RUNAWAY COWGIRL by Cheryl Dragon

RUNAWAY COWGIRL by Cheryl Dragon

Emily isn’t about to marry just any man, but falling in love with two hot ranchers might be more than this respectable young lady can handle.

Emily St. Claire is wealthy, beautiful, young and very eligible to the single men of Manitou Springs, Colorado. The Wild West isn’t safe for a woman alone, but she isn’t about to marry for anything but love. Her charitable efforts put her in touch with all manner of people, and while she’s respectable, she causes gossip around the small town as she tries to help prostitutes and orphans. Still, she does want a family of her own.

Two handsome young men catch Emily’s eye, but Jack and Henry are so close. How can she pick one of them without destroying their friendship and their partnership? When she finds them in a compromising position, she’s shocked and intrigued. Emily never considered herself conventional, but the men open her eyes even more to how inclusive and varied love can be. Society would never approve, yet it doesn’t feel wrong for the trio. Being courted by two men at once is wild, but committing herself to them is pure madness and pure ecstasy as well. They must keep their ménage secret until they’re sure how to plan a future together so no one will suspect or discover the truth. 1878 isn’t ready for what they have to offer.

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Excerpt:

Copyright © Cheryl Dragon 2014. All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing.

Manitou Springs, Colorado, USA—1878



When the Reverend Young finally dismissed the congregation from Sunday service, Emily St. Claire breathed a sigh of relief. She kept her composure and exited the small wooden church painted white. Smiling at the ladies, Emily appreciated the sympathetic nods.

“We’re all so very sorry about your father, Miss St. Claire. But we’re very glad you’re back,” said Mr Young.

“Thank you. Lovely sermon today.” Emily felt the eyes of the town on her as she waited for her companion Alice Lange, to finish a conversation.

The young widow had been selected by Emily’s father as a companion to his single daughter when he fell ill. It worked out perfectly until Mr St. Claire died and Emily was compelled to spend the mourning period with her sister and brother-in-law in Denver.

Sheriff Drake tipped his hat. “I’m sure being back here is dull compared to life in Denver. Do you intend on moving there to be with your sister? I can deputise some men to secure your belongings and escort you and Mrs Lange.”

“Thank you, but I won’t be moving. My father loved Manitou. He struck his silver and copper near here and built that lovely home for me.” She’d been putting out rumors of her leaving since the day she returned.

Alice walked up to Emily, and it was a relief. The pair headed for Emily’s home not far from the church on the same end of town. The lovely spring day made the exercise delightful but as men fell into step behind the pair, she wished they’d brought the wagon.

“What could they want? The men were staring at me all through church,” she whispered to Alice.

Alice glanced back casually and cleared her throat. “The mercantile owner, the sheriff, the reverend plus a few other single, respectable men are all following us.”

“This is ridiculous.” Emily walked faster, but avoided breaking into a run.

“Your new wardrobe is the envy of every woman in town. The trimmer silhouette and subtle bustle is most becoming.” Alice dabbed a handkerchief over her brow.

“Men don’t care about fashion. They’ve not lowered the necklines.” Emily toyed with the slightly belled cuff at her elbow. The lavender gown was new from her Denver days. She owned a great deal of black, but had put a portion of her substantial inheritance into a new wardrobe and some bolts of fabric for future replacement pieces. The newer fashions were more comfortable. More practical jackets complimented the layered skirts with a slight bustle. It was much better than the hoop skirts of her youth.

“You’re a lovely young woman who is staying in Manitou,” Alice said.

The demure choker around Emily’s throat felt a bit tighter. “They can’t be serious.”

“Some of those men aren’t in town except for church and supplies. They won’t have much opportunity but to call today. Not all are objectionable,” Alice said.

The women ascended the porch steps. Her home was the grandest in Manitou with etched glass and no expense spared. The housekeeper opened the door for them.

“Hello, Sarah.” Emily stepped a foot inside and saw the old woman warily eyeing the men out front.

“You’ve got callers, Miss St. Claire.” Sarah nodded.

Emily turned and plastered a ladylike smile on her face. “Gentlemen, what can I do for you?”

“Miss St. Claire, your intention to stay is a blessing to the town,” said Young.

“Thank you.” She knew her charitable efforts could be considered excessive, but it was useful, and she employed some individuals, of course. She also shopped liberally.

“However, you must take certain factors into account. For your reputation,” the sheriff added.

“My reputation? Mrs Lange is my constant companion. You doubt her respectability?” Emily asked curtly.

Young held up a hand. “No one doubts anyone’s honour or respectability. However, a single woman alone is a danger. In a big city where they have women’s boarding houses or in Denver with your sister, that’s a different situation. Out west in a town like this, with so many single men, and helping—”

“Orphans and fallen women need help too. I don’t need your permission to be charitable with my money.” Emily’s headstrong antics often gave her father fits, but staying in a big city like Denver had proven she wasn’t a fool. Growing up with a dreamer for a father, she watched him rise to a man of status because of his mines. The world had changed its view of him. So change was possible and rules were meant to be broken.

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KAT'S KARMA by Cheryl Dragon

KAT'S KARMA by Cheryl Dragon 

Fantasy Castle Series Book One

Physical therapist Kat doesn’t fall for patients, especially hot younger men. Brody and Sean aren’t giving up and the Fantasy Castle staff is on their side!

Best friends and brothers-in-arms Brody Huxley and Sean Morgan came back from serving overseas with serious injuries. Kat Calvino whipped them into shape again with physical therapy. Despite her attraction and attachment to the sexy younger men, she refused to become romantically involved with either of them.

Even if they can’t have her, the men want to do something nice and reconnect with the hot woman who stole both of their hearts. Done with their service, they’ve built lives but without her nothing feels complete. The Fantasy Castle is the perfect answer complete with luxury and privacy. Her arguments now seem pointless. They’re not her patients anymore and they’re happy to share her in every way.

Even with both men thrilling her sexually, there’s a problem with the arrangement that she can’t fix. Loving them is easy, trusting them to work out the unexpected bump in the road tests the friendship and their future.

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Excerpt:

Copyright © Cheryl Dragon, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: Kat's Karma

Brody Huxley closed the file drawer and turned back to his desk. Midday sun streamed into the office through the big windows and highlighted the well-worn furniture in the old building. Customers rarely came to the location. The part-time help would be in after lunch, but Brody didn’t mind manning the place solo.

In the quiet moments alone he knew something was missing. The pinch in his knee reminded him of all the things he’d put in the past. He was haunted by the memory of the fighting overseas and an IED that had exploded close to him and his best friend, Sean Morgan. His knee had been replaced, but the muscle and tendon damage seized up occasionally, causing him pain. His fighting days were behind him, but at twenty-seven, his life wasn’t over yet.

As usual, Sean had been right. A desk job had been the safe bet considering Brody’s knee. Pride was something he’d had to let go of back in rehab when he’d fallen for a sexy physical therapist who could knock Brody over with a smile. Needing a little help hadn’t killed him, but when Sean had wanted her as well, things had become complicated.

Kat Calvino had made Brody and Sean work hard to regain their independence. She’d also solved their dilemma by laying down her law of never dating patients. Six months out of rehab and Brody was still hung up on the raven-haired woman nearly ten years older than him.

