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Charlotte Featherstone

Hi I write erotic historical romance for Harlequin Spice, as well as erotic paranormal romance under the name Sophie Renwick. In 2011, I'll be debuting my mainstream, Victorian set historicals through HQN.


“Slave. Minion. Fiend. The others who have come before me have been called such things, but I prefer to think of myself as a disciple; a devout follower of my voluptuous mistress.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“I love your taste, my shundori," he murmured, and she felt his body tense beneath her. "I can't get enough of it. I can't get enough of you.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“He was drowning, he finally admitted. Drowning in the allure of Lady Jane Westbury.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“The man was an enigma. One minute he was looking at her as though he wouldkiss her senseless, the next he refused to even talk to her, much less look at her.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“I’m,” he swallowed thickly, unsure of why he wanted-no needed to explain hisbehavior to her. “I am not comfortable amongst the ton. I’m a solitary person, I keep my own counsel, and prefer to do so.”“You’re lonely.”He stopped then, shocked by her words, by her perception of him. He’d madehimself vulnerable, let himself weaken as her soft body melded with his. She saw too much, knew too much.“This,” he said, his voice cracking with desire, with the pain of what he knew he must do. “I can’t….”“Just let me in,” she whispered.“I’m afraid you would not like what you see.”“Trust me,” she said, her tempting mouth only inches away from his.-Blaine and Madeline.”
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“I won’t say it’s going to be easy for me, Madeline. I’ve lived too long in darkness and shadows, but if you’re willing to stick by me, to give me a chance, I’ll give you whatever you wish.”“My wish has already come true,” she said, smiling into his upturned face. “It wasyou, after all.”-Blaine and Madeline”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“Jane,” he whispered as the streaks of dawn broke through their bedroom window. “Once more. In the daylight, so I can see you with the sun upon your skin.”And she rolled over, smiled, and held open her arms to him, welcoming him home at last.”
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“Jane, look at me,” he asked, and when she did, he knew she was seeing what she needed in his eyes. “You are the only woman for me–it‟s only ever been you. I told you once before, that I have never loved before you, and I will never love again. Jane,” he said, forcing her face to down to his. “There is no condition on my love. No end to my desire. Don‟t put them there, my love.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“Don’t” be shocked, Jane,” he murmured as he lifted her higher, and poised her at the tip of his cock. “Don‟t be embarrassed. Not with me. You‟re gorgeous, and everything about you is perfect.” She nodded, met his gaze, and they held each other as she sunk down slowly upon him, impaling herself. She cried out, her hand flying to her lower belly. “Feel me all the way up there, do you my love?” She nodded, began to move, and he let her, just felt her body move and undulate beneath his palms.”
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“[...] But Jane, tonight I’m going to watch–and so are you. It will not be dark when I look upon you. There will be no clothes–only your skin. There will be no wiggling and squirming away from me. You will lie still and let me look. I will take as long as I want, gorge myself on the sight of you, and you will not resist. You will not utter one word to the contrary. You will accept everything I give you. And you will be loved, Jane. Loved so that you never forget that you are the only woman for me. You always have been. And you always will be.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“I’m a hedonist, and you, Jane, my wife, should know that about me. You’ve shared my body and bed, you know things about me that no other soul on earth does. Who can I not be a sensualist with than, you, Jane? Who else to act out my wicked fantasies, than the woman who inspires them? There is no shame in fantasies, in pleasure. Who other than us needs to know what we’ve done, what brings the other pleasure?”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“[Jane] “You know how I feel about you. About what we share. I did not mean it in such a way.”“No?” he whispered wickedly, his gaze finding hers, latching on with strength and determination. “I don‟t believe you. I think you had better show me, Jane.” She kissed him, slow, lazily, her lips moving over his mouth, slowly winding, becoming deeper, sensual, and then slowly her tongue penetrated his mouth, touching his tongue, flicking around the tip of his. He groaned, wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed her up against his bulging phallus that felt so large and hard. Her core ached, needing that deep inside her.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“But this night is not through. We’ve made love. And now, to the bed, where the f*cking will commence.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“I vow I am, and always will be, constant and faithful in my love for you, Anais. Nothing you or anyone else does shall alter these feelings. I am forever loving, forever waiting, forever yearning...forever yours.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“She saw how he was staring at it, the bright red hue beneath her bonnet. She could not bear to see the way he was looking at her—right through her—without seeing her. He did not see a woman. He did not see Jane, the woman he had been so passionate with two days before. He saw… Jane swallowed hard and lookedaway, hating the weakness of her spirit. She was more than this, a wilting flower. She was stronger than this. But damn it, this hurt.It hurt because he was the man responsible for making her burn. For making her feel like a woman. It hurt because it had been a trick. An illusion. And it hurt most of all because he did not see her, the woman she was behind the unfashionable spectacles and garish hair.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“It hurts to breathe. It hurts to live. I hate her, yet I do not think I can exist without her.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“Does he lay with you in the grass? Does he stare up at the stars, speaking of his dreams, wishing he could roll over and kiss you and run his fingers along the breasts that tease him beneath the shirt--the shirt he knows he will carry home with him and smell and, God help him, sleep in, just so that he could be close to you?”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“He towered over her, dwarfing her with his height and the bulk of his body which was clothed in the way of a mortal gentleman. He felt and heard that voice tremble inside her, replaced the rational voice she allowed to go unchecked. 'He could break me, hurt me, dominate me'."Not break. Not hurt." he murmured as he raised a hand to her cheek and smoothed his fingers down its softness, "But dominate you? Yes. Master you? yes. Make you yield to what you want, make you surrender to who you truly are? Yes.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“His hands may have been the one to heal you, but it will be mine that awaken you.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“Jane, you are my confidante, my helpmate, my friend. My lover. You are everything the word wife means to me. In my heart, we are wed. In my soul, you are mine.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“I can say that I have fallen deeper in love with you today, knowing the sort of man you are.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“Oh my God!" Lindsay cried. "I swear I shall practice celibacy every day for the rest of my life! I swear it, Anais.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“Why?" She asked in a confused whisper. "Out of all the women in the world, why did you choose this mortal?""Because fate drove me to you.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“She was breathtaking in her beauty and her human spirit, he thought, unable to speak as he gazed upon her. Hers was the sort that would not fade or grow jaded with time and years, but flourish, grow more radiant with life and its experience. Hers was a beauty that no other possessed. A beauty he longed to keep, to hide away, to bask in, himself alone. She had become his. He didn’t know when, whether it had been the moment her fingertips had touched him when he was hurt, or if it had grown, like a seed, slowing spreading until Jane had become the root anchoring the shattered pieces of his heart, pulling them tight together until it resembled the organ it should.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“...but he was incapable of shame.He had no conscience or soul.No heart, either.That has broken and died years ago.The leftover pieces had petrified in his chest, leaving stone shrapnel in a black, empty place that felt nothing.Just a yawning void of nothing.And he liked it that way...”
Charlotte Featherstone
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“I despise the morning... I am a creature of darkness, whose elements is night and shadow.I belong in the dark with the other sinful creatures.”
Charlotte Featherstone
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