Posts Tagged ‘BDSM’

Sizzling Saturday Snippet

I Need You For Christmas200x300
Blurb:

Ryan Porter is a sculptor, and beneath his callused hands, even the most rigid metals bend to his will. So, too, does his girlfriend Megan—a confident, strong woman who delights in submitting to Ryan’s dominance in the bedroom.

Megan is a Mountie, and she’s spent the past few years in the arctic following her career dreams. Family obligations kept Ryan at home, but their love survived the distance thanks to several hot visits. A Mountie always gets her man, and Megan is bound and determined to keep Ryan.

Now Megan’s with Ryan for the holidays…but how long will this visit last? She’s always been willing to do anything Ryan desires, but will he finally tell her that all he needs for Christmas is her?

Buy Links: 

Carina Press ™

All Romance eBooks,

Amazon.com
Barnes & Noble

Reviews:
“All of the stories in this anthology have very sexy sex scenes, but I think this story really upped up the ante.” ~ Under the Covers Book Blog
“…The ultimate feel good Christmas story…” ~ Sarah,Feeling Fictional
“a wonderful addition to the anthology….the best novella in the anthology in terms of smoking hot sexy times.” ~ The Bookpushers
Snippet

I NEED YOU FOR CHRISTMAS

Copyright © 2012 Leah Braemel

The glow from the slumbering embers shifted across the ceiling and into the corners of the dark room when Meg lifted herself up on one arm and peered over Ryan at the clock.

Five-thirty.

“Hey, what are you doing awake this early?” Ryan brushed her hair from her face.

“I’m used to getting up around now. Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I’ve not slept much.”

Could have fooled her, he’d been so still through the night. Though come to think of it, she hadn’t heard any of that soft snore he normally did.

“I couldn’t stop thinking. About you.” His voice deepened on the last statement. “Thinking about how I wanted to kiss you.”

“What stopped you?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“So what’s stopping you now?” She turned until her lips touched his. Another deep drugging kiss, thoroughly ravishing her mouth, leaving no doubt that he was in charge. There was no hint of softness about him when he broke off the kiss and stared down at her.

“I love you.” Without waiting for a reply, he skated his lips down her cheek, peppering kisses down the length of her throat while his hands traced down her belly, over her hips and between the smooth skin of her thighs.

He knew just the spots that turned her muscles to goo beneath his fingers, his lips. Moans built in her throat, escaped in shuddering hitches. Her skin tingled everywhere he’d touched, small sparks that burrowed and heated her blood.

“Get on your hands and knees, Meg.” His tone reminded her of one of her instructors at the training academy.

Her blood heated, raced through her belly to pool at the juncture of her thighs. “Yes, sir.”

Heat flared in his expression. Approval of her whispered response, her immediate submission.

When she’d first met Ryan, she’d only just realized how much a guy taking charge in the bedroom was the key to her sexual satisfaction. It had been a pleasant and exciting surprise their first time making love that while he’d treated her with love and respect that he expected in return, he’d revealed an innate dominance.

It wasn’t that he was a capital-D dom, nor was he into all the master/slave crap she heard bandied about in the news, but he’d sensed without her asking that she needed someone else to take charge of closing the proverbial bedroom door to all her worries and concerns.

Once she became a Mountie, and she took the duty for other people’s lives in her hands, the trust she had in letting go and turning all her worries over to him became like a drug.

Warm breath heralded the first touch of his lips against her thigh. His fingers parted her folds, and seconds later, his tongue flicked out and feathered over her clit.

How she managed without his touch for so long was beyond comprehension. Everything was right in her world when she was in his arms. All her worries, her concerns, evaporated, instead replaced with a Ryan-induced euphoria.

 

 

*HARLEQUIN COVER ART: Cover Art Copyright© 2010 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A. Cover Art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited. All rights reserved. © and ™ are trademarks owned by Harlequin Enterprises Limited or its affiliated companies, used under license.

Fall Reads Friday: Avril Ashton

(Watch Me) Break You

 

Run This Town, BK #1

 

They’re in a war for control of the streets, but love will be the ultimate prize.

 

rsz_watchmebreakyou_4_-_copyHere comes trouble…

Men. Women. Drugs. Dima Zhirkov’s favorite things. Add in the element of danger and he should be right as rain. But not today. It’s not working, hasn’t for a long time. He’s grasping at the flimsiest of straws to prove he’s indeed strong enough to run his streets. Until he sets eyes on him. In the midst of a room full of strangers, Dima is drawn to a man as cold and dangerous as he’s beautiful. Captivated, Dima embarks on a ruthless campaign to get his new toy into bed.

Here comes the danger…

Xavier “X” Storm is content to pull the strings while someone else handles the day to day dealings of his gang, The Rude Boys. He’s after what Dima holds closest—the Coney Island streets. He contracts out the job of killing the Russian, except Dima isn’t that easy to kill. When he suddenly shows up in X’s path, tempting him to indulge in the dirtiest play, he finds Dima isn’t all that easy to shake, either. His cocky attitude and rough submission tempts X to go where he’d vowed to never return, and they plunge head first into an affair fueled by possessive obsession.

Run for cover

Sex and pain Dima can handle, and X delivers the most depraved kind. Their connection is explosive, their games addictive, but Dima can end it whenever he wishes. He doesn’t see that X is breaking him down, giving Dima everything he wants and even more than he ever thought to need. By the time he realizes who X is and what he wants, Dima is raw and bullet-riddled. It’s run or fight. And Dima doesn’t back down. Neither does X.

Warning: Includes strong BDSM elements, and reference to rape and sexual abuse.

 

EXCERPT

 

“This little game that we play…” He paused when his throat burned.

“Is it, Rush? Is it a game?”

Down on his knees, Dima looked up and up into fathomless eyes. They trapped him enough that he forgot to bristle at that stupid nickname. Rush. Because he was Russian.

The pad of one finger touched his throat, slid down. He swallowed, but he had no saliva. He blinked to clear the haze over his eyes.

“Is it a game, this, what we do? This is how you play?”

Of course it was. He liked his toys. His drinks. His drugs. His women. His men too. Like the one who had him on his knees. This was Dima. The crazy little games that he played. He could leave at any time. Tied up as he was he couldn’t move except to flick a glance at the door flung wide open for anyone to see him beg to be used. But he could leave. End it. Because that’s what he did. He played. And then he walked away.

“Your game.” The hand in his hair moved then reappeared in front of his face holding another length of rope. “This is your game. You stalking me, begging me…”

Dima didn’t beg, not unless he was on his knees. He didn’t remember begging.

“You always in my fucking shadow making it impossible for me to do anything, cock blocking. That’s your game? The woman you just saw me with. The one you would’ve hurt if I hadn’t rescued her. All part of your game?”

She’d needed to be hurt. No one used his toys without permission. He’d stood in the shadows and watched her touch his toy, put her red lips to his ear and her long-nailed hands on his thigh, and Dima had salivated at the thought of gutting her. For touching what was his. He’d gotten hard as he’d thought of it.

Hot breath brushed his neck. Made him shudder. Usually he had better control when he played his games. Usually his toys didn’t affect him. Usually he didn’t pursue his toys either. This one was tough to catch. Impossible to pin down. It exhilarated him, that cat and mouse game.

“If I’d fucked her while you watched, would that have been part of the game?”

Something thudded in his chest. He swallowed again. Fire burned his throat. His head pounded as a flash of heat made him sweat. Anger. Not just any anger. Jealous anger. His lips parted and his toy swooped in, took him. His mouth. His tongue. His mind. And Dima started to pant because that wasn’t part of the game. Not his game. To be taken over. To be made to feel more than the superficial pain on his skin. He tried to stop the kiss, turn his head, but his toy caught him by the throat, fingers tight, pressing in, stealing breath he didn’t seem to want to give back.

“Watch me,” his toy whispered. Sadistic. Eyes so black Dima didn’t see the whites. He looped the rope around Dima’s neck. Tightened it. “Let’s play then, Rush.” He pulled the rope. “And watch me.”

Dima did.

 

 

Amazon: http://bit.ly/BRku01

All Romance: http://bit.ly/XnD01

Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/xNd01

 

 

 

About the Author

 

A Caribbean transplant, Avril now lives in Stone Mountain, GA., with a tolerant spousal equivalent. Together they raise an eccentric daughter who loves reading and school (not so much school anymore). Avril’s earliest memories of reading revolve around discussing the plot points of Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys with an equally book-minded mother.

Always in love with the written word, Avril finally decided to do the writing in August of ’09 and never looked back. Spicy love scenes, delicious heroes, and wicked women burn up the pages of Avril’s stories, but there’ll always be a happy ending; Av remains a believer of love in all its forms.

Addicted to cake, the ID Channel and the UFC, Avril writes Erotic and GLBT Romance for Evernight PublishingeXtasy BooksSecret Cravings Publishing and Total-e-Bound.

Visit: http://www.avrilashton.com

Friend Av on: http://facebook.com/writeravrilashton

http://www.twitter.com/#!/AvrilAsh

13 Days of Halloween: Qwillia Rain

The Hot Seat with Qwillia Rain, Becka and Rick

13 Days of Halloween Edition

 

I set up The Hot Seat to accommodate three people and put out lemon cakes and mini pumpkin pies and some spiced apple cider. Once I’m ready, I signal the Cabana Men dressed in leather to escort my guests in. Once they’re settled in, I begin the interview.

Qwillia settles onto one of the chairs, her legs curled under her while Rick takes a throw pillow from the sofa and sets it on the floor, helping Becka onto it before taking a seat on the sofa behind her, his legs on either side of Becka as she relaxed back against him.

 

1) Thank you all for allowing me to interview you. I take it you guys are looking forward to Halloween, what with it being Rick’s birthday and all.

Qwillia: Halloween has always been my favorite holiday because I love dressing up and trick or treating.

Rick stayed quiet, but Becka spoke up: We’re having a small party at our house for the kids. Mattie and Bryce and Mike and Lyssa are bringing all their kids. Jacob promised to stop in for a bit and Dayton and Elf may show up with Noelle. Dante flies in on Saturday to spend the week before he heads back to Mexico and the Dulce Oro.