Behind the desk, Brody dispatched a couple of handymen to new jobs. Sean and his father owned a small construction company that operated a handyman service on the side. In the winter they added snow removal service since construction slowed way down around Chicago. The routine was good, but today something nagged at Brody until he opened the Internet and went to the site for the Fantasy Castle.

Sean walked in and plopped in the guest chair. "I’m done for the morning. Want to grab lunch?"

"Sure." Brody glanced at Sean’s arm. He wore short sleeves and didn’t think twice about the ugly scars trailing up and down his arm. Multiple fractures had meant pins and surgeries for him too.

"What are you staring at? Found naughty pictures of Kat on a website?" Sean rounded the desk eagerly.

Sean wasn’t over Kat either but when neither of you won, did it matter? As much as they’d tempted her to break that rule about dating patients, she was a professional. At thirty-six, she wasn’t playing hard-to-get. She knew what worked for her. All the more reason he admired her.

"Fantasy Castle? What’s that? Some sort of kinky amusement park?" Sean asked.

"No. It’s a resort. You can nominate people who do charitable stuff and good things for others. They get a fantasy week in this castle, if selected." Brody had stumbled on to it trying to find a way to repay Kat. He knew Sean would see right through the plan, but doing something for her felt right. Flowers or some other little trinket wouldn’t be nearly enough for what she did for the waves of injured soldiers coming home.

"If you want to get in touch with Kat, call her. We’ve got her cell number. We haven’t been her patients for months." Sean downplayed his interest, but Brody knew better.

"This isn’t about trying to date her. She gave us that number if we needed a little refresher rehab. Physical therapist is her job, but she doesn’t have to work with the military. She didn’t have to help us through it all beyond the physical injuries." Brody began filling in the form. Kat took care of most of the men like they were her brothers…but their spark was different. Brody could tell she felt something more for him and Sean. She’d had to fight it.

"Fine, so you want her to win a nice vacation. I’m in. What do we need to do?" Sean leaned over and read the requirements. "Four testimonials. I’ll call a couple of the guys. We can write up ours and send them in. Just don’t get your hopes up."

Brody shrugged. "She deserves it. A thank you card won’t cut it."

"If she comes around, we share." Sean held out his fist.

Brody bumped it. They’d never fall out or fight. That pact had been made when they were both pursuing her. Kat was special. They’d tried to get out and date since, but no one felt right. Women their age were either repulsed or turned on by their scars and military service. Most didn’t fully grasp how deep the damage went.

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FIRE AND ICE by Sara York

FIRE AND ICE by Sara York

How can an angel win the woman of his heart when he’s trapped in a demon’s body?

With Raphael’s soul ripped from his angelic body, he’s forced to inhabit the demon Lash’s ugly form until he can help Alexandria overcome her anger and forgive. Raphael’s been in love with Alexandria for decades and wants her, but he’s Lash now and despises his new body. How could anyone fall in love with him, much less the beautiful Alexandria?

Alexandria doesn’t know what’s gotten into her. Rafe is the man of her dreams but when she touches Lash a firestorm of desire is unleashed... She has to have him. Confusion about her desires leaves her vulnerable to the evil fate Rafe has planned for her.

Can the angel in demon form, Lash, fight off Rafe and save Alexandria from hell and himself from eternal punishment of living as a demon?

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Copyright © Sara York, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: Fire and Ice

Raphael had known he'd made a mistake the minute he'd reached down and touched Alexandria, bringing her back to life, but he hadn't thought the punishment would be this harsh. He loved the woman and hadn't been able to stop himself from interfering. All he'd needed was more time to get to know her, but if she'd died she would have been lost to him in the human afterlife.

Now he lay prostrate in the Court of Angels, his wings vibrating with fear and anger at himself. How could God have let this happen? He hadn't done anything that bad, just saved one girl.

"The sentence shall be read," Michael's voice boomed over the assembly.

Jophiel, the Angel of Judgment, banged the gavel and spoke. "The all—knowing, all—seeing God has decided, based on the crime described in the notes, that Raphael knowingly and willingly interfered in God's divine and perfect will. Thus his soul shall be taken from his body, denying him his angelic powers and form, and placed in the earthly body of Lahash, the Deceiver."

Raphael groaned, his wings collapsed over his outstretched arms, hiding his body from the court. He wasn't deceiving any of them, but he needed the comfort and security the thick wings provided. He hadn't been without his wings in forever, but now he would be stripped of his position and his rights. Why had he interfered?

The image of Alexandria filled his mind, the most perfect woman he'd ever seen. He hadn't been able to resist rescuing her.

Jophiel continued reading. "Raphael will be sent to Earth to redeem himself."

Raphael looked up, his eyes bright. He could redeem himself—at least he had hope, and he would do whatever it took to win back his wings.

"Raphael shall be known as Lash. Any reference to his true form as his own, the name Raphael as his own, or any part of his works as his own will result in Puriel's wrath striking against him, inflicting pain that will force Raphael to his knees."

Shit, Puriel loved to inflict pain and he would judge harshly. No way could Raphael trick him. He was stuck with the new body, but how bad could it be? Raphael closed his eyes and thought of the bodies he'd seen demons inhabit on Earth, and he cringed.

Jophiel's voice droned on, leaving Raphael depressed. "Henceforth, Raphael shall be known as Lash, the angel in the demon's body, until such time that he redeems himself. Lahash the Deceiver and Interferer in Divine Will shall take the form of Raphael on Earth. He shall be given the name Rafe. Both Raphael and Lahash will have the opportunity to redeem their souls. Whosoever completes the task first shall have the right to choose in whichever form they wish to live out the rest of eternity. Time is limited. After first contact with Alexandria, you will have seven days to accomplish your task. So be it."

The gavel crashed down, and Raphael's soul was ripped from his body and tossed through nothingness, before being stuffed into a scrawny form that felt cramped and smelt funny. He crawled to his knees and stood on wobbly legs. The gravitational forces of Earth felt strange to him, and he stumbled as he made his way across the room. He reached up and felt his face before he looked down and saw his pasty, white limbs. He pushed the door to the bathroom open, revealing a mirror.

He caught his reflection and horror filled him. Gone were the good looks, the great tan and the awesome body that had been his earthly host when he chose to walk among mortals. In its place was a plainness that was pitiful, bordering on ugly.

The name Lash was burned into his brain, giving him no choice but to call himself by the disgusting moniker. He tried to think of himself as Raphael, but dropped to his knees as pain slashed across his chest. Damn Puriel—he was tuned in not only to Lash's words, but also to his thoughts.

His soul shrank and his body ached from the switch. God had plans that Lash didn't understand fully, that much was evident. That he'd saved Alexandria didn't matter—instead, it had upset the Big Guy. The punishment might have been fitting, but the harshness of it sucked. He'd switched lives, tasks and holy appointments with Lahash, the Interferer in Divine Will, and Lahash had been given a chance to redeem himself as Raphael, the Shining One Who Heals.

He would win this challenge and have the right to his own body. Nothing could stop him. He had to win.

