CONTROLLING INTEREST by Francesca Hawley

CONTROLLING INTEREST by Francesca Hawley

A book in the 1-800-DOM-help series.

Mozelle “Mouse” Vincent inherits money, a club and her boss’ son as a business partner when society leader Regine Stuart dies. Torin Stuart knows what his late mother’s wishes were for his exclusive BDSM club, Erotically Bound, but he’s pissed that he’s forced to trust Mouse—especially when her inherently submissive nature arouses the sexual Dominant in him.

After baring all in a heated, intense scene, Mouse realizes they still have to work together, but now Tor challenges any business suggestion she makes. When she wants to offer education classes, Tor dares her to organize the class and participate—as a submissive.

To his chagrin, Mouse agrees, but he can’t stand the thought of any other Dom touching her. Suddenly there’s far more at stake than the controlling interest in their club…because love is the ultimate prize in their power exchange.

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
An Excerpt From: CONTROLLING INTEREST
Copyright © FRANCESCA HAWLEY, 2011
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Chapter One

“She did what?” Torin Stuart rose from his chair with a roar.

Mouse was entirely grateful that the lion’s roar was directed at his late mother’s attorney and not at her, but the attorney was unperturbed.

“Your mother left her controlling interest in your club Erotically Bound to Ms. Mozelle Vincent.”

“But Mother knew…”

“Please sit down and allow me to finish reading the will in a proper manner, Mr. Stuart.”

Tor ran his fingers through his bright ginger hair and glared at her briefly before sitting with a growl. Mouse kept her hands tightly around her purse. He’d been really kind in letting her stay in the townhouse his mother had set aside for her use, but with this news, he’d probably toss her out on her ass. Damn it. She thought she was done with being homeless.

“Ms. Vincent, shall I continue?” Mouse nodded. “Very well.” The lawyer cleared his throat. “I leave my controlling interest in the amount of fifty-one percent in the club Erotically Bound to Ms. Mozelle Vincent. In addition, I will her the townhouse and all furnishings thereof in which she has been living for the last five years. The estate will pay property taxes for two years, but then, and I quote ‘you’re on your own’. Do you understand, Ms. Vincent?”

Mouse’s jaw dropped. That townhouse was stunning. Huge and smack in the center of Washington D.C. with a multicar garage. It was located in the historic Capitol Hill district, just blocks from the Capitol building and Pennsylvania Avenue. The place was worth…millions.

“Ms. Vincent, do you understand the terms of the will regarding the townhome?”

“Yes, I own it and Regine’s estate will pay the first two years of property taxes then it’s my responsibility.”

“Precisely.”

“Is that all? Can we discuss my club now?”

The lawyer frowned at Torin over the top of his reading glasses, his bushy white brows extending over the frames. “I have not finished. Please remain silent until I do, sir.”

Tor waved his hand with a sigh and the lawyer nodded. Mouse wanted to laugh at the byplay between the two men, but she was too shocked. What had Regine been thinking?

She had to have had an ulterior motive for doing this, God knew, she always did. Regine Stuart was always three moves ahead of everyone else…a master strategist. That was how she’d managed to be one of D.C. society’s reigning queens. When Regine spoke, everyone listened…even the president.

“Ms. Vincent, please attend.”

Mouse looked up as the lawyer admonished her. “Sorry.” She shrugged.

“Finally, for—and again I quote—surviving six years in my employ as my downtrodden Jill-of-all-trades and for making my final years a pleasure instead of a burden, I will Mozelle Vincent twenty million dollars.”

Ice filled her body before unbearable heat melted her emotions. Her jaw dropped, but she was so utterly shocked she couldn’t move. Then she burst into uncontrollable tears. Throughout most of her life she’d hadn’t had a pot to piss in, but then six years ago she literally tripped over Regine Stuart and her world had completely turned on its head. The lawyer rose and approached her.

“My dear, are you quite all right?” He awkwardly patted her shoulder and she nodded, still trying to cover her abrupt emotional response.

She hated crying. She hated losing control of her emotions. She hid whatever she felt behind a façade of calm, which was something Regine had always valued in her. And it was something they had in common. Even if the world came crashing down around them, both she and Regine could remain calm to pick up the pieces and move forward.
Mouse glanced at Tor, worried that he’d think she was being overly dramatic or that she was getting money she didn’t deserve, but he seemed moved by her emotional display rather than scornful. When she could catch her breath, she cleared her throat.

“Don’t mind me, really. Go on with reading the will.”

“There isn’t too much more.” The lawyer returned to his desk. “To my household staff…”

Mouse stared at her perfectly manicured fingers as the lawyer finished. Those nails were a luxury she’d gotten used to with a steady paycheck and Regine’s insistence that she look polished at all times. God, if she had walked past the Capitol building five minutes earlier or five minutes later six years ago, she and Regine never would have met. Regine had given her a chance when no one else would. Sometimes miracles really did happen.

“This concludes the last will and testament of Regine Stuart.”

“Can we discuss my club now? Please…” Tor growled as he turned to her. “Mouse, how much do you want for it?”

The lawyer held up his hand as the remaining listeners filed out of the room, leaving Mouse alone with the lawyer and Tor.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stuart. Your mother left explicit instructions. Mouse…rather Miss Mozelle is required to hold her interest in the club for a minimum of six months. Under the terms of the will, the two of you are required to work together during that time.”

Tor opened his mouth then closed it again. He stood and began to pace. Broad shoulders, narrow hips and the most amazing ass she’d ever seen. Add a stunning body to his ginger hair and bright blue eyes and he was a package of mischief that made better women than her melt and get silly.

Mouse looked down at her hands out of habit. Ever since she began to work for Regine, she’d quietly had the hots for Tor, but putting that attraction to the test was unthinkable. First, she was sure Regine wouldn’t have been keen on having her assistant flirt with her son. And second, and most important, Torin Stuart had been seen escorting tall, slender and decidedly beautiful super models around town—his lovers had most definitely not been chunky personal assistants with frizzy, flyaway, boring brown hair and dull brown eyes.

“Mouse… Mouse, did you hear me?”

She met Tor’s blue-eyed gaze and felt the blush crawl up her neck. Damn.

“What?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’ve had a tough six years working for Mother. Just relax for the next six months then I’ll offer you a great price for the interest in the club.”

The lawyer cleared his throat, causing Tor to whip around. “Damn it, Thompson. What the hell is it?”
“Your mother required you to work together to manage the club. If any of the terms of her bequest are violated, the shares will be sold…but not to you.”

“What?”

“If the two of you don’t work together, or if you make an offer for her shares before six months have passed, which she accepts, then the shares will be sold to anyone but you.”

“The shares belong to Mouse. She can sell to whomever she wants.”

“No, I’m afraid not. If she goes against the terms of the will, she loses everything your mother willed to her.”

God, she didn’t want to challenge Tor about this, but she wouldn’t go back to living on the streets.
She just wouldn’t.

She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Tor. I have to abide by the will.”

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LEADER OF THE PACK by Francesca Hawley

LEADER OF THE PACK by Francesca Hawley

Surgeon Dr. Per Goldwolf needs a mate to make partner in a prestigious practice. Predator-Match.com—a matchmaking service for shapeshifters—not only finds him a mate, it matches him with his True Mate. Yohana’s long legs and fair flesh make him lick his lips and her scent makes him rock-hard.

New pack leader Yohana Whitewolf’s life goal is to follow in her sire’s pawprints and lead her pack. Leadership demands sacrifices. To calm her people, Yohana needs a mate. But finding an Alpha male who won’t take over is a tall order. Yohana doesn’t want the complication of a True Mate, but Per is a sexy, intelligent Alpha male and she wants to shred his clothes every time she touches him.

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

 An Excerpt From: LEADER OF THE PACK
 Copyright © FRANCESCA HAWLEY, 2012
 All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

 Per looked up from his coffee to see Yohana striding confidently across the room. Two steps behind her was the young waiter, looking dazed and horny. What the fuck? Per had been on edge ever since she left the table, envisioning her in the bathroom stall with her legs spread and himself on his knees on the floor, plowing into her. Now, here she was sashaying back to their table looking satisfied. He stood to hold out her chair. As Yohana stepped close to him, he was enveloped in the scent of her recent arousal…and orgasm. His bitch screwed someone else then walked back to the table as if nothing had happened. Fuck that! Per caught the worshipful gaze of the wet-behind-the-ears pup and growled.