 

2) A little birdie told me about  Diablo Blanco Club’s Midnight Masquerade. What happens there, or is it a secret? What’s the best part of the party? What’s the worst?

Qwillia: Readers can get a glimpse of the party in Rite of First Claim, but I’m hoping to revamp a deleted scene and make it into a short story so readers can see some of the more interesting aspects of the Midnight Masquerade. As for the best part of the party, for me it’s the lead up to midnight because the subs get to mix and mingle with the Doms. The worst part is after selections are made and the couples or groups disperse.

Rick chuckles: But that’s the best part (looks down at Becka) Right, Boo? (Becka smiles and leans back into Rick’s touch.)

3) Other than your birthday what do you look forward to most about Halloween?

Becka laughs:  Having Mattie, Bryce and their kids over. Daddy loves having all the kids to tease and tell scary stories to.

Rick grumbles:  Only because he likes to make me do the monster under the bed routine before bedtime.

Becka grins up at him: You love it and you know it.

Rick remained silent, but his look promised retribution and Becka’s expression didn’t seem to mind.

 

4) Can you give us a hint as to what you’re dressing up as?

Qwillia: If they were going to the Midnight Masquerade, Rick would wear a tuxedo and Becka would have to wear a costume.

Becka fought a smile but lost: Danny, our oldest, has already decided he wants us to dress up as a lion tamer and a lioness.

Rick shook his head: Your father should never have taught him how to pick locks.

 

5) Halloween always seems like a magical night. Anything can happen; all the candles lit, the jack-o-lanterns and of course the candy and parties. What would you say your ideal Halloween would be?

Qwillia: For me, I would love to explore a real haunted house one Halloween. Or spend Halloween with the Ghost Hunters on some location.

Rick chuckled and shook his head: Only you would intentionally seek out something to scare you.

Qwillia: You betcha. I enjoy the paranormal even if I don’t write the genre.

 

6) Can you tell us a bit more about Diablo Blanco Club and where we can find out more about it?

Rick: The Diablo Blanco Club has been in operation since the early 1800s in Southern California—before the state was even a territory. If you go to Qwillia’s blog you can see the various books she’s written about the club members.

Qwillia mumbles in irritation: Except yours.

Becka patted Qwillia’s hand: You’ll get it finished.

 

7) Now I know you love pumpkin pie. What other treats do you love to make during this time of year?

Qwillia: Caramel apples, hot spiced cider, and my grandmother’s gingerbread cookies.
Becka peeks over to where Rick is offering a demonstration on the use of a tawse, she whispets: Rick likes to make old fashioned popcorn balls and caramel popcorn … but you didn’t hear that from me.

8) If you could go anywhere to celebrate Halloween where would you go?

Qwillia: Stanley House near Denver, Colorado or the USS North Carolina in Wilmington, North Carolina (both are reputed to be very haunted.)

Rick: The dungeons of the Diablo Blanco Club.

 

9) What do you have coming up for us? What tasty tidbits will be going on our must buy list?

Qwillia: As I said earlier, I’ve decided to try converting a deleted scene into a short, fun Halloween story. It’ll be an interesting tour through the dungeon of the Diablo Blanco Club during the Midnight Masquerade.

 

10) Please tell us where we can find you on the internet.

Blog: http://authorqwilliarain.blogspot.com

Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Qwillia-Rain-Fan-Page/234065069968987?ref=hl

Thank you for allowing me to interview you. I have the Cabana Men escort them out along with the goodies.

 

Rite of First Claim

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Rite-First-Claim-Diablo-Blanco-ebook/dp/B00AC8PWZI/

All Romance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-riteoffirstclaim-1006137-147.html

 

Riteof1stClaim1_smBlurb:

What’s a Dom to do when the submissive he wants runs from the feelings between them?

From the moment he met Lyssa Lawrence, Mike Halsey knew what he felt was love — not lust. Convincing her has been an uphill battle even after the two steamy hours they’d shared at the Diablo Blanco Club four years earlier.

Lyssa Lawrence wished the man who claimed to love her wasn’t so damned appealing. Eight years of denying the pull of her submissive nature almost went up in smoke four years ago, but she’d gathered the nerve to tell him ‘no’ when he asked for more. She’d have stayed away for good if her biological clock hadn’t hiccuped, threatening her dreams of motherhood.

In the same way she’d strategized her success in fashion design, Lyssa worked out a plan to get the baby she wanted. The Diablo Blanco Club’s annual Midnight Masquerade would provide a number of potential donors to choose from. What she hadn’t bargained on was Mike’s interference through an arcane Club rule.

When Mike invoked Rite of First Claim, Lyssa finally became his. Now, he has one month to prove that the role of his submissive was one she was born to play.

 

Excerpt:

A stone frame accented the unique arched doorway, and a second brim of stone edged the frame. The letters etched into the gray rock were worn down by time and the weather, but each was still visible when she looked close.

“El diablo supone; el Dios sabe; los actos blancos del Diablo,” a man’s voice whispered into her ear.

Lyssa jumped at the amused tone. “Excuse me?”

The man beside Lyssa stepped into the glow of the lanterns that were shaped like medieval sconces on either side of the entrance. His hazel eyes glittered down at her. “The devil supposes; God knows; the white devil acts.”

A neatly trimmed goatee framed his mouth, accenting the full lower and slightly thinner upper lips. The whiskers were the same jet-black as the hair he’d pulled back and secured at his nape. The way he held himself and the self-control emanating from him gave more than enough of a clue that he was one of the Club’s dominants. His tailored tuxedo only confirmed it.

“The words.” The man motioned to the doorway’s decoration with his chin. “That’s what they mean.” His eyes twinkled with humor in his handsome face as he leaned back against the stone pillar to watch her.

Lyssa nodded at him. “I know. A friend of mine told me years ago.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be anyone I know, would it?”

“No.” Lyssa shook her head and grinned. “It was long ago. When I first moved to San Diablo.”

“With your sister, Mattie?”

Lyssa looked at him and finally recognized the man. “You’re David Henderson, aren’t you?” Heat filled her cheeks as an image of this man and his friend, Dayton Kringle—her target for the night—sharing a woman in the lounge of the Club four years earlier entered her mind. She’d joked with her sister about what it would feel like to be caught between a private dick and a hard Saint Nick. How ironic would it be if she were to actually experience it? She held her hand out to him.

He nodded and grinned. “And even with a wig on, I recognized you. You’re Lyssa Lawrence.”

His big hand wrapped around hers, but instead of a friendly handshake, he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a gentlemanly kiss against her knuckles. The warmth of his breath took away the chill in her fingers for a moment.

After releasing her, he continued, “If a friend told you the motto when you first arrived, it must have been one of your foster brothers.”

The accuracy of his guess made Lyssa start. Then a wisp of memory surfaced. “I remember hearing you’re a detective.”

“Investigator. So was it one of Gino’s boys?”

The nerves relaxed in her belly at the mention of her foster father. It was possible David only recalled the information about her and her sister because he’d been tasked to do a background check on her sister when Mattie first started working as Bryce’s personal assistant twelve years ago. Lyssa admitted, “Yes, it was one of Gino’s boys. I’d forgotten about the inscription being there.”

David stepped aside as another couple ascended the stairs to the front of the Club. He guided Lyssa away from the steps with a hand at her elbow. “I’ll bet Gino tanned his son’s hide for bringing you out here to begin with.”

“Marco was scrubbing hulls for a month.” Lyssa laughed as she recalled the punishment her foster father, the owner of a small boatbuilding and repair shop, had meted out. Her gaze returned to the stone engraving, then drifted back to David.

He extended his hand. “Would you allow me to escort you, or are you having second thoughts?”

Lyssa looked at the hand he held out to her. She might have dressed for her intended target, but nothing said she needed to center her attention exclusively on that man. Considering David posed a likely candidate, it made sense she take the opportunity to acquaint herself with him. Her intended quarry might already be inside or en route. Either way, Lyssa knew what she was looking for, and she wouldn’t settle for less. “No, no second thoughts. As for your escort, I would like that. Thank you.” Lyssa allowed him to settle her hand in the crook of his elbow and draw her through the entrance and into the Club.

Unlike other fetish clubs she’d seen online or had described to her, there were no dimmed lights or curtained hallways leading to private rooms. Instead the paneled walls and crown molding exuded a sophistication and respectability equal to any of the exclusive country or yacht clubs up and down the California coast. These little details made it easier for her to keep her emotions under control. And staying in control, especially tonight, was paramount to the success of her plan. She didn’t dare give in to the temptation to submit to a dominant, no matter how much a part of her craved to do so.

The majority of the guests were dressed in evening gowns or tuxedos. The only ones in costume, like her, were submissives—both those owned and those looking for owners. Scanning the faces, she identified several of her potential donors, but she was careful not to stare at them in a way that might arouse unease or make them leery of her approach. She ignored the tiny pain that twisted her heart when Mike wasn’t among the guests. Forget the fantasy and face reality, Lyssa.

“Smile. We aren’t that scary,” David whispered, his warm breath stirring the hair of her auburn wig over her ear.

A tingle slid up Lyssa’s spine.

“You’ve been here often enough to know we don’t bite.” A wicked grin lifted his lips. “Well, not unless you ask us to.”

Contest: Comment with your favorite Halloween treat to be entered tow win a copy of Rite of First Claim!

13 Days of Halloween: Sindra van Yssel

SeGraphic

Hot Seat Interview with Sindra van Yssel

13 Days of Halloween

 

Today’s Hot Seat Interview is with the scintillating Sindra van Yssel who has written some very steamy books. I set out some petit fours and coffee and have the Dom Cabana Men bring her into the room. After she settles in I adjust the spotlight and get to work on finding out more about this fantastic author.

1) Thank you so much for agreeing to do this Hot Seat Interview with me. I just finished reading Dom and Domme and just loved it.

 

Thank you Selena, it’s a pleasure to be here. Dom and Domme is one of my favorite books.

 

2) What inspired you to write Dom and Domme?

