Dearest Readers,

As Mistress of Pleasure is my debut novel, many of you will not know what to expect of me. As such, I figured it was imperative to give thee a glimpse of what you can expect from yours truly. The best way to describe what I write is this: “Humorous historical romances unfit for polite society.” And there you have it. I will eventually get to into shoving blurbs and pitches your way, trying to shamelessly promote myself, but I thought we'd first all have a bit of historical fun. Fun that could very well win you an autographed copy of my book Mistress of Pleasure! I am giving away a total of 3 autographed books today, but please do remember, you must be registered at Cigars to be eligible to win.

That being said, let the games begin. And may the best woman win. (Although gentlemen are welcome to participate...)

Shall we begin? Many newspapers back in the day had what we call "classified" ads. It was their version of E-Harmony.com, blind dates and so on. To those that think the Victorians were prudes with no flexibility whatsoever, I shall disagree with you this once when it comes to their newspapers and their naughty little ads. I have to say that putting in an ad in the newspaper back in the day gave a man or a woman a rare form of anonymity while allowing them to explore the opposite sex. The following ads are all from American newspapers back in the day. I have British ones, as well, but the American ones are far more entertaining...

Behold some of my favorite examples:

February 18, 1864 New York Herald:
"Gentlemen, take notice -- I am in need of a husband; one who is educated and respectable. I am in my nineteenth year, considered good looking, of a very lively disposition, have plenty of friends but want someone to love, to smile when I smile, when I weep, he shall refrain."

One has to love her sense of humor.

February 14, 1868, New York Herald:
" A Gentleman worth $50,000 desire to marry a woman from 18 to 30 years old, who is willing to make home happy, with a view to matrimony. Send photographs; rejected ones returned if stamp is sent."

Clearly, the man wants sex first, with marriage being a possibility if sex is good.

November 24, 1865, New York Herald:
"A young lady, extravagantly fond of dress, desires the acquaintance of a wealthy gentleman; no other need answer; with a view to matrimony."

Oh, yes, that will have all the wealthy men knocking on her door. It seems no matter the era, women will forever pine over wanting a rich man...

February 7, 1862:

"A gentleman, thirty years of age, in full health, possessed of ample means, well read, fond of poetry, good living and society, six feet in his socks, dark hair and eyes, called by his intimate friends "Handsome Jones" keeps a pair of road horses, can sing, dance and play the fiddle, belongs to no club, Free Mason or Odd Fellows Association, has no idea of going to the war at present, a good whistler, and upon the whole, a desirable person, wishes to make the acquaintance of some lady, with the ultimate view of matrimony. The lady must be plump, pleasant and pretty, not over twenty years of age (he is a great believer in the advantages of early marriage); dark complexion preferred, without curls, cotton or cosmetic; money of no account, in particular - still, some not objected to; must be a good dancer, without old aunts, uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers, or second, third, fourth, fifth or any other cousins (as the advertiser, although well off, cannot marry a whole family); good teeth, fond of children (the advertiser has none, however), kind to servants, domestic, chatty, clever, and well educated. None but with good intentions need apply. Answers, with full particulars of age, size, disposition, looks, likes and dislikes, will be treated confidentially and answered if send to Handsome Jones."

By far my favorite advertisement thus far! I personally am of the belief, that if he feels the need to keep calling himself "Handsome Jones" in the ad, I guarantee you he is anything but. However. One has to admire his determination.

March 21, 1866, New York Herald:

"If the lady who from an omnibus smiled on a gentleman with a bunch of bananas in his hand as he crossed Wall street, corner of Broadway, will address A, box 6,735, Post Office, she will confer a favor."

The poor man. He must be bananas...

January 2, 1892, New York World:
"Wanted, a young lady of German parentage; must be a 36 bust and understand bookkeeping on a small scale. Apply Milbaner & Bleiweiss."

Now this here is the most straightforward employer I've ever come across. Clearly.

Glimpsing ads from days of old gives us a sense of what the reality was for these poor souls in search of the perfect sex mate. I mean...soul mate. Curiously enough, I don't feel times have changed all that much. We all still want handsome and rich. And men, God bless them, still want a particular bust size. Which was the entire point of this here post. Now for that fun I promised you! If you were going to take out an ad in 1830 in order to land your sex mate (or soul mate, for those of you that are hopelessly romantic) how would you write it? Note that every person who registers with Cigar and posts their "classified" ad here, shall be automatically entered to win one of 3 of my autographed books, Mistress of Pleasure.

And for your amusement, I give thee my own advertisement:

"A fairly pretty young lady with remarkable talents which shall be disclosed upon the selection of one very lucky gent, is seeking a fine gentleman with his own set of remarkable talents pending that he is handsome, well endowed, titled and wealthy. Talents that include drinking, smoking, gambling, and womanizing need not apply."

Now for a bit of shameless promotion:

Mistress of Pleasure is book 1 of 5 in the School of Gallantry series. Each book in the series follows the male students enrolled in a very special school that teaches them the art of seduction. What is unusual about this particular series, is that unlike others, you can read them in any particular order. For they all happen at the same time. In some cases, the same scenes appear in each book but from a flipped point of view. I was finally forced to keep a calendar for each day that occurs in the book so that I could stay on top of who was where and what they did and why.