 The pup blinked and stammered, gulping in terror. “I’ll bring your check,” he squeaked.

 “Like hell you will, you whelp. You just mounted my Mate. We’re going for a walk. Now.”

The boy yipped, flying off for the kitchen at a run. Per was after him in a shot, ready to kill.

 “Per!”

 He ignored Yohana’s cry of command, looking back once, rage filling his vision. “I’ll handle this.”

 The boy weaved between tables before slamming headlong into someone exiting the kitchen with a tray full of pasta dinners. Per caught the boy before he hit the floor, lifting him up by the collar of his shirt. A firm female hand grasped his wrist, while her arm encircled his waist.

 Yohana pressed against his back to whisper in his ear, “I masturbated in the bathroom. The pup was nowhere near me. Let him go…” She sighed as he turned to look into her eyes. “Please, Per.”

 He took a deep breath and nodded. The scent of his Mate wasn’t on the boy, so he released the whelp, watching as the boy ran hell for leather through the kitchen doors. Per closed his eyes, mortified at his stupidity. He had never claimed a female this publicly in his entire life, not even when he was in Sweden before his sire threw him out of their pack.

 Yohana eased away from him, turning to a different man who had appeared. It was Stefano Blackwolf, the restaurant manager and son of the owner, Roberto. “I’m sorry, Stef. This is my fault.
I’ll pay for the meals. Please allow me to buy the diners whatever else they would like to apologize for their wait.”

 Per shook his head. “No. My fault. I’ll pay for it.”

 Yohana frowned at Per. “I will pay. It’s my responsibility.”

 Per’s blue eyes blazed, then he paused. “We’ll split it. Fair?”

 Yohana patted his arm. “Yes. That’s fair.”

 Per blushed as Stefano’s lips twitched, fighting to control his amusement. Per looked into Yohana’s eyes then started to chuckle, drawing giggles from her. She blushed, looking down at her toes. He reached over, lifting her chin with a fingertip, barely brushing her lips with his.

 “Dessert, Yohana? Would you like some cannoli?”

 “That sounds wonderful.”

 “Two, Stefano?” Per inquired of the manager.

 Stef nodded, directing the busboys to clean up the mess while he went to inform the waiting diners of the delay with their meals. Per set his hand at the small of her back, escorting her to their table. He seated her and reseated himself.

 “I’m sorry for setting this mess in motion. I didn’t consider you might imagine me having sex with Marcello. He’s a baby.” Yohana took his hand, meeting his eyes.

 Per clasped her hand before lifting it to his lips to kiss. He froze, taking a deep breath. She’d washed her hand, but he knew it had been inside her…recently. Per looked into her startled gray eyes, breathing deeply so she’d know he smelled her sex. He opened his mouth, engulfing her thumb, sucking and licking it. In spite of the soap, her taste lingered faintly on her skin, bringing his body rigidly to attention.

 Yohana gasped, color rising in her cheeks as she licked her lips. He could see her pebbled nipples tight against the silk of her dress. This was no frigid bitch and he was in big, big trouble because his mind rejoiced to discover it. Per wanted to mount her now. He wanted to grab her, throw her facedown on the table, rip off her panties and sink into her to make her his while everyone in the room watched…then cheered. What scared him the most was the expression evident in her eyes. She wanted the same damn thing!


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GIFTED by Megan Slayer

GIFTED by Megan Slayer

Sometimes the typical Happily Ever After isn't what you're looking for. Sometimes you want it quick. You want it erotic. You want it dirty. Sometimes you. Want. It. Now. Sometimes, you want something to make you sWet.

Can change lead to the sexiest session of her life?

Nadia’s monthly trips to Master G relax her. She needs the BDSM sessions to escape the stresses of her business career. But playing with Master G means accepting all his requirements, including taking a new Dom. Enter Master S. He’s her wettest dream come to life. Maybe change is the one thing she truly needed and oh, it is so sexy.

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The door creaked, causing her to open her eyes. The moment she caught site of the man, her anger towards Master G evaporated. Long legs encased in tight-fitting leather. Muscle corded arms with just a hint of hair sprinkling on the surface. He wore the standard leather and studs harness, which accentuated his broad chest. His boots padded on the thick carpeted floor as he stalked towards her. A shiver ran up her spine. She liked men who looked like they could take charge. She’d asked for a man just like him when she signed up for sessions at The Q—someone to make her forget the stress at work and to take the control from her hands.

He fit her bill. Like to a T.

 Nadia forced her gaze to the floor. He deserved respect, no matter who the hell he was.

“So you’re mine?” He curled his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “My name is Master S. I’m told your name is Pet. Correct?” He removed the gag. “I do want you to answer me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. She noticed the dusting of scruff on his cheeks. What would that feel like on her inner thighs? Heaven, most likely. Master S pulled at the bow between her breasts. Slowly and with the right amount of drag to remind her she’d been bound, the ribbon came away from her chest.

“Such a pretty present. You will address me as Sir.” He rubbed his thumb across her chin. “I’ve been given a list of your nos, per the club agreement and I’ve been watching you with Master G. So willing and responsive to him, but he isn’t what you need. I’ll push you while making sure you’re pleasured the way you crave. Tell me your safe word.”

“Pickles.”

“Good Pet.” He threaded his fingers into her hair and tugged. Electric sizzles surged from her scalp to her pussy. “You’re mine,” he whispered. “All mine.”

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OLIVER by Caitlyn Willows

OLIVER by Caitlyn Willows

Maneater Series

The last persons Oliver ever wanted to see were Merideth and Lucas. How fitting they've come crawling to him for help. It's the perfect opportunity to extract a little payback and toss their scattered hearts back in their faces as they did him. Yet, one look at his broken Merideth elicits more sympathy than he can bear.

Lucas had forgotten how much he enjoyed being in Oliver's orbit. Yes, he'd come to him to help Merideth heal emotional scars, but now he's determined to re-establish ties with Oliver. This is where he intends to stay…if Oliver doesn't throw him out first.

Merideth needs them more than life itself. Only they can help her recover from an attack that left her physically and emotionally scarred. It'd be so easy to lean on them and let them take full control…and never find her true self again. Only she can unleash her inner Domme and punish those who prey on others. Then will she finally be a woman to match the men she loves.

They burn hot together just as they had before. Each older and wiser than before, strong wills tempered by maturity. Old habits though…and there can only be one true Master.

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~Excerpt~

Oliver Holbrook sank into the heated brown marble bench custom-made to cradle his ass. A twist of his wrist turned on the shower. With the touch of a button, he could adjust the showerhead’s direction, the spray pattern it emitted, and the water temperature. Wealth had its privileges. This was one of them.

His cock lifted higher when the gentle warm water cascaded over him. It knew the ritual. Everyone should have a well-trained penis.

Oliver snickered at the thought. As if that could ever happen. The beasts had minds of their own. His was no exception; he’d just managed to learn to control it over the years. The people under him, those who held him in such high regard within the community, would be stunned to learn the extent to which he’d gone to master that control. He didn’t care to enlighten them. It was no one’s business but his.

He filled his palm with soap from the array of dispensers on the wall, lathered it to billowing suds, then wrapped one hand around his cock and shoved the other between his legs to knead his balls. This was how he started each morning and ended each night…unless, of course, he’d found a stunning woman to share his bed. And that was becoming more of a hassle than it was worth. Few saw beyond the trappings of his life or cared about the man inside. That was fine. It helped protect his heart. A higher priority didn’t exist. Guarding his heart underscored most of what he did. Oh, he had those he loved, but it was love Oliver avoided like the plague. Once burned…

He spread his legs and let the soft spray kiss his thighs. Eyes closed, he imagined a lover’s tongue flicking up his legs and tugged at his balls while he flashed his fist over his cock. It wouldn’t take long—it never did—but it relaxed him for the night better than all the booze in the world. Conversely, morning jerk offs energized him.