SvY: I like to break out of the mold where everyone is either a dominant or a submissive that seems to pervade a lot of BDSM books. Some people do find a role that suits them best, and stick with it. But there are a lot of people in the BDSM scene who switch. Maybe they submit to their life partner, but are dominant with casual partners. Maybe they just like variety. Maybe they start out on one side of the flogger and find they like the other more later on. In some gay male BDSM subcultures there’s even a notion that one should start out as a submissive and serve a sort of apprenticeship before asking another man to submit to you.  I wanted to reflect the reality that people don’t fit into neat little descriptions, but they can still make their relationships work.

SI: I love that!

3) I loved Gray and Elizabeth. Their dynamic was fascinating. How difficult was it for you to write two characters who both wanted to be in charge?

SvY: Oh, very, very difficult. I should win a prize or something. See me suffer for my art!

Actually, a lot of the dialog wrote itself. Gray and Elizabeth have two very strong conflicting motivations – they absolutely want to be in charge, and they love the other person. It was often very easy to see how they’d handle the situations they put themselves into. I think they were actually easier to write than most.

SI: I love when that happens, it makes the writing of those stories such a joy.

4) Gray and Elizabeth found balance in their relationship and was able to find a common ground. From a writer’s perspective how did you plot out the balance between them to make sure that both characters got what they wanted without losing their core essence? Or did you just let it ride like a panster?

SvY: That was the tricky part. My approach is usually to write the first 10,000 words or so pantser style, and then to write an outline… which I may or may not follow exactly if something better comes to mind, but if I do veer off I usually write a new outline for the remainder. Gray and Elizabeth didn’t so much veer off as  find a different path to the same ending.

A lot of BDSM books, and romances in general, don’t really require the characters to give up anything to be together… and that’s fine, and idyllic. But there’s something very lovely about two human beings being willing to make compromises, too… and Gray and Elizabeth find that maybe they aren’t exactly who they thought they were, in some ways. It’s a growth thing for both of them.

SI: Very true to life.

5) You’ve written such wonderful Doms and Subs. Which would you say is more difficult to write?

SvY: I’d say subs are harder to write well, on the whole, but it really depends on the book and the characters. There’s a delicate line – one wants a character to be assertive, but a submissive has to be yielding as well, and it’s more often the subs lines I have to rewrite as they head off too far in one direction. Doms are a challenge because they want to be in control, but there’s a line between being dominating (good) and domineering (bad).

SI: Absolutely.

6) Dom and Domme is part of a series that has three books in it so far. Are there anymore stories you’d like to tell in this world?

SvY: I don’t have a plan to write a fourth book – the idea for a long time was to feature Amanda in the third and last book,  which I did with Brat and Master. If an idea comes up I’ll certainly be happy to revisit, but I don’t have a character who from the previous books that’s calling out for a story.

SI: *pout*

7) What was your favorite part of writing the three books in the series?

SvY: I found Elizabeth and Amanda (especially in the third book, where she’s more than a bit character) the most fun to write – I think because they are both feisty. I mentioned that I tend to write the first 10,000 words or so off the cuff, and almost always those are the most enjoyable to write. That’s true of these three books as well. It’s particularly true in Blonde and Owner, because I love the way Vincent comes to the rescue and takes control.

SI: Feisty characters seem to just come forward and tell you what they’re about rather than be sneaky and hold back like other characters.

8) Will we get to hear from Gray and Elizabeth again?

 

SvY: Maybe. I’d actually love to write about them more, if I could just write about them, because I think they have an adventurous life together ahead of them, but the way romances work that would have to be in the context of someone else’s story. I don’t think there’s anything unfinished about their story, but it’d be fun to just let them romp a bit :)

SI: Maybe just a mini story sneak peek into their busy lives, after all Gray is a professor and Elizabeth has a new business.

9) Can you tell us what your latest or upcoming release is that we will want to buy as soon as it comes out?

SvY: Please Sir, the 3rd book in the Submission Island Tetrology, is due out November 8th from Ellora’s Cave. His Little Treasure, a Bondage Ranch book, will be out from Loose Id sometime around January.

SI: Yaaaaay!

10) Please tell readers where they can find you on the internet (website, FB, Twitter, etc.)

My website is at www.sindravanyssel.com. I’m @SindravanYssel on twitter and you can find me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/sindra.vanyssel. I love getting emails – sindra at gmail dot com.

Thank you so much for doing this interview with me. I have the Cabana Men escort her out of the room.

SvY_DomDomme_coverlg

OUT NOW! Dom and Domme

Buy Links:

All Romance https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-domanddomme-677600-340.html

Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Dom-and-Domme-ebook/dp/B006QO70WU

Loose Id http://www.loose-id.com/dom-and-domme-1.html

Blurb: Master Gray Merritt is looking for a sub one night at Excess, a BDSM night club, but instead he finds Betsy Castle, the college lover that still haunts his fantasies. Betsy is now Mistress Elizabeth, and she has some fantasies of her own that don’t involve Gray being on top. They agree to try to reconnect by having vanilla sex, but neither of them is willing to let it stay vanilla for long, and the struggle to be on top begins.

One night isn’t enough for either of them, but how can two people used to being in control manage to make things work? If there’s a will, there’s a way, but they’re both going to have to put love before control.

Excerpt:

Gray Merritt clasped Joe’s meaty hand and shook it hard. Joe was a fixture in the local scene even though the big burly man wasn’t really a part of it. Joe had been a bouncer at Excess as long as the place had been in existence. Seven years. As far as Gray knew, the man had no interest in any of the kinky games people played behind the dark steel door, but he knew everybody.

“Been a long time, my man,” said Joe.

“Weeks,” acknowledged Gray, not sure whether he was agreeing or disagreeing.

“Some fine, fine looking ladies on the inside,” Joe said. Gray wasn’t sure when Joe had started saying ladies and stopped saying pieces of ass, but it was a good change. “Some I haven’t seen before. One or two that are your type.”

His type. Joe meant submissive. Gray nodded. “I’ll have to check ’em out, see if I get lucky.”

“Do you ever get unlucky?” Joe shook his head. “Man, I don’t remember seeing the day.”

Gray shrugged. “It happens.” He had a good reputation as a caring dom who could give a sub what she needed, and a little empathy went a long way. Excess was a membership or invitation only club, and Joe was posted to make sure it stayed that way. Any sub either knew Gray already or knew someone who would vouch for him.

Gray walked in, declined the offer of a glass of wine from the waitress in the leather French maid outfit, and scanned the place. He let himself take in the pretty parts of the scenery. Most of the time when he came to Excess, he was content to hang out with friends. Subs would come to him, meekly avert their eyes, and he would play with one if he thought his whims and her desires would match that evening. If they didn’t, it never bothered him. He’d rather be picky than risk a bad scene. But tonight was different. Tonight he definitely wanted to get laid. And Betsy Castle was to blame.

It had been ten years since he’d seen Betsy. They were lovers their entire last year of college, way before he’d discovered BDSM. He’d thought they might build a life together, although there had never been any promises. Certainly the sex was blistering hot. Whether he’d find vanilla sex with any woman quite that arousing again, he didn’t know. Still, the memory of her–with her full breasts and rounded thighs, her soft, plump lips and darkest chocolate eyes–was enough to give him a raging hard-on. He didn’t know if she’d be at the reunion, but there was always a chance. She hadn’t shown up for the five year, so she probably wouldn’t be there for this one either, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the possibilities.

She’d gotten a job on the West Coast, San Francisco. He was blurry on the details, something in finance, in the foreign currency markets, working for a big English bank. Great pay for someone fresh out of college. She’d offered to take him with her and put him through grad school, but he wasn’t going to spend his life playing second fiddle to a woman. He supposed he had a little of the dominant in him even then. Or maybe he’d been plain stubborn. Too stubborn to let her know he wanted her to stay with him, because he knew it was selfish to deny her the golden opportunity. Too stubborn to write her so much as an e-mail once she’d left. She’d been just as stubborn. He wondered if she still thought of him. He doubted it.

He shook his head to clear his mind and started scanning again. He wasn’t after novelty tonight. He didn’t need to find yet another way to get a woman off. He just wanted a nice soft woman with a tight pussy and an insatiable appetite, a submissive he could enter time and time again until both of them were exhausted and satisfied. He didn’t think he’d find anyone to make him forget Betsy, but at least he would lack the energy to jerk off to his memories.

He spotted Amanda near the center of the room, talking to the waitress. She would do nicely. She didn’t want a collar any more than he wanted to collar anyone. She was wearing the sort of outfit she usually wore when she was trying to attract dominant attention, which was most of the time: a purple leather bra under a translucent white blouse tied to bare her stomach, and a plaid skirt that didn’t cover her ass. Her blonde hair was tied up, and her fake black-rimmed glasses were firmly in place, more librarian than schoolgirl, but what the hell. She’d never said no to him yet, and she knew full well any man would love to take those glasses off and make her long hair fall down around her shoulders. She was scrawnier than he would have preferred, but she was always fun. And what had she said to him the last time they’d played? “Anytime.” He knew she didn’t say that to everyone.

He strode down the five steps from the gallery, where people lounged and chatted, to the pit, as the regulars called it, and walked over to her. The pit was full of bondage equipment, some in use, some not. He ignored the scenes going on around him. Normally he appreciated seeing how other people did things, hoping to pick up ideas, but tonight he couldn’t care less. He intercepted Amanda after she took two cups of white wine, one in each hand. Offering a dom a glass of wine was one of many ways a sub could show interest without seeming impertinent. He suspected that was exactly Amanda’s plan. He was simply making sure it was him.

He took the glass out of her left hand and smiled at her. “For me?” He didn’t usually drink at Excess because alcohol and BDSM could be a bad mix. But one glass wouldn’t affect him.

She stopped and lowered her eyes. “Master Gray.”

He pushed her chin up. “Good girl,” he told her.

She still averted her eyes, which wasn’t a good sign. Something was definitely wrong. “Are you okay, Amanda?” It didn’t matter what his needs were tonight; if a friend needed a friend, thatwas what he’d be.

“I’m afraid, Sir, that I’m spoken for tonight.”

