was to love Culpepper, I wanted him in my bed.
“You look very well, m’lady, if I may be so bold,” he said to me, smiling broadly as he regarded me, his eyes scanning the tops of my white breasts, that were spilling out of the starched gold embroidered bodice that I wore. The corset I wore was laced so tightly about my waist, that coupled with the heat from his hungry gaze, in that moment I felt as if I might faint.
It was as if he could somehow see beneath the starched exterior of my formal courtly dress, right through to the thin shift of my cotton chemise, and beneath even. He didn’t look at me like I was a Queen, the look in his eyes was hungry, animalistic. He looked at me like he would have me there and then, on my back, skirt around my waist, in my own husband’s chambers. I found myself blushing suddenly, my cheeks aflame as I stood there before him.
“You may,” I said, smiling tightly, attempting to maintain an appropriately Queenly stance. “You do look rather well yourself Master Culpepper.”
He looked more than well, he looked like the kind of man I wanted to drag me off and ravish me right there and then. My gaze fell to his crotch again and my mouth watered. I wondered what it would be like to taste his cock. Just then Henry, my husband, came round the corner, with one of his clerks in tow, and spied us there.
“Culpepper,” he said heartily, slapping him on the back, his fat cheeks jovial.
“I see you have met my lovely lady wife in the flesh?” Henry said to him, patting me lewdly on the buttocks. Internally I winced. It was as if I knew, even then, that Culpepper and I were destined for one another. Why else would it have bothered me so much to have my own husband pawing me in front of a stranger?