Fantasies danced through his head, urging him to stroke faster, harder. Images not of the bondage and discipline that were so much a part of his life, but of lace gloves and high-neck gowns that begged to be peeled away to expose the smooth skin beneath. Of corsets straining to be unlaced, and breasts longing to be freed into a lover’s waiting hands and lips. Of long, thick hair that felt like watered satin threaded through his fingers when he unleashed it from its pins. Hair color was irrelevant.

Oliver imagined the woman’s gasp, the blush that rushed her cheeks, that shy tilt of her head when she offered her neck, then her throat, and finally a taste of the rise of her breast. Maybe he’d paddle her at some point, tell her what a naughty girl she was. Because he did love watching a woman’s ass turn rosy red under a good spanking, loved peeling panties down and smelling her arousal, loved adding to the smacks until she writhed and begged to come.

Oliver plunged into his grip and growled as he came. He sprawled there in the aftermath, pretending again that the shower spray was a lady’s fingers feathering over him, bringing him back down to earth. He closed his eyes, too relaxed to move at the moment. But as the wonder of masturbation faded, the sense of something not right rushed in.

No security alarm. No sound over the water. But he never second-guessed his instinct. On alert, Oliver shut off the shower, slid open the glass door, and grabbed one of the Egyptian cotton towels off the crystal bar a hand grasp away. Underwear would have made him feel less vulnerable. A weapon would have been even better. He blotted the water from his body and extended his senses outward.

There it was—a hint of fragrance from the blooming sage that hugged the rear perimeter of his home. Desert monsoons had brought the bushes and other dormant plants to life. The scent never permeated his house unless someone opened a door or window. During August in Palm Springs, that happened as little as possible. And it never happened at night with the house secure and the alarm set. Someone was in his house. Someone who’d somehow managed to override or disable the security system.

Oliver’s adrenaline spiked. His heart raced. Just as quickly he ordered himself to calm. He could count on one hand the people who’d have the code. Any of whom might decide to take advantage of his open hospitality—if they hadn’t left mere hours before.

He missed them. Julia, Lori, and Rachel had been a big part of his life for so long. Not that he begrudged them their happiness. Hell, he’d been instrumental in seeing them get hooked up with the men they loved. But it wasn’t the same without them or their alternate Domme personas—Maneater, Soleil, and Raven—around. Maybe one of them missed him too. Missed him so much she’d come back.

He mentally shook his head. His visitor wasn’t one of the ladies or anyone else he might welcome. This was an intruder.

Oliver tied the towel around his waist. His cell phone was on a dresser that felt miles away rather than a mere twenty feet. There was also a dedicated landline with extensions throughout the house, one right by his bed. Again too far. If an intruder disabled security, he might have cut the house phone as well.

Oliver debated his options. Grab the cell, duck into his walk-in closet, and retrieve a handgun from the safe? Or lock himself inside the closet and call 9-1-1? He opted for the latter…with his gun in hand just in case.

Years ago, he would have cringed at the thought of hiding from danger. He’d definitely gotten smarter over the years. One picked one’s battles with care.

Slow steps took him to the door leading to his bedroom. Soft yellow light from the bedside lamps glowed in invitation. He’d set the stage for sleep: turned down covers, fluffed pillows, placed a book on the nightstand. Another nightly ritual. The book was gone.

At that realization, Oliver heard a page turn. To his right. The corner where he’d placed two chairs and a table—another cozy niche in his little cave. He edged forward and saw the glow from the lamp in that area.

“Don’t worry. I’m not a murderer.”

It took a few seconds for Oliver to process the familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in years. Lucas Ashmore.

“I noticed you didn’t say you weren’t a thief.” Oliver stepped into the room. Sure as shit, Lucas shot him a smile from the corner chair. He’d made himself quite comfortable with the book and a glass of whiskey from the living room bar. Scotch, if Oliver remembered correctly. Oliver remembered too much.

“Cat burglar, please. One sin of a misspent youth. Show a little respect, Oliver.”

He snapped the book closed and stood in one fluid motion. Evidence of the feline grace that always landed Lucas on his feet. He was more dressed for the rumba than breaking and entering, with tan pants and shirt that skimmed his skin but let him move with ease for all those tight places he might find himself. The clothes also helped him blend in with the Palm Springs crowd. It was the perfect disguise…as always.

The years had been kind to Lucas. Oliver would give him that. His blue eyes were just as bright, and the small laugh lines bracketing his eyes and mouth added maturity and character, not age.

Oliver itched to double-check his face in the mirror for signs of aging. To measure himself against Lucas.

“Vanity, thy name is Oliver.” He heard Merideth’s taunt, the one she’d always say when the three of them were together.

“You’re one to talk,” was always his retort.

“A rose is a rose,” Oliver replied. “And so are its thorns.” He took an imposing stance, his best Dom scowl in place.

A haunting sense of déjà vu struck him. This was how they’d first met. That long-ago night, when Lucas had broken into Oliver’s home and interrupted killer sex with Merideth. They’d toyed with him that night, intending to scare him straight. Who knew it would bond them so tightly in love and lust? Or that they would wind up tearing each other apart years later?

Uncertainty replaced Lucas’s smile. He took another sip of Scotch, his gaze locked on Oliver’s. Was he remembering it all too?

“I have nothing that might belong to another, even remotely,” Oliver told him. “I have no jewelry to speak of, no prohibitively expensive artwork or sculptures. Most of those are from friends and associates I support. You’d get little from their sale. The loss to me would be sentimental. The loss to—”

“I’m not here to take anything.”

Lucas sounded wounded that Oliver would think such a thing. Even Oliver had to admit it was a low blow, referring to that single incident too many years ago when Lucas had first walked into his life. Lucas’s actions had been borne of desperation and necessity. Still, Oliver couldn’t let this one go.

“What the hell else would you expect me to think? Sneaking into my home in the middle of the night, breaching my security system.”

“Ten thirty is hardly the middle of the night. Besides, would you have seen me otherwise?”

“No.” Oliver turned away and walked to the closet so he could dress. Lucas was one of the last persons Oliver ever wanted to see. He heard Lucas rattle the ice cubes in his drink.

“Would it help if I told you I knocked?”

In a house this size? “Unquestionably polite.”

“It serves me well.”

Paid well too. Lucas was dominant enough to pursue, submissive enough to concede, crafty enough to find the middle ground where everyone thought they’d won. The go-to man when museums wanted to acquire items or return antiquities to the countries where they belonged.

“Yes, you’re quite the hero. But we both know you didn’t start out that way.” Oliver hauled on a pair of gray silk boxers, then followed them with a pair of white shorts and a salmon-colored brushed-silk shirt.

“Ancient history,” Lucas called out.

Let it go. “So you’re here. I’m sure this isn’t a social call. What do you want?”

“Merideth needs you.”

The unexpected words jolted Oliver. Thank goodness the privacy of the closet hid him from view. He recovered quickly and buttoned his shirt as he strode from the closet. “We’ve been down that road before. I couldn’t give Merideth what she demanded.” They’d torn each other’s emotions asunder reaching that conclusion. Even Lucas’s peacemaking couldn’t save them.

“In the end, neither could I.” Lucas drained his glass.

Oliver wanted to interrogate, dissect what Lucas meant. He wondered why he cared.

Lucas scrunched up his face in puzzlement. “You didn’t keep tabs on us?”

“I didn’t care enough to keep tabs on you.” A semi-lie. Word filtered to Oliver on occasion. Business was business, after all. It was the personal aspects of these two people he didn’t want to give a damn about.

“Fair enough.” Lucas conceded the point with a slight nod. “More ancient history as far as I’m concerned. But that was then, and this is now.” He set the glass down hard and stared at the cubes as if willing them to melt or generate more Scotch. “Merideth needs you.”

“She made it clear—”

“She was hurt, Oliver. Caught in the wrong end of a bad scene.”

The news sliced through him. Razor sharp, knife deep.

“Hurt?”

“I don’t know the specifics. A mutual friend told me. She took care of Merideth afterward. I’ve been out of the country. We haven’t been together for a long time.” Shaking his head, Lucas wandered over to the dresser and fiddled with the wooden bowl of coins Oliver dumped from his pockets each night. “It happened about six months ago. Whispers and rumors came my way. Though I’ve yet to find out who’s responsible. She’s not the same person. She’s…broken inside. Fearful, reclusive.” He swallowed hard. “To hear of a woman of Merideth’s strength and caliber reduced to…”

Oliver had a hard time reconciling that description with the woman he knew, the woman he’d heard about over the years. But something that traumatic would screw with anyone’s head. “She needs help.”

