RACHEL DE VINE
also writing as juliette banks
Writer of Steamy Romance....and more!
NOW also publishING non-erotic books under the name of
Elizabeth Woolley, Author
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AND SO THE WORLD TURNS...
Séraphine is born, in 1960, the only daughter of wealthy parents, Alexis and Sabine Rousseau, in the South of France – or so she thinks. She is an art student at the Sorbonne in Paris, at a time when Europe has rebuilt after the Second World War, and everything is fairly peaceful. Her life is perfect – or so she believes. What can possibly come along to create doubts in her mind about who she really is? These doubts cause chaos in her life, and lead to almost insurmountable challenges.
Louis was born in Paris in 1956, the illegitimate son of Beatrice and Charles (English, but living in France.) His father is dead, and he is brought up by Beatrice’s husband, Henri, in Paris. He is aware of his background, being told at a young age, and accepts it completely. He has known Séraphine her entire life, but, meeting after a 5-year gap, he finds his interest in her has become something much more powerful.
Secrets kept can come back and bite you—as Séraphine finds to her great cost. Will they cost the budding relationship between her and Louis? How many other people end up paying the price too?
AND SO THE WORLD TURNS… is a follow-on book to NOTHING TO REGRET and SABINE, but can be read as a standalone book. It contains some steamy sex, but less than existing readers have become used to. (But what’s there is, I hope, pleasurable, both to them and you.)
Families aren't always what they seem
The restaurant was dark and intimate, with a pianist and a small dance floor. As soon as we finished eating, I was desperate to put my hands on Séraphine’s warm, inviting bare skin.
“Come. Let’s dance.”
I took her hand and led her to a dark spot to the side of the piano. The pianist was playing a soft, jazz number and as we merged together, I put my hand in the small of her back. It felt warm and smooth, as I was sure the rest of her body would be, and I hoped I would get to feel the rest of it later that night. I desperately wanted to make love to Séraphine, but was understandably nervous. Would she feel the same way? Or was I just the childhood friend, whose company she enjoyed?
I suspected that she too was attracted to me in the way her hands roamed my body while we were dancing. I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and slacks, and Séraphine’s hands moved up and down my bare arms, and across the shirt on my back. Our bodies were close, and I wondered if she could feel the arousal beginning in my groin.
We danced until midnight, before stepping out into the clear, velvet night, with stars that competed with the bright lights of the town. Driving home in Alexis’ open-topped sports car, I felt comfortable after a great night out, but with tingles in my body that the night would not yet be over.
As we stepped from the car, back at the house, Séraphine moved close to me, put her arms around my neck, and planted her soft lips on mine. The message she gave me was clear and unambiguous. But I wondered about her parents.
She took my hand and led me into the house, where the hallway light had been left on for us. Her parents had clearly retired for the night. Instead of heading for the main staircase, leading to my room, she took me along another corridor, and towards a smaller, less grand staircase. As we began climbing the stairs, I whispered to her.
“Won’t your parents…”
But she didn’t give me the chance to complete my sentence. She put her finger over my mouth.
“It’s okay. My room isn’t close to Mama and Papa’s—and besides, they are very tolerant. They know I’m sexually active, and rely on my good judgement. They wouldn’t allow anyone into the house whom they wouldn’t trust; and you’ve passed their approval by a long way. After all, they’ve known you longer than they have known me.”
I smiled. It was true.
Oralie lost her mother at a young age, and was trapped with her abusive father until she broke away at the age of sixteen. When she applied for a job as the live-in personal assistant to Lionel, a forty-two-year-old successful writer, she had been living in a hostel for the homeless, and was greatly relieved when she was offered the position. She thought she had left her past behind, for a bright new future.
Lionel thought he had it all; a successful writing career, a comfortable London home, and the pick of the literary babes, who flocked to the handsome and charismatic author. He had a good housekeeper. Why did he need tying down with a wife? He hadn’t reckoned on the jealousy of a past girlfriend, and the sweet face of Oralie sitting at her desk just a few feet away from him in his study, to cause a turmoil that rapidly escalated beyond his control.
