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The Harem

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Overview

They are erotic artists, trained to indulge their lovers' wildest wishes and most forbidden fantasies. And that is only the beginning. Now, in these scorching hot novellas, four ripe and ready concubines will discover the joys of getting what they give...

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Author Information

Bio of Celia May Hart

Celia May Hart discovered erotica while at university and spent long, lonely hours in the library writing out her desires. She discovered Anais Nin, Erica Jong, John Cleland, the Earl of Rochester and John Donne. Her first ever sex manual was Richard Burton ' s ' The Perfumed Garden. ' Her collection has since expanded. It certainly keeps her married life interesting! Learn more about Celia and her writing by visiting www.celiamayhart.com.

Bio of Emma Lehigh

No bio available for Emma Lehigh.

Bio of Melissa MacNeal

Truly a woman for the new millennium, I first came out in the Black Lace line with Devil's Fire in 2000. I'd published in other genres (that's another name and website--a completely different me!) but breaking into erotica--bringing on the body heat for all to see and read--took more nerve than I needed for my previous books! Readers believe you are your characters when you write any kind of fiction, so now my husband's friends think they know all my deep, cheap secrets. And they believe he's one lucky stud. (Heh. Was there ever a question, really?) Who knew that Devil's Fire would spark a whole new persona, with a signature outfit, for when I speak at conferences and do autographings? I was prepping for my first signing as Melissa when the manager's assistant (way ahead of her time--and me) said the two magic words: Wear Leather. So I whipped up a black leather mini and a lace jacket, wore it with kick-ass heels and a black cami, and I was a hit! Over the next year or two I found my gloves and revamped a veiled hat from an antique store. Bought my little beaded boa from a mark-down box at the mall. I call it my kitty...as in, "wanna stroke my kitty?" Gets 'em every time! ; ) (This was way before the days of Ellora's Cave, so those authors musta copied my wardrobe, right?!) Along with four books for the Black Lace line, I've published a couple of serialized novels at WickedVelvet.com--all with a historical voice I called "Victoria Holt writing as Fanny Hill." I've now moved into Kensington's Aphrodisia line with a fresh, feisty contemporary voice, featuring adventurous girls and guys very much into real-time pleasures and the technology that goes with them. All Night Long is a cruise ship romp with an international cast of players, and Hot For It is a private island/pirate fantasy that goes awry--but everyone gets lucky in the end! I've also written two novellas for Aphrodisia, and am looking forward to many more stories for this line! When I'm not writing, I love to travel (can you say "cruise ship"?), cook, crochet, speak at conferences, and yes...watch dirty movies. I live in the Midwest--the buckle of the Bible Belt, matter of fact--but I spend most of my time in imaginary situations and places.

Bio of Noelle Mack

Noelle Mack is a designer for a major California entertainment company. Three was her first erotic novel, followed by Red Velvet, and Juicy (2007 winner of Romantic Times' Reviewer's Choice award for Best Erotic Romance), and novellas in Sexy Beast, Sexy Beast II, The Harem, Perfect Kisses, and Everlasting Bad Boys. Her tale of love in Venice, Nights in Black Satin, began a new series that moved to London with Nights in Black Leather and Paris for Nights in Black Lace. She lives in Los Angeles.

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Additional Info

Imprint

Kensington

Filesize

706.59 KB

Number of Pages

320

eBook ISBN

9780758221780

Excerpt from: The Harem by Celia May Hart

The Secret Door by Noelle Mack

The deep blue of twilight suffused the garden where Yasmina walked alone. She stopped at the black-tiled fountain at its center, bubbling with water that rose from an ancient, buried spring. Only she came hereýthe other odalisques of the Topkapi harem shunned this place, convinced that the strange shadows cast by the gardenýs old walls had enchanted the water and the flowers that drank from it.

Yasmina had listened to these tales and then, left to her own devices, dipped her fingers in the fountain, not caring if the water was poison, and found it pure in taste. Still, it was whispered that evil spirits, djinns and ifrits, lurked in its dark depths. For that reason the garden had been neglected, and for that reason she preferred it. Here, sweet white roses sent out thorny shoots, climbing up and over the walls with wild abandon, as if they might someday escape the earth in which their roots were buried.

But the roses could not. Nor could she ever leave this place, she thought with bitterness. Though she wanted for nothing in this golden realm, nothing belonged to herýnot her beautiful gowns, not her embroidered slippers, not the jewels that hung between her perfect breasts, bared under silken gauze.

Yasmina shivered. A cool breeze wafted through the garden, enlivening the air and clearing her mind. Her nipples stood out against her white skin, white as the roses she walked among. Here in the harem, no one considered such display of female flesh immodest. There were only women to see. Like them all, Yasmina was the property of the sultan, a debauched and repulsive old man whom she glimpsed only rarely from behind a latticed wall of precious marble, under the great dome of the palace, holding court among his viziers and eunuchs.

His chief wife and favorite, the plump and lovely Gulbahar, made a great show of enjoying his company, as did the kadins, his lesser wives. The odalisques did not have to, as a rule. The sultan Suleyman was too old to visit many beds, and weary of the quarrels and vicious rivalry among the women.

Left to themselves, watched over by eunuchs and attendants within the harem walls and armed guards without, the young odalisques entertained themselves with storytelling and poetry, and games of chance and skill, and songs that extolled the prowess of legendary lovers and erotic bliss. When those amusements palled, there was always gossip. And for some, hashish and opium, which allowed their minds to flee the lovely bodies that had brought them to a state of bondage.

Yasmina wanted only to be by herself. As no one spoke her dialect, she was ignored and avoided, and some thought she was deaf and mute. A few seemed to look at her with pity in their beautiful eyes, but she cast her gaze down, not wishing to be entangled by an emotion as useless as pity.