Daryl Devore's Blog

Daryl Devore's Blog

Friday 10 July 2020

My Books. My Blog. My Post. Daryl Devore's Erotic Medival Romance - Branwyn's Love Now in Print! #hotread #medievalromance




5 stars Awesome steamy story - new favorite author

Branwyn is a complex character, who begins the book timid and modest. However, in this story, timid and modesty are two sinful attitudes. Quickly, she is thrown into a world of passion and sex. But she only has eyes for one man, Malacke, the Gon-Dra. He is fierce and does not hide his body or his lust. However, Branwyn catches his eye and soon his heart.

This was a quick read and I found myself up late at night to finish it. The kind of drama and love story that leaves you breathless and then sighing in contentment at the end. I will definitely read more books by Daryl Devoré.

 

Opening scene

 “Stop that crying or by all that is powerful, I will beat you.”

“Do not yell so. You will frighten the poor child.”

Through tears, Branwyn stared at her uncle and aunt. “I… I do not understand. Why must I go?”

Her aunt sat next to her. “It is your time, child. A husband has been chosen. You must leave us to join with him.”

“About time it is!” Her uncle’s face grew redder with each word. “One year shy of a score she is, and still unwed. She must fall to her knees to thank God someone wishes to marry such an old spinster.”

Branwyn slapped the arm of her chair. “I decline. It is my right. I shall not marry this man!”

“How many men do you think you can refuse?” Her uncle paced about the small room. “This is the fourth suitor to ask for your hand. You cannot. It is done. Your things are being loaded as we speak.” He jerked back a curtain in the window and pointed.

The door opened and in stepped a tall broad-shouldered soldier. “The carriage awaits.”

“Branwyn.” Aunt Selda patted her hand. “You have no dowry. This is a good match. He is a rich man. He will give you babies.”

Suspicion gnawed at Branwyn’s stomach. “And what did he give you?”

“Gold.” Uncle Egbert picked up his purse and dropped it, with a rattle, back onto the table.

Branwyn dried her eyes with the edge of her sleeve, stood, kissed her aunt on the cheek and strode out the door to face her destiny.

A carriage with two strong, brown horses stood at the entrance. Two guardsmen on horseback waited. The driver offered his hand to help her mount.

Branwyn paused and turned. No one waited to say goodbye. The door of her uncle’s manor closed with a determined firmness. Warm tears gathered at the corner of her eyes. She blinked them back, then settled herself, pulled a blanket over her legs and snapped the curtains closed. If the family she’d grown up with refused to cry and wish her well, she would not shed a tear or turn for a final glance at her adopted home. With a shout and a shudder, the carriage pulled away.

For three days and nights, the horses pounded across the land. Her body ached from the incessant shaking. The driver allowed her allowed brief intervals to exit the carriage. A guard, always on hand, escorted her to an inn. As much as she tried to converse with her escort, no one spoke to her.

While she ate a quick meal, fresh horses, a new driver and soldiers relieved the tired ones. A rough blanket was Branwyn’s refuge into sleep—no bed, no soft down pillow, no gentle breeze billowing through her curtains, just the constant movement of the carriage. Exhaustion and frustration filled her as every time her eyes fluttered shut a sharp jostle would snap her awake.

When the coach stopped, Branwyn’s trial was over. Her patience had worn thin and weariness weighed heavily on her. The door opened, and she stepped down the stairs and onto the land of her new home.

Two torches, held by guards, broke the darkness. A woman stood just outside the doorway. “Dune Branwyn. Welcome to Black Dorn. I am Duna Trea.”

Branwyn smiled. Years of training surfaced through her exhaustion and she curtsied. “It is a delight to meet you, Duna Trea.”

A girl near Branwyn’s age stepped out from behind Duna Trea. “This is Leah, your serving girl. She will help you to your quarters, bathe, feed and prepare you for bed. You must be exhausted by your long journey.”

Branwyn nodded and sighed. “From the bottom of my heart, I cannot thank you enough. My bones are truly weary.”

Through the fog of near sleep, Branwyn felt herself being helped to walk, undress, cleanse and eat, but she needed no help to fall asleep.

 

Blurb and Buy Links

Daryl Devoré pens another hot read – the medieval romance -Branwyn’s Love.

The tale of a young woman sold as a courtesan in training. Branwyn arrives in a new land to begin daily lessons in the bewildering art of bedding a man.

The noblewoman chosen to be Prince Malacke’s bride rejects him by bedding his hated rival. Malacke turns his anger towards increasing the power and wealth of Black Dorn castle. And he succeeds until his attention is captured by the face of the woman who will be his queen.

 Amazon

Paperback

Books2Read - other sellers - Kobo, Nook etc

 

Books2Read - Print

BookSprout - for a read and review

 

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