He blinked. The two glasses weren’t part of a come-on, after all. He handed her back the glass. On any other day he’d have let it go. But this time he asked. “Who is he?”

“Not a he this time. She. A new mistress at the club. I think she’s a pro domme.”

He vaguely recalled Amanda swung both ways. He smiled and nodded, graciously he hoped.

“Well, you’ll have to introduce me at least. Maybe she and I can come to an arrangement.”

She blinked at him twice. He was willing to bet her heart sped up at the thought. He was also willing to bet an offer to buy her from her mistress for the night would push all the right buttons. Even though he usually found auctions silly and the idea of buying someone ludicrous, since Amanda was her own woman except for a few hours at a time, he loved to please.

“Yes, Sir,” said Amanda. She walked across the pit, weaving her way politely around the backswing of a hefty dom flogging his petite sub. Gray followed. Mark had made Jolene’s bottom a pretty shade of pink, but she was tougher than she looked. Mark was getting a workout.

Sitting alone on a chair was a voluptuous leather-clad beauty. Her face was turned away, looking out the smoky window at the moonlit river beyond. She wasn’t very tall, although it was hard to tell for sure with her sitting down; still, in thigh-high boots with stiletto heels, her legs looked long, and there was healthy expanse of soft thigh between the top of the boots and her high-cut leather shorts. The tight corset she wore pushed her full breasts up so nicely he could almost imagine it was his hands doing the pushing. It was clear she was all soft woman in that austere outfit. Too bad she was a domme.

“Mistress Elizabeth, Master Gray requested an introduction.”

The domme turned and took the glass of wine. “Thank you, Amanda.” She looked up at Gray, and he found himself staring into the deepest chocolate brown eyes he’d ever seen.

“You!” said Mistress Elizabeth.

“Betsy?”

He didn’t have to ask. He’d never forget those eyes or the rest of her. No wonder he’d instantly thought of his hands on her breasts; the last time he’d seen her, his hands had been roaming her body, feeling her softness, trying to make good-bye sex something so good she’d want to come back for more. His cock was instantly, painfully hard. He wanted to climb on her, push her shorts aside, and fuck her senseless right then and there.

“My, my, my. Gray Merritt,” said Betsy. Her voice had lost some of the southern drawl it used to have, but it was still her voice. “I thought I’d play with a girl today–women are so much simpler and more sensible–but I could make an exception for you if you’d like to be my boy toy.”

Amanda’s jaw dropped. “Boy toy? Master Gray?”

Gray’s lips slowly curved into a smile. He wasn’t thrilled about Betsy having used his last name in front of Amanda, because he valued his privacy. Dr. Merritt, physics professor at RadsonUniversity, preferred not to be connected to Master Gray. He didn’t call her on it. Seeing him here might have been as much of a shock to her as seeing her had been for him. “Funny, I had been planning to play with a sub, but I’m happy enough to master you instead.” How many times had he played that scenario in his head? He’d lost count. He leaned forward until he was an inch away from her, nose to nose, eye to eye. “It’s been a while, Betsy.”

Her breath was hot against his, and for a moment, he thought she was going to go for it. Her gaze softened, and then she set her jaw. “It’s Elizabeth now, Gray. Mistress Elizabeth. No one calls me Betsy.”

“You two know each other?” asked Amanda.

“We go way back, don’t we, Betsy?”

“Elizabeth.”

“Uh-oh,” said Amanda.

Betsy stuck out her jaw and tilted her nose up until she had to look past it to see him. “I’m no sub, Gray, never was and never will be.”

Gray didn’t back up an inch. “Me neither.”

“Well then.”

“Well.”

“You could both play with me,” said Amanda, her voice getting ever quieter.

Gray pulled Betsy half out of her chair, pressing his mouth hard against hers. Her lips parted, responsive, yielding for a moment as his tongue entered her mouth.

Then he felt her grab his hair and force his head back. That didn’t end the kiss, however, as her lips followed him, her tongue wrestling with his.

Damn her lips feel good. He tried to shake her hand out of his hair, but of course that only caused her to pull more. He’d never seen her hair anything but short before; now it hung in long and luxurious black waves over her shoulders. He grabbed it and tugged. He knew he was stronger than she was, but he’d never used his strength against a woman who wasn’t fully willing, and he steeled himself to pull only slightly harder than she was. He had more to grip, that was all. She bit his lip, hard, and he tasted blood. Reluctantly, he let go. So did she.

“Damn, Betsy.” He wiped his lip with his arm, which he instantly realized was a mistake. Scratch one white shirt. That bloodstain wasn’t likely to come out.

“Fuck, Gray.” She kicked the chair to the side as she stood up. Even in those heels, she was several inches shorter than he was, but it didn’t seem to faze her. She stood toe-to-toe with him, staring him down. He stared back. Neither gave any ground.

“Ten years, you never wrote.”

“Ten years, you never did either.”

People were gathering around, making a half circle around the two of them. Amanda took a step back, joining the spectators, and Gray felt a twinge of guilt. He was violating one of the club’s big rules, breaking into a scene negotiated between two other consenting adults. The only reason he hadn’t gotten busted for it was Betsy and Amanda hadn’t gotten hot and heavy yet. Normally he would have found the idea of watching the two of them a turn-on, but right now he wanted to pick Betsy up, put her over his shoulder, and carry her out of the club. He’d have to hold in the caveman impulse for now. It was painfully obvious Betsy wasn’t going to consent to that kind of treatment. He was only a Neanderthal when it was mutually satisfying. He took a breath.

Betsy stood legs apart, her hands on her hips. That she hadn’t called him on the carpet for busting her scene was the only thing that gave Gray any sense of optimism the confrontation might turn out well. And what did he want anyway? He wanted to fuck her, sure. He wanted her back in his life, maybe. She was almost certainly only here for the weekend, with her high-finance career and all in California. What the hell was she doing here? And when had she become “Mistress Elizabeth”?

He took in the sight of the soft curves. Watching her breasts swell and strain against the black leather of the corset wasn’t going to help him think. He shifted his gaze back to her face and saw her plump lips curve slightly at one corner. She’d caught him looking, and she wanted him to know his wandering gaze had been noticed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He hadn’t had to apologize for much in his years of going to Excess, and the words felt strange. “I was taken by surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here, of course. Can we start again?”

Betsy nodded and turned. “Amanda.”

“Yes, Mistress Elizabeth.” Amanda stepped forward but didn’t kneel the way Gray half expected her to.

“I’m sorry to have been distracted. If you wish, I will proceed as we discussed, as is my obligation to you for your lovely gift of submission. Or, if you prefer, I will release you.”

Amanda nodded. “It’s no fun to serve someone who would rather be elsewhere, Mistress. And besides, I don’t really wish to have Master Gray pissed at me. Please release me.”

Betsy nodded. “You are released, Amanda, and thank you for the glass of wine.”

Gray knew Amanda would have no trouble finding a play partner. She never did. Still, he appreciated her graciousness. “Amanda, I owe you.”

“I’ll take you up on that sometime.” Amanda curtsied and stepped back out of his line of vision.

“Thank you, Betsy,” Gray said.

Betsy glared at him. “Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth,” Gray conceded through gritted teeth. He let out a breath, then dropped his voice low so the onlookers couldn’t hear. “You know what I’ve been dreaming of for ten years?”

Betsy’s face softened, and her eyes twinkled. “What?”

“Of taking you, stripping you naked, tying you to my bed, and fucking you until you scream.”

She chuckled. “What a coincidence.”

He wasn’t nearly enough of an optimist to think she wanted what he wanted. “How so?”

She leaned forward and rubbed her breasts against him. He could feel the boning of the corset digging into his flesh, and it didn’t feel at all like the soft Betsy he remembered. She smiled up at him. “I’ve had this dream of taking you, stripping you naked, tying you to my bed, letting you pleasure me, and then teasing you until you beg me to let you come.” She took a step back and smirked at him.

Right. “Not going to happen.”

“You’re not going to top me,” Elizabeth told him, “but don’t worry, no one else is either. There’s only one way I like it. That’s with me on top.”

“What a coincidence,” he said, matching her earlier tone. This was getting nowhere, and the gossip-hungry crowd wasn’t helping. He glanced around. “None of this is any of your business, so scram.”

He would normally be more polite, especially as some of the people were his friends, but she’d gotten under his skin and good. A few walked away, enough so those remaining felt self-conscious and followed. He turned back toward Betsy. “So, Elizabeth, how’ve you been?”

“Very well, actually. And you?”

He thought for a moment. He had tenure at the university, taught two classes a week, had a big research grant, and had a wide variety of sex partners. Something was missing, to be sure, but he didn’t feel like he had a right to complain. “Fine, fine. Taking the world of finance by storm?”

“I quit after a year.”

“You what?” It was the thing that broke them up, and she quit?

She shrugged. “I started doing a few dominatrix gigs on the side, and it wasn’t long before I realized it paid nearly as well and was a heck of a lot more fun.” She took note of the expression on his face and added, “People change, Gray. I’m sorry you thought I was obligated to stay in one line of work to satisfy your ego.”

Ouch. Was that it? He didn’t like to think so, but it was too close to what he had been thinking for him to refute it.

“You’re a full professor now, one of the fastest to tenure of any faculty in the history of our alma mater,” Elizabeth told him. “Very impressive.”

She’d obviously taken the time to look him up. He smiled. “Boned up before the exam at the reunion, I see. Just like old times.”

“Except some of the boning back then wasn’t studying.” She licked her upper lip seductively, and his cock twitched. No, some of it hadn’t been. Some of it had been hard, hot, sweaty sex, in the bed, against the wall, wherever. And the way she licked her lip reminded him of what her lips had felt like around his cock.

“Good point. You can have some more of that action if you like. All you have to do is submit to me.” He reached out, stroked her cheek, and then slid his hand down to her neck. Right where a collar would go. She tilted her head to let him. For a moment, he thought he had her.

She brought her hand forward and gripped his rigid cock, kneading it through his pants. A little friction made it ache. He had to have her, or he was going to be thinking about her hand there for the next ten years.

