eBook Presents!

Did y’all enjoy the excerpts? I hope so. I did. I read some from books I haven’t read yet, but that I will now. I read some that I have read the whole books for and, well, might go back and read!

The following is a list of the eBooks being given as presents from the authors and I to readers/commenters/followers. I will choose the winners using Random.org starting around 10pm March 1. I had said midnight, I know…but then I remembered I have to get up on the 2nd…LOL. So, IF you have not commented on all the excerpts and clicked Follow for this blog, you will not be entered. Incentive to comment and follow I would say.

Reader’s Choice of any of my (Lissa Matthews) available titles (up to 3 winners)
Reader’s Choice of any one of Ava March’s available titles
Sin on Skin by Mari Freeman
Love in Exile by Samantha Kane
Pearl Heartstone by Leila Brown
The Wine Tasting by Selena Blake, along with her free read Friday Night Delights, Part One.
Rodeo Heat by Desiree Holt
Reader’s Choice of any one of Eliza Gayle’s available titles
The Extremist by Juniper Bell
Reader’s Choice of Rain God, Love Thy Neighbor, Masque of Desire, Hard Candy or Fox’s Bride by Amy Ruttan
Hawkeye One: Danger Zone by Sierra Cartwright
Seducing St. Nic by Emma Petersen
And the Fantastic blackraven of The Blackraven’s Erotic Cafe will be gifting one reader with an eBook of their choice from all of the excerpts of books that have been posted here.

Some of our authors have free reads as well:

Lissa Matthews: Now Arriving: Commitment and Masked
Eliza Gayle: White Cougar Christmas and Bourbon Affair
Juniper Bell: Thanking the Receptionist
Leila Brown: Discovering Domino and Soundwave’s Submission

Author Selena Illyria is giving away a totebag with one of her book covers and chocolate! (Am trying to figure out how I can win that one. It’s my blog and…well, I’ve been commenting! grins… And it’s CHOCOLATE!) (j/k)

So, we have a lot of books being gifted. I’ll say again, if you haven’t commented and started following, what are you waiting for? Hop to it!


One Final Excerpt – Lissa Matthews – Sugar Rush

Genre: Contemporary BBW
Length: Novel
Available from Loose Id: http://www.loose-id.com/Sugar-Rush.aspx


Graham Hall is twenty-six and has a dream job as a travel writer. He’s come to Colorado for work and a little personal down time. With his article done and the six-month lease up on the small cabin in the valley, he’s stayed around until his next assignment. In a downtown Denver bar, Graham meets Edward and after a short conversation agrees to a blind date with Edward’s business partner, Jane. After all, what could it hurt?

Jane is completely oblivious to the machinations of Edward and Graham and shows up at Graham’s cabin to deliver a box of handmade chocolate truffles. From the minute Graham opens the door, Jane falls head over heels in lust. A plus size, mid-thirties woman, Jane isn’t sure what Cowboy Surfer, as she’s dubbed him, sees in her or why he’s so tenacious in his pursuit and tries throwing him off at every turn.

The inability to say continue saying ‘No’ leads to hot, scorching sex and a lot of follow-up phone calls opening Jane’s eyes to the realization that maybe life doesn’t have to revolve around chocolate truffles, but rather around a delicious, well traveled younger man.

Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Dubious consent, voyeurism of male/male sexual interaction.


“Why are you sitting down? I said you should leave.”

When he looked over at her, she emphasized her words by gesturing to the door with her thumb. His smile both irritated her and made her want to beg him to tie her to the bed and ravish her day in and day out. He was sin in real live breathing color and too freakin’ tempting. He really had to go because she didn’t know how many more times she could say no and mean it.

None and never.

“You see, I don’t give up like that. You can’t tell me to go and expect me to do so when I know that’s not what you want me to do at all.”

