Marie Treanor

Hot Flash: Swan Song, available now from Changeling Press
When you find yourself confiding in a swan, you know you’re in trouble. When the swan talks back, madness clearly beckons. Throw in a fool of a fiancé about to be dumped, a Russian gangster, and a lustful ballet dancer with tights to die for, and the night becomes strangely magical…

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Reviews:

"Marie Treanor has written a saucy, seductive story that’s filled with a generous dose of humor that will pull the reader in from the first paragraph and keep her reading until the end. Told in the first person, Ms. Treanor draws the reader into the head of the heroine as she goes through her adventures. Russia, swans, ballet dancers blend in together to give the story realism and depth. In fact, this reviewer was immediately thinking of the Swan Lake story as she read its opening paragraphs. Ms. Treanor puts her own unique twist into this tale, spices it up with some hot sex and gives the reader a very entertaining story. This reviewer had to chuckle at the ballet scene. Don’t you like to get a look at the male ballet dancer’s package as they jump around the stage? Own up now! Anyways, this reviewer can highly recommend this treat." - 5 hearts, Valerie, Love Romances and More

Excerpts:

     “Lumpy tights.” That was my sister’s considered verdict on ballet. On the few occasions I had watched it, I had been too far away to make out much of the performing male shapes, but that evening, from my place of honor in the front row, I had a bird’s eye view of the most amazingly luscious packet I had ever seen.
     Swan Lake was performed for our delectation on a temporary stage set up in a large, gilt-ornamented room. I guessed it had originally been the ballroom, and wondered if this was where my swan and his troupe had performed for Fyodor and Sonya’s guests.
     And although I was very restless, my head full of the swan’s amazing tale, the ballet was certainly a pleasant way to pass the time before I revisited him. The dancers had been brought in specially from St. Petersburg, according to Yepanchin, our genial if slightly sinister host, and to my admittedly untutored eye they were very good.
     Of course, although the subject matter of cursed swans probably helped keep me interested, my attention fixed all too often on Prince Siegfried’s impressive bulge as he leapt athletically around the stage, powerful legs flashing apart to give it maximum exposure. And when I lifted my gaze to the rest of his fit, muscular body and his lean, handsome face, I found him gazing right back at me.
     My heart gave a violent lurch, and seemed to end up somewhere in my nether regions. Once I would have blushed to have been caught staring at a man’s meat-and-two-veg, but here I was in Russia, about to ditch the wanker I had been so foolishly intending to marry, and I was, besides, insane enough to be on chatting terms with a local swan. I had nothing left to lose, so I just smiled at him.
     He didn’t smile back -- he couldn’t when he was meant to be so serious -- but one eye definitely closed. I wriggled in my seat. The man with the best bulge had just winked at me!