Hi all! This is a blurb and excerpt from Club Shadowlands, the first in the Masters of the Shadowlands series. The next will be out April 7th.
CLUB SHADOWLANDS by Cherise Sinclair (excerpt rated PG-13, book rated hot)
Genre: BDSM Full-figured Heroine Length: Novel Out now from Loose Id
Blurb —
Her car disabled during a tropical storm, Jessica Randall discovers the isolated house where she’s sheltering is a private bondage club. At first shocked, she soon becomes aroused watching the interactions between the Doms and their subs. But she’s a professional woman–an accountant–and surely isn’t a submissive . . . is she?
Master Z hasn’t been so attracted to a woman in years. But the little sub who has wandered into his club intrigues him. She’s intelligent. Reserved. Conservative. After he discovers her interest in BDSM, he can’t resist tying her up and unleashing the passion she hides within.
Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, strong BDSM theme and content (including/not limited to bondage, caning, restraints, spanking, etc), exhibitionism, voyeurism.
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Excerpt —
Jessica Randall scrambled out of the water-filled ditch, her heart hammering. Frigid rain slashed through the dark night, drenching her face and clothing. Gasping for breath, she knelt in the mud, surprised to have made it to the bank in one piece. She glanced over her shoulder and shuddered. Alligators loved to hang out in Florida ditches. A few moments more and she could have been… She stifled the thought with a shudder.
Hands shaking, she scrubbed the water off her face and pushed to her feet.
As her fear diminished, she peered through the darkness and could barely see her car. Poor little Taurus, nose down with water roiling around the hood.
“I’ll be back for you. Don’t worry,” she promised, feeling like she was abandoning her baby.
Once on the narrow country road, she pushed her tangled hair out of her face and looked each way. Darkness and darkness. Dammit, why couldn’t she have an accident right in someone’s front yard? But no, the nearest house was probably the one she’d passed about a mile back. She headed that way, stopping to glare at the pool of water where her car had aquaplaned right off the road. The armadillo, of course, was long gone. At least she hadn’t hit it.
Head lowered, she trudged down the blacktop toward the house, getting wetter and wetter. Hopefully she wouldn’t trip on something in the darkness. Breaking her leg would be the final straw in a day that had been a disaster from start to finish.
Number one mistake: meeting at a halfway point for their first date when the man lived miles and miles outside of Tampa.
He sure hadn’t been worth the trip. She’d have found more excitement auditing business accounts. Then again, he hadn’t appeared all that impressed with her either. She grimaced. She’d recognized the look in his eyes, the one that said he really wanted tall and slim, an Angelina Jolie type woman, no matter that her posted picture portrayed her quite accurately: a pint-size Marilyn Monroe.
So far, she’d have to say finding a guy through the Internet rated right up there with back-country shortcuts, her second mistake of the day.
Aunt Eunice always swore things happened in threes. So would braking for an armadillo be considered her third mistake, or was there another disaster lurking in her near future?
She shivered as the wind howled through the palmettos and plastered her drenched clothing against her chilled body. Couldn’t stop now. Doggedly, she set one foot in front of the other, her waterlogged shoes squishing with every step.
An eternity later, she spotted a glimmer of light. Relief rushed through her when she reached a driveway studded with hanging lights. Surely whoever lived here would let her wait out the storm. She walked through the ornate iron gates, up the palm-lined drive past landscaped lawns, until finally she reached a three-story stone mansion. Black wrought iron lanterns illumined the entry.
“Nice place,” she muttered. And a little intimidating. She glanced down at herself to check the damage. Mud and rain streaked her tailored slacks and white button-down shirt, hardly a suitable image for a conservative accountant. She looked more like something even a cat would refuse to drag in.
Shivering hard, she brushed at the dirt and grimaced as it only streaked worse. She stared up at the huge oak doors guarding the entrance. A small doorbell in the shape of a dragon glowed on the side panel, and she pushed it.