His story had all the elements of a romantic love story; the trouble was, he didn’t write love stories. His life began to spin out of control.
This steamy love story will have you on the edge of your seat, and also touch you deeply.
I enjoyed my life, on the whole. Mrs Greatorex looked after me fairly well, and put no emotional demands on me. Jonathan was a good friend, as well as my agent, and we had some entertaining conversations, and amusing dinners. My writing work had gone well the past few years, too. I enjoyed some success—even a literary award last year—and they were commercially quite successful. They enabled me to gain invites to prestigious events and meet interesting people. I wouldn’t say they brought in a huge amount of money, but together with money left by my parents, they allowed me to live comfortably. All I lacked was a regular sex life. I thought I had solved that problem with Leila—but unfortunately not. She caused more problems than she solved. I didn’t intend to fall into that trap again.
Whether it was because of my night of sex with Maggie, but my libido on the page came alive. I hadn’t intended to make love or romance a central theme for this book—more around the periphery—but I had a female character who grew on me as I wrote about her, and I felt she was a passionate being who was desired by one of the male characters. I decided to travel down this path for a while.
The story is based in late nineteenth century Ireland, when the Catholic church was still a dominant force in that country. It was primarily about two brothers, who feuded over a family inheritance—a farm. I decided to make one brother this woman’s lover and this added to the feud, because his brother lusted after the woman too. I was feeling in a mischievous mood as far as Oralie was concerned, and was looking forward to watching her face when she came across my recent pages.
I wrote about how the woman, who worked as a milkmaid on the farm, flirted shamelessly with the brothers; but only when they were alone—not in the presence of them both. Liam was a little bolder than his older brother, and began to flirt back. Neither man was married, and the hard work on the farm meant they had little social life, except for getting drunk on Saturday night at the local pub. This usually led to a row, or even a fight, on the way home. Declan, the older brother, had been given the farm in their father’s Will, but with the proviso that Liam was to be retained as a paid employee, and with the ownership of a small cottage next to the farm. Now I planned to ignite even more resentment between the brothers, when Liam begins a sexual affair with the woman. The mischief in me wondered how Oralie would react to some bawdy sex among the hay bales. My editor may remove some of it later, but in the meantime, I would have some fun.
It was two days before Oralie reached that part of the chapter. I heard the faintest of gasps, and looked up. Her cheeks looked a little pink and she had stopped typing to read ahead.
“Is everything okay, Oralie,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Er…yes, everything is fine, thank you.”
“Have you arrived at the sex scene in the barn? I hope you don’t find it too shocking.”
Her voice was a little more breathless than usual.
“No…no…not at all.”
But I knew she was a little embarrassed. I walked over to her desk and looked over her shoulder at the paragraph on the screen, which I read out loud, just inches from her ear.
…the girl lay backwards on the hay bales, resting on her elbows, and giving Liam a grin that set his libido on edge. Her heavy-lidded eyes sparkled, as she contemplated the expression on his face, and she drew her skirt upwards, revealing knee-high woollen stockings, and plump, bare thighs, as white as the milk in the dairy. She wore white, cotton pantaloons, that she pulled down her legs, kicking them off over her leather ankle boots. Slowly opening her thighs, she taunted him as she did.
“You’re not the first man to fuck me in this barn, you know. Your father had me when I was just sixteen.”
I paused, and noticed that Oralie’s breathing was a little more pronounced, as her chest rose and fell faster than normal. Really, I should stop. I was being very cruel. But my mood was mischievous today.
“Do you find that paragraph erotic, Oralie? I do hope I’m not corrupting you. You are a little young to know such things…”
She wasn’t, of course. Most girls her age were far less innocent and naïve than her. Oralie was more like a young woman of an earlier generation, I thought. My mind drifted back to my parent’s generation, when sex was simply not discussed, except in the corner of the playground at school, where pages of women in their underwear, torn from catalogues, was the closest they came to pornography. It wasn’t that much different in my own youth; especially in the boys boarding school I had attended. But material, such as the occasional Playboy magazine made the rounds of the dormitory, and was used as masturbation material by young boys who barely knew their way around their own bodies, let alone those of those foreign and exotic creatures—girls.