“I’ll get you off, Gray. Just like old times. I’ll have you gasping and squirting hot, wet cum. Maybe I’ll let you come on my tits. Would you like that? Or if you’re very, very good, I might even let you come inside me.” She licked her lips again, indicating where. “All you have to do is follow instructions. That’s not very much to ask, is it? You know I won’t hurt you.” She squeezed his cock extra hard, and he was about to tell her that was something very much like hurting, but it felt too damn good. He wondered if she could feel him pulse through the fabric. “And you really want to come, don’t you, Gray?”

He grabbed her around the waist and held her firmly so she couldn’t escape what he was going to do next. All’s fair in love and war. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was love or war as he grabbed her crotch and insinuated a finger under the inseam of her shorts. Moisture rewarded his touch immediately. “I’m not the only one,” he said, trying not to look at the shocked expression on her face. She tried to wiggle away. There was a club safe word–mayday–and she could use if she really wanted to be let go. Assuming she’d read the rules. If she wanted to be a dominatrix at Excess, she’d better have read the rules.

“Get your finger out of my pussy, Gray,” she whispered.

“Only if you quit squeezing my cock, Betsy. You want me. Face it.”

For answer, she squeezed harder. If it was meant as a power play, she’d be better off going for his balls, but if she did, he was sure he could make her regret it. If her point was he wanted her as badly, well, damn straight.

“Elizabeth,” she said.

It took him a moment to remember he’d called her Betsy several seconds ago. Elizabeth was going to take some getting used to, but he could see why “Mistress Betsy” didn’t have the same ring. Although it wasn’t like he was ever going to call her Mistress anyway. “Fine. My house or your hotel?”

“What’s wrong with right here, right now?” Elizabeth asked, challenging him.

There were private rooms at the club. It wasn’t unheard of for people to have sex in the gallery, but it was usually done at least somewhat discreetly. Even at Excess, some things were gauche. For a change, though, he barely cared. “Sure. I’ll come to San Francisco and fuck you in front of your friends, just to make it equal. Let’s see if the Orient room is busy.” At least that room didn’t have too much traffic in front of it. All the rooms had small windows at head height through which people could watch from the gallery, partly to satisfy the desire of the voyeurs, partly to facilitate education in techniques, but above all to secure everyone’s safety.

“How about the dungeon room? That way if you decide you’d like to worship me…”

“Dream on, B-Elizabeth.”

She chuckled at his recovery.

“That’s prime voyeur territory anyway,” Gray went on. “Not that I mind being watched, normally, but…” He left the rest unspoken. It would be a lot easier for her to submit if she didn’t feel like she was being humiliated in the process. If he said it, she’d only tell him it wasn’t going to happen.

“But we have private business to attend to, don’t we? Very well.” She spun on her spikes and walked off in the direction of the Orient room. For a first timer, she’d made herself quite acquainted with the layout, but then Betsy had always done her homework.

Whose guest is she anyway? The idea that it might be some guy made a knot tighten in his chest. He knew he had no right to feel that way after ten years. And damn her for making it look like he was following her when he knew and she knew going to the Orient room had been his idea. He hurried after her, caught up, and opened the red door in time to invite her into the Orient room like a gracious host.

Copyright © Sindra van Yssel

Contest: Comment to win a copy of Dom and Domme.

13 Days of Halloween: Loose-Id

SeGraphic

13 Days of Halloween

Holiday Spotlight: Loose-Id

Demon Hunter 3: A Very Demon Halloween

by Evanne Lorraine

el_averydemonhalloween_coverin_1Blurb:

Duec, head of the demon hunters and La Ceinture Noire’s owner, is master of all he surveys, except fate. Death shadows him, drawing closer each day. A different foreboding whispers of danger to Belinda, the damaged halfling he’s sworn to protect. He’s waited a lifetime for her. She’s the other half of his soul, a true submissive too wounded to accept him as her master. He must make her safe from his enemies without him.

 

Unable to tolerate another’s dominance, Belinda, contract witch to the demon hunters, plays at Duec’s club as an icy Domme. She earned her nickname, Control Queen by giving other submissives the discipline they need to find release without ever seeking personal satisfaction. No matter how skillfully she manages her subs, the only male she longs for never sees the strong mistress she’s grown into, only the frightened, damaged child he rescued.

 

Then his enemies strike, capturing Belinda–changing everything. A failing Duec must battle ancient evil to save his mate and Belinda must find Duec before it’s too late.

 

  • Note:This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: BDSM elements, violence.

Buy Link:

http://www.loose-id.com/genres/holidays/halloween/demon-hunters-3-a-very-demon-halloween-1.html

 

Snippet:

Belinda gave an exaggerated shudder and turned to Holly. “You’re so much braver than I would ever be. I can’t even imagine getting naked in front of this crowd.”

 

Or anywhere else, for that matter. No one needs to see the scars under my leather.

 

“There’s no courage required. I just stand there and follow Colin’s orders.” Holly’s thick blonde lashes dropped, and her fair skin pinked becomingly. “Nude is fine, because my obedience pleases Colin, but I’d love to wear a pair of boots like yours.”

 

“No way.” Colin shook his head. “Not in public. You’d cause a riot in those shoes. I have to think about crowd control.”

 

Holly smiled at the implied compliment. “Yes, Sir.”

 

“It’s almost showtime.” Colin’s voice deepened.

 

“I’ll try to catch part of your demonstration. Better move along before your fans get restless.” Belinda made a shooing motion at the couple.

 

Holly sketched a wave over her shoulder as Colin propelled her toward the glass-enclosed, center scene room. It was hard not to be envious of their mutual devotion. Belinda shook off the mood-dampening petty jealousy on her way to the bar. Colin and Holly were perfect together. She couldn’t imagine either of them with anyone else. She found a vacant seat, tucked her toy bag under it, and then perched her butt on top of the padded stool.

 

Ramon, another demon hunter and super-popular Dom, worked the bar. He made his way over to where she waited. There were seven demon hunters, not counting Duec. Each one different, but they were all hot and hunky. She fully enjoyed the view while he prowled toward her.

 

“What can I get for you, beautiful?”

 

“A little respect and a diet cola, easy on the ice,” she said with enough bite to remind him she wasn’t one of his human groupies.

 

“Gotcha covered, Ma’am.” He winked at her with no sign of repentance.

 

Copyright © Evanne Lorraine

 

Buy Link:

http://www.loose-id.com/genres/holidays/halloween/demon-hunters-3-a-very-demon-halloween-1.html

Heaven Sent: Sly Spectral Trick

By Jet Mykles

 

JM_SlySpectralTrick_coverlgBlurb:

Chris is warding the house against ghosts? Huh? Darien’s pretty sure Chris is pulling his leg, but his dignified lawyer lover seems awfully serious when he tells Darien that there’s a history of ghosts in his family and he needs to ward the house before Samhain officially starts. His grandmother even calls to make sure he’s doing it.

They’re kidding, right?

When he finds out the truth, it’s better, and sexier, than he could’ve imagined.

  • Note:This book contains elements that may be objectionable to some readers: m/m sex practices.

Buy Link:

http://www.loose-id.com/genres/holidays/halloween/heaven-sent-sly-spectral-trick-1.html

 

Snippet:

Chris faced him for a moment. He opened his mouth, then shut it. Light glinted on the light frames of his square glasses. Then he laughed, but it was forced. And brief. “All right, magpie. You got me.” He turned back to continue painting.

 

Darien’s laughter died. “Chris, quit it.”

 

“Everything will be fine if you let me finish.”

 

He pushed from the doorframe, fisting his hands at his sides. “Quit it. I’m not falling for it.”

 

“You mentioned that.”

 

“All right. Tell me why you’re warding against ghosts.”

 

Chris used a knuckle to push his glasses up higher on his nose before he resumed drawing patterns. “My family is descended from druids. As such, we’re rather attractive to ghosts.”

 

Darien fell back a step, eyes wide on his lover. “What?”

 

Chris shrugged, never taking his eyes off the window. He paused, fingers in the air, painting patterns.

 

“Chris?”

 

He held up one long finger toward Darien, then resumed his air painting, muttering to himself as he stared intently at the pane of glass before him.

 

Darien was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

 

When Chris stopped muttering, he turned to force a smile at Darien. “Don’t worry about it, magpie. Nothing will happen if I can finish this.” He came back to stand before Darien. He used a knuckle to tilt Darien’s face up, bestowing a light, lingering kiss on Darien’s lips. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll finish, then we can carve pumpkins and you can make me watch that deplorable slasher movie you wanted to watch.”

 

Copyright © Jet Mykles

Buy Link:

http://www.loose-id.com/genres/holidays/halloween/heaven-sent-sly-spectral-trick-1.html

Match Game: Ghost Style

By Cynnara Tregarth

 

CT_MatchGameGhostStyle_coverlgBlurb:

Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead is here. For Ben Cameron, this holiday is painful without his best friend, Manuel “Manny” Cervantes.

For Shari Livingston, this is a day to remember just how much Manny has done for all of their friends. She never expects Manny to appear at the Dumb Supper she and the others have put together or to demand that she and Ben admit their true feelings for one another.

However, Manny the ghost isn’t about to let them get away with just sleeping together to make him happy. He knows more about them than they want to admit even to themselves. Can this matchmaking ghost get Ben and Shari together or will he be forced to play the ultimate match game to show the love between them both?

Note:This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable. This story was previously released in Spirited.

Buy Link:

http://www.loose-id.com/genres/holidays/halloween/match-game-ghost-style-1.html

 

Snippet:

Closing her eyes briefly, Shari listened to his heart, allowing herself to see if he was lying to her. His pulse was steady, there were no other telltale signs of lying, and she wanted to believe him. She had wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Why not give into one night of passion? Tonight could celebrate the joy of life after losing someone like Manny, who brought love and life into each person he touched. Opening her eyes, she nodded briefly. “Fine. One night, my home, my rules. Our friendship remains even if this romantic interlude doesn’t work and even if it does.”