Figured, but then, she already knew that, didn’t she? The man was damn persistent, and it secretly made her smile. Blind date or not, he was charming. Full of himself but charming. “Well, since you know so much, tell me then, what do I want?”
“I answered that already. Come here, Jane, and stop trying to get rid of me. On the other hand, if you’d rather, I can come over there and get you. I won’t bite hard, and you’ll be glad you gave in.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the edge of the open door. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, you’re right. Let’s say I do want you.”

“I am, and you do.”

“Uh-huh. I know Edward told you why I’ve been a pill for the last few months and maybe it doesn’t make sense to you but, romantically, I’ve never been really successful. I have dated, but there’s never been a lot of real interest, on either side. And when Phillip dumped me… I don’t want to go through that kind of thing again. It was awful. I thought I’d found someone special, someone that I could maybe spend my life with, but I was just a stop along the way.”

“I understand. I really do, but hiding away from your feelings and your desires isn’t going to make the first step any easier no matter how long you wait, Jane. There’s always going to be an excuse not to move forward. You’re too damneddamn beautiful and sexy to just sit and let life pass you by.”

“You make me sound like an immature teenager that’s still holding out hope her first crush will realize his mistake in letting me go.”

“No. You’re just caught in a place between not wanting to be hurt again and let’s get it on. I’ve dated women your age, my age, and younger, and no one is immune to hurt. We all just process it differently.”

“Wow. You’re wise for twenty-six. Far more than I am at the ripe old age of thirty-six.”

“I told you I write for other publications. Well, one of the things I write about is relationships, usually from a romantic getaway perspective, but relationships just the same. Kind of like how to revive the spark stuff. I have a degree in creative writing and a minor in psychology.”

Jane was stunned. Really and truly stunned. So not only was Cowboy Surfer hot as hell, he was also a deep thinker, a pseudoexpert in relationships and travel. While she was just a candy maker sans formal college education. At the same time, she loved the company she and Edward had created for themselves. She might not have the degree, but she had solid business sense, creativity, and the ability to make decadent truffles that melted on the tongue. She truly loved her work. How many people could say that?

However, this between them had disaster written all over it.

He was right about one thing. No matter how long she waited to discover herself post-Phillip and let go of the past, it wasn’t going to be an easy step. Phillip hadn’t been the love of her life, but he had been special to her. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that it had been more of a comfort thing with him. At first, at least. Toward the end, he’d begun to pressure her to lose weight, to change the way she dressed, to move the business out of the loft. It was then she’d begun to doubt herself. And now that she thought about it in those terms…

“I’m not leaving, and you have until the count of five to come over here, or I’m coming to get you. Naked. One.”

Those words brought her out of her little reverie. “What? Wait a second. You can’t be serious.” But even as she said the words, he started pulling off his boots and socks. He then stood and reached into his back pocket, took out a condom packet, and laid it on the table beside the chair. She inhaled sharply, and he looked up, smiling.

“You might want to close the door. You don’t want any of your neighbors to happen by and get an eyeful. Two.”

His hands grasped the bottom of his sweater and pulled it up, giving her a glimpse of his tanned abs. She slammed the door the second his head was free and swallowed once then swallowed again. There was a smattering of chest hair and a flat, rock-hard stomach. There was the trail of dark hair that disappeared inside the waist of his jeans…Oh God.

“Jane? You okay, darlin’?”

She shook her head but never took her eyes off him. She was definitely not okay. He was perfect and beautiful and sexy as all get out. She took an unconscious step toward him.

“That’s it. Come on. Three.”

Eliza Gayle – Obsession of Jayde

Obsession of Jayde
Genre: Paranormal Menage
Length: Novella
Available Now: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-obsessionofjayde-386724-140.html
Author Website: ElizaGayle.net


When Jayde returns to Hickory Falls to settle her grandmother’s estate she finds a mystery and a destiny she’s not sure she wants. It starts with an antique puzzle box with a necklace and a note that only says Beware of the Obsession. It also includes a bakery everyone is anxious to see reopened despite her inability to cook, and a pair of hunky, too-good-to-be-true tenants living in the same building.