I stood up and patted Oralie on the shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I’m teasing you a little. If you don’t want to retype it, just copy and paste, if that makes it less embarrassing.”
She looked up at me, with those lovely, big eyes of hers, and solemnly said, “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll get used to your words. I need to if I am to be a good secretary.”
She looked so serious I wanted to bend over and kiss her, but instead walked back to my desk, wondering if I was perhaps torturing myself as well as her. Later, I slipped out of the study and went up to my bedroom, where I lay back on the now tidy bed, where I had fucked Maggie not so long ago, and jerked off. But it wasn’t Maggie I was thinking about. It was Oralie; and she was playing the part of a young Irish woman, opening her thighs for a horny Irish farmer.
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From the moment I first looked into his eyes, I knew I was in trouble. He was a man I found impossible to resist—someone who drew me in like a moth towards the light. He found the part of me that craved the enticement he offered. But our relationship was forbidden. He was my university English Professor and he paid a high price for our affair. But would I pay an even higher price if we never met again?
I knew I should have walked away, but I was weak. At first it was just the thrill of the illicit sex. But it became so much more—until disaster struck. Our lives were destined to intertwine, but the timing was never right. Had I had lost the love of my life? Could I ever recapture the feelings I only had with her?
Note: This book contains some explicit sex and some spanking. If this offends you, please do not buy.
He was willing to teach and she was eager to learn
Available in e-book and paperback
REVIEWS OF THE ENGLISH PROFESSOR
Read this book if you want to dive into a very intelligent, thoughtful, erotic, evocative, thrilling and moving story. I definitely want to read a lot more of Rachel's work thanks to this stellar piece of fiction!
This is a wonderful book. The story spans twenty years and envelops the reader so completely that by the time you reach the last page, you don't want to leave.
The settings and descriptions are also what one comes to expect from Rachel de Vine's skilled writing, and I particularly loved the London moments and the excitement surrounding the publishing world a writer only dreams of! The English Professor has some beautifully written erotic moments as well, but it's its story line and secondary characters that make de Vine's novels stand out among her peers. She is an adept story-teller, and this one has it all! A satisfying summer read of substance!
This is a bittersweet passage of time novel, one of my favorite formats in literature. I will not give away the story. It’s a page turner, beautifully written, loving, erotic, happy and sad. Well done, Rachel de Vine. You had me wondering more than once if this was a memoir.
He might have killed her, but he fell in love with her instead.
Finding herself alone again, after a passionate three-way romance, Sabine is overjoyed to make a fresh start in the South of France with a new job and a new man. It is 1961, and the post-war world is changing fast. Rich people begin flocking to the French Riviera in search of the good life. But criminals are also attracted to this new source of money. Russia is still a closed Communist state, but some are able to bribe their way in and out of the country for the rich pickings of the Mediterranean life. Sabine’s life comes crashing down, when she finds herself a pawn in a power game, and is taken hostage by a gang of Russian criminals. There begins the most tumultuous year of her life. A year packed with love and tragedy. This is a fast-paced, hot and steamy story, that will have you on the edge of your seat, as Sabine tries to overcome danger and heartache. Will she ever find her rainbow’s end?
Sabine is the follow-on book to Nothing to Regret, but can be read as a standalone.
I was led to the desk, where I stood and faced this man, my two guards at either side of me, as though they were there to prevent me lunging across the desk at my captor. I wasn’t that foolish. I judged the slight bulge under his jacket to be a gun. Whether he was prepared to use it, I was unsure, but didn’t plan to find out.
He looked up at me, removing his spectacles, with which he had been reading some documents, and placing them on the desk in front of him. Resting back in the chair he studied me for a few seconds, before speaking.
“So, you are Sabine. My men were right when they described you as beautiful. But then I would expect Alexis to want only the best.”
While he talked, he watched me intently, and I stared back, just as intently. I remained silent, so he continued talking.
