Selah March

Her Black Little Heart

Erotic Regency romance (M/F); short novella

Available in electronic formats only

Also available for Kindle

Amber Heat/Amber Quill Press

ISBN: 1-59279-562-5 (Electronic)

Purchase link


“Wicked…unnatural…a murdering Jezebel…”

When the village folk call her such cruel names, is it any wonder Leda Cavendish never ventures beyond the moors that surround Merrybourne Hall? It will take an exceptional man to sweeten the bitter resolve of the Widow Cavendish.

Luckily, Dr. Adam Brewster is just such a man. An outcast himself, he understands what it is to rage against ignorance and hypocrisy.

But Adam will need every tender trick he’s ever learned to melt the resentment in Leda’s black little heart.



He worked his free hand beneath the coverlet. It was cold, and she whimpered at the shock. The sound seemed to inflame him, and he nipped at her lower lip. Against her mouth, he muttered, “I would have you, madam, on your parlor floor.” And he kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers, coaxing and quick.

He would have her, and she would be had, but at what price? The bargain she’d made with Heaven was not yet an hour old and already broken — but perhaps she could strike a new one. If she let the doctor to have his way…take her body, use it as he pleased…but steeled herself against all enjoyment in the act? Would that be enough?

But could she accomplish it? Ignore the cruel longing that built even now, as Brewster used his thumb to tease the peak of one breast?

Perhaps she was helpless to control the flush of her skin or the swell of slickness between her thighs, but surely she could contain her passion? Bite back the cries that had so mortified her husband, curb the shudders that horrified him, suppress the grinding spasms that disgusted and frightened him, forcing him to seek the counsel of the local vicar? She had to make the attempt.

“Take me, Dr. Brewster,” she whispered, “in any way you please, but do so quickly. The clock strikes two–“

“Hush.” He looked at her through half-closed eyes. When he spoke again, his tone was wry and vaguely playful. “Play no ‘mistress of the manor’ games with me. I’m no stable boy to be commanded at your whim.” He unwound the coverlet from her body and spread it on the floor, near the hearth. “Lie down, madam, and be at your ease.”

She obeyed, hardly knowing why she did, except, perhaps, for the thrill his casually demanding manner provoked. He presented her with his back and began to undress. She watched without pretense, fascinated by the twist and roll of his muscles. The spectacular width of his shoulders drew her attention, but only until he bared the finely sculpted length of his legs, which captured her admiration only until the last fall of linen revealed a backside so round and well-defined, she could scarcely contain the urge to pinch and thump for ripeness.

He moved to tend the fire. So rapt was her concentration on his form, she failed to stir herself in time to avoid the inevitable shower of sparks resulting from his rough treatment of the embers. One alighted on her shoulder, burning her. She made a small sound of distress, and he pounced as if she’d shrieked his name.

He brushed the ash from her shoulder. “I’ll fetch some salve from my bag.”

“No, stay. It’s not painful.”

He stared at her a long moment. Then, with studied deliberation, he leaned across and pressed a kiss against the wound. The touch of his lips on her skin, momentary though it was, made the muscles in her thighs clench and release.

He rose to his feet, and she followed his unfolding, waiting to see if he’d turn away. He did not. With his back to the fire, his erection stood in shadow, but not so deep she was unable to make out its size and shape.

Mrs. Maggs was many things, a liar among them. But in the matter of Adam Brewster’s manhood, the old reprobate had spoken the truth. Leda was no authority, but ‘thick as a young tree limb’ hardly seemed an exaggeration from where she lay. As for the description of ‘trimmed draperies,’ that would have to wait for closer examination.


“Hmm?” She tore her gaze away from where it had settled and looked at his face. His expression appeared a combustible blend of amusement and irritation.

“How do I measure against your stable boy?”

“He was never my stable boy.” She shifted on the coverlet, making room for him. “Will you join me, or do you intend to stand there and preen ’til the sun rises?”

His mouth moved, as if he hadn’t quite the self-control to contain a smile. “I’ll thank you to keep your insolence to yourself.” He dropped down beside her, gathered her hair in his hand, and wound it about his fingers as he spoke. “So long as we’ve come to this point, I expect the deference generally accorded a man by a woman.”

Leda did her best to maintain a grave expression. “Ah, I see you’re one of those brutes who demands perfect acquiescence from his lovers.”

“I might if I thought the phrase existed in your rather formidable vocabulary.” He loomed over her, his breath warm on her face. “No matter. I’ll instruct you in the art…if you so desire.” Though he held her immobile with his hand threaded through her hair, she understood he offered her a choice.

“Do with me what you will, sir.” She used her tongue to dampen her lower lip, watching as his eyes traced its movement. “If you please…”


“May we begin? I grow weary of the wait.”


JOYFULLY REVIEWED: “…A great Regency romance. The plot moved swiftly and it featured two very intriguing characters. The witty dialog between Adam and Leda was very interesting and entertaining. Both had suffered greatly from consequences of their respective family members’ actions. Adam had learned how to take on a more positive outlook about things while Leda had resorted to [feeling] bitterness toward the village townsmen. The romantic chemistry between the couple was intense, deliciously sweet and sexy. Overall…a delightful read that I am sure fans of the regency genre will adore.” (Nikita Steele)

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