Hot Hot Hot!

Here's my sizzling new cover for A Rogue's Redemption, sequel to A Rogue's Reward.
Redemption will be coming this November from Amber Quill.
Here's the blurb:
Fallon Robard, captain of the all-female crew of the Gabrielle, made her most difficult decision when she abandoned young lovers Rhea Galant and Lord Sheppard York on a deserted island after Sheppard’s father refused to pay the ransom for his kidnapped son. Now, months later, Sheppard’s older brothers, Jacob and Jon, have tracked down Fallon. The handsome twins seek to avenge their brother’s suffering and demand Fallon repent her crimes. When faced with punishment at the hands of two masterful men, will Fallon get more than she bargained for, or just what she deserves?
And here's steamy excerpt excerpt, rated R for language:
Fallon crouched in the shadows of the cell, the freshly oiled links of the shackle chain clutched in her hand. She hadn’t bothered struggling after Jon York locked her up. She knew the friction of the iron cuffs would only damage her wrists and leave her less able to defend herself, so she’d remained as still as possible for hours, contemplating her next move and wondering what flaw in her character had led her to wish, even for a fleeting moment, that Jon might have fucked her when he had the chance.
That at least, she could relate to. If they’d tied her up and taken turns, or even just threatened to use her to sate their base male urges, she’d have understood their motives. But these strange games, binding her here, shackling her there, telling her things that caused her pain rather than simply hurting her physically—none of that made sense.
Of course, she had to wonder why it even mattered to her what the elder York brothers wanted from her. They’d get nothing that they didn’t take by force.
She held the chain tighter and strained to hear their footsteps. For a while they’d been above her in the infirmary, and she wondered if they’d found the knothole through which the crew often observed prisoners. They could watch her if they wanted to, but they’d still gain nothing.
Now one of them approached. The lock on the cell door rattled, and she allowed herself to hope it was Jon. His soft, sensual touch with the drying cloth had given her some hope he might be more easily manipulated. Being one step away from his father’s seat as governor, Jacob had apparently already lost his ability to feel compassion. Jon, at least, still obviously possessed a soul.
She knew instantly it was Jacob when the door swung wide. It wasn’t the scar that gave him away, but the flinty quality of his stare. The shadows behind his piercing gaze made her heart beat faster with an emotion she couldn’t name. When he looked at her she felt as naked as she’d been this morning on the deck.
Fortunately the savory aroma of soup chased away all thoughts of attacking him with the coiled up chain. She tore her gaze from his and followed the path of the food tray which he set before her on the floor.
“I don’t need to ask if you’re hungry. I can tell by the look in your eyes.”
She ignored him and concentrated on not licking her lips. A fresh biscuit accompanied the soup, and her stomach rumbled at the sight of it.
“Come here if you want to eat.”
Fallon considered refusing, but how long would she last if she starved herself? Glaring at him, she dropped the chain and shuffled over to the tray.
“Sit.” He didn’t wait for her response, just lowered himself to a cross-legged position before the still-steaming food. He then burrowed one hand into the pocket of his dark trousers and pulled out a length of black silk. She recognized the sash from her wardrobe. Woven by a blind artisan in Port Royal, it bore threads of silver and gold that lent a sparkle to the cloth in any light.
Jacob held it up in both hands. “This is for you.”
“It’s an expensive napkin, milord. I’d rather wipe my mouth on my sleeve than ruin a fine piece of work like that.”
He hesitated a moment, then laughed. “I’m not so jaded that I would use silk as a lapcloth. This is a blindfold.” His smile faded on the last word, and Fallon shivered. Her quizzical expression prompted his further explanation. “Sheppard told me at first he was not allowed to remove his shackles while he ate. Rhea fed him. So I will feed you.”
“And I can’t watch?”
“No. You’ll need to rely on me…to trust me.”
Again Fallon considered refusing, but her traitorous stomach protested loud enough this time for Jacob to hear. His flawed eyebrow twitched, and Fallon felt herself blush. “Fine.”
He leaned forward and fastened the sash across her eyes with quick, efficient movements. This was a man familiar with tying knots, or at least accustomed to blindfolding women.
His masculine scent rode over the aroma of the soup for a moment, and beneath the cloth, Fallon closed her eyes. She recognized clove and wild mint, a fragrance popular among gentlemen of the aristocracy.
When he finished his task and pulled back, she tried to follow his movements and gauge his position, imaging how he looked and how he might be looking at her.
“Are you ready?” His seductive whisper left her lightheaded, or perhaps that was hunger. Fallon had to wonder just what he wanted her ready for.
“Yes.”
She listened to the blunt scrape of metal spoon on wooden bowl and waited. “Open.” The word struck her like an arrow. Her heart thudded, and her clit throbbed when she considered what else she might open upon his command besides her mouth.
***