Owning Arabella

# 3 B&N Beseteller
#1 Apple Bestseller

Against her will, Arabella is gambled by her stepfather in a card game and won by the fiercely scarred Lord Darth Peregrine. A man who believes that no woman could desire him. 

Lord Peregrine holds Arabella captive to his sexual desires. He is the lord and master and she is naked to his control. In the end Lord Peregrine saves Arabella's young brother ... and he saves himself.







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Punishment! Darth had said punishment! Arabella squealed again as Darth hauled her to one of the bedposts. There he lifted her wrists high over her head as she wiggled and fought his hold. But he took the thinnest belt and wrapped both of her wrists, pulling them higher to bind the belt around the bedpost. Bringing even her heels off the ground. She was hung helplessly naked and heaving from the exertion of trying to escape him.

“God, you are beautiful,” he uttered, swiping a broad hand across his scarred mouth as if he had not meant to say it.

He was standing to the side of her with one of his hands hung down at his side and the wide leather strap dangling to the floor. Arabella clenched her eyes and tensed in terrified anticipation of the lash she knew was coming. Flinching when Darth moved, only no sudden pain came across her back. Instead, she heard the soft whoosh of the feather mattress. Then she dared to open her eyes to see Darth stretched out like a great feline cat crossways on the corner of the bed. His penetrating gray eyes were gazing up at her. She had never felt more exposed in her life, stripped naked, and helpless before a man.

“I hate you!” she cried, not knowing what else to say or to do as Darth lay there, and then he smiled slowly. Arabella’s heart caught unreasonably, for she would never think this brute, this bully, who was so utterly male, could be attractive in his own way.

My Lady Compelled

Lady Gabriella St. John is purchased from a "wives sale" by the Duke of Kitteridge. Lord Kitteridge intends to command and seduce his newly purchased lady away from her too strict English morals

Erotic passions battle amidst adventure when Gabriella's husband returns trying to steal her back. Old secrets are revealed and launch the Archangels into a new mission to save Gabriella. Will the lady find the courage to risk it all for the passion of the man that she has always desired? Exciting sexual encounters with an adventurous story plot. HEA,

Erotic Regency Romance from best selling author Shirl Anders. This is the first ebook, My Lady Compelled, in Shirl Anders continuing, 6 ebook, Erotic Regency romance series, the Archangels.

My Lady Compelled
Lady Enslaved
Lady Captive
Lady Taken
Lady Enthralled
Lady Gambled 

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"Then, I shall see what I have purchased, madame," he continued, relentless. "Now!"

"You have become an arrogant beast, Lord Kittridge," Gabriella exclaimed, appearing more furious and embarrassed now as she tossed her mink muffler onto the wing chair in his study along with her trim mink hat to follow. She eyed him uncertainly through beautiful violet colored eyes, apparently gauging his resolve in this most daring scene, and then she cried, "I certainly could not begrudge you the entire twenty-thousand pounds that it cost you to purchase me!" 

Her white gloves came off next, furiously following the mink accessories. "Just what do you intend to do with me?" she exclaimed as her shaking fingers worked on the black pearl buttons of her fashionable silk walking dress. "Make me into your whore," she panted as the dove gray dress slid to her slippered feet and she shuttered in fevered distress. "How you must hate me to do this," she despaired in obvious anguish, jerking down her petticoats one by one, until she stood in only her cream-colored, gauzy camisole. 

Drummond saw at once that she was still exquisite after all these years. Infinitely more so dressed in an utterly feminine camisole. The camisole covered only to her creamy-colored upper thighs above her silk stockings held in place by frilly garters of violet satin. The lacy top edge of the camisole dipped into the sultry curves of her magnificent bosom. She was sumptuous with her auburn hair and purply colored eyes, little did her contemptible husband realize, but he would have paid ten times as much to have her.

"Come here to me, madame, now!" Drummond commanded. Completely ignoring Gabriella's questions and tirade as he reclined imperiously in his high-backed leather chair behind the desk in his study.

"Answer me!" Gabriella exclaimed indignant, even as she came forward with faltering steps. She only tiptoed to the edge of his desk, with one of her hands attempting ridiculously to cover her ample breasts, while the other scrunched between her perfect thighs. He could see the pulse beating wildly in the hollow of her slender throat.

"I do not have to answer to you for anything, madame. It is you, who are now fully and completely beneath my proprietorship." Drummond reached forward.

"Oh, you-you," Gabriella squealed as he clasped her wrist, hauling her unceremoniously into his lap with her back plastered to his chest.

"There is nothing for you to do, madame, . . . no place for you to go." Drummond moved his hand then with bold rapaciousness, while she tried instantly to clench her legs together, eliciting a strangled screech. 

Then, he uttered harshly. "You may not abandon me this time. You must submit!"