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UNTIL THE NIGHT by Wendi Zwaduk

UNTIL THE NIGHT by Wendi Zwaduk

Having a mate can be a pain. Having three…now that’s unheard of…

Gypsy volunteered to become a vampire, but she had no idea just what she’d agreed to do. As a human, she’d had her pick of willing males to warm her bed. As a creature of the night, she’s striking out. Until she meets Kendall. He knows what she is and doesn’t care. He’s loved her since he met her, but he had no idea just how complicated her life truly was. Her protectors refuse to leave her side. But what if he wants them on his side, too? Allan and Todd are mates, plain and simple. Gypsy is in their charge. Period. Until they start to see her not as a problem, but a sexy solution complete with an adorable human thrown in for fun. Can they come together as a foursome or will they destroy everything they’ve built in the name of passion?

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Copyright © Wendi Zwaduk, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: Until the Night

"I’m lost and I want to go back home."

Gypsy sang the song she’d made up to herself and shimmied in her cage. The patrons around her gyrated and waved their hands in the air. Smoke billowed from the machines by the DJ table and floated out over the crowd. Lights flickered over the sea of bodies, but the scene around her didn’t capture her attention.

Someone touched her foot. When Gypsy glanced down to the bottom of the cage, her relief, Alyssa, one of the other dancers, offered a lopsided grin. "You can go now."

When the song ended, Gypsy opened the catch on the cage and stepped into the main room. Most nights, the allure of the Chatty Catty Club suited her. Not tonight. She stared at the bar. Allan wasn’t standing in his regular spot at the far end by the kitchen doors. Another bartender was working the margarita machine. Todd wasn’t at his post by the main entrance, either. Two muscle-bound men hulked on either side of the double doors. Where the hell were her best friends? Probably off with some sexy club girl wanting a good time. The Goddess knew Allan and Todd liked to have a good time.

Not with her.

Allan and Todd had their pick of the women who frequented the club. Both of them spent lots of time with Gypsy, but neither wanted anything other than friendship with her. She wanted more—Todd behind her, Allan in front while they pleasured her. Then in reverse. Except she’d never bothered to tell them how she felt.

Sighing, Gypsy hiked the bodice of her top up to cover another inch of her cleavage. Her inner wrist brushed her nipple through the thin fabric. She shivered. What if the objects of her desire touched her? Her pussy quivered and her fangs elongated in her mouth. She needed blood and sex. Preferably from someone who understood her new vampire nature—a man, or two, to love her. Going without blood for nearly a week hurt. Her body constantly ached, she wobbled in her cage and her focus flailed…but, damn it, she refused to hunt.

If someone had told her when she’d agreed to let Jamison change her that her life would never be the same, she would’ve dug in her feet and not have become a vampire. She didn’t mind sleeping during the day and partying all night, but the cuisine choices sucked. Either kill to eat or beg a human to allow you to bite them—and if that didn’t work then she got to starve.

What if I want a steak? Or a daiquiri?

Thinking about food wouldn’t help matters, anyway. She shoved the thoughts aside and strode to the bar. A woman from the fringe of the crowd stopped her. Her dark eyes glittered in the flashing blue and green light. "Care to dance, sweet thing? Aren’t you…mmm…sexy?"

Her smile, wide and bright, didn’t do anything for her. Sure, she embodied sex with sumptuous curves and beautifully shaped breasts, but Gypsy didn’t do girls. Not usually. Moreover, her admirer wasn’t Allan. Or Todd for that matter. The guys understood her. Hell, they intrigued her. They made her body quiver in all the right places with just a look. The chick smiling at her? Nada. If anything, she was creeped out.

"Thanks, but no thanks." She brushed by the woman and stepped forward.

"You’re here to entertain. Entertain me." She dug her fingernails in Gypsy’s arm. "I want to see something sexy. Do it."

Her growl chilled Gypsy’s blood. She caught the distinct whiff of fruit. Oranges? Gypsy ground her teeth together. O’Toole had smelt of strawberries, but she’d seen her sister destroy him.

"Look, asshat, this isn’t a tittie club. It’s a dance club. Skin, yes—sex, no." Gypsy shrugged out of the woman’s grasp. "I’m not interested and I will use my boot. Got it?"

The woman’s eyes flashed and she tipped her head once in a jerking motion. "Whatever, bitch. You will."

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SELLING IT by Sara York

SELLING IT by Sara York

Love heals all scars.

Teens are dying and Blaine Wilson, a DC police detective, knows why. The scars on his right leg, left rib cage and
left collar bone are a brutal reminder of his past as a teen prostitute, and a key to solving this investigation.

Blaine’s trips to gay bars are reckless but he’s searching for solace for his wounds. When he meets Andy everything changes. Dating Andy forces him out of the closet at work and then he has to admit his past indiscretions to his captain.

Andy falls in love at the drop of a hat and he's promised his two best friends he won't fall so easily again. When he meets Blaine he's helpless to resist the instant attraction.

Andy and Blaine are dedicated to making their relationship work when the killer targets Andy and his two best friends. Can Blaine save his lover and Andy’s friends without losing himself?

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Copyright © Sara York, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: Selling It

Blaine couldn’t have imagined a worse ending. Blood covered the floor of the shit motel room and sprayed up the walls, almost to the ceiling. He glanced down at the broken body and cringed. The neck wound had probably caused most of this mess. His heart squeezed and his eyes burned. Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose to stop any tears from falling. Hell, he was a seasoned detective and shouldn’t show weakness, plus if the others found out it would come back to haunt him. There’d be jokes around the station about him crying like a baby. He shivered. No emotion, and no weakness.

He’d seen this kind of injury before. He knew the boy had felt the pain, suffering in death just as he’d suffered in life. Unconsciously, Blaine’s right hand sought out his own scars. First the fingers of his right hand grazed his left collarbone, then his left ribs, finally coming to rest on his right hip. Then, realizing what he was doing, he covered his movements by cocking his hip to the side and resting his hand there, as if he were casually observing the scene. Casual was far from how he felt. His blood boiled and his head spun.

The boy must have been scared shitless. He’d seen the knife coming at him—had to have.

“Hey, Wilson, how come you always stand like that at murder scenes? Never mind, I’m sure ice water runs through your veins.” His partner, Lucy Abbot, sauntered into the room. She was short, sassy and quick to laugh. Eventually, after he’d worked with her for long enough, she would expect answers that he wouldn’t want to give. Why didn’t he date, what was his hang-up about girls? Ugh, maybe he should...but no, not yet.

“This is a mess,” Blaine said.

“People round here don’t know how to murder clean. Always is a mess.” Lucy pulled on a pair of gloves and flexed her fingers.

“He’s probably around fifteen, maybe sixteen.” Blaine knew the kid had to have been desperate. It was the only reason anyone would pick this life filled with skanky hook-ups, all for a little cash.

“Think he had family?” Lucy bent down to examine the body.

“Abbot, everyone has family. The question is why they didn’t give a rip shit about him.”

Her gaze connected with his. She looked hurt. “They might have cared and just didn’t know what to do.”

“No mother or father would ever want their little boy out here selling himself like this.”

“We don’t know he was a prostitute.”

