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Genesis of a Story

By On Jun 20 2011, 12:35 pm


Breaking Free, my erotic Regency-set romance, had the roots of its inspiration in a very strange place—Pride and Prejudice. Yet it wasn’t the romance between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy that stirred my creative juices, but the fate of one of literature’s most oblivious characters, Elizabeth’s sister, Lydia. Here was a very young girl who gets herself entangled with a rake of the worst kind and, in the end, thinks she’s come up roses. What kind of life would she really have, and what happened, I wondered, to all those other young girls who, through circumstance or stupidity, found themselves similarly bound?

And so Claire, my heroine, was born. Although nowhere as silly or oblivious as Lydia, she too finds herself wed to a libertine and drawn into his world of sexual profligacy. After he dies she’s left clinging to the fringes of Society, knowing she will never be able to regain the respectability her deceased husband stole with his actions.

When she meets Xavier, a man who believes himself incapable of inspiring true passion in a woman, the scene is set for a seductive romance neither is expecting—and neither know what to make of. In the world they live in there can be nothing permanent between them, no matter how their hearts yearn to be together. I hope you enjoy the excerpt below, and the story of two lonely souls that find passion and solace in each other.

Anya Richards

Journeys Through Seduction


Excerpt: Breaking Free

What did she want from life? If he knew, perhaps he could make her see he could provide it, whatever it was—unless it was simply to be alone.

That seemed the crux of his problem. She appeared free to do whatever she pleased, but chose to live quietly by herself. Had it been her only dream while married to Reginald Montjoye, to simply be alone?

Xavier was tired of being alone. More to the point, he was tired of feeling lonely. He had felt that way as a child, as a husband, had managed to survive the loneliness and knew he could continue to do so, but he did not want to anymore. Claire had offered to show him passion, to introduce him to himself and his needs, offered and delivered pleasure beyond anything he had ever known, but was it enough? Could it ever again be enough to simply accept pleasure from her, now he knew what it felt like to love? Would it be enough when his love was not returned?

She stirred beside him, shifted even closer, sighed and went back to sleep.

He would have to make it enough, he realized, for he could not even conceive of being without her. It would be torture beyond anything she had done to his body, being with her and waiting for her to tell him it was finished, but he would endure it, gladly, for as long as it lasted. Claire would never need to know—he would never give her reason to pity him—but it seemed a cruel trick of fate to show him the one woman who could complete him, and make her one who would not have him.

“May I come back and see you tomorrow?”

He whispered the words, knowing she was asleep. It was a silly gesture, done on impulse, for she had already told him she would receive him the day after. So when she whispered back, it startled him.

“Is Monday not to your liking?”

Usually, he would acquiesce to her plans, for it was not in his nature to push, but the thought of waiting so long before he saw her again was untenable.

“It is not to my liking, because it is so far away. You have another engagement? Can I not convince you to change it?”

The silence stretched between them, pulling his anxiety along with it. Had he pushed too hard, made her wonder what she had gotten herself into? Then she seemed to sigh, but it ended in a chuckle, her fingers stroking lightly across his cheek.

“I have no other plans, and I would be very happy to see you tomorrow.”

And he was content.


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