Lucas snapped his gaze up to Oliver’s. Tears filled his eyes. “Why the hell do you think I’m here?” he said through clenched teeth. “Do you think I’d come crawling to you otherwise? She’s breaking my heart!” He slammed his fist into his chest. “Again.”

Oliver bit back the words Now you know how I felt.

Lucas pulled in a breath. The tension eased from his jaw. “I went to her the minute I heard. She told me she needed you, to get you. I still love her enough to do it. I’m hoping you still love her enough to help her heal.”

A storm of emotions roiled through Oliver. He didn’t think any of them were love. Too much hurt was in the way.

“Where is she?”

“Where do you think?”

Irritation crawled up Oliver’s spine. Lucas had brought her with him. For a couple who needed his help, they were really pushing it.

Lucas stepped into Oliver’s space and touched Oliver’s arm. Oliver glanced at Lucas’s fingers, then at the man. A smoldering look to warn Lucas he’d gone too far.

“I’ll beg if I have to.” Determination edged Lucas’s voice. “Get on my knees before you. Submit. Hell…” He knelt before Oliver, glaring up at him. “I’ll even suck your fucking dick.”

Oliver smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Lucas could squirm a bit on that one. Frankly, there was only one mouth Oliver wanted wrapped around his cock right now. And the owner was apparently downstairs waiting.

Copyright © Caitlyn Willows

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PLAY TO HIM by Wendi Zwaduk

PLAY TO HIM by Wendi Zwaduk

The key to her freedom is accepting his bonds.

Rhiannon Dubois set out to find her own path in life—with her music, her career and what she wants in the bedroom. No more giving in to get what she wants. She’s making her own rules.

Except with the billionaire playboy she can’t get out of her mind.

Sebastian Chastain knows Rhiannon better than she knows herself. Despite her best efforts to hide her need for submission behind her independent streak, she blossoms when she relinquishes control. He’s got the tools to jumpstart her career and he’s not stopping until she regains her spot in the limelight.

She puts herself in his masterful hands, but can he also convince her to offer her heart?

Reader Advisory: This story has been previously released as part of the Bound to the Billionaire anthology by Total-E-Bound

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are 18 years of age, or over.
 If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
 Copyright © Wendi Zwaduk, 2012
 All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: Play to Him

"You’re going on another date with him?" Kayla wrapped a lock of Rhiannon’s hair around the barrel of the curling iron. "I didn’t think he dated anyone twice."

"This is our third date, but who’s counting? And, really, what’s a date? We’re not going anywhere special. I’m just playing music for his customers. Nothing exciting." Rhiannon stared at her reflection in the mirror. Talk about scoring the best stylist in the business. She trusted Kayla to make her look beautiful before each show. Rhiannon pursed her lips and pinched her cheeks. The fat curls accentuated the sunken qualities of her face. She frowned. At twenty-seven, she already looked old.
The black liner made the blue in her eyes pop and contrasted with her ivory skin well and paired with the inky colour of her hair nicely, but she worried everything looked too dark and moody. She shrugged. She played moody music, why not look the part? "Do you think I should ramp up the liner?" She squinted. "It’s too light, isn’t it?"

"You’re nervous for a not-really date, that’s a very-much-so date."

"I’m not nervous." What a liar. Rhiannon rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs. Hell yes, she was nervous. Sebastian Chastain, billionaire playboy and owner of Rock Hard Toys and Gear, didn’t give second engagements. Unless the woman really tickled his fancy, he rarely offered a first chance for a play date. He’d signed a contract with her to play whenever he wanted and she’d agreed.

She shivered. Tingles radiated over her back from the memories of his whip spread over her skin. Her pussy creamed and she clenched her knees together. Besides, there was a chance the concert wouldn’t lead to more.

"Whatever." Kayla rolled her eyes. "Your hair is done. Thoughts?"

Not bad. Rhiannon twisted the cascade of curls on the top of her head. "I like it." The updo would keep her hair out of the way during the session with Sebastian. "Thank you."

"Cool." The stylist gathered her brushes and the bottles of hairspray. "Good luck. Maybe this guy will be the one who gets you to settle down."

"Settle down? Kayla, I don’t want to be tied down to a family and responsibilities. I want to be free and figure out who I am."

"And not be lonely." Kayla winked and strolled out of the room.

That word. Lonely. Rhiannon frowned at her reflection and sighed. She’d been without the affection from a man for so long. But she had a reason for keeping things separate. She stood and turned away from her image. Sebastian, though detached in the emotions category, gave her the kink she needed. And he was stable. He understood her boundaries.

She dropped her robe, then pulled the skimpy thong up her legs. The scrap of fabric showed off her best asset, her legs. Oh, what the hell. Rhiannon appraised herself in the mirror once more. The scars weren’t visible to the naked eye, but she knew where they were and winced. Most guys didn’t understand her need to be dominated. Of those who did, she had managed to find the two who took what she wanted to the extremes.

Except Sebastian. He understood everything about her.

Head held high, she squared her shoulders. He accepted her and knew what the word no meant. Now, if she could keep her heart in check, she’d be fine.

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HEAT SEEKER by Lucy Monroe

HEAT SEEKER by Lucy Monroe

Goddard Project Series - Final Book

Always ready, always deadly. That’s the motto of the Atrati—a mercenary organization of black operatives who specialize in doing what no one else can.

A former sergeant in the Marine special forces, Kaden Marks dreams of one day having a family. But he’s haunted by the deeds of his past and won’t let anyone get close. Then a new mission comes his way. A fellow operative has had her cover blown—and it’s up to Kaden’s team to bring her out safely. What he doesn’t realize is that the beautiful but stubborn Rachel Gannon has no intention of letting herself be rescued...

Rachel will come out only when she can promise adequate protection for her unwitting informant. As a former DEA agent, Rachel still blames herself for her sister’s death—and is unwilling to let someone else get hurt because of her. But she hadn’t counted on falling for Kaden Marks, and falling hard. Now she must convince him to help her bring down the enemy’s entire organization—without risking the life of the man she’s come to love...

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~Excerpt~

Rachel’s “interrogators” conferred in the corner of the starkly lit room, apparently unaware that one of the four languages she spoke fluently was the Farsi they were using. She understood another five well enough to eavesdrop with effect, but not to converse.

Not that her special affinity for languages was going to do her any good here. Even though she could understand every word they spoke, she couldn’t do anything about it.

The tallest, and coincidentally youngest of the three men, was shocked she had not yet broken. After all, she was only a woman. He was convinced she was what she claimed to be: a simple tourist who had been foolish enough to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

An older man with clear military bearing, and who the other two deferred to, said she had to have training in anti-interrogation techniques. Which meant: he did not believe her overly curious tourist story.

The third man evinced no opinion, simply glancing over at Rachel with unreadable eyes. He was the one who had attached her to the car battery and tightened her restraints by tiny increments every once in a while. They weren’t cutting off circulation yet, but they were close.

And it hurt. A lot.

Not enough to make her tell them the truth though. She was a highly trained operative, but her best preparation had come from life. She knew what kind of pain could break a person like her, but they didn’t have access to the means to do it. After all, she’d already lost everyone that mattered.

Her parents and Linny were dead. Grandma was in a home with Alzheimer’s and hadn’t recognized Rachel in two years. Kadin had left before she ever lost Linny.

There wasn’t anyone left to lose.

And they couldn’t break her with her body. Oh, she’d welcome death when and if it came. The torture was destroying her mind and her perspective, but Rachel would protect her unwitting source of information no matter what they did to her body. Jamila Massri reminded Rachel too much of Linny. An innocent young woman desperate for love caught up with a sadistic man.

It would take more than physical agony to force that name from behind the barriers Rachel had constructed in her mind.

She’d planned her escape route if those barriers started to fail and the idiots in the corner had no clue.
All she had to do was tip her chair sideways when the battery leads were connected to her body.
She’d fall into the puddle of urine and water they’d tossed on it to keep down the smell. The electricity would pass through her heart, but more importantly through her brain.

Instant fried cerebral matter.