“You have spirit, I see. Are you not afraid of me?” He spoke excellent French, with a Russian accent.
“Should I be afraid of you?”
He laughed quietly.
“Under different circumstances, you would be the kind of woman who I would like in my bed. I can’t bear women who wail and cry at every little misfortune. I find them most tiresome.”
I didn’t wait for permission to speak. “Why am I here? What do you want of me? Are you expecting a ransom for me?”
He put his head back and laughed. “How much do you think you are worth, as a ransom?” I didn’t reply, so he continued talking. “100,000 Francs, maybe? Or perhaps more than that? If I were to take you back to Russia, I’m sure I could find someone who would pay such a large amount of money for you. However, that’s not why you are here.”
“Well then, why am I here? It’s obviously to do with Alexis. Is it connected with him being attacked at the Casino, and the fire at the hotel?”
He didn’t reply, but merely issued some instructions in Russian to the two men, before turning back to me.
“You must be bored, down there in the cellar. I’ve told the men to get hold of some reading material for you. I assume you enjoy romances—all women like to fantasise. Or do you prefer something a little more…enticing…perhaps?” His eyes glinted, and I knew what he was inferring. I felt my cheeks go warm, and I was angry with myself for losing my bravado somewhat. He just laughed.
“Is there anything else I can get for you? Do you paint by any chance?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well then, I will provide you with some painting materials. My intention is not to make you suffer while you are here. I will also allow you a short walk outside every day, for some exercise. But bear in mind my men are armed, just in case you think this will give you an opportunity to escape.”
He appeared to have done with me, and replaced his reading spectacles, returning to the papers on his desk. The man to my left jabbed me on the arm, as a signal for me to turn and leave. I had just reached the door when my captor called my name. I stopped and turned around.
“You may eat with me this evening. I’ll have the men bring you up at seven.” Then he returned to his papers, and I was dismissed.
NOTHING TO REGRET
Beatrice is fresh from university, determined to become a writer, but feels her life in 1950s England, as the daughter of a rural vicar, ill-equips her emotionally to become one. She decides, just ten years after a major world war has ravaged Europe, to travel alone around the continent, to not only discover a life outside her protected bubble, but to discover herself.
Arriving in France in 1955, she meets Sabine, a beautiful, older French woman and her lover, Charles, an Englishman, who has lived in France for many years. Both Charles and Sabine are captivated by the beautiful, but naïve and sexually innocent English girl, and Beatrice is willingly drawn into a three-way steamy love affair with the two.
But Charles, although charismatic, is sometimes moody and melancholic—a relic from his dysfunctional childhood. He falls desperately in love with Beatrice—with tempestuous results. When all seems lost, and Beatrice is in despair, help reaches her from an unexpected source. Another man is waiting in the wings to pick up the pieces.
The story, although describing the three way love affair in steamy details, is essentially a love story, with an emotional centre that will tug at your heart strings as it ranges from love, passion and joy, to despair, anger and pain.
l learned so much about sex in the summer and autumn of 1955. I spent a lot of time with Sabine and Charles and changed immensely from the girl who had come to France straight from university, with so little experience of life, love or anything, really. I wrote to my parents to assure them I was well, but I revealed very little about my life in St Etienne, and nothing about the people I now spent so much time with.
I started writing in earnest, too. It was as though Charles and Sabine had unlocked my inner soul and set it free. They were happy that I was now writing, but never intruded to ask to see my work. I’d already filled two notebooks, and was well into the third. My book was beginning to take shape. At some point I would have to consider getting a typewriter, or paying someone to type up my story. But I was a long way from having work I wanted to show the world.
I felt completely at ease in a relationship with both a man and a woman at the same time. Until meeting Sabine, I could honestly say that I had never thought of another woman in a sexual way. Not that I thought of men in that way much, either. You could say that I was unawakened sexually until coming to St Etienne. Yet with Sabine it all seemed so natural. The strange thing was, however, that we never had sex when it was just the two of us. Charles always had to be present to act as the catalyst.
Please be aware that some of my books contain adult themes and are not suitable for people under 18 years.
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