Portia Da Costa - purveyor of erotic romance and erotica to the discerning woman since 1994

HER LOVER'S SECRET - Secret Pleasures #4

Her Lover's Secret - click for bigger version When Rachel spills wine all over herself and a devastatingly handsome older man at her friends' wedding reception, she little realises that it's the beginning of a heartstopping journey of sensual discovery.

Lawrence Brady is stunned discover his state of sexual ennui shattered by the beautiful young woman who upends her glass of red wine all over him. Rachel wants to learn the delicious secrets of BDSM, and he's just the man to provide her 'education'... in a thrillingly intense but short-lived no strings affair.

But what if their fling becomes more? Will Lawrence's secret destroy their chance of happiness and a future together?

Sequel to His Secret [#1], Their Secret [#2] and Her Secret [#3].

Publication date to be announced.


EXCERPT - unedited

Chapter 1

‘Oh no! I’m ever so sorry! Your beautiful suit. Please forgive me!’

Oh bollocks, there was splattered wine everywhere! Mainly all over her front and surely far more than one medium glass could ever hold! Why on earth hadn’t she stuck to champagne instead of trying the house red?

Rachel Harding stared up at the man she’d just apologised to; the unfeasibly tall man who was one of the most stunning she’d set eyes on in a long time. Clad in an expensive-looking mid blue linen suit, he was now adorned with several tasteful red blotches that matched the ones down her own front. 

Wine or no, he was an absolute dish. He towered above her, handsome in a sort of off beat, eccentric way, with a head of hair as unusual as his great height. It was a bit mane-like, basically ash-coloured, thick and wavy, but with broad startling swathes of pure silvery white at the front. His eyes were a vivid, almost electric shade of green-blue, like a pair of aquamarines, and he was older than her by a considerable amount, she guessed.

Uh oh.

Luckily most of the wine in her glass seemed to have landed on her. Her rather nice wedding guest outfit, a rose-coloured lacy number, was a total mess, but it was almost worth it to invoke the glorious amused grin that lit the face of the towering man before her. 

‘I… um… I’m so sorry,’ she burbled on, feeling pleasantly gobsmacked by him. He was turning her to jelly and he hadn’t said a word yet. 

‘No, no, no, it’s my fault. I jogged you.’ His broadening smile revealed dazzling white teeth. He was like an amiable, edible giant, an edifice of sexy male pulchritude.


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