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About the author:
What makes her stories unique is her love of a sassy heroine who keeps the hero on his toes. Though she has a fondness for redeemable rakes, Vivienne’s favorite Jane Austen hero is Captain Wentworth.
What inspired you to write your book?
An image formed in my mind of a man who had always loved his best friend’s wife, and years later, finally decides to admit it. The story morphed over time to become a tale of two estranged lovers, kept apart by abandonment and betrayal (and the heroine’s marriage to the hero’s friend). It is only once the two have matured and the person between them has long passed away that they are finally able to admit how much they love one another.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Excerpt from Lady Northam’s Wicked Surrender by Vivienne Westlake
With a loud sigh, Rowena turned on her back and stared at the ceiling, invisible in the dark room. Barely a sliver of light shown through the curtains at the window. There was nothing to distract her from her thoughts. As much as she dreaded seeing Simon, she couldn’t help her curiosity. A part of her wanted to see his face, to stand beside his tall, muscular frame and—and—What? Yell at him? Strike his cheek? Kiss him? She wanted to…
Sleep. Rowena’s eyelids were heavy and she couldn’t keep them open any longer.
Exhaustion overpowered her thoughts, and she fell into a deep sleep filled with vivid dreams.
Warmth spread over her, across her chest, down her arms and thighs. Despite the chill in the air, Rowena twisted in the blankets, her body flushed all over. Her mind lost in the dream.
She lay down in her chemise and a tall, broad shouldered man approached her intently. He climbed into the bed and lightly gripped her sides. Little trickles of electricity spread through her skin.
When his fingers spread wide and stroked her from her belly up to her breasts, she forgot to breathe. He palmed them firmly and she wondered what it would be like to have him touch her without the fabric in between.
The man’s touch was bold, hungry and she arched into it, her body curving like a bowstring. Tension spread down to her thighs and she longed for him to push them apart. He leaned down in the darkness and she gripped his hair, pulling him toward her. Their mouths fused, and a heady rush went through her as his tongue laved hers, filling her as he demanded complete control.
He pinned her arms to her sides and she melted under him, pliant and willing. Something about the way he stroked his tongue over hers, the low sound he made, stirred a memory inside her.
Rowena looked into the eyes of the man leaning over her and in the darkness, recognized them. Simon. In her dream, he was as she remembered. Intense blue-gray eyes, a strong jaw and a taut muscular chest that she’d always longed to touch.
Before she could speak, he pinched her nipple and rolled it between his fingers. “Ah!” A sharp twinge of pain gave way to exquisite pleasure, which snaked its way down to pool at the juncture of her thighs. He took his time, teasing and pinching, the rough pads of his fingertips grazing her skin in a delicious fashion. Her lower belly clenched under the onslaught.
With ragged breaths, she watched as he unlaced the top of her nightgown and freed her breast to suckle it. Though she was now free to move her arms again, she stayed still. The chilly night air spread over her puckered nipple when he lifted his head. She shivered in response.
“I missed you,” he whispered, then lifted her thighs and spread her legs open. He ran his hands under the loose chemise, stroking her skin where he had never explored before.