And if she was lucky, the cement floor connecting with her head would kill her before the electricity even.

She hadn’t taken her only out yet because the part of her that wanted to do her job wouldn’t let go, the little part of her that still hoped, still believed in good winning over evil. She wanted to know who the top players in this information war were.

And maybe, just maybe...her agency would send someone to extract her in time for her to share that important news.

TGP didn’t leave their agents behind, but time was running out and she wasn’t counting on rescue. She never counted on anyone being there for her anymore.

Another bolt of electric agony jolted through her as she forced her mind to go over the escape plan again and again, even as she screamed the name of the one person she was absolutely sure she would never see again.

#

Kadin could hear the screams through the walls of the facility. His heart stopped in his chest as the agony in that voice paralyzed him.

He’d heard Rachel Gannon’s voice lifted in pleasure, he’d heard it broken with pain, but he’d never heard it scream like this. In that moment, he realized it was the one sound that might well break him.
“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Cowboy asked as he drew level with Kadin.

Kadin jerked his head in a nod and started moving again. He had to be all right, damn it. He couldn’t let himself get distracted. Rachel’s life depended on him keeping his head in the game and hearing the proof of what was happening to her could not get in the way of that.

Not even when it came special delivery with his name on it.

One damn thing he had never expected was for her to call out to him in her time of need. It had to be a mind game she played with herself to keep her real secrets locked inside, but hell if it wasn’t wreaking havoc on his brain too.

#

Rachel was on count seven-hundred and twenty when she realized it had been longer than three minutes since the last shock. She opened her eyes slowly, but even so, it took a moment to focus. Her vision was so blurry at first, the room appeared dark. But it wasn’t. The single light in the ceiling was still on and the stark light cast by it revealed that the men tormenting her were no longer in her cell.
She hadn’t heard them leave.

That was not good. Maybe she was farther gone than she’d thought.

Had the time come to take her escape route?

She took several deep breaths, trying to assess her condition and how close she might be to revealing something she did not want to without realizing it.

As Rachel contemplated her options, limited though they were, the door opened and an old woman shuffled in. She muttered a prayer in Farsi under her breath as she offered a cup of water to Rachel to drink.

Rachel didn’t bother asking for help. This woman was as trapped as she was. The first couple of sips of water were as bitter as the acid in Rachel’s mouth, but then the clear cold flavor of well water took over and Rachel’s eyes stung with gratitude.

The woman helped her drink the whole cup before stepping back.

“Thank you,” Rachel croaked out in Farsi.

With a nod of the cloth covered head, the older woman turned to leave.

“Wait.” The word cost Rachel, coming out of a throat raw from screaming.

The woman turned, her eyes filled with resigned sadness. “I can do nothing else for you.”

“You can tell me where we are.”

Though Rachel could make a good guess based on the way the woman was dressed.

“We are in the mountains, far from any city.”

“In what country?”

“Morocco.”

Okay, that was a lot further from Helwan, the small city outside Cairo she’d been conducting her investigation in than she’d expected. She must have been out a lot longer before arrival than she’d thought, or they flown her here.

Either way, she now understood why she’d been left alone for almost a day after being dumped in this less than hospitable room. The fact the big dogs hadn’t arrived yet made more sense too.

Moving her to Morocco was smart, but hopefully not as clever as the locator chip in Rachel’s hip that Vannie at TGP headquarters had installed.

“Thank you. What is your name?”

The woman shook her head and left without answering.

“Mine is Rachel,” she croaked out as the door closed. Her head dropped, the tiny reserve of energy draining from her.

She had no doubts her people would find her, but she was fairly sure at this point that it wouldn’t be alive.

Moments later, the door opened again - this time silently. Only the shift of air in the room giving the movement away. So, not her captor’s return.

But who? Had her agency sent a rescue team? Hope seared through her as worry rose up to meet it.
A man stepped inside, closing the door behind him with an economy of movement and absolutely no sound. She would not know he was there if she could not see him with her own eyes. Big, both tall and broadly muscled, he wore the newer black digital camouflage. His face was covered by a cotton ski mask, but his eyes were eerily familiar.

She blinked her own, unable to process what her brain was telling her. But her rescuer had Kadin’s eyes.

She knew with every particle of her remaining sanity it couldn’t be Kadin. Not here. Not now. Just her fantasies playing tricks with her mind. This was much worse than losing track of time during her torture. Reality was colliding with imagination and that terrified her.

She had to keep her mental faculties together. It was the only weapon she had left. And apparently, she needed to stop using old memories to fight the horror of the present.

“Kadin,” she whispered almost silently, the fear she’d refused to give into up to this point nearly overwhelming her.

The man heard her. His head jerked, but he didn’t say anything. He moved forward on quick, silent feet, dropping to one knee beside her. He flicked open a lethal looking blade and put it against the zip tie holding her wrists together.

“Wait!” she gasped.

He stopped. “Don’t worry, Rachel. I’m not here to hurt you.”

It was Kadin’s voice. Her mind had snapped.

Even knowing that, she asked, “Kadin?”

“Yes.”

Impossible, but he’d just said he was Kadin. Maybe her rescuer would have agreed to anything; maybe men like him were trained to deal with delusional torture victims like her that way. One thing she was certain of. The man, whoever he was, was here.

“I’m not dreaming.” She said it aloud because she needed to convince herself.

She was fairly confident that she was in too much pain to be dreaming though. Besides, in all her dreams Kadin had never shown up in commando gear.

The Marines had taken him from her; she wasn’t about to have fantasies of him dressed like a soldier.
“No.” He brushed her cheek with a black gloved hand. “You’re not dreaming.”

That voice again. It could not be and yet somehow, her nearly broken mind kept insisting that it was. “It’s you. Really.”

“Yes.” Never one for long speeches, her Kadin.

No, wait. Not hers anymore. Not for a very long time.

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter. We have to get you out of here.”

“No.”

He made a sound a cross between shocked gasp and growl. “Yes.”

“No. Two of the top guys in the organization are coming tomorrow. One of them is an expert on interrogation.” And she was sure she knew which one held that dark claim to fame in his underlings’ eyes. “I know one, but not the other. We need that information.”

So, okay...her brain was still functioning. Which meant this man really was Kadin because she wasn’t so far gone she was turning fantasies into reality in her mind. She hadn’t done that for almost as long as Kadin hadn’t been hers.

“Then get it another way,” he growled in an almost sub vocal whisper directly against her ear. "You are not staying here to be tortured some more."

“They’re finished for the night.” At least she hoped they were.

“Bullshit. They’re giving you a chance to think it’s over before coming back and trying to break you.”

A more experienced interrogator might do that, but these guys? She was hopeful not. “They haven’t broken me yet.”

The sound of plastic snapping came from behind and then Kadin’s big hands were on her arms, massaging them as he slowly allowed them to relax downward. “This is going to hurt like a sonsabitch, but you can handle it, angel.”

The pain started then and she didn’t bother wasting breath on trying to argue or demanding he never, ever use that endearment again. She had to handle this and a lot more quietly than she had her torture. Yelling out Kadin’s name right now could get them both killed.

Once her arms hung at her sides, he made quick work of the ties holding her legs to the chair and then he swept her up into his arms. “They aren’t getting the chance.”

“Chance for what?”

“To break you.”

“And I won’t get the chance to identify the other major player either.”

“I’ll leave a team to do surveillance.”

“There’s no guarantee the bosses will show once it’s discovered I’m gone.”

“Is she for real, boss?” someone asked and Rachel realized Kadin was wearing an earbud communicator.

She wouldn’t have heard the voice except her head was right next to his. He should be carrying her in a fireman’s lift, so he had one hand available.

The fact he wasn’t messed with her head in a way the torturers hadn’t been able to.

“Boss?” the voice asked again.

“Yes.” Kadin didn’t sound happy when he said it either.

“Tell her we’ll take care of it,” another voice, this one with a distinct Texas twang, said.
Another day, another time...Rachel would have demanded to know how, but right now? It was taking every single one of her stay-with-it molecules to keep from passing out, puking or ignominiously doing both.


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ALL RILED UP by Lori Foster

ALL RILED UP by Lori Foster

New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster turns up the heat with these two timeless tales.