Blaine looked away from the body, no longer able to stomach the scene. “The kid was a pro. Look at how skinny he was. His fingernails are black, his knees worn. Just look at the red marks. He spent his free time on his knees, either blowing or being screwed.”

“Poor kid.” Lucy’s voice was full of pity.

Blaine didn’t want to think about the life the kid had lived. Didn’t want to think about the desperation of not knowing where your next meal would come from. The self-loathing and hate that accompanied turning tricks, or the false bravado the kid would’ve had to have to keep up the life.

Flashes of desperate nights and lonely days played through his head. He blocked them out, focusing on the meticulous tasks of gathering evidence. The crime scene techs were doing their job, but he couldn’t sit still. He slid on gloves and began sorting through the boy’s clothes.

The kid'’s shoes were dirty and eaten through at the sole. Somehow the shoes had escaped the bloody mess. They must have been taken off before he was attacked.

Blaine carefully bagged each shoe. Next, he folded the shirt where it lay and slid the material into an evidence bag. He bunched the underwear and pants together so he didn’t drop any stray hairs or fibres, then placed them in a separate bag.

After labelling each bag he called the photographer over and had them take shots of the bagged clothes and the flooring underneath where the clothing had been flung.

Lucy finished her conversation with one of the crime scene techs and made her way towards him. For a moment he wondered what she would say if she knew the truth about him. No one in DC had any idea. Hell, no one in his life knew of his past.

“Did it look like the clothes had been removed before death?” Lucy asked.

“Probably so. The techies will need to have the final say on that. What about you? Any thoughts?”

“Whoever did this is a bastard.”

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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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 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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BOUND BY THE BILLIONAIRE

BOUND BY THE BILLIONAIRE Anthology

Anthology contains stories from Desiree Holt, Wendi Zwaduk, Sierra Cartwright, Natalie Dae, Justine Elyot and Amy Valenti.

MADE FOR HIM by Desiree Holt

She had one weekend to convince him she was made for him.

Micah Sheridan is a self-made billionaire who has the world at his fingertips. He can have any woman he wants but they all seem to leave him unfulfilled.

What he really wants is a woman who can submit to him completely in the bedroom but who is a strong person out in the world. An equal match for him.

Enter Teri Choate who heads an executive search agency. She’s searching, too—for a man who can master her in bed yet allow her strong personality to flourish beyond the bedroom door.

The chemistry between them is so explosive it should come with a warning. When a few nights together reveal she is as addicted to BDSM as he is, he has her flown to his secluded Maine island.
She has one weekend to prove to him she can be the perfect submissive in the bedroom and an equal beyond the bedroom doors.

In short, a woman who is made for him.

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~Excerpt~

I’m not making a mistake. This is the chance of a lifetime. Everything will be fine.  Teri Choate locked her fingers together in her lap, watching through the helicopter window as the Friday afternoon sun lit the waters of the Atlantic Ocean below her. A representative of Micah Sheridan’s had arrived at her condo in San Antonio at noon to take her to the private airstrip where the Sheridan Worldwide helo awaited her. Now, as they got closer and closer to his private island off the coast of Maine, as the weekend loomed before her, she forced back the case of nerves that kept trying to take over her body. This weekend was a test, for both her and Micah Sheridan. He wanted to push her, to see if she could fully match his needs as a Dom. What would he ask her to do that would show him she trusted him completely? She wanted desperately to unlock his heart, because she’d had the misfortune to fall in love with the man and that was a disaster in the making. Could she submit to him as completely as he demanded, no matter what level he took her to? And could he finally unlock the shackles he kept around his emotions to make their relationship emotional as well as physical? Commit to something long term? She had struggled for so long with the clash between her submissive nature and her strong personality. It had been a big step for her, even before she’d met Micah, to blend those two parts of her. Two sides of the same coin. The result had been some less than satisfactory relationships, leaving her to constrain her sexual activities to impersonal sessions at The Castle, the private bondage club she belonged to. It never ceased to amaze her that while she ran an executive employment agency that served clients everywhere, making decisions that involved power and money, once she took off her clothes she turned into someone else. She was sure that was the reason she’d never been able to build a lasting relationship. Until Micah Sheridan. The man she knew could take control without controlling her. At thirty-eight he had amassed a global fortune and was both respected and feared in business communities all over the world. The world saw him as a man in elegantly tailored clothing with a sharp business mind and a ruthless attitude, yet still playing with all the toys a man of his wealth accumulated.  She’d done her homework on him. She was aware that this home she was on her way to was only one of many. He had a villa in Cannes, one in Acapulco, a condo in Hong Kong and a chalet in Switzerland. He raced cars for fun, skied both the Alps and the Andes, kept fully outfitted yachts at each of his villas, and never carried a suitcase because every one of his homes was outfitted with his needs.

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STILL THE ONE by Wendi Zwaduk

STILL THE ONE by Wendi Zwaduk

She’ll be his salvation if he’s willing to switch.

Being stressed out sucks, especially when you’re in charge of a team. Just ask Eric Trask. The pit crew of the Fifty-Four truck team depends on him. The stress of keeping things running smoothly is wearing Eric down. What’s a guy to do to get a little relief?

Janine Walters knows exactly what Eric’s up against. She’s the public relations face of the team. Pressure is all a part of the job. Her outlet for stress just happens to be wielding a crop.

Can Eric embrace her methods for stress relief or will her suggestion tear their fragile relationship apart?

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Copyright © Wendi Zwaduk, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: Still the One

For once I’d like things to go according to plan. Eric Trask gritted his teeth. If he kept up the nervous gesture, he’d break his teeth and bite clean through his jaw. He wiped his hands on his shop towel and measured the B-post on the race truck once more. The thing should’ve fit the templates. Damn. He glanced up at the flags hanging from the ceiling. Each flag highlighted a win for Blitz racing—the racing team he loved and worked for.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Oh, fuck. Not another thing.

He flicked on the screen and set the call to speaker. "Trask."

"I’m glad I caught you. Are you on your way to the airport? You do remember it’s Tuesday morning, don’t you?" Megan Poston, the team owner, asked from her end of the call. "You’re supposed to be here, helping to get the truck around for practice tomorrow."

On his way? Practice? Eric glanced over his shoulder at the wall clock. Eleven-forty-five a.m. Shit. He should’ve been cleaned up and at the airport fifteen minutes ago. Hell. He’d just got back from Michigan.

"I’m still at the shop. The B-post on the Atlanta truck isn’t fitting the templates right. Give me another fifteen and I’ll be out the door."

"It’s a quicker turnaround in your schedule, but this isn’t like you." Megan went silent for a long moment. "Tucker wants to talk to you."

The connection snapped and crackled as Megan handed the phone to Tucker. "Eric?"

"You called me." Eric groaned. "I’m sorry, man. What’s up?"

"That’s what I wanted to ask you." The line snapped again. "I had to get out of Megan’s earshot. She’s worried because you’re not here."

"The B-post is fucked up. I don’t know how it was fabricated wrong, but it was."

"Shit happens. Look, you’ve been freaking out about everything. You’re the calmest guy I know. Why are you chewing everyone out? I wouldn’t have nominated you for the crew chief position if I’d thought you couldn’t handle it."