Seconds later, the doors opened. A man, oversized and ugly as a battle-scarred Rottweiler, looked down at her. “I’m sorry, miss, you’re too late. The doors are locked.”
What the heck did that mean?
“P-please,” she said, stuttering with the cold. “My car’s in a ditch, and I’m soaked, and I need a place to dry out and call for help.” But did she really want to go inside with this scary-looking guy? Then she shivered so hard her teeth clattered together, and her mind was made up. “Can I come in? Please?”
He scowled at her, his big-boned face brutish in the yellow entry light. “I’ll have to ask Master Z. Wait here.” And the bastard shut the door, leaving her in the cold and dark.
Jessica wrapped her arms around herself, standing miserably, and finally the door opened again. Again the brute. “Okay, come on in.”
Relief brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, oh, thank you.” Stepping around him before he could change his mind, she barreled into a small entry room and slammed into a solid body. “Oomph,” she huffed.
Firm hands gripped her shoulders. She shook her wet hair out of her eyes and looked up. And up. The guy was big, a good six feet, his shoulders wide enough to block the room beyond.
He chuckled, his hands gentling their grasp on her arms. “She’s freezing, Ben. Molly left some clothing in the blue room; send one of the subs.”
“Okay, boss.” The brute ?? Ben ?? disappeared.
“What is your name?” Her new host’s voice was deep, dark as the night outside.
“Jessica.” She stepped back from his grip to get a better look at her savior. Smooth black hair, silvering at the temples, just touching his collar. Dark gray eyes with laugh lines at the corners. A lean, hard face with the shadow of a beard adding a hint of roughness. He wore tailored black slacks and a black silk shirt that outlined hard muscles underneath. If Ben was a Rottweiler, this guy was a jaguar, sleek and deadly.
“I’m sorry to have bothered ??” she started.
Ben reappeared with a handful of golden clothing that he thrust at her. “Here you go.”
She took the garments, holding them out to keep from getting the fabric wet. “Thank you.”
A faint smile creased the manager’s cheek. “Your gratitude is premature, I fear. This is a private club.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Now what was she going to do?
“You have two choices. You may sit out here in the entryway with Ben until the storm passes. The forecast stated the winds and rain would die down around six or so in the morning, and you won’t get a tow truck out on these country roads until then. Or you may sign papers and join the party for the night.”
She looked around. The entry was a tiny room with a desk and one chair. Not heated. Ben gave her a dour look.
Sign something? She frowned. Then again, in this lawsuit-happy world, every place made a person sign releases, even to visit a fitness center. So she could sit here all night. Or…be with happy people and be warm. No-brainer. “I’d love to join the party.”
“So impetuous,” the manager murmured. “Ben, give her the paperwork. Once she signs ?? or not ?? she may use the dressing room to dry off and change.”
“Yes, sir.” Ben rummaged in a file box on the desk, pulled out some papers.
The manager tilted his head at Jessica. “I will see you later then.”
Ben shoved three pages of papers at her and a pen. “Read the rules. Sign at the bottom.” He scowled at her. “I’ll get you a towel.”
She started reading. Rules of the Shadowlands.
“Shadowlands. That’s an unusual na ??” she said, looking up. Both men had disappeared. Huh. She returned to reading, trying to focus her eyes. Such tiny print. Still, she never signed anything without reading it.
Doors will open at…
Water pooled around her feet. Her teeth chattered so hard she had to clench her jaw. There was a dress code. Something about cleaning the equipment after use. Halfway down the second page, her eyes started blurring. Damn it all. This was just a club, after all; it wasn’t like she was signing mortgage papers.
Turning to the last page, she scrawled her name.
When Ben returned, he checked the papers for her signature, handed her a towel, and showed her into an opulent restroom off the entry. Glass-doored stalls along one side faced a mirrored wall with sinks and counters.