 

“One night, your home, our rules. I won’t let you have the upper hand in this.” This time his smile reached his eyes. “I know how you can be; you forget how many times you’ve told me about the latest sex escapade, not realizing how hot it made me to claim you myself.” Tugging her close, Ben slid one hand into her loosened hair, then pulled, guiding her lips toward his. “Tonight won’t be like anything you’ve ever had before, Shari. That, I promise.”

 

His lips were warm and demanding while his tongue swept along her lips, trying to slide between them. With a soft moan, she opened to him as she slid her hands up his chest to his strong shoulders. His taste was not just maleness at its finest, but a combination of the wine he had drunk, the chocolate cake, and something spicy that defied recognition to her sensitive taste buds. Her tongue slid against his, teasing him with bold and then soft strokes as she pressed her body against him. Too long she had denied herself even thinking of the only kiss they had shared so long ago. This kiss seared the old one away, leaving behind quaking need as his tongue caressed the roof of her mouth before slowly withdrawing to outline her lips.

 

“Gods above, Shari,” he hoarsely whispered against her lips as their foreheads touched. “I need you tonight. Say yes.”

 

Deep blue eyes filled with desire, respect, and something else captured her gaze. There was no other answer to give. To deny this one night would be denying the dreams she’d had for months now. “Yes.”

 

Copyright © Cynnara Tregarth

Buy Link:

http://www.loose-id.com/genres/holidays/halloween/match-game-ghost-style-1.html

Hero Sandwich: Voodoo

By Angela Knight

 

AK_Voodoo_coverlgBlurb:

Ever since his brother, Cougar, married Paparazzi, bad girl gone good, the crimefighting duo of Cougar and Lynx had become a trio: Cougar and Paparazzi, plus Lynx. Before he put the ring on his lady’s finger, his brother might’ve joined them to join in a hot little threesome, but marriage had made him possessive.

It’s not that he begrudges the newlyweds their quality time, but Lynx could use a little quality of his own. He’s in desperate need of a little action to take the edge off his gnawing frustration. He figures he’ll spend Halloween in Manhattan beating the crap out of super villains.

A rooftop encounter with a sexy psi-siren with her mind on seduction changes everything. Maybe he doesn’t need a fight.

He just needs a little (or a lot) of Voodoo.

  • Note:This book contains elements that may be objectionable to some readers: bdsm.

Buy Link:

http://www.loose-id.com/genres/holidays/halloween/hero-sandwich-voodoo-1.html

 

Snippet:

Breathing hard, Lynx paused and scanned the darkness. This was Voodoo’s unofficial patrol zone, so with any luck, he should run into her again tonight.

 

He’d known a lot of superheroines over the years, but she was something special. No dilettante adrenaline junkie or spandex-clad wannabe, she was determined and serious, even after the attack that had come so close to killing her. Like him, she really believed in the necessity of what they did.

 

He’d been strongly tempted to beat Reaper to death for hurting her.

 

Lynx gave the skyline another questing scan, looking for the flap of a familiar cape. Nothing…

 

A female mouth suddenly closed around his cock, wet and hungry. He gasped and almost tumbled off his perch. Catching himself against a metal pipe, he threw a look downward. Despite his rioting senses, his groin armor was still firmly in place.

 

A clever tongue swirled and danced around his thickening shaft as ghostly fingers gently squeezed his balls. He grabbed for his dick, wondering if some invisible superwoman…

 

Copyright © Angela Knight

Buy Link:

http://www.loose-id.com/genres/holidays/halloween/hero-sandwich-voodoo-1.html

Alpha: Hunted Down

By Treva Harte

 

TH_HuntedDown_coverlgBlurb:

Dunne has always wanted his Alpha more than Hunt, the head of his pack, wanted him. Dunne could live with that. But he can’t live with Hunt’s latest fetish…at least not until Hunt convinces him otherwise. And when he does, it’s a real Halloween treat.

  • Note:This book contains elements that may be objectionable to some readers: m/m sex practices.

Buy Link:

http://www.loose-id.com/genres/holidays/halloween/alpha-hunted-down-1.html

 

Snippet:

“You’re not going to let this go, are you? All right, then.” Hunt sighed and stood up. “Pull your pants down, boy. I see it’s time for a lesson.”

 

Yes!

 

Dunne’s hands moved before he thought. It had been days since they’d been together. For a moment he remembered he was going hold out on principle and not make it easy on Hunt — to hell with principles, especially ones that only he seemed to have. By now he’d take anything Hunt was willing to give.

 

Dunne turned, trying not to fumble with his belt as he obeyed. He could hear Hunt unzipping his own pants, but Dunne knew better than to look around. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Hunt’s cock, full and erect, ready to plow into his more-than-willing asshole. Not at all. That erect cock was a sight to worship while on bended knees.

 

But when Hunt said it was lesson time, Dunne knew to keep his eyes and his pants down until Hunt told him differently. Hunt was Alpha. Hunt was boss. Just the idea made Dunne’s cock twitch.

 

Copyright © Treva Harte

Buy Link:

http://www.loose-id.com/genres/holidays/halloween/alpha-hunted-down-1.html

 

Need more Halloween Treats? Check out the Halloween Section of Loose-Id’s site.

Contest: Like the Loose-Id FB Page, Tell Loose Id: Happy Halloween, Loowis! And come back here, and leave a comment with the updated number of Likes the page has. If you have already Liked the page then go to the Halloween Section of Loose-Id and tell us what Halloween book tickles your fancy.

The winner will get the entire Trick of Treat Collection!

Sunday Snippet: Demon’s Captive

Out Now!
Series: Hellhound Detective Agency
Excerpt Rating (PG-13)
Genre: Paranormal, Interracial, Dark Fantasy, BDSM
ISBN: 978-1-60521-689-8

Snippet:
Sex and charm rolled off him in waves. He could seduce with just a smile. From the moment they’d met, he’d been trying to get her into bed. She didn’t know or care why. Casey had more important things to think about — like her job. If she wanted sex, she could get it with her battery-operated boyfriend.

Besides, she thought Blaise just wanted her so he could brag he’d bagged a Hellhound. All demons wanted to have sex with a Hellhound. Hellhounds could sniff out a lie and were considered the hardest demon to tame. Demons couldn’t resist a challenge — or a good deal or a fool and his money. Casey Mae was no one’s trophy — and yet she found herself in surroundings she didn’t know. A jerk of her hands and legs and the feel of smooth, warm wood against her arms told her she was also tied to a chair.

And I may possibly be a prisoner.

Buy Link:
Changeling Press:
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1696

ARe:
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-hellhounddetectiveagencydemon039scaptive-668752-153.html

Nook:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/demons-captive-selena-illyria/1110292870?ean=2940014023221

Book Spotlight: Keeper of My Pleasure by Kayelle Allen

komp200x329Keeper of My Pleasure by Kayelle Allen

Rai trusts Koo to submit. To keep him, she must trust her heart.

A Romantica® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
This book is in the Taboo line — one of the Ellora’s Cave Quickies

Blurb

A recent college graduate, Koo hires Rai as his attorney after thieves total his car and then dare to sue him. She wins, and takes him out to celebrate. Dinner leads to the hottest sex in his life, and a long-term relationship as her submissive. He adores the way she makes him feel, and the way she makes him burn. He longs to show her he has more to offer. He has a heart, and it’s hers, if only she’ll let him give it.

A successful attorney in her late thirties, Rai has a penchant for handsome young men with long hair. Koo, her newest client, becomes more than her usual boy toy. He likes being tied up and whipped, and he yields the way she’d always dreamed. But he has a future ahead of him, and she’s a jaded lawyer. He wants sex, not love. Right? He wouldn’t stay with her forever. She trusts him to submit. To keep Koo, Rai is going to have trust her heart.

 

Excerpt (PG13 )

This scene takes place in Rai Whethen’s estate home. She and Koo Ayakura have spent the evening enjoying dinner, flirting, anticipating their session, and now it’s time for him to perform for his mistress.

 

In Rai’s bedroom, Koo stood before her. She’d stretched out on the bed and was watching him, hands tucked behind her head, legs crossed at the ankles.

“I’m ready to see you strip, Koo. Do you need music?” She lifted one eyebrow.

“No, mistress, but if you want music, I’ll use it.”

“Hmm.” She picked up a remote and pointed it. A dance tune started, and she skipped it, listened a moment, and skipped again. Two more songs and she turned it off. “No. I only want you. No distractions. Strip for me.” She tucked her hands behind her head again. Quite unlike her, she added, “Please.”

Koo began by unfastening his hair. Straight, healthy, it reached halfway to his waist, and shone like raven’s wings. He’d inherited it from his Japanese father. His Irish mother had imparted the splash of freckles across his nose and shoulders, and grey eyes. Rai liked his hair down, and he ran his fingers through the long tresses, shook his head, and let it fall.

Rai’s eyes gleamed, and she licked her lips.

He lifted one foot at a time to unfasten the plain black shoes, and slipped them off, pulling off each sock. He crossed his arms over his chest, slowly opened them, and pulled his tuxedo coat down his shoulders. It slipped down his arms, and he caught it, held it, and then slid it all the way off and tossed it over the hassock.

He reached up to the front of the vest, unfastened it one button at a time, doing it as slow as he could, taking care to keep her gaze on his hands. He pulled it open, let it slip

down his arms, and then caught it at his elbows. He crossed his hands over his chest, hands spread.

Rai pushed herself up, hands braced on the bed.

Koo opened his arms, and let the vest fall. He caught it, tossed it after the jacket.

He opened each button on the shirt with the same slow care. Rai tugged up her skirt, and sat with legs folded, watching him like a cat in front of a mouse hole.

He opened the cufflinks, slid them into his pockets, and then shrugged out of his shirt. He held the collar between his teeth, folded the sleeves, and laid it aside.

Rai chewed on a knuckle, but didn’t speak.

He reached over his back, pulled off the T-shirt in one move, and cast it onto the pile of clothes. Bare from the waist up, he tucked his hands behind his head, lifted his hair, and let it fall over his shoulders. He’d always worked out; he also ran, and swam. He knew his body pleased women. But the way Rai looked at him, as if he were a tasty treat she craved… that made this more than a strip show. He was preparing himself for his lover.