"Oh, I will escape you-you, arrogant bastard!" Gabriella cried, trying to struggle from beneath his arm clamped around her slender waist.

Suddenly Drummond's fingers halted their exploring motion as Gabriella's final words registered in his mind and he released her just as quickly. "Go then! Back to your husband. Now, madame," he snapped.

Gabriella braced her hands upon his arms to peer back over her shoulder at him. "You know that I cannot . . . he has everything. I-I."

My Lady Enslaved

Erotic twists start quickly with a mistaken identity when Lord Harrison Ravenscar seizes the wrong woman for his vengeance and he forces innocent Chloe into being his sexual slave for revenge. My Lady Enslaved is the second book of Shirl Anders bestselling erotic Regency romance series called the Archangels.

Captured between her deadly twin sister and Lord Ravenscar, Chloe finds herself kidnapped and imprisoned. The coldly handsome and sexually arrogant Ravenscar refuses to believe her claims of mistaken identity as he propels her into the heady realm of submission. This is an adventurous and erotic tale of revenge and intrigue. HEA

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She was naked! . . . And now she knew why Lia had cut the back of her thigh, Chloe thought frantically, as she tried to twist away from the English nobleman’s hands. Only he held her pinned to his tall frame by one gloved hand tightening on her buttock. She could feel the press of his black satin evening clothes touching her naked skin from her knees to her breasts. All at once he tilted her head back roughly with his fingers on her chin. She whimpered in fear, caught helplessly against the heat of him.

“Who are you so afraid of that you would mar your own beauty so?” he asked harshly, twisting her chin higher.

Take the gag off, Chloe pleaded with her eyes. Take the gag off and I will tell you.

“Do not look at me like that,” he suddenly snarled, and then he released her, backing away. “Brandy-colored doe’s eyes on a venomous bitch!” he hissed.

Chloe watched him abruptly turn away from her and stalk to the chair where he grabbed up a black leather riding quirt from the richly padded seat. She instantly jerked helplessly against the restraints holding her wrists, seeing nothing but the wicked riding quirt as she watched him turn slowly and gracefully toward her once again. He was tapping the quirt along the outside of his muscled thigh.

“Beginning to understand, are we?” The expression on his rugged features was dangerous and lethal and Chloe clenched her eyes with a terrified whimpering sound escaping her throat.

He ought to whip her, Harrison goaded himself. He ought to flay Lia’s round sleek ass red! He ought to make her cry and whimper more. Damnation, why was she doing that whimpering, he thought viciously, as he watched her. Could she play the simpering game this long and not once express any hint of defiance, anger, or lethal revenge in her dark brandy-colored eyes? Not once! Only this fear and this helplessness?

Yes! Yes, she could. Lia was the best, he savagely reminded himself. Lia had fooled Napoleon himself. She was the consummate actress in the guise of an undercover spy. He raised the quirt and watched Lia’s incredibly lovely body shuddering as large crystal teardrops slid down over the red silk gag he had tied over her mouth. He stepped closer and she sobbed, quivering like a helpless frightened doe.

“Damnation,” he swore hoarsely, throwing the quirt across his bedchamber in a violent gesture as he stood straining like a beast against its leash, clenching and unclenching his scarred hands. He dropped his chin looking down at the black leather encasing those hands. Knowing whose fault it was. Damning himself for his . . . this weakness


Review, Vikky, Fallen Angels Review: "Such an erotic story I definitely recommend this regency BDSM to everyone." 4 Stars!

My Lady Captive

Shirl Anders

Lord Wyndham Hawkenge risks everything trying to save Lady Orelan from the hedonistic clutches of an old revival, Alexei Tropov. 

Orelan and Wyndham become ensnared within the decadent halls of Valcourt . . . unwilling players in Alexei's wicked games as Wyndham battles wits and danger trying free the young widow, Orelan. A lady whom he once dared to kiss at the tender age of sixteen, but now commands so much more from.







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 When Wyndham caught his first sight of Orèlan in the white and gold marbled front salon at Valcourt, he was momentarily rocked back on his heels by the vision of her exotic beauty. Nevertheless, he allowed none of his intense feelings to show other than an involuntary tick on the left side of his firmly placed jaw. The presence of that tick was forced, because a swarthy Arabic man, at the beset of Alexei Tropov, was lewdly groping the lovely Orèlan.

That Arab had one diaphanous sleeve of Orèlan’s plum-colored gown shoved down to her elbow, as he burrowed his ugly mustached face into the supple pillows of her bosom, while he forcefully held her against the wall. Orèlan struggled helplessly beneath him, but the Arab had her wrists clamped behind her back as Alexei watched, from a haute but relaxed pose, sitting in a gilded chair, laughing as he quipped. “Struggle, my beautiful puta, that will only cost our most esteemed Sultan more rubles to bed you, if I allow him.”