She glanced in the mirror and winced: short, pudgy woman, straggly blonde hair, pale complexion now blue with cold. Surprising that they’d even let her in the door. Dropping the borrowed clothing on the marble counter, she kicked her shoes off and tried to unbutton her shirt. Her hands were numb, shaking uncontrollably, and time after time, the buttons slipped from her stiff fingers. She couldn’t even get her slacks off, and she was shuddering so hard her bones hurt.
“Dammit,” she muttered and tried again.
The door opened. “Jessica, are you ??” The manager. “No, you are obviously not all right.” He stepped inside, a dark figure wavering in her blurry vision.
“Permit me.” Without waiting for her answer, he stripped her out of her clothes as one would a two-year-old, even peeling off her sodden bra and panties. His hands were hot, almost burning, against her chilled skin.
She was naked. As the thought percolated through her numb brain, she jerked away and grabbed at the dry clothing. His hand intercepted hers.
“No, pet.” He plucked something from her hair, opening his hand to show muddy leaves. “First a shower.”
He wrapped a hard arm around her waist and moved her into one of the glass-fronted stalls behind where she’d been standing. With his free hand, he turned on the water, and heavenly warm steam billowed up. He adjusted the temperature.
“In you go,” he ordered. A hand on her bottom, he nudged her into the shower.
The water felt scalding hot against her frigid skin, and she gasped, then sighed as the heat began to penetrate. After a minute, she realized the door of the stall was open. Arms crossed, the man leaned against the door frame, watching her with a slight smile on his lean face.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, turning so her back was to him. “I can manage by myself.”
“No, you obviously cannot,” he said evenly. “Wash the mud out of your hair. The left dispenser has shampoo.”
Mud in her hair. She’d totally forgotten; maybe she did need a keeper. After using the vanilla-scented shampoo, she let the water sluice through her hair. Brown water and twigs swirled down the drain. The water finally ran clear.
“Very good.” The water shut off. Blocking the door, he rolled up his sleeves, displaying corded, muscular arms. She had the unhappy feeling he was going to keep helping her, and any protest would be ignored. He’d taken charge as easily as if she’d been one of the puppies at the shelter where she volunteered.
“Out with you now.” When her legs wobbled, he tucked a hand around her upper arm, holding her up with disconcerting ease. The cooler air hit her body, and her shivering started again.
After blotting her hair, he grasped her chin and tipped her face up to the light. She gazed up at his darkly tanned face, trying to summon up enough energy to pull her face away.
“No bruises. I think you were lucky.” Taking the towel, he dried off her arms and hands, rubbing briskly until he appeared satisfied with the pink color. Then he did her back and shoulders. When he reached her breasts, she pushed at his hand. “I can do that.”
He ignored her like she would a buzzing fly, his attentions gentle but thorough, even to lifting each breast and drying underneath.
When he toweled off her butt, she wanted to hide. If there was any part of her that should be covered, it was her hips. Overweight. Jiggly. He didn’t seem to notice.
Then he knelt and ordered, “Spread your legs.”
—–
Buy link: http://www.loose-id.net/prod-Club_Shadowlands-867.aspx
Cherise Sinclair
CLUB SHADOWLANDS Loose Id / out now
www.cherisesinclair.com
Hi all! This is a blurb and excerpt from Dark Citadel, the second in the Masters of the Shadowlands series. It’s due out April 7th, and Loose Id just sent me a contract for the third, so I’m totally thrilled. Wahooo!!!
Dark Citadel by Cherise Sinclair (excerpt rated PG-13, book rated hot)
Genre: BDSM Full-figured Heroine Length: Novel =======================================================================================================================
– Blurb –
The Shadowlands is once again offering 3 evening classes of BDSM for Beginners.
After Kari breaks up with her date during Beginner’s Night at a private fetish club, she’s given the option to continue with an experienced dominant. Despite her fantasies about BDSM, the inexperienced schoolteacher plans to simply observe. But under the unyielding hands of Master Dan, she not only participates, but gives him everything he asks for. There is nothing she can hide from him. Not her passion…or her love.