"I can handle it. There’s just a lot of crap happening and this quick run of races over the weekend. I got behind but I’ll get the rest of the way caught up."

"Like?"

"Broken spark plugs on the backup truck. I’ve spent four hours going through the box. Half of them are screwed up. We never have that issue."

"Have Delaney work on it. He’s in the engine shop for a reason."

"I can’t figure out what the hell you stuffed in the radiator before you slammed into the wall in Pocono. It’s shit like that."

"Okay, I’m going to get a little emo on you, but tough titties. You’re my best friend and like my brother. You’re going to have to chill out. Your blood pressure has to be through the roof and, yes, before you butt in with it, I know you’re healthy as a horse. Guess what? I don’t want my best friend to kick off because of hypertension."

"Hypertension won’t kill me."

"Uh-huh. How is your blood pressure?"

"I don’t have a monitor right here to check."

"That’s what I thought. I had to talk to the powers that be today, too. Seems you’ve been swearing more than they deem necessary on the radios."

Fuck.

"I can swear with the best of them. You and I both know that. But I don’t want you to have to suffer the freaking crazy fines I’ve had. Okay? You need to find a means for managing the stress."

"I’m not going to an anger management class."

Tucker groaned. "Seriously? It might help. Teach you ways to centre instead of giving in to the tension."

"I’ll think about it."

"Good, and get your ass to the airport. We’ve got strategies to get done." Tucker clicked off the line, leaving Eric in the chaotic clangs of tools and chatter from the guys working in the shop. A radio somewhere across the room blared a recent country music hit.

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MISS ME BABY by Wendi Zwaduk

MISS ME BABY by Wendi Zwaduk
 

Say you’ll haunt me, since I’ll never stop loving you.

Felicity Black never quite understood love. She worked her assets to get what she wanted and didn’t care who got in the way. Until she met John. He saw past her superficial self to the woman inside. Death separated her from John before she could tell him how she truly felt. Now she’s got her chance...just not in the way she expected.

John wanted Felicity to haunt him. She had been the only woman to stir not only his heart but his soul as well. But the woman claiming to be his lost love can’t be her... Felicity was dead. He has to decide whether to trust his gut or walk away from a new start.

Can a second chance at a first impression lead to love or a lifetime of heartbreak?
 

Reader Advisory: This story contains an out-of-body experience, voyeurism, spanking, rough sex, masturbation, and a chance for love to strike twice.
 

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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: Miss Me Baby


"She didn’t go into the water alone. She had help."

John stared at the flat line on the computer screen and rubbed his chin. He couldn’t believe his ears. The last night he’d seen Felicity, she hadn’t been near the lake. Eight years’ time made more than the memory muddy. Some days he could barely remember her face. Other times, his heart ached like she’d just passed.

He focused on the bad day eight years in the past. The day she’d died. She’d hated water-boating, swimming... Being in water scared her to death. But the pulsating bars on the sound programme accompanied by the words in the dialogue box didn’t lie-someone had called the police tip line.

Someone wanted him to pay for her death. Didn’t the caller realise John had paid for losing Felicity every day since she’d passed?

"Can you play it again? I thought the person sounded familiar, but now I’m not sure." John continued to scrub the back of his hand against his chin.
"She didn’t go into the water alone. She had help."

"Did you see the person who helped her?"

"Yes."

"Who was it?"

"John. John Babcock."

"Can I get your name, sir?"

"Whoever called, they hung up before we got a name. Untraceable, too." Detective Henry Gates tapped his pencil on the pad of paper. "I came here because there’s something fishy about this call. Here’s the thing. We’ve checked your car. Run through your apartment with a fine-tooth comb. If you had anything to do with the drowning of Felicity Black, then we can’t find it." He sighed. "I’ve talked to Ryan. He’s got the most to lose and I can’t find a damned thing on either of you."

"You took my statement. I was right here at Bar Twenty-Three playing a set with Marauder. If I’d known she was going to"-he swallowed past the lump in his throat-"hurt herself, I wouldn’t have taken the stage. I loved her and was helping her get treatment to overcome her demons. We were working on having a future together."

"I believe you-and have all along-but things have never added up in this case." Gates tossed the pencil onto the table. "What’s got me flummoxed is the tip. It’s been eight years. Why didn’t they come forward before? What changed?"

"Nothing’s changed." John sat back in his seat and folded his arms. He crossed his ankles. "I’ve gone through that night in my head so many times, wondering what I could’ve done to change the outcome. She had the divorce papers. Are you sure Ryan knows nothing?"

"Nothing. His alibi is airtight, and with no life insurance or assets other than their home, he had nothing to gain from her passing. Think hard. You’re certain no one has a grudge against you?"

"There will always be patrons here at Bar Twenty-Three who hate my guts for being thrown out or not allowed in, but I doubt they’d stoop to framing me for the death of my girlfriend. They probably don’t remember it."

"Keep your eyes open and let me know if anything comes to mind." Henry stood and smoothed out his suit jacket. "If you think of something else, anything else, let me know." He offered his hand. "I appreciate you speaking to me."

John shook hands with Gates and nodded. "If the coroner ruled it suicide, then the call is the only reason you’ve reopened the case?"

"It’s procedure to follow all leads. This case bothered me from the start because there’s still so much that looks simple on paper, but doesn’t play out simple in actuality. Thank you for your time."


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THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA by Gaston Leroux and Wendi Zwaduk

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA by Gaston Leroux and Wendi Zwaduk
 

A Clandestine Classic
 

A chance sighting at the Opera, fated love, and three lives in turmoil.

One man pledges to own her, while another wants her heart. The Opera sets the stage for romance and intrigue. In the catacombs below the building lives a man rife with sorrow and passion. The Phantom. But he’s not content to live alone. He wants to possess the one woman who can set him free.

His Christine.

Viscount Raoul de Chagny doesn’t believe the rumours of a Ghost living below the Opera. He only has eyes for Christine, his childhood friend and first love. Together they embark on a sensual journey of discovery and fiery desire.

But she can only have one man. Will love raise her up or tear their world apart?
 

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Copyright © Gaston Leroux and Wendi Zwaduk, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: The Phantom of the Opera

"Let me warm you." Christine smiled and tugged another blanket across his body. "You shouldn’t have followed me," she whispered.

"Christine." He wrestled his hand free of the cotton blanket. "I wanted nothing bad to come of you."

"Nothing bad happened. But you-you could catch your death in that cold."

Raoul managed to sit up. He reached for her. Christine perched on the edge of the bed and smoothed her palm along his cheek. "You’re still so chilled."

"My heart is full of emotions only for you." He turned his face into her touch. "Only you."

"Me?" She tipped her head. "You must forget about me."

"I cannot." He threaded his fingers into her hair, drawing her close. "I have the most indecent thoughts when I’m near you." He spoke against her lips. "I can’t help but want to ruin you, only to keep you in my arms a bit longer."

The most beautiful shade of red spread across her cheeks and slipped down the column of her neck. She glanced at the door, then shot from her spot on the bed. Christine twisted the lock and pressed herself against the door.

"What kind of indecent thoughts?" she whispered.