The sound that escaped Wyndham’s throat was a low human snarling. He ignored the jarring pain in his right leg and stalked forward, surprising everyone, when he seemed to come out of nowhere to grab the Arab from behind and literally shove him across the room. His voice, when he spoke was a low dangerous hiss. “I have come to claim my marker, Alexei. This woman is mine!”

The Arab hit the far wall as Wyndham quickly grasped Orèlan by her slender bare shoulders. He tried to gentle his hands as he pulled her forward, whispering intently beneath his breath into her startled face. “Kiss me now, you spit fire, as you would no other.”

“Wyndham!” she cried out, with a desperate and emotion filled voice as she flung herself the rest of the distance to him, just as his mouth came down roughly over her mouth.

“Bravo!” Alexei sneered behind them.

Wyndham ignored Alexei as he took his brazen kissing of Orèlan’s lush lips and propositioned it into bedroom passion. Bending her flowing body over his arm as she clutched his shoulders and opened her honeyed mouth to his advancing tongue.

She was more the woman now, in the six years since he had seen her last. Tall, opulently curved at bosom, belly, and hips. But her mouth was the same. It had always been a sensual wish. Any man who looked upon her pouted lips could do nothing less than desire to ravish their erotic plumpness. She mewled, a soft ardent sound in the back of her throat. Thrilling. It was surrender, pleasure, and desire mixed as he twisted his larger tongue around the dainty petal of her tongue, while his free hand curled into the thickness of her black-sable hair. He was lost again . . . that quickly, even when he knew that he needed his wits about him. 

My Lady Taken

The Duke of Sutherlin's spying career is over and the time has arrived for him to marry. But Radford isn't certain he can find a hot-blooded lady like his ex-spying friends from the Archangels have.

However, never daunted, he concocts a plan to find a passionate woman to marry by betting himself in marriage on the books at White's. He is a Duke after all, therefore making him any English lady's prize and hopefully sending them in amorous pursuit of him.

What he doesn't expect is the feminine artifice of Lady Nia O'Shea when she sets her witty, seductive, and scheming sights on him. But all is not what it seems in this erotic adventure and the plot and carnal play advance into lively adventures in and out of bed. Where the duke falls in love with a woman whose face he never sees until the very end.



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It was a fast paced waltz in the inky blackness and each time Lady Nia sought to move in the direction of escape, the bold touch of his fingers and hand startled her back into the direction of his intention. Cornered. He was certain that he touched a full breast, a bare waist, and the creamy cheek of a nicely rounded ass with his briefly stroking fingers. Each tangible feeling amazing him with the reality of her complete nudity, and proved to stroke his ardor higher.

Suddenly, the back of Nia's bare thighs bumped a small table, rattling a crystal lamp and something else unknown crashed onto the floor, shattering. She cried out, flinging her hands upward in the attempt to keep from falling. Then, abruptly in the pitched blackness, she was engulfed against warm material and a tall hardened body beneath.

"It is not to be like this!" she gasped, senselessly overwhelmed by the masculine presence carrying her to safe equilibrium with her spine braced gently against the wall beside the table. Her fingers clutched a twill jacket and the firm broadness of muscular shoulders beneath. All at a height that dwarfed her uncommon tallness.

She was not to be caught like this. The written instructions had been clear. She was to tease, titillate, and flirt, perhaps flirting outrageously using her naked body in glancing touches to inflame the Duke. However, she was not to allow him to touch her more than briefly on their first encounter.

"Carefully laid plans gone awry, cherie?" Radford's warm breath caressed her cheek too intimately.

She could not feel his hands touching her, only his unyielding body pressing down the entire length of her figure, pinning her to the wall at her back. "Yes, I..." she murmured in confusion, with her lips brushing the strong heated hollow of his throat as he moved his hips with a barely perceptible motion that slowly undulated the impression of his hardening cock against her lower belly.

"A little late to turn shy or moral, my sweet."

Nia gasped as Radford's tongue suddenly slid along the shell of her ear. She was clutching his shoulders and nearly pulling him to her, yet now her senses returned slightly with his words. What was she doing? She could barely think clearly. That had never happened to her before, not in such a simple situation. Simple? Oh Lord! She was losing her grasp. Nonetheless, just the permeation of Lord Sutherlin's masculine heat, his smell, and the feel of his tall muscular body against her body, was overwhelming her. He was dangerous.

Nia realized in a breathless second that Lord Radford Sutherlin was a very dangerous man. Suddenly, she shoved against his shoulder wiggling her body with the purpose of freedom against his towering build. "Let me go," she cried tightly.

The second the words left her lips, he stepped backward, completely surprising her. She turned instantly thinking to flee, yet her bare breasts encountered his straight arm braced against the wall, halting her forward motion. Instinctively, she backed up only to find herself halted by his other arm braced straight behind her.

"Hush, cherie." His voice deepened with soothing sounds. "But we will talk."