Still mourning his wife, Master Dan avoids getting involved with women and he never takes a sub twice. But this modest little beginner is such a sweetie, one night is far from enough. As he plumbs her responses, taking her ever deeper into the world of BDSM, the gentle submissive begins to show him how barren his life has become.
During their three nights together, Kari will learn to submit…will the Master learn to love?
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– Excerpt –
Chapter One
The massive stone building loomed over the extensive grounds like a forbidding castle in some gothic novel. Club Shadowlands. Kari Wagner shook her head at the intimidating sight, at the thought of what the evening might hold.
Beginner’s lessons at a private BDSM club. She’d gone insane. Really. Her mind had rotted completely away. Teaching high school, that’s what had caused her lapse in sanity. All those teenagers…
Her date, Brian — or Buck, as he liked to be called — grabbed Kari’s arm and pulled her through the front door. She slipped a little, and his grip hardened. “Damn, you’re slow.”
In the small entry room, a huge security guard stood behind a table, looking so ogre-like he was almost cute. “Good evening, sir. Miss.”
“Good evening.” Kari closed her mouth before she called him Shrek.
He held out his hand. “Papers, please?”
As Buck handed over the doctor’s certificates and money, Kari eased her arm away. She’d been attracted to his authoritative personality — so different from the usual men she dated — but he’d never been rough before. Then again, he didn’t know how to do this domination stuff anymore than she did.
The guard finished looking at the papers and handed them off to another man before saying, “I’ll take your jacket, sir. And miss? Please leave your shoes with me now.”
“My shoes?” After a glance at the guy to see if he was serious — he was – Kari slipped off her orange sneakers.
The guard patiently kept his hand outstretched until she handed over her Tigger-decorated socks also. A little snort of laughter escaped him. “Thank you, miss.”
Buck’s pale brows drew together at the sight of the socks. “What the hell are you wearing?”
Kari glanced down at her ankle-length denim dress. “Sorry. It was parent-teacher day, and my last set of parents arrived a half hour late. I didn’t have time to go home and change.”
“Honestly, Kari, you dress like a five-year-old.” He straightened the lapels of his black suit.
“Well, I used to teach kindergarten after all.” She laughed. “But my high-school students like my clothes too.” Besides, even if she’d had time to change, what would she have worn to a BDSM club? Some weird lacy corset thing? Surely they’d dated long enough for him to know her better than that.
“Well, folks, have a pleasant evening.” Smiling, the guard pointed them toward a door on the right wall.
Wait a minute. Kari frowned at her bare feet then looked at the man. “Excuse me, but why is Buck allowed to keep his shoes on?”
The guard blinked. “Did I make a mistake? Which one of you is the Dom or Domme?”
“I am.” Buck gave her a disgusted look. “Just be quiet, Kari. Don’t talk at all.”
She bit back her first response — and the second — and settled for a nod. Buck might look like Prince Charming — tall, slim, blond — but his manners needed a little work. Still, she should give him a break. If he wasn’t Mr. Perfect Dominating Man, she wasn’t exactly a ten on the Gorgeous Submissive Woman scale, right? In fact, considering her conservative upbringing, this whole evening was probably doomed to failure.
Before they reached the door, Buck yanked her to his side, his fingers digging into her skin. “There will be other Doms here and other beginners. Remember you’re with me. Don’t talk to anyone else. Don’t look at anyone else.”
“Got it. Now let go of me.” With an exasperated sigh, she pried his hand from her arm, then followed him into a large office with lush, dark brown carpeting and creamy white walls. An antique desk and office equipment took up the far side of the room. In the right corner, several big men and two women, all dressed in gold-trimmed leather clothing, eyed her and Buck before returning to quiet conversation.
The center of the room held a sitting area occupied by two men. One was a tall, broad-shouldered man with silvering dark hair wearing European-tailored black slacks and a black silk shirt. His dark gray eyes had focused on her and Buck the minute they walked through the door. Now, he tilted his head toward the couch across from him.