TRAPPED!
Firefighter Ethan Winters may be his hometown’s new hero, but he’s played a starring role in Rosie Carrington’s fantasies for years. And Rosie has had just about enough of waiting patiently for Ethan to get over the past and see what’s right under his nose. She’ll do whatever it takes to fan the flames between them…but will Ethan prove too hot to handle?

RILEY!
Regina Foxworth has no clue why an unknown assailant is out to get a small-town reporter like her. Or why the police won’t take her concerns seriously. So Regina gets a guard dog-make that a four-pound “guard” Chihuahua!-and signs up for self-defense classes. But defending herself is the last thing on her mind when sexy instructor Riley Moore has her pinned to the mat.

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Excerpt from Riley

"Raise your knees."

Wide-eyed, breathless and straining, she said, "No," in such a scandalized voice that Riley grinned. That was the thing about Red - he laughed with her, and he felt lighthearted when he hadn't thought such a thing would be possible ever again. Not a bad start. But he had other things to accomplish here besides smiling.

"I'm not letting you up till you do." Hell, he'd be happy to stay put for hours. Not only did she amuse him, she also aroused him more than any woman he'd ever known. Her body was slight but very soft, a nice cushion under his larger, harder frame. And the warmth he felt in the cradle of her thighs could drive him over the edge.

Her big green eyes darted left and right. "Riley. People are watching."

"I know." He decided to taunt her. After all, this was important. She needed to learn how to handle him. No sense in wasting all his instruction. "They're waiting to see if you've learned anything through all these lessons. Most of them think not. Others are pretty damn doubtful."

New determination drew her slim auburn brows down into a frown and turned her green eyes stormy. Suddenly her knees were along his sides, catching him off guard with the carnality of it. While his mind wandered down a salacious path, she bucked, rolled, and onto his back he went.

Proud as a peahen, she bounced on his abdomen and cheered herself. Wrong move, sweetheart, he thought, and deftly flipped her straight back and into the same position that she'd just escaped, except that this time her legs were trapped around his waist. With the wind temporarily knocked out of her, she gasped.

Half frustrated, half amused, Riley straightened. Because he knew his own ability, even if most others didn't, he always utilized strict control and caution. Especially with women, and most especially with Red. He'd sooner break his own leg than ever bruise her.

He pulled her upright, forced her arms straight up high to help her breathe, and shook his head.
"When you get the upper hand on an attacker, honey, you do not stop to congratulate yourself."

Seeing that the display was over, the crowd dispersed, going back to their own training. Riley stood and gently pulled Regina Foxworth to her feet. She wasn't necessarily a short woman, but next to his height, she seemed almost puny. The top of her head reached his shoulder. Her wrists were like chicken bones. Narrow shoulders, a delicate frame... and yet, she wanted him to teach her self-defense.

Riley snorted. Hell, whenever he got this close to her he had things other than fighting on his mind. And the fact that, regardless of what he'd tried to teach her, she still ended up on her back with him in the mounted position put all kinds of considerations in his mind.

Like what it'd be like to have her situated that way, with no clothes between them and without her attempting to escape.

Soon, he promised himself. Very soon.

In a huff, Regina promptly jerked away and began straightening her glorious red hair. If the woman thought half as much about applying herself as she did to her appearance, they'd make more progress.

For her lessons today she'd restrained her hair in a braid as thick as his wrist that hung to the middle of her back. Already silky tendrils had worked loose, giving her a softened, just-laid look. Riley shook his head in awe. He worked with other women and they just got sweaty and rumpled. Not Regina . Somehow, no matter what, the woman always managed to look more appealing.

Watching her tidy her braid sent tension rippling through his muscles. A man could conjure quite a few fantasies over that hair, not to mention the delicate, ultra feminine body that came with it. Hell, he even found the sprinkling of freckles over her nose adorable.

Riley snatched up a towel. "Quit pouting, Red."

"I'm not." But her bottom lip stuck out in a most becoming way. Normally a princess like her wouldn't have appealed to him. But Red had guts beneath the fussy exterior. And in the time he'd known her, he'd also realized she was gentle, compassionate, understanding, and damn it, he wanted her, had from the very start.

If that had been his only problem, he'd have coaxed her into bed by now. But it was more than that. He hadn't thought to ever want involvement with another woman, but he wanted it with Red.

Riley slung his arm around her shoulders and headed her toward the shower. Not that she needed to shower. The natural fragrance of her skin and hair was warm and womanly. His body tensed a bit more in masculine awareness, on the verge of cramping. "We're wasting our time with these lessons."

"I need to be able to defend myself."

True enough. Three weeks ago, Regina had been caught in a burning building while on assignment for the Chester Daily Press. As a reporter, she liked to stick her cute little freckled nose into places where it didn't belong, and that particular building had been in a disreputable part of town. That should have been her first clue not to be there. The fact that the fireworks dealer had already had trouble in the past should have been her second.

She'd forged on anyway, and nearly died for her efforts. Riley would be more inclined to call the fire an accident due to the shoddy management of the owner, who left opened pyrotechnics scattered about. But prior to that, when Riley had first met Red, she'd been as jumpy as a turkey on Thanksgiving morning. She'd been interviewing his pal, Ethan, for commendable work as a fireman, but she'd also seemed so strained, Riley had expected her to scream at any minute.

He'd discarded her initial claims of endangerment, as had the County Police where he worked as an Evidence Tech. They still didn't believe her, but Riley did. At thirty-two, through life and some hard lessons, he'd learned to read people, to sift real from feigned. Red was afraid, and he'd bet she had reason.

Someone was after her. She didn't know why. He didn't care why.

The day she'd almost died in that fire, he'd staked a claim. Little Red just hadn't figured that out yet. But no way in hell would he let anyone hurt her.

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PINOT NOIR NIGHTS by Cheryl Dragon

PINOT NOIR NIGHTS by Cheryl Dragon

Wine Country Series

Professional wine critic Sonia Rowan is thrilled to attend a private tasting at Farabella Vineyards. Lovers Carter Farabella, Jace Porter, and Warren Bonham run the winery. She’s known them for years, but being alone changes everything. They’ve been waiting for the right time and want to uncover her submissive sexual side! She’s trying to shake a pushy ex who is also in the wine business.

The very in-control woman reveals her eager-to-please side. Learning their likes, she teases and falls for each of them. She’s never had so many men demanding her attention, but staying too long could ruin her career. Sonia doesn’t want to leave, but her objectivity is critical to her job. When her ex finds out that Sonia extended her stay at Farabella, he’s out to make serious trouble for the winery and destroy her in the process.

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~Excerpt~

In search of a quiet spot, she found Warren Bonham’s office. Carter’s best friend from childhood, Warren managed the warehousing and shipping. The most organized of the bunch, he sat with his laptop. She watched him for a moment. His light brown hair and deep hazel eyes were almost as delicious as his muscles. No doubt he could lift a barrel of wine with his bare hands.

She debated on whether or not to tap on his door. She didn’t want to appear needy, but the men at Farabella turned her on. Sonia had no trouble being alone when working, but their attention was much more welcome than Dylan’s! Her dilemma was resolved when Jace Porter raced up and bumped into her.

“Sorry, Sonia. Are you keeping Warren tied up back here?” Jace smiled at them.

“I didn’t even see her. What can I do for our favorite wine critic?” Warren closed his computer and exited the office.

“Nothing. I just needed a bit of quiet. Dylan had poor Carter cornered, so I was giving them room.” It was an open secret her relationship with Dylan was over. Wine circles weren’t that big, even though the industry had grown in recent years. She felt especially safe at Farabella since the rumor was the three of them were into men despite how they flirted.

Jace shrugged. Normally the quiet one of the trio, Sonia liked him. She suspected he and Warren were more than friends. Then again, she occasionally picked up that vibe from all three of them until they turned around and focused on her. Being without sexual attention from a man now had her instincts on the prowl.

“What is it?” Warren asked.

“Dylan makes it sound like you two are going to get back together.” Jace ran the grape fields, and it showed in his darker tan. Beyond that he was the boy next door. His brown hair and brown eyes with a strong body and a shy smile made for an irresistible package.

However, Sonia had and would continue to resist the temptation. Dating another wine critic had proven foolish enough. Getting in bed with a winery was suicide. Besides, it was all in her head. She craved attention, and beyond the attraction to the three men of Farabella she’d also felt a friendship and trust with them not always present when she toured a vineyard.