"To lash you to my bed with your body bared to me. I want to take you over and over, hearing you cry out my name. To watch you give me pleasure with your submission to me."

"I’m not educated in the way to love a man." Her chest heaved with each breath. "Will you teach me? I want to be yours, if for only a short time. I want you to show me how much you love me. Teach me?"

"Yes, my love." He held out his hand to her. Christine twisted her fingers with his and eased onto his lap. Her eyes widened.

"What are you asking of me?"

"Your submission. Allow me to direct you as if I were the composer of one of your songs. Do you trust me?" Raoul smoothed a lock of her hair between his fingers. She smelled of flowers, a most intoxicating scent. Although she trembled in his arms, she met him for a kiss. Christine whimpered. Damn the blanket and the layers of fabric between them. He longed to feel her body next to his. He parted her robe and shoved the garment from her shoulders, leaving her in her nightgown. He swiped his tongue along her bottom lip and palmed her breast.

"Raoul," she gasped, but didn’t swat him away. "I trust you."

"Let me make you feel the magic."

Christine stared at him a moment. "What do you want me to do?"

"Give me what I want. Can you do that?" He unbuttoned the top button on her nightgown.

"Show me the depths of your soul."

"I can." She whipped her nightgown up over her head, exposing her body to him. Her rosy nipples peaked and the flush spread across her entire chest.

Raoul shrugged out of his nightshirt and tugged her back onto his lap. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, he lost himself in her sweetness. His desire to conquer her took over. Christine slid her hands up his chest and twined them behind his head.

"Do you still wish to learn? This will not be what you expect."

"I do."

He sat back on his heels and hazarded a glance to the door to reassure himself it was locked.

"Raoul?"

"I do not wish to be interrupted." He grabbed the chair at the small table and dragged it to the couch. "Sit."

Christine hesitated, then moved from his lap to the edge of the bed. Raoul eased her onto her back. He crawled between her thighs. "I will pull out so I don’t leave my seed inside you, but I cannot guarantee this won’t hurt."

She nodded, but didn’t look particularly agreeable. He braced himself on his knees and one hand. With his free hand, he stroked her cheek. "I will make you feel precious when I’m done."

"I’m yours."

His heart leapt. She’d never be his, not truly, but to be his for the night he’d accept. He reached between his legs and stroked his length. The touch of his hand on his skin always made him hard. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stop. This was about her pleasure. He moved down her body and kissed from her breasts to the apex of her thighs. He wanted to linger all over her, but kept on his journey to her sweet vagina.

"Oh." She gasped and reached for him. Raoul nuzzled the pale curls surrounding her cunt. Her scent wrapped around him. Powers be, he’d never get her out of his mind. He spread her pussy lips and suckled on the tight nubbin.

She cried out and dug her fingers into his shoulders. He smiled and licked her clitoris. He blew across the shiny skin, happy when she quivered. Raoul speared one finger into her channel.
 
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SWITCH ANTHOLOGY

SWITCH ANTHOLOGY 

'Top or Bottom?' by Desiree Holt

When you think something is missing from your BDSM relationship, maybe it's time to ask 'top or bottom?'

Both Keith and Shea were looking for something a little different in the BDSM world. Their chance meeting in an adult toy store gave them the opportunity to switch for an afternoon.

But when their playtime was over, would they be fulfilled? And could they go back to their normal roles or would they still crave something more?

Reader Advisory: This book contains active BDSM play and a high degree of smuttiness.

'Still The One' by Wendi Zwaduk

She'll be his salvation if he's willing to switch.

Being stressed out sucks, especially when you're in charge of a team. Just ask Eric Trask. The pit crew of the Fifty-Four truck team depends on him. The stress of keeping things running smoothly is wearing Eric down. What's a guy to do to get a little relief?

Janine Walters knows exactly what Eric's up against. She's the public relations face of the team. Pressure is all a part of the job. Her outlet for stress just happens to be wielding a crop.Can Eric embrace her methods for stress relief or will her suggestion tear their fragile relationship apart?

Reader Advisory: This book contains the use of a crop, spanking, a little bondage, a little pegging, some toys and a woman who knows how to use a strap on to pleasure her man.

Other stories include:

'Mastering Maya' by Lisabet Sarai
Behind the mask of control hides a spirit aching to surrender.

'Wagers of Sin' by Elizabeth Coldwell
Selina will never be a true dominant until she learns to submit...and Marcus bets he can show her how.

'Switching Off' by Amy Valenti
With his collar around her throat and her pulse pounding through her body, can she switch off enough to submit to his every whim?

'Who Compels My Strength' by Lauren Gallagher
Can switching roles restore their confidence in their Dom/sub relationship, or are these doubts happening for a reason?

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~Excerpts~

Top or Bottom? by Desiree Holt

Keith Richmond glanced sideways at the displays on the far wall of the store. Yup, she was still there. Little more than a pixie, her height boosted by sexy stiletto heels. Her short coat, which barely brushed the tops of her thighs, was belted tightly at the waist. He wondered if she was wearing anything beneath it.

When she reached a small hand up to pluck a short switch from its hook, his groin tightened and his cock tried to push its way through the fabric of his pants.

Down, boy!

But she drew him, nonetheless, the magnetic field almost visible. His sub was away for a week. The house felt empty without her and he was seized with a grinding need to satisfy his desires. He'd ditched work for the afternoon, thinking a trip to their favourite adult store to buy her some surprises might help. Besides, he knew they were at some kind of crossroads...both of them were questioning their individual roles. He'd thought about this for weeks, talking himself out of it, then into it again.

He'd seen sex from one side for so long that he wasn't sure if he was capable of being a good Dom anymore. Was he still in tune with his submissive? Had habit taken over their relationship? Was he still as completely intuitive as he'd always been? The quality of a good power exchange depended completely on the Dom and the sub understanding each other's needs, both physically and emotionally. Lately, he'd been questioning his ability to give as well as take.

He'd walked in and there was the pixie, almost as if she'd been waiting for him.

He gave himself a mental shake. He hadn't come to the adult merchandise store to while away the afternoon lost in thought. He'd come here for a reason. And maybe that reason was the tempting piece standing across the store from him. She had "submissive" written all over her. It was in her posture, her gestures. Definitely in her eyes. And certainly, the thin choker gracing her neck was an unmistakeable sign of ownership.

He watched the way her slender fingers brushed over the length of the switch, which was actually a length of birch wrapped in clear, damp cloth. He knew this store well, knew it took a fresh delivery every day. Birch and hickory were the most flexible woods to use for switches. For optimum effect, the birch should be fresh, peeled before the sub, all twigs and detritus efficiently removed. Keith liked to have his sub run her fingers over the freshly denuded wood before he brushed it across the entire length of her body, giving her a light taste of the feel of it before he applied it to her delicate skin.

Was the pixie thinking of her Dom while she caressed the length of wood? How it had felt in the past when he'd wielded it on her body? The sharp raps with it, the stinging pain cutting into her pleasurably, a pause between each so that the pain ebbed just a little until the next bite into her flesh? Liquid trickling from her cunt as her arousal grew in strength? Or did she prefer him to split the tip of the rod into many thin strips and apply it rapidly, raising streaks on her body from shoulders to thighs?