“That’s got to be Master Z,” Buck hissed as they crossed the room. “All this is his. You watch your mouth and don’t speak unless I give you permission.”
She did exactly that, closing her mouth over her impulse to tell him where to go. He meant well, and she wasn’t going to leave before she found out more about this bondage stuff and why it excited her so much.
In black leathers, the other man looked downright dangerous: hard-faced with an equally hard body, open vest stretching over broad shoulders. Black hair slightly curling to the nape of his neck, potent brown eyes, the shadow of a beard along a stern jaw. If Buck was the golden prince, this man was the dark one.
When the men rose, Kari froze, feeling like a mouse confronted by lions. Mouth dry, she managed to move forward and smile.
“Buck,” the gray-eyed one said in a smooth deep voice. “Welcome to the Shadowlands. I am Master Z.” He shook hands with Buck and then Kari. His warm hand engulfed her cold fingers as he studied her for a moment. “Welcome, Kari.”
She opened her mouth, remembered not to speak, and smiled instead.
Master Z nodded to the other man. “This is Master Dan.”
The man nodded, shook hands with Buck, and then took Kari’s hand, his grip much gentler than she’d expected. When she looked up, his dark brown eyes trapped hers. He didn’t leer or do anything other than look at her, yet she felt a flush rise into her face. She pulled her hand back and looked down. She could still feel his penetrating gaze.
“Please be seated,” Master Z said. He waited for everyone to sit, then resumed his seat. He tapped the coffee table where their medical records and questionnaires were spread. “Your papers are in order. You’re both free of any disease.”
He glanced at her and Buck. “The rules of the Shadowlands are simple. Don’t touch anything or anyone that doesn’t belong to you without permission. Do not interfere in someone else’s scene. The equipment is here for your use, and after your introductory class tonight, there are private rooms upstairs, also for your use.” He nodded to the men in the corner. “Dungeon monitors — DMs — supervise activities and are available to answer questions or even to help as needed. Watch for the gold trim or an orange badge.”
His gaze turned to Kari. “Here at the Shadowlands, use the term “Master” for those in authority over you: me, the DMs, and possibly, your Dom. When in doubt, address any Dom as Sir or Ma’am.”
“I understand. Thank you,” she said without thinking and winced at Buck’s glare.
Dan Sawyer half-listened to Master Z while he sized up the two people who would be in his charge. The bland-faced man with pale blond hair and blue eyes. About five-eleven and a lanky one-seventy in a black suit. He had a narrow mouth with more frown lines than laugh lines and checked his date frequently as if afraid she’d disappear.
The woman wasn’t beautiful, but compellingly pretty. Mid-twenties. Wide blue eyes and hair the rich brown color of Guinness. A soft pink mouth bracketed by faint lines, showing she knew how to laugh and did it often. She was little, about five-four, and definitely not slender. Her long dress couldn’t conceal her very lush curves despite being buttoned right up to the top.
Interesting choice of attire for the club. Was she modest? Probably. He studied the way she’d pulled her hair into a tight French braid. Modest and conservative. Huh.
He rubbed his chin and studied her further. Had she wanted to be in a BDSM club, or had her date dragged her? Maybe he had, considering the way she was rubbing her arm.
Shaking his head, Dan leaned back in his chair. Looked like this couple would bear watching.
She’d be a pleasure to watch. To see tremble. To see helpless need in those big eyes. To see…
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DARK CITADEL Loose Id / April 7, 2009
Buy link: http://www.loose-id.com/prod-Masters_of_the_Shadowlands__Dark_Citadel-923.aspx
www.CheriseSinclair.com
Dominant Males, Sizzling Tales
CLUB SHADOWLANDS Loose Id / Out now
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and there are some awesome authors in the line up. I’m also looking at doing a Geek Out Week where we talk tech, shows and books we love and other great stuff. I’m also leaning toward an Action Week and a few other special theme weeks.