Koo unfastened the waistband of his trousers, lowered the zipper, and then eased them partway down.

Same excerpt uncut (for R rated blogs)

This scene takes place in Rai Whethen’s estate home. She and Koo Ayakura have spent the evening enjoying dinner, flirting, anticipating their session, and now it’s time for him to perform for his mistress.

 

In Rai’s bedroom, Koo stood before her. She’d stretched out on the bed and was watching him, hands tucked behind her head, legs crossed at the ankles.

“I’m ready to see you strip, Koo. Do you need music?” She lifted one eyebrow.

“No, mistress, but if you want music, I’ll use it.”

“Hmm.” She picked up a remote and pointed it. A dance tune started, and she skipped it, listened a moment, and skipped again. Two more songs and she turned it off. “No. I only want you. No distractions. Strip for me.” She tucked her hands behind her head again. Quite unlike her, she added, “Please.”

Koo began by unfastening his hair. Straight, healthy, it reached halfway to his waist, and shone like raven’s wings. He’d inherited it from his Japanese father. His Irish mother had imparted the splash of freckles across his nose and shoulders, and grey eyes. Rai liked his hair down, and he ran his fingers through the long tresses, shook his head, and let it fall.

Rai’s eyes gleamed, and she licked her lips.

He lifted one foot at a time to unfasten the plain black shoes, and slipped them off, pulling off each sock. He crossed his arms over his chest, slowly opened them, and pulled his tuxedo coat down his shoulders. It slipped down his arms, and he caught it, held it, and then slid it all the way off and tossed it over the hassock.

He reached up to the front of the vest, unfastened it one button at a time, doing it as slow as he could, taking care to keep her gaze on his hands. He pulled it open, let it slip down his arms, and then caught it at his elbows. He crossed his hands over his chest, hands spread.

Rai pushed herself up, hands braced on the bed.

Koo opened his arms, and let the vest fall. He caught it, tossed it after the jacket.

He opened each button on the shirt with the same slow care. Rai tugged up her skirt, and sat with legs folded, watching him like a cat in front of a mouse hole.

He opened the cufflinks, slid them into his pockets, and then shrugged out of his shirt. He held the collar between his teeth, folded the sleeves, and laid it aside.

Rai chewed on a knuckle, but didn’t speak.

He reached over his back, pulled off the T-shirt in one move, and cast it onto the pile of clothes. Bare from the waist up, he tucked his hands behind his head, lifted his hair, and let it fall over his shoulders. He’d always worked out; he also ran, and swam. He knew his body pleased women. But the way Rai looked at him, as if he were a tasty treat she craved… that made this more than a strip show. He was preparing himself for his lover.

Koo unfastened the waistband of his trousers, lowered the zipper, and then eased them partway down.

He’d worn nothing underneath.The tuxedo’s material against his cock had aroused, and he’d been semi-erect all night. Knowing what Rai planned, he’d been hard from the moment they’d left the club and headed home. Now, as he dropped the pants and stepped out of them, his cock stood upright, ready to play.

“Oh, baby.” Rai held out her hands to him. “Come here, Koo.”

He walked over to the bed, and stood with hands behind him, offering all he was. Please let her see how much I love doing this. How much I love her.

Rai reached out and fondled his cock, sliding a hand along his length. “You’re beautiful, Koo. I can hardly wait to get you tied up.” She climbed off the bed. “Come with me.”

 

Inside Scoop: Our hero willingly submits to his Dom lady love and all her toys in their BDSM play, including whips and bindings and more.

Buy links:

Ellora’s Cave


Amazon

 

Word count: 7170
Genre: BDSM Romance
ISBN: 9781419946592
Author: Kayelle Allen
Editor: Victoria Reese
Cover art: Ellora’s Cave
Publisher: Ellora’s Cave
Trailer for Keeper of My Pleasure


Music is “Road Adventure” from iStockPhoto, used with permission.
 

Giveaway

Inside Peek: Keeper of My Pleasure This free, illustrated eBook provides insight about the book, its characters, and its creation. When you click the link, it will either offer you a download, or open in a new window, depending on your settings. To read it, you need

, available free.

 

 

KayelleAllen2011.150x223About the Author

Kayelle Allen is a multi-published, EPIC Award winning
author. She writes Contemporary Romance, Gay Romance, Erotic Science Fiction Romance, Mainstream Fantasy, BDSM, and non-fiction. She likes to attend Science Fiction conventions, and has been a speaker at DragonCon, Outlantacon, and Gaylaxicon. Kayelle is the founder of the author-mentoring group Marketing for Romance Writers, and manages the successful Romance Lives Forever blog. She is a US Navy Veteran, and founded the graphics and eBook conversion company The Author’s Secret. Kayelle is married to her personal hero, and makes her home in the southeast.Homeworld


Unstoppable Heroes Blog


Twitter


Facebook


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Goodreads


Shelfari


Romance Lives Forever


Marketing for Romance Writers


The Author’s Secret

 

Some Awesome News!

DragonUgly_bySelenaIllyria_200x300I guess I can let the cat of the bag. Brent from Dragon Ugly was nominated for ARe’s Ultimate Shifter ChallengeAs Alpha as it Gets“. The Challenge starts August 1st and ends August 30th, and will feature 32 of the hottest shifters around. More details to come. Congrats to all the nominees.
Oh a personal note, I’m truly honored by this nomination.
Se

Character Q&A with Vlad from the Poker Posse

The wonderful Qwillia Rain has allowed me to interview one of her sexy heroes from her new series the Poker Posse. Come along and find out more about this sexy and mysterious man.

Magnolia, Georgia

With Se beside me, I head toward the small table in front of Sweet Rose Treats and wave at the older gentlemen rising from the chair. He ducks his head to avoid bumping into the red and white striped umbrella shading the table and pulls out two chairs, motioning for Se and I to sit down. The summer heat in Georgia has miraculously cooled in the last few days, but I don’t expect it to last.

Hiding the smirk at the sigh Se gives as she gazes up at the tall, handsome man, I begin the introductions. “Selena Illyria, this is Vladamir Presnaytz. Vlad, Selena Illyria. She’s a friend and fellow author.”

He takes her hand in his and lifts it to his lips for a soft, courtly kiss to the back of her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Illyria. Miss Rain has told me you were interested in discussing Magnolia and the Omen.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes at Vlad’s intentional thickening of his Slovakian accent. The fact that the man looks like a very well-preserved Michael Nouri when he played a vampire in the 1990s doesn’t hurt either. Well over six feet tall, he waits until both of us are seated then takes his seat and offers to pour tea from the pitcher on the table.

We accept his offer and wait until the glasses are filled and placed before us, then I ask, “Are we early?”

Vlad shook his head. “No. I spoke with the others but,” he fought to keep from grinning—and lost. “They were all too busy dealing with —things— to be able to sit down for an interview.”

I glance at Se. “I’ll corral a couple of them later for you. Promise.”

“I hope I will be able to quell your curiosity, Miss Illyria.”

Leaning back, I sip the sweet tea and watch as Se begins the interrog—interview.

 

Selena Illyria: Okay, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? What do you do for a living? What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? You know the basics.

Vlad: I dabble in many things. He motioned to the building behind him, the strip mall where Rose and Ibraham’s shops were located. Wine making. Real Estate. Business. Whatever interests me. I am fortunate that my family has prospered since coming to America. Slova Wines and the profits I receive as a stock holder has allowed me to explore a great many things over the years. As for my favorite ice cream— he makes a low purring sound paired with a slow smile— Vanilla.

Selena Illyria fans herself but manages to ask another question.: What would you say is your best trait? Your worst habit?

Vlad: He seems to ponder his answer. Best trait? Focus. Once I’ve established a goal and the path to achieving it, nothing can distract me from succeeding at it. Worst? He released a heavy sigh. Focus. He doesn’t expound on it, but it’s apparent by the sadness in his dark gray eyes that his memories of the years without the woman he loves are close to the surface.

Selena Illyria: Now you are a Dom. Vlad nods. Besides RACK what personal rules do you have for subs?

Vlad: There hasn’t been much need for rules, until recently, since I rarely entered into negotiations for anything beyond a night or two. After Viola, my primary rule became “full disclosure”. No holding back about anything.

I watch his expression and understand his reasoning. If he’d practiced that rule when he first met Viola, things would have been much different than they’d been. At the same time, there’s no telling if Rose and Viola would have been the same people they are now, or if Ibraham would have ever looked at Rose the way he does.

Selena Illyria: Let’s get personal. What do you look for in a romantic partner?

Vlad: After a slow shake of his head, he sipped his tea and waited a moment before answering. I don’t. Viola was it. The whole package. Smart, funny, feisty—everything I never knew I wanted. My myš. If I’d paid better attention to my instincts things would have been very different.

I pipe up. No telling what it would have been like, Vlad. It might have been worse than it is now.

Vlad: he doesn’t ignore my suggestion, but a weary look crosses his face. Ah, but there would have definitely been more than one child.

I nod and keep my lips firmly sealed.

Selena Illyria: What’s your best pick up line? What’s your worst? Do you even have to use one?

Vlad: Laughing, he leans forward then lets a smile slowly lift his lips, the gray of his eyes lightens and his deep voice drops to a low purr. Pick up lines are for amateurs, my dear.

Selena Illyria: looks away, takes a sip of sweet tea, then brushes her hands on her jeans before she manages to look up and asks,  If you were a dessert what kind would you be?

Vlad: A playful grin makes him look nearly as young as his godson, Ibraham. Black Forest Cake. Dark, rich, and sinfully decadent.

Selena Illyria takes another sip of tea, fans herself before she asks: What is your sexiest fantasy?

Vlad: Feeling my mouse’s arms around me again. Hearing her soft Southern drawl whisper against my skin telling me all the things she can’t wait for me to do to her. Listening for the tiny squeaks she makes as she comes. Knowing she is mine. Always.

Selena Illyria: Even though they aren’t here, how would you describe the other guys? Let’s start with Damian.