“We are not getting back together! Some men can’t grow up and back off,” Sonia said in exasperation.

“Well, he won’t bother you while you’re with us. Don’t worry about that.” Warren wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Desire radiated through her at the touch. The men were so close that she could feel the heat and enjoy the very male scents of earth, wood, and wine on them. Her pussy tightened, but Sonia kept a firm grip on her outward appearance. They were being sympathetic to a single girl, not making a move.

“Thanks, I can handle Dylan. Dating and business don’t mix. I knew better.” Being a control freak was harder than people realized. She apparently intimidated some men, so when she found one that hit on her and who shared her bedroom preferences, it was hard to resist. That didn’t mean she’d settle.

They walked toward Carter as the tasting concluded. Some critics made notes. Local VIPs went for a second glass. She saw Warren nod Carter over, and he came without question.

“Enjoying yourself, Ms. Rowan?” Carter always went very formal for tastings.

“Very much, thank you.” She smiled. For several years, she’d known and admired these men. They always made it worth the extra trip up to Mendocino County in northern California. Now with them buffering her from Dylan, she had the urge to let her guard down.

Hell, she wanted a personal life! Thirty was a year away and her mother complained about the lack of weddings amongst her three daughters. Sonia, being the eldest, received the bulk of the pressure.

Her father, on the other hand, liked that she was traveling and enjoying life. It was his European sensibilities. She’d also inherited her love of wine from him. The man had a massive wine cellar at his Tuscan villa. Her parents had divorced when Sonia was young and were forever on opposite sides. She’d learned to stand her ground and stay out of the line of fire while helping her sisters.

“It’s a shame you and Dylan didn’t work out,” Carter said.

He didn’t really seem sorry. She shrugged it off. “It was my mistake. We run in such small circles that it seemed like a good idea. He wasn’t right for me.”

“Maybe he couldn’t handle you?” Warren teased.

“Clearly.” Carter smiled. “Good thing he’s not invited for a special tasting and extended stay.”

“Extended stay?” Sonia tried to ignore the arousal as it spread through her.

“Just our favorite reviewers invited to sample a new Pinot Noir. Our housekeeper will take good care of you here, and she’s a wonderful cook. You won’t be alone with a bunch of single men,” Jace said.

In her dreams and fantasies she was routinely surrounded by these three. Somewhere deep inside her, hopes started to grow, but it had to be simply her lust. The odds of them being into her were slim, especially after her going on about Dylan. Screwing around with people in the work circles usually proved to be a mistake.

Bottom line, she didn’t need to get in bed with the men from Farabella except when dreaming. That had happened plenty of nights with or without her planning it. She’d used up batteries imagining how they looked naked and what they’d do to her and each other. Not that she ever imagined it’d happen in real life.

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DARK DESIRE by Desiree Holt

DARK DESIRE by Desiree Holt

Tentative Club Fantasy Book Two

Risa Channing found herself stuck at one level in BDSM play and was ready for more. She asked Ruelas, the mysterious owners of Club Fantasy, to pair her with a Dom who would take her to the next level and beyond, but she got more than she expected with Master J.

The last thing Jax Schroyer expected was a woman who pushed all his buttons the way Risa did. From the moment he laid eyes on her—and hands—on her he knew one night with her would never be enough. Somehow in the few hours they’d be together he had to convince her he was the man who would always fulfill her dark desire.

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The man sitting next to him rose, and immediately, Risa felt her thong dampen even as her mouth went dry. Like Ruelas, he appeared taller than he was his shoulders broad, and his chest and abs hard and flat, with a sexy dusting of dark hair. All the rippling muscles were easy to see because he was naked from the waist up. The rest of his body was clad in leather pants tight enough that she could see the thick bulge of his cock. Below that, he was barefoot. She noticed his feet appeared as graceful as the rest of his body.

But it was his face that caught her attention. Framed by a thick fall of inky black hair, it was a warrior’s face, finely chiseled with a square jaw, startling blue eyes and lashes any woman would kill for. The power he exuded was so strong as to be nearly visible in the air around him. She could only stand there mesmerized, and so aroused she needed every bit of discipline to keep herself together.

Deep inside her something unfamiliar began to unwind like a coil tightened down for too long. Something teased at her emotions as well as her senses. Was she getting herself into something too deep here? She wasn’t looking for more than one night of intense pleasure. Was she?

“Risa,” Ruelas’ voice penetrated the fog wrapped around her brain. “This is Master J.”

Her eyes drank him in even as they kept returning to the significant bulge in his pants. She could hardly wait to feel that inside her. At his pleasure, of course.

Master J, in full Dom mode, did not extend his hand. Instead, he let his gaze travel slowly over every inch of her body, so penetrating was his stare that she might as well have been naked. He nodded at Ruelas.

“She will do very nicely.”

Ruelas smiled. “You know it is always my goal to please.” He looked at Risa. “I have passed along your desires to Master J and I assure you he can more than satisfy them. Beyond that, Risa, you can trust him completely.”

Her mouth was so dry she had to swallow before she could speak. Every nerve in her body vibrated and her pulse throbbed in her womb.

“Thank you, Ruelas.” She lowered her eyes. “And thank you, Master J.”

“The room is prepared for you,” the owner told the Dom. “Everything is as you requested.”

“Good. Then we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

Okay, so no small talk or let’s get acquainted.

Well, this was what she’d asked for, right? A complete Dom who would take her well into the next level of BDSM play. Someone who could satisfy the very dark desires that claimed her dreams and left her shaken when she awoke.

BLIND ECSTASY by Desiree Holt

BLIND ECSTASY by Desiree Holt

Tentative Club Fantasy Book One

When Johanna Devlin fell in love with Sean Devlin she thought she had it all - a man who loved her as much as she loved him and the perfect Dom for her submissive nature. On her birthday when he asked her to marry him, to wear his collar, she was sure she had it all. But the next day he disappeared and four years later he’s still missing from her life.

Except for rare visits to Club Fantasy she’s retreated from the D/s lifestyle. Then her sister insists she accept the gift of a night at Club Fantasy with a Dom who knows just how to satisfy all her sexual needs. She accepts with some reservation, especially when the dungeon master blindfolds her before taking her to the private room. Before the night is over she finds a lot more than hours of intense sexual delights.

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~Excerpt~

Fantasy discreetly stood in the north side of the city, an adobe structure with a red barrel tile roof. It sat squarely between a one-story office building and another Spanish-style building housing a home design firm. The difference between the three structures was that Fantasy owned all the property behind it to allow sufficient space for parking. Visitors entered through a canopied door at the rear of the building.

The limo deposited her right at the canopy, the driver opened her door, and she slid across the seat. She pressed the doorbell set into the adobe and swallowed hard to steady her nerves. When the heavy carved wooden door swung open she stepped into the oak-paneled reception area on legs suddenly slightly unsteady.

“Good evening, Miss Johanna.”

Lila, the greeter, smiled at her.

“We haven’t had the pleasure of your visits for some time.”

Jo smoothed her hands down the flimsy material of her dress.

“No, I’ve been, uh, somewhat busy.”

“Well, we’re certainly glad you’ve chosen to celebrate your birthday with us. Your sister has made all the arrangements. I trust you’ll find them to your liking.”

“One can hope,” she muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

Jo pasted on a smile.

“I’m ready for the festivities to begin.”

“I’m positive you’ll enjoy the evening planned for you,” Lila smoothly said. “Let’s get your purse into a locker.”

She lifted a hand and beckoned.

“Jason? Our special guest is here.”

Special guest? Jo frowned. Exactly how special? She wondered if she’d regret agreeing to this. Her palms dampened and her throat was suddenly dry. She might have turned and run back out the door, but Jason gave her a warm smile. Black leather pants and a vest outlined a husky figure that was solid muscle. His long blond hair was intricately braided with a thin silver rope and hung down his back nearly to his waist. He was a familiar face to her, a dungeon master with whom she’d interacted many times.

“Happy birthday, Miss Johanna.” He grinned at her. “We’re happy you’re spending it with us here at Fantasy.”

“Thanks, Jason.” She gave him a weak smile. “I think.”