At the thought, Keith wanted to shove his hand inside his pants and grab his cock, to masturbate right here in the store to relieve his need. That brought him back to reality in a hurry.

Still The One by Wendi Zwaduk

For once I'd like things to go according to plan. Eric Trask gritted his teeth. If he kept up the nervous gesture, he'd break his teeth and bite clean through his jaw. He wiped his hands on his shop towel and measured the B-post on the race truck once more. The thing should've fit the templates. Damn. He glanced up at the flags hanging from the ceiling. Each flag highlighted a win for Blitz racing, the racing team he loved and worked for.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Oh, fuck. Not another thing.

He flicked on the screen and set the call to speaker. "Trask."

"I'm glad I caught you. Are you on your way to the airport? You do remember it's Tuesday morning, don't you?" Megan Poston, the team owner, asked from her end of the call. "You're supposed to be here, helping to get the truck around for practice tomorrow."

On his way? Practice? Eric glanced over his shoulder at the wall clock. Eleven-forty-five a.m. Shit. He should've been cleaned up and at the airport fifteen minutes ago. Hell. He'd just got back from Michigan.

"I'm still at the shop. The B-post on the Atlanta truck isn't fitting the templates right. Give me another fifteen and I'll be out the door."

"It's a quicker turnaround in your schedule, but this isn't like you." Megan went silent for a long moment. "Tucker wants to talk to you."

The connection snapped and crackled as Megan handed the phone to Tucker. "Eric?"

"You called me." Eric groaned. "I'm sorry, man. What's up?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you." The line snapped again. "I had to get out of Megan's earshot. She's worried because you're not here."

"The B-post is fucked up. I don't know how it was fabricated wrong, but it was."

"Shit happens. Look, you've been freaking out about everything. You're the calmest guy I know. Why are you chewing everyone out? I wouldn't have nominated you for the crew chief position if I'd thought you couldn't handle it."

"I can handle it. There's just a lot of crap happening and this quick run of races over the weekend. I got behind but I'll get the rest of the way caught up."

"Like?"

"Broken spark plugs on the backup truck. I've spent four hours going through the box. Half of them are screwed up. We never have that issue."

"Have Delaney work on it. He's in the engine shop for a reason."

"I can't figure out what the hell you stuffed in the radiator before you slammed into the wall in Pocono. It's shit like that."

"Okay, I'm going to get a little emo on you, but tough titties. You're my best friend and like my brother. You're going to have to chill out. Your blood pressure has to be through the roof and, yes, before you butt in with it, I know you're healthy as a horse. Guess what? I don't want my best friend to kick off because of hypertension."

"Hypertension won't kill me."

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NORTHANGER ABBEY by Desiree Holt and Jane Austen

It’s not 50 shades greyer it’s 100 percent hotter.

Devotees of Jane Austen or the Bronte sisters may wish to loosen their corsets and have the smelling salts within reach. Total-e-bound has taken some of the greatest works of English literature and given classics such as Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights a bawdy makeover. Desiree Holt is pleased to be one of the five debut authors, checking behind the bedroom door on Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney in Northanger Abbey. The series has received world wide press coverage (just Google Clandestine Classics and see all the links that come up.

Want to know more about them? Go here: http://clandestineclassics.blogspot.co.uk/

NORTHANGER ABBEY by Desiree Holt and Jane Austen

When Catherine Morland meets John Thorpe and Henry Tilney in Bath, England, she is thrilled by the attention both men pay her. She soon realises what a social climber John is, but it is the very handsome Henry who lights the sparks inside her. When Henry’s father invites her to visit their country mansion, Northanger Abbey, she is delighted to have more time to spend with Henry.
As the days pass Henry introduces her to a whole new world of eroticism, a world beyond her imaginings. A world where sex knows no boundaries and even her deepest, most secret fantasies, can be played out behind closed doors.

This is the story of the initiation into life of the naïve but sweetly appealing heroine, Catherine Moreland. A woman who suddenly finds herself an enthusiastic participant in the darker side of sexual activities. At the same time she finds herself embroiled in a real drama of misapprehension, mistreatment, and mortification, until common sense, humour and a crucial clarification of Catherine’s financial status, resolve her problems and win her the approval of Henry’s formidable father.

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~Excerpt~

Darkness impenetrable and immovable filled the room. A violent gust of wind, rising with sudden fury, added fresh horror to the moment. Catherine trembled from head to foot. In the pause which succeeded, a sound like receding footsteps and the closing of a distant door struck on her affrighted ear. Human nature could support no more. A cold sweat stood on her forehead, the manuscript fell from her hand, and groping her way to the bed, she jumped hastily in, and sought some suspension of agony by creeping far underneath the clothes. To close her eyes in sleep that night, she felt must be entirely out of the question. With a curiosity so justly awakened, and feelings in every way so agitated, repose must be absolutely impossible. The storm too abroad so dreadful! She had not been used to feel alarm from wind, but now every blast seemed fraught with awful intelligence. The manuscript so wonderfully found, so wonderfully accomplishing the morning’s prediction, how was it to be accounted for? What could it contain? To whom could it relate? By what means could it have been so long concealed? And how singularly strange that it should fall to her lot to discover it! Till she had made herself mistress of its contents, however, she could have neither repose nor comfort; and with the sun’s first rays she was determined to peruse it. But many were the tedious hours which must yet intervene. She shuddered, tossed about in her bed, and envied every quiet sleeper. The storm still raged, and various were the noises, more terrific even than the wind, which struck at intervals on her startled ear. The very curtains of her bed seemed at one moment in motion, and at another the lock of her door was agitated, as if by the attempt of somebody to enter. Hollow murmurs seemed to creep along the gallery, and more than once her blood was chilled by the sound of distant moans. She began to wish for Henry Tilney to find his way secretly to her room to help allay her nervousness.
When the door to her room opened slowly she searched frantically for something with which to defend herself, not knowing if it was ghost of human who trespassed. When she saw Henry slip into the room, fingers to his lips, she poofed out a sigh of relief. Had just thinking of him conjured him up?

“What are you doing here?” she whispered as softly as she could, noticing that he had divested himself of all his clothes save a thin pair of breeches and a loose shirt.

“I feared the storm would disturb you and wanted to ease you through it.”

“But—But—But what if someone sees you walking around like that?” Her fingers gripped the bedclothes.

“General Tilney and my mother are long fast asleep,” he whispered back, “and I hope the same for my sister. However, since she sleeps two doors down we must be careful not to do anything to call her attention.”

“And what would we be doing?” she asked.

With a smile Henry approached the bed and eased himself down on top of the covers next to her. “I hope many things,” he told her. “I have felt this strong attraction between us from the first moment of our meeting and I have seen in your eyes a like feeling. If I am mistaken please advise me of it and I will leave at once.”

Even as the blood stirred within her and her pulse rate accelerated, she felt compelled to offer at least a token protest. “I assure you that I am still an innocent, an unsullied and respectable female.”