Vlad: I have only just met my godson’s friend so I have no way of knowing what each of them are like. But Damian, that boy doesn’t let anyone close. A crease formed between his brows then slowly eased. I worry about him.

Selena Illyria: Silly time, what would you say is your most embarrassing moment?

Vlad: Shifting in his seat, a flush darkens his cheeks. I’d rather not repeat it, but suffice to say, there is now a very sturdy lock on the laundry room door and plans to put a door and lock on the doorway into the kitchen.

Selena Illyria: Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions. Last one I promise. What would you say, in one sentence, to get a person to check out the Omen?

Vlad: Despite its name, the Omen is a well-managed, well-respected club. Damian runs a tight ship and he protects those who come there as long as they follow the rules of SSC. Safewords are inviolate. Break the rules and there’s no returning.

Selena Illyria: That’s more than one sentence.

Vlad: Vlad laughed and leaned forward, his forearms braced on the table, his gaze focused on Se, the expression on his face sensually compelling. It was no wonder Viola fell for the man the instant she met him all those years ago. In a low tone, his Slovakian accent heavy, reminding me again of Michael Nouri’s vampire— If a taste of the dark side is your desire, the Omen is the perfect choice to keep you safe—for now.

Movement across the street catches his attention and a broad smile lights up his face. Getting to his feet, it’s clear the interview is over as he kisses first Se’s hand then mine.

Vlad: It has been a pleasure, but if you will excuse me, I have to go catch a mouse.

He didn’t wait for us to agree before he stepped off the sidewalk and strode across the street toward Viola Whittman, Rose’s mother, as she hovered outside the bank, a letter gripped in her hand, a stern look on her face.

 

QR_Revealed_coverinRevealed: A Poker Posse Story  

Blurb: 

Viola Whittman has only ever loved one man, Vladamir Presnaytz. Now that’s he’s reentered her life will she be able to make him understand the decision she made that kept him separated from his child?

Now that Vladamir has discovered her secret, it threatens to destroy their second chance together. Can the past be forgiven or will their dreams of happily ever after die when the full extent of her betrayal is revealed?

 

Excerpt: 

Viola flinched as the quiet closing of the door confirmed her suspicions regarding how tightly Vladamir held his anger in check. The time of reckoning was upon her.

Despite the flurry of activity at Mirabeth’s baby shower, Viola had sensed the gradual rise of emotion in Vlad. Raelene hadn’t helped matters any. Her other friends had covered their shock at how much Rose looked like Vlad with awkward smiles, but they kept their questions to themselves.

Not Rae. Oh no. That woman was biologically incapable of passing up an opportunity to gossip. Having been fodder for Rae’s wicked tongue in the past, Viola had done her best not to respond when Rae sidled up to her and chuckled. “Seems someone’s been keepin’ a very big secret.”

It was harder not to snatch her friend bald when Rae decided to turn her charms on Vlad. Maybe Rae thought he’d talk when Viola refused to rise to her bait. The fact that Vlad stayed beside Viola and ignored Rae’s overtures eased Viola’s temper some.

But she wished she didn’t feel ready to jump out of her skin. Vlad’s prolonged silence on the drive back from Mabel’s had stretched her nerves thin. Now that she was alone with Vlad, and as the sun sank below the horizon, Viola knew she had some explaining to do.

Over the years she’d practiced how she’d tell Vlad about Rose, but the instant he turned and she saw his face, her blood went cold and any courage she had drained out of her. Viola headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make us some tea.”

“No.” The deep resonance of his voice filled the living room.

Viola halted in her tracks, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn and face him again. His flat expression and icy eyes frightened her more than she could have imagined.

“Talk.”

Her fingers tangled together. Her heart slammed against her ribs. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, and she couldn’t breathe as she worked up the strength to look at him. No matter how she tried to convince herself, and even after the careful way he’d made love to her this morning, Viola had wondered if a relationship between them could last, considering the secret she’d kept from him. Though twenty-seven years separated her from the naive young woman who’d fallen head over heels for Vlad the moment he rescued her from unwanted attentions at a night club, Viola easily recognized that a man like Vladamir, someone who’d instinctively protected a stranger, would never forgive her for staying quiet about his daughter the way she had.

“Viola.”

She shook off the temptation to cower and beg forgiveness. She’d done nothing wrong based on the information she’d had all those years ago. She’d done what was best for her and her—their—daughter. She needed to remember that. Straightening her shoulders, Viola drew a deep breath and turned to face her lover. She’d learned to stand on her own two feet after her trip to California and meeting Vlad. She’d survived the sudden death of her husband five years earlier. She wouldn’t crumble when Vlad turned his back on her. At least not for long.

“What do you want me to say?” She forced herself to meet his gaze. The chill in his eyes didn’t make her feel any better—only worse.

“The truth. Tell me why you kept my child from me.”

She winced at the sorrow in his voice. “Because I thought you were married.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I know that now, but not then.” The tension in her body eased when he turned his focus away from her and began to pace the living room like a tiger in a too-small cage. A tiger ready to pounce on anything or anyone that got in its way.

Guest Blogger- Natalie Acres

A brand new wolf-shifter series debuts today from Siren-Bookstrand and Natalie Acres

 

Dominant Wolves, Submissive Mates-Book One

Historical~BDSM~ Paranormal~ Ménage a Trois Romance~Werewolves

Spanking~ wax play~sex toys from a bygone era~bondage

 

Visit Natalie Acres at Siren Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/imprints

 

Imprints-TRSBlurb:

Two pack masters discover an unyielding love in one woman by altering customs and forming new traditions destined to change the Wyoming Territory forever. Imprinting upon and sharing a lover, the Alphas realize their packs must join together, but they will face great opposition when their chosen mate is confronted with a wrenching decision.

Pack masters Frank Smith and Jock Corrigan aren’t enemies, but they aren’t exactly friends. Still, their similar fates have been altered by an unusual union they cannot deny. Their relationship with Carla Cassidy forces several wolves to make their independent choices. One will stand with the newly formed pack, but another will fall victim to his own selfish needs and motives. A group of new shifters will emerge and change the course of history, but not before the expanding pack’s goals are tested and tried.

 

STORY EXCERPT

 

“What are you doing here?” Carla asked, propping her tiny clenched fists on her hips.

“Far be it for you to show a little appreciation,” Jock said, studying the spitfire of a woman before them. Wearing a light blue prairie dress, Carla apparently hadn’t stopped to check out the torn fabric and soiled material.

“You were attacked by a pack of wolves. I arrived in time to run them off.” Jock stood a tad taller with his announcement. Most women appreciated heroic efforts.

She paled then as he spoke. She looked down at the evidence of a ruined dress and her hands twitched.

“How did this happen?” Carla asked, suggesting her memory had failed her.

“You must’ve had a nasty bump on the head if you don’t remember,” Grant told her.

She held the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Everything is a bit foggy.”

“Well, don’t you fret none, Carla. We took care of ya.” Grant shot Jock a quick glance. “Yep, siree. Me and Jock here handled everything.”

Jock was beginning to think whenever there was a “yep, siree,” added to Grant’s speech it was nothing more than a bald-faced tale.

“Do you remember going to the barn?” Jock asked.

Carla took a minute before she answered. As if she suddenly recalled something of interest, her cheeks turned pink and she said, “I may have already been in the barn.”

Grant shot her a wink and a lopsided nod. “That was my best estimation, too.”

“Dear God,” Jock grumbled, beginning to believe Grant must’ve considered himself the most intelligent man in the West.

“Here’s how I figure things went down. Those wolves heard a lot of activity, maybe even some squealin’ and carryin’ on comin’ from the barn…” He paused and arched a brow. “How am I doin’ so far?”

Carla stared at him with this perplexed look which made Jock wonder all the more. Had Grant really watched Carla in action with these wicked props he’d mentioned?

“That’s all right, sweetness. Don’t worry ’bout a reply. I can make heads and tails out of this. Anyhow, you were in the barn doin’ whatever it is that you do out there–in the loft–and well, what I came up with after a-prowlin’ around is that you were makin’ a little too much noise.” He stood taller and his lips spread into a mischievous smile. Leaning against Jock, he added a whisper, “How’d I do? Did ya like that?”

Jock studied the pretty lady. “Carla? How close was Grant’s guess?”

“What sort of squealing?” Carla arched a brow and watched them through suspicious eyes.

Grant shrugged. “That voice of yours is as fine as cream gravy when you go to hollerin’ and such.”

“Grant,” Jock muttered, giving his buddy a one-word warning he would inevitably ignore.

Copping a strut, Grant approached the porch, working what little swagger he possessed. “Come on, Carla. You know what I mean. You can’t kick up a row and expect no one to hear ya. I ain’t been a man for all these years for nothin’. I can spot an experienced woman.” He cupped his ear, slung his arm off to the left, and quickly added, “And I can hear one from way over yonder.”

Before Jock had a chance to smooth things over, a disgusted gasp fell from Carla’s mouth. “Well I’ve never in my life.”

“Me neither,” Grant admitted. “But after what I’ve witnessed, I’d be the first man to say you are a soiled dove to the manner born. And I’d be the first to mention yer geared up to teach even an experienced fella a thing or two.”

Carla’s eyes filled with tears. Before Jock saw the slap coming, she opened her hand and her palm connected with Grant’s cheek.

“I don’t know who you think you are, Grant Ford, but if you’re trying to make a mash on me, I can promise you, I’m not impressed!”

Grant stared back at her with wide eyes. “Surely to God you ain’t offended.”

“I am indeed!”

And of course after that, Miss Carla Cassidy did what Jock suspected she might. She walked inside, slammed the door in their faces, and never so much as bothered to say good-bye.

“Happy now?” Jock asked, without blinking an eye.

“I like ‘em a little hot under the collar. Trust me, friend. I know what I’m doin’. Let’s go for a run. When we get back, she’ll be fit to be tied–and I mean that in the literal sense.”

Jock couldn’t help but think about Grant’s earlier words. One of these days, Carla would open the door and greet her husband. Considering what had transpired, Jock had a feeling she’d slam that door just as quickly if she thought her potential suitor was named Grant Ford.

 

Copyright ©2013 Natalie Acres

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