Five Quick Questions for Daryl Devore
1. Can you tell me what you are working on now?
Yes. And I am sorely tempted to leave it there. I like that sick kind of
humour. I am nearing the end of a medieval fantasy. Yes, it has a dragon.
2. Where do you find inspiration for your stories?
All over the place. One book – the inspiration came from a song. Another –
I had the last line and had to write a book to get to that point.
3. What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
Raks Sharqi (belly dance) and yoga.
4. What item, that you don't have already, would you most like to own?
A tiara. Which is hilarious. I live in sweats or blue jeans.
5. Do you use a pseudonym? If so how did you choose it?
I have 2. Daryl Devoré for my hot romances and Victoria Adams for my
sweet romances. Although I am in the process of combining the two into
one name. Daryl Devoré – was a collaboration of my critique group. My
real first name is Daryl then we came up with a last name. Victoria Adams
– the name just popped into my head.
Published – Feb 2019
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.
Note: This book contains elements of domination, submission, and fetishes. If these concepts disturb you, please do not purchase or read this book. Branwyn’s Love was formerly known as Black Dorn and published by New Dawning.
“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.
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