A blurb of my upcoming debut, Mistress of Pleasure:

Granddaughter of a renowned courtesan, Maybelle de Maitenon, has no interest in her grandmother's school in London where gentlemen receive instruction – in the art of seduction. Her only desire in life is to remain independent, free from men and the shackles of marriage. But when Maybelle's grandmother falls ill, leaving Maybelle to run the school, she finds that her life, and her heart, will never be the same.

So what is my favorite scene in the book?

It actually occurs in the classroom when the students (and all our future heroes) are being formally taught by the heroine how to properly make use of a dildo to better pleasure a woman. I personally never laughed so much while writing a scene!

And last but not least, and I thank you for getting this far, an excerpt for your pleasure:

Lesson Two

Not everyone is capable of seduction. Yet everyone is perfectly capable of being seduced.

-The School of Gallantry

Lesson Two

Not everyone is capable of seduction. Yet everyone is perfectly capable of being seduced.

-The School of Gallantry

London, evening. Elegantly dressed men and women whisked in and out of sight, adorned in perfectly tailored and expensive satiny hues of onyx, periwinkle, and alabaster. Beautiful is what they were. All beautiful. On the outside, at least.

And although, yes, the orchestra played loud enough for the deaf to hear, and the candles from the crystal chandeliers had dripped more wax on her throughout the evening than the wood floor, it was still mildly entertaining. Mildly, only because she’d spent most of the night tucked between the oak paneled wall and her grandmother. A grandmother, who by the by, had received more amorous stares and conversations from men during the past few hours than she had in her entire life. And unlike the snobby women around them who refused to acknowledge their existence, the men were proving to be exceptionally friendly. Exceptionally.

And one might only imagine why. After the school’s grand opening, her grandmother had become a celebrity of sorts. For only the men, of course.

A mustached gentleman grinned and nodded his pleasantries toward her grandmother as he passed by. Her grandmother returned his nod and set her chin once again. Whoever thought one could be so popular in society and yet so equally despised? It made no sense whatsoever. But then that was the ton for you.

Maybelle sighed and leaned back against the wall. After attending a total of seven soirées in three weeks, she had hoped her grandmother would come to terms with the fact that she had standards. Thank goodness.

Maybelle peered past the double bouffant sleeves of her grandmother’s low-cut, plum evening gown, but could barely see the dance floor. She pushed away from the wall
and was about to tap her grandmother on the shoulder so that the woman might step aside and give her a better view, when a tall, muscular dark haired gentleman strode past.
Maybelle’s heart skipped as her eyes unwittingly followed him. Now there was a chariot worth riding into hell on.

The man was clad in black, thigh hugging trousers that tapered narrowly down the length of his long, muscular legs and was finished off by a pair of black lacquered shoes. If not for the evening jacket, which brushed past his upper thighs, she had no doubt his bum would have been a heavenly sight to behold.

Of course, there was still plenty to admire. His perfectly tailored black jacket paraded the width of his chest and the muscles in his arms. A high, crisp white collar surrounded his strong jaw and neck, which was even further accentuated by a perfectly pressed pure white cravat. His thick black hair, which had been combed back with tonic, was a bit on the long side, going entirely against fashion, but the way it brushed over the back of his high collar was in and of itself fascinating.

Although he was almost out of sight, the man paused from his steady stride, and turned, as if sensing someone was watching him. His lean, shaven face, sharp nose, black eyes and straight brows came into view.

Maybelle inhaled sharply. Oh, yes, I’ll bed that one please.

The man scanned those around him, and although she inwardly pleaded that he might meet her gaze at least once, his dark eyes swept past her. Drat. Perhaps her grandmother was in the way.

Maybelle gathered her cream satin skirts and quickly scooted out from behind her grandmother to place herself on better display. To her disappointment, the man had already turned and made his way back through the crowd. Maybelle released her satin skirts and let them drop to the floor right along with her heart. She watched as he rounded the dance floor and disappeared through the french doors leading out onto
the darkened terrace.

It was for the better. A man of such appearances was most likely married. And if not married, then engaged. And if not engaged, then looking to be. And as one woman never sufficed the thirst of any man, there was no doubt a mistress involved. Several of them, if she had to guess. One for every single of his vicious, lusty whims. Yes. He certainly looked the sort.

“You have very good taste,” her grandmother drawled, still staring out onto the dance floor. “That, chére, is none other than the duke of Rutherford. Better known to London as the man tragically ruined by his father’s lust.”

Maybelle’s eyes widened. Certainly not the sort she had imagined. She leaned toward her grandmother. “Ruined by his father’s lust? You don’t mean his father actually--”

“Och, mais non! Where is your mind tonight?” Her grandmother glanced around, snapped open her ostrich fan and leaned toward her, gossip overtaking her blue eyes.
She hid the bottom half of their faces behind the confines of her fan and lowered her voice. “You see, a little over six years ago, his father died in the arms of a courtesan. Laudanum overdose. Dreadful, dreadful scandal. But then the réel rumors commenced. That the woman was not a courtesan at all, but a lady of high, respectable society.”

Her grandmother clucked. “Well. That made it even more difficile for the ton to accept and ever since, the duke’s poor mama has desperately tried to marry him off to whoever will have him. Despite his dire circumstances, the man refuses to compromise his lineage and will not marry below him. And so there you have it. Ruined by his own
father’s lust.”

Mistress of Pleasure can purchased online or in any bookstore beginning September 2, 2008. I dare you to purchase a lesson.

Cheers,

Delilah Marvelle