His hand cupped her cheek, turning her face to his. “My dear sweet Catherine, I am fully aware of that. I would take no advantage of that if you bid me leave. And if you bid me so I will be gone and this will be as if it never happened. But understand that you have my full respect as well as a number of other emotions that far surpass it. From our first meeting I have dreamed of being the one man to show you the pleasures of the body. I care for you so much. Please do not turn me away.”

She could have demurred further but she was so eager for his touch that it seemed to her a waste of time so she simply smiled and placed her hand over his. “And I have dreamed of the same things.”

Henry leaned his head closer to her face and placed his lips on hers. They were firm and moist and the touch was utterly pleasant. He brushed his mouth lightly over hers in a back and forth motion, teasing her, until his tongue peeped out to trace the seam of her lips.

“Open your mouth for me, sweet Catherine,” he urged. “Let me in.”

She did so and when his tongue swept inside it filled her with a sensation of pleasure that danced through her body. Her nipples tingled and at once the sensitive muscles in her cunt trembled. She felt the liquid of her arousal soaking the crotch of her nighttime bloomers and had to press her thighs together. All this from a kiss! Imagine! But it was far beyond any kiss she’d ever imagined. Henry’s tongue touched the inside of her mouth everywhere, sliding over her own tongue in a movement that coaxed her to let hers dance with him. He thrust it in and out, mimicking the act of sex she and Virginia had read about and arousing her even more.

Pulling the gown up far enough, he proceeded to pull one nipple into his mouth. Catherine’s breath caught at her throat as he sucked deeply on it then gently scraped it with his teeth. He cradled her breast in his warm palm kneading it gently as he continued to suck and nip at the stiff peak. Her blood heated and the fire roared straight to her cunt to meet the insistent throbbing in her already wet tissues. He gave equal attention to her other breast until she was arching up to him in delight.

When Henry lifted his head she cried out. “Oh, continue, please, I pray you. I cannot bear it if you stop.”

His smile was mesmerising. “If I am to continue we must move all this fabric out of the way.” He plucked at her gown, rucked up around her neck, and ran a finger around the waist of her drawers. “I wish to see your body in its entirety that I may worship every inch of it.”

No one had seen Catherine naked since she was a child with the exception of her good friend, Virginia. But she trembled in anticipation of Henry’s gaze taking in every inch of her and hoped she would not be found wanting. Mutely she nodded and allowed him to assist her with the removal of her nightwear, shivering slightly as the cool night air wafted over her.

Henry placed a kiss between her breasts. “I am not shy of my own abilities to warm you up but I think a fire would help us along.”

Catherine lay nude with her arms crossed over her breasts, her eyes glued to Henry as he built up the fire until it leapt into a nice flame. But the fire was not the only thing that heated her as Mr Tilney began to slowly remove his own clothing, draping it over the arm of a boudoir chair. She was stunned at the sight of his magnificent body, gleaming in the firelight, the curled hair on his chest slightly darker than that on his head and darker still as it clustered around his cock which stood straight out in all its glory. Her fingers itched to touch it, to rub herself against it. To see if it would fit within her as the book had described.

Henry Tilney smiled at her as he stood beside the bed, what she could only describe as hunger flaring in his eyes.

“Go ahead,” he urged. “Touch it. I can see that you want to.”

She reached out her hand and closed her fingers around silky skin over a hard as steel core. “Oh! It feels hot!” Experimentally she slid her fingers up and down, from tip to root and back again. It flexed beneath her touch, a most pleasant feeling so she did it again and yet again. The soft wiry curls surrounding it brushed sensually against the edge of her hand and by the third slide a small drop of fluid eased from the tiny slit in the head. Catherine stared in wonder and before she could help herself touched the tip of one finger to it. Bringing her finger to her mouth she licked slowly, enjoying the slightly salty taste of it.

Tilney’s expression heated as he watched her. Do you fancy the taste, then?”

Catherine nodded mutely.

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SUNSHINE OF YOUR LOVE by Wendi Zwaduk

SUNSHINE OF YOUR LOVE by Wendi Zwaduk

It’s 1970. The world is in upheaval. Can two people really make a difference and find love at the same time?

Noel Flynt signed up for the Army to carry out his family duty. He never expected the travesties of Vietnam to take their toll on him. He’s coming back to the world he thought he knew. With everything changing around him, he’s going to have to learn he can’t live in the past.

Cindy Stephens couldn’t wait for Noel to return. She sees the man within the uniform and has loved him for as long as she can remember. But times have changed. She’s not the timid school girl any longer. Can she accept his changes, too?

The only constants are time and love.

Reader Advisory – Contains one war hero, the woman who loves him, lots of hot sex, with a little spanking mixed in for good measure.

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All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.
Excerpt From: Sunshine of Your Love

"Mr Tony Rowe, please report to the service desk. Mr Tony Rowe. Report to the service desk. This is your third page. Thank you."

Noel scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. The noise in the terminal grated on his nerves. Intercoms blared over shouts of hello and homecoming. Somewhere behind him a woman wept. Children shrieked and laughed. He didn’t know the Mr Rowe being paged, but, damn it, couldn’t the guy answer already?

Noel sighed and made his way down the steps to the baggage area. In less than three hours’ time, he’d be home—not sitting waist deep in foetid water, not being shot at by unseen individuals brandishing AK—47s, or having rocks thrown at him in California by protesters who only saw the war on television, but home in his bed with a woman in his arms.

If she still cared.

Staying the course for three tours of duty had been his decision, but, every time he’d come home between tours and asked her what she thought, Sophie had brushed him off. Did she even love him at all?

Noel grabbed his duffle and glanced around the cavernous room. According to Sophie’s letters, she’d be coming to greet him when he landed in Cleveland. Then again, he hadn’t received a letter from her in more than nine months. Maybe she was upstairs in the main lounges. Maybe she’d brought Mario with her. God knew Noel hadn’t exchanged more than a couple of words with his brother in almost four years. Maybe it was time to bury the hatchet.

On the way through the terminal, he’d noticed signs directing travellers where to go, but, wherever he looked, nothing mentioned the baggage area. Where was a sign or map when he needed one? He groaned. He’d been so confident before his deployment. The confidence was still there, just buried down deep in his gut. He’d seen things in Vietnam very few people would understand.

Taking one step at a time, Noel forced himself to go back on to the main floor of the airport. If Sophie was up there, he’d find her.

Shouts erupted from the far end of the room. "Make love, not war!" Signs bounced and footsteps thumped on the floor.

"Power to the people."

"Nixon’s a liar!"

"Get us out of there!"

"Peace is the answer."

Noel ground his teeth together and turned his back on the protesters. If they only knew what had really happened. He’d heard about the reports on the television and seen them first—hand when he’d been laid over in California. The news only told the bloody part of the story. He’d been there. The horrors shown on the television barely scratched the surface of what went on in Vietnam. So many men dead and too many lives destroyed. He tamped down his anger and scanned the room once more. Where the hell was Sophie or Mario? One of them should surely be here to greet him.

"Noel?"

He paused. That voice wasn’t Sophie. Too smooth and sweet. Noel glanced over his shoulder, turning slowly. The blonde grinned and twiddled with the bracelet decorating her thin wrist. Her green eyes sparkled in the harsh lighting.

"Welcome home, Noel." She nibbled on her bottom lip then smiled.

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