“Miss Kira was very specific about tonight’s arrangements.”

He winked, took her arm, and led her down a short hallway to the room where people stowed their possessions and clothing before entering the club.

When Jason reached for her purse she tightly clutched it, overcome with a sudden urge to turn and make a break for the door. But the tall man placed his hand over one of hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“I know you have some reservations because you haven’t been here to play in a long time,” he told her. “But let me assure you, tonight will fulfill your greatest fantasies.”

Jo had plenty of misgivings, considering the man of her fantasies had disappeared off the face of the earth. Could she actually be with another Dom in a place where she and Sean had been completely intimate and explored nearly every aspect of BDSM?

Yes, you can.

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FANTASY VS REALITY by Zenobia Renquist

FANTASY VS REALITY by Zenobia Renquist

When the line between fantasy and reality is erased, the real fun begins.

Stacy hates benefit dinners -- fake smiles and empty conversation with people she can barely tolerate. Good thing she has her imagination to keep her occupied with sexual fantasies involving the other guests. As the night wears on her imaginings become more vivid and it gets harder to tell where fantasy ends and reality begins.

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Fantasy vs. Reality
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2013 Zenobia Renquist

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Nick slipped his hand around her waist and steered her away. "Honey, there's a hors d'oeuvres buffet. You missed lunch, right? Go get a snack."

She looked in the direction he indicated. Several people gathered around a long table of varied finger foods and pre-poured drinks. "Looks delicious. Did you want anything?"

"Surprise me." He kissed her cheek and gave her butt a pat.

His jealous attitude made her smile. Typical Nick. He loved when she wore outfits that showed off her body so people could see how good he had it, but that love waned when people's interest lingered longer than it should... especially on her breasts. Nick loved her breasts. She'd gotten the dress for that reason.

He would be so hot and bothered by the time they got home that he wouldn't waste the time to get to the bedroom before unzipping her. With the kids visiting their grandparents this weekend, that all but guaranteed sex against the front door and on the couch and possibly the coffee table.

Nick would be in top form and employing every trick to get her in a better mood after having to put up with his coworkers. Thinking about it made her panties wet. This evening couldn't end fast enough for her.

A man bumped Stacy as he turned from the buffet table. Sauce from the small plate he carried dripped onto the swell of one of Stacy's breasts. She made a perturbed noise and backed up a step, bumping a second person and not caring.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I should have looked before I turned," the man said. "At least it missed the dress, right?" He gave a strained chuckle and then cleared his throat. "Here. Let me uh... get... uh... Excuse me." He leaned over and put his plate down before reaching past Stacy.

She thought he would grab a napkin so she could get the sauce before it dripped between her breasts. A surprised squeak escaped her mouth when he slipped an arm around her waist and held her close as he ducked his head. His hot mouth landed on her skin, followed by his tongue. He licked her skin, removing the sauce and sending Stacy's libido into overdrive.

She leaned back with her hands on his shoulders prepared to push him away. Her fingers bunched into the shoulders of his suit, pulling him closer as he trailed his mouth to the edge of her dress.

He said in a husky voice, feathering his breath across her skin, "I think I got it all, but I better check to be sure. You don't want to be sticky."

"No, I don't."

His tongue returned, delving between her breasts, as he scooped one hand into her dress and edged it down. Her breasts bounced when the dress gave way and exposed her nipples to the cool air. They hardened, begging for attention as the man worked his mouth down between her breasts and then to the side. When he took one nipple into his mouth, Stacy let out in a soft moan.

He circled his tongue around the hard nub and then flicked it before sucking at it. Stacy arched into his mouth with her leg riding his hip. A hard bulge in his pants pressed against her clit, exciting her more. Shifting her hips in a slight side-to-side motion, she rubbed her pussy against him.

The hand he had around her waist moved lower, slipping into the opening of her dress so he cupped her ass. Oh, yes. She was very happy she'd bought this dress. Easy access made everything better faster.

The man released her nipple with a soft pop and met her gaze. "Maybe you should do it instead."

Stacy blinked a few times and reality reasserted itself. The man stood with a napkin held out to her and a sheepish expression that made him appear younger than he probably was. She snatched the napkin from him and dabbed at the sauce, getting to it right before it started dripping between her breasts.

"Sorry again." He retrieved his plate and walked away.

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AUDIT THIS! by Anne Kane

AUDIT THIS! by Anne Kane

When government tax auditor Nick finds himself obsessed with the work of erotic romance author Khloe Matters, there's only one thing to do. Audit her! But getting a closer look at the sexy author in her own home just makes him switch his obsession from the writing to the writer.

When he accompanies her to a writers' festival, things heat up in a hurry. Neither of them is being entirely honest, and as the weekend progresses so does the hilariously tangled webs of deceit as each of them seeks to further their own agenda.

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Audit This!
Anne Kane
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2013 Anne Kane

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

"What do you mean you're disallowing ninety percent of the expenses I claimed?" Khloe tried not to scream at the smug smile on the auditor's face. Hard to believe her libido had jumped to attention when he'd first showed up at her door. Just went to show how bad a judge of character she was. "You can't do that. They are all legitimate business deductions."

"Really?" The man raised one of those perfect brows. "Care to explain how a trip to Spain qualifies as a business expense? You're a writer. You don't have to leave the house. You don't even have to get dressed."

Khloe gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath to calm herself down before she answered. She knew his name. Nicholas Carver. She just didn't think a government auditor deserved such an impressive name. Calling him a dumb-assed bean counter probably wouldn't help her situation, though.

"Although I have not claimed any clothing expenses, I assure you I do have to get dressed. My neighbours are a conservative bunch. I do have to leave the house occasionally, and I generally make a point of putting some clothes on before I do. That trip was for research." Well, duh, what else would it be? Maybe this guy got all the looks and none of the brains. "My last mystery novel was set in Madrid during the running of the bulls. I needed to be there to get the feel of the place and understand the atmosphere, how the crowd reacted. I wouldn't stay in business long if I didn't pay attention to the little details. Readers can smell a mistake a mile away, and if I lose their trust I'll be working at the grocery store for a fraction of what I make writing."

The auditor snorted. "Quite the drama queen, aren't you? I might accept the research excuse if the tone came through in your work, assuming we're talking about a published manuscript. Do you have a copy of that alleged book?"

The sceptical tone of his voice, not to mention his use of the word "alleged," set Khloe's teeth on edge. How dare he sit there in his perfectly pressed suit and make her justify every item on her tax return? Oh right. He was the almighty tax department auditor! Maybe it would help if she curtseyed or kissed his ring or something.

She smiled sweetly. "Of course." Turning, she ran her fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf. Plucking Bullfighter's Downfall out, she handed it to him. It took quite some effort to keep her smile from turning into a snarl. "I hope you enjoy it. It spent two months on the New York Times Best Sellers list."

He took the book, his brows rising at the cover picturing a couple in a passionate embrace against a backdrop of the famous bull run. Turning the book over, he read the back cover before looking up at her. "Romantic suspense? You're one of those kinds of authors?"

Okay, he might be the big-shot auditor, and he had the ability to make her life, not to mention her finances, a living hell, but he had no right to use that tone of voice when describing the genre she loved.

"Exactly what do you mean by that?" She straightened up to her full five feet five inches and glared down at him. "If you mean one of those authors who can take two characters, introduce them to each other and make them fall passionately and fervently in love while they dodge bullets, murder, mayhem and other nasty plot points, then yes. I'm one of these kinds of authors. And in case you don't believe me, you might want to ask the thousands of readers whose buying habits have put me on the New York Times Best Sellers list time and again."

"No need to get defensive. It's hardly War and Peace but I'm sure it's a very nice story."

It took all of her willpower not to grab the heaviest book on the shelf and smack him over the head with it. War and Peace indeed! "Have you ever tried to read War and Peace?" She took a step forward, gratified at his flinch. "My books are meant to entertain people and take them away from their everyday lives, not bore them to death."

He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "Well, no, I haven't actually read it. I'm more of a John Grisham fan. Lots of war but not much peace."

She felt the tension in her gut relaxing a bit. He wasn't quite the pretentious prig he looked like. Actually, if she took an honest look at him, he resembled the cover models for some of her steamier books.

And that gave her an idea.

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