About this book
“In retrospect, slathering myself in honey and lying on the storeroom floor may not have been the best of my many ideas. Anything will do when a woman with deep needs is left unfilled.”
Heraklion, Crete, 1872. Cordelia Delachatte has spent two idle months with nothing to show for it — until she finds the cult guarding the Minotaur’s labyrinth. No woman enters untested. Inside Daedalus’s ancient wooden cow, she takes a man of prodigious endowment. And after him, the mythic beast.
A lady can always make room for an honored guest.
Mr. Jones climbs in with her — steady hand at her waist, guiding her finger to the place she needs it most, with the calm authority of one who has always known exactly where it is. What he whispers against her ear undoes her more than the man filling her.
Down corridors that have not heard a woman in three thousand years, the Minotaur mounts her on cold stone with the certainty of a creature who knows she isn’t leaving. Everything the legends promised, and more than she was built for. She takes him anyway.
A red thread wraps around her wrists and pulls her back through the dark.
Jones, of course, holds the other end.
Surrendered to the Minotaur is the 11,000-word third installment of the Cordelia Delachatte, Victorian Lady Sexplorer series — for readers who prefer their history unbuttoned, their delights forbidden, and their secretaries quietly indispensable.
