Jan Irving Writes:A Pastry Princess

A Pastry Princess

Serafina Blair was the joke of the court—the pastry princess—a chubby mouse with an unfashionable interest in shop keeping. But despite that, she triumphs, opening a second franchise to her successful pastry store. Queen Helena ‘rewards’ her by giving her two virile warriors as her servants, Ismet with long gilt hair and golden eyes and dark and moody Tahir, a desert chieftan. This mating-of-convenience is to ensure Seri’s line continues—as if she cares about that!

Yet innocent Seri wonders if it is she who will ultimately belong to her two men, masters in the art of pleasures. Watching them together in love-play, more and more she wants to touch them, to be with them. The three must test their unlikely alliance against a common enemy, returning to a primitive world where Seri’s courage--and Ismet and Tahir’s love for their lady--will be tested.

Ms. Irving has delivered a tremendously fun and sexy read! Between the pages of A Pastry Princess, Ms. Irving has penned a story chocked full of murder, sex, intrigue and comedy. Readers will enjoy watching Seri blossom into both her sexuality and into being her own woman. At the same time, they will be in tears over Tahir’s and Ismet’s antics. At one point, I had to stop reading because I was laughing so hard. The mix of Tahir, Ismet and Seri balance each other well. Tahir is the very alpha, protective and demanding type. Ismet is the gentler mediator, with a flair for both fashion and love play. Seri is quiet, determined and slightly frazzled with a temper to match Tahir’s. I enjoyed every minute with them. The sex is both abundant and HOT!--T.S.Peters at Just Erotic Romance Reviews.

Available here from Loose Id.

Excerpt from A Pastry Princess:

Something clattered to the floor in Seri's bedroom. She jerked free of Ismet, striding for her room. What she saw was high-heeled shoes, boots and sandals and handbags scattered everywhere, as if her neat closet had exploded accessories.

Staring in horror, Seri demanded, “What are you doing?” She snatched her favorite new bag from Tahir’s grasp. It was leather, embossed with a desert scene of camels and palm trees. She’d loved it and couldn’t resist it on a recent trip to the marketplace, though she didn’t need any new bags. They were her weakness.

“No one needs this many shoes,” he said, as if it should be totally clear.

“What?” She looked over her shoulder at Ismet, who had followed them into her bedroom. “What?”

Ismet raised his hands, approaching Tahir like he would an unpredictable and dangerous animal. Which he was, as far as Seri was concerned. She picked up more of her shoes, holding them against her belly protectively.

Tahir looked unruffled. More shoes joined the growing pile in a clunk. He dusted off his hands and looked vaguely satisfied. “You have too many shoes. Your apartment is too small to contain them. We can recycle these.”

Seri threw a shoe at him.

Tahir ducked, and the pink confection left a dent in her smart wall until it stretched itself smooth again. He snared her wrist before she could throw another one at him, holding both of her hands with that ruthless brand of gentleness that made a shiver move down her spine.

“Don’t touch my things. This is my room and --” There weren’t words for the magnitude of his offense. If she could have gotten her hand free, she’d have clobbered him with another shoe.

He laughed and then stopped abruptly, staring at her, tousled brown hair in his eyes, as if he was startled. “You stood up to me.”

“Tahir…” Ismet’s voice was exasperated. “Haven’t we talked about being nice? Don’t try to throw out a woman’s shoes.”

“I was merely making room for --”

“Just don’t.” Ismet had moved up behind the larger man. His arms curved around him and he put his head on Tahir’s shoulder, obviously sugaring him up. It annoyed Seri because she wasn’t going to do that to get the big clod to behave in a civilized fashion. But it also made her uncomfortably aware of the intimacy between them again, making her cheeks heat so she had to look away.

“But our woman isn’t being logical.”

Ismet’s lips curved. “No.” He lifted up and kissed Tahir gently.

Tahir released Seri’s wrists and yanked the other man closer to him, taking over the kiss.

Seri crossed her arms but couldn’t look away from them this time. They were beautiful, twined together, Tahir’s lips hungry on Ismet, Ismet giving a thready sound and rubbing his lean thigh against Tahir’s more thickly muscled one.

When Tahir finally released Ismet, both men were panting. Ismet said, very softly, “Barbarian.”

Tahir looked pleased at the name, an epithet that would be an insult to a noble in the royal court. When they separated, Seri saw their erections pushing out their soft pants. Ismet undulated wantonly against Tahir and Tahir grabbed him close, stilling him, as if to him it was no game they played.

Seri licked her lips, feeling stupid for just standing there, watching them -- like two tigers mating.

Tahir shoved the colorful debris off her bed so it clattered loudly onto the floor, making her jump and then wince at the damage to her pretty shoes.

A mocking light lit Tahir’s dark eyes. “Love oil?”

“What?”

“Do you have any oil of love? For the mating of men.”

Oh. She took a step back and saw Tahir had expected her reaction so she stopped herself before she ran off like a girl who had not survived years in court while building a successful business. “What flavor?” she asked. Well, at least if they meant to…play, it meant Tahir wouldn’t be trying to recycle her shoes. And it might give her time to regroup.

“Flavor?” His brows met. “What does that matter?”

“Lime blossom is all the rage,” she said blandly.

“Is it?” He cocked his head when Ismet suppressed a laugh under his cupped hand.

Tahir’s eyes narrowed at her suspiciously.

“I’ll help you choose,” Ismet said, making to go to her. She could tell he wanted to talk her around Tahir taking over her bedroom, to smooth things over the way her smartwall did when she put a dent in it.

Tahir wasn’t having it. He tugged Ismet back. “Back here, you.”

“We should talk to Seri. This is her home.”

“No,” Tahir said, his face hardening. “It’s not. Not anymore. And babying her will not make it any easier for her to accept it.”

Despite his tough statement, was that a thread of concern in Tahir’s voice for her?

Ismet’s jaw tightened, and he opened his mouth as if to argue. Tahir yanked him closer and kissed him, one possessive hand sliding under his loose pants and cupping his erection, pulling it free so that Seri could also see the monster, tall and long and thick, curving needy against his lower belly. Tahir squeezed and stroked it and Ismet shook, gripping the other man’s forearms as his face tightened with a look that could have been pain or pleasure.

Ismet moaned.

“Love oil. In whatever flavor you have,” Tahir demanded.

Well, that was calling her bluff. Feeling a painful tightness in her loins, as if it were her sex that Tahir was so ruthlessly working, Seri retraced her steps to the pantry and pulled out one of her essences, oil of mandarin orange. It would do, though of course it wasn’t a love oil, but a cooking oil.

She reentered her bedroom, holding her prize. “That’s my bed.”

“It was your bed. It’s mine now,” Tahir said.

Her teeth ground but there was no give in him. And in a way he was right. This mess wasn’t of his making. This was Helena’s doing and possibly even something Seri had brought on herself. Hadn’t Mericle warned her she needed to take greater heed of what went down in court? Perhaps she could have nipped this in the bud but now these men, these strange, rough-edged barbarians, were to be her lovers.

She tossed the oil to him, trying to seem sophisticated and not deeply shaken.

“I’ll wrestle with you,” Ismet said breathlessly. “For who tops.”

Tahir’s eyes glinted. “I always win.”

Ismet laughed, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Maybe not this time.”

They were struggling together, and then they landed on her pristine rose embroidered bed cover with a thud, rolling, kissing, Tahir crushing Ismet’s wrists into the pillows.

Watching them, Seri was breathing heavily herself. At court she’d seen other male lovers, but they’d never touched her as these two men did. They were shameless, lost to their passion.

“Stay and watch,” Tahir ordered her. "You'll enjoy it."