Marc and Anthony are lovers waiting on their third to complete them, the Guardian they have sworn to protect. When Jayde finally arrives they are anxious to get her into their bed…until they see the necklace around her neck. It serves a powerful warning to them — and to her if she knows what it means. Now they have to take things slow, seducing her before they reveal the duty she has been called for.

When the Guardian denies her calling, the protectors will do anything in their power to convince her, but in the end it has to be her choice. Free will is a bitch, but so is their obsession with Jayde.

Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable. Anal play/intercourse, male/male sexual practices, menage (m/m/f).


“Can you feel it? I’ll soon be free. My time is coming, and all hope will be lost.”

Marc jerked awake, his body coiled tight and covered in sweat. His gaze swept left and right as he crept from the bed, searching for the source of distress.


A sudden gust of mist and wind tore through the room, shattering the calm. Glass and ceramics crashed to the ground in a flurry of noise and dangerous debris.

“What the hell?” Aidan jumped from the bed, muscles taut in defense, searching for the source of the disturbance.

“Relax. It’ll be over in a second.” The thick and suffocating air pushed desperately at Marc’s skin as he fought to stay upright. A quick glance at Aidan showed a healthy dose of anger mixed with fear on his lover’s face. “Do. Not. Fear. This,” he yelled over the swirling vortex. “Fight it!”

He pushed against the dark power filling the room. It pushed back. Son of a bitch. His muscles strained, and the blood pounded in his head as the unseen evil slammed them into the wall, pinning them in place. Sweat poured from Marc’s body as he fought to continue breathing and expel the demonic spirit. He should have seen this coming.

With every physical and mental aspect of his being strained to the breaking point, he pushed and struggled harder. Invisible fingers wrapped around his throat, cutting him off from the life-giving force he needed to stay alive. Despite Aidan’s and his considerable combined strength, the darkness wrapped them from head to toe in a shadowy shroud. He dared not break his concentration to check on Aidan and, instead, racked his oxygen-deprived brain for another solution.

Frigid air moved in, and the temperature of the room fell by at least fifty degrees. But that cold touch made him remember what it was he sought. A faint heat source in the room now beckoned him like a lifeline. His arms dived through the swirling blanket of obsession, greed, and jealousy surrounding them as he groped for the crystal amulet he knew had to be mere inches from his grasp.

His body twitched and flailed against his movements, and a sliver of fear tried to break through his resolve. A century ago when he’d faced these very fears, his inexperience had gotten the best of him. Not this fucking time.

His right hand wrapped around the heated crystal, which warmed his hand with its magic. Shards of light and color burst through his skin, heating him from the inside out. Hope and joy fragmented the rage, forcing the hateful and unbalanced emotions from the room in a fiery display of dominance. His body collapsed onto the floor in a heap of exhaustion and sweat alongside Aidan.

Marc blew out a hard breath and looked at the damaged room. The balance of power was shifting more quickly than he’d expected, and they’d just been warned.

“What was that?”

“That, my good man, was the welcome wagon.” Marc stood on shaky legs and placed the crystal amulet around his neck for safekeeping. “It appears our Guardian has arrived.”

* * * * *

Jayde rushed down the sidewalk, sweat trickling down her back as she hurried toward the glass doors of the bank. She gripped her bag tighter, willing her hands to quit shaking. What could possibly be in that damn safety-deposit box to warrant the increased fear racing through her the closer she got to it? It had to be the heat, the hot, sticky air she dragged in and out of her lungs. Much longer, and she would certainly melt.

She’d grown accustomed to the mild climate of San Francisco and had forgotten that during the summer in South Carolina, you never knew what to expect. Rain one day, heat the next, but always the miserable humidity. Instead of the jacket and skirt she wore, she longed for a thin sundress and sandals. Not to mention a tall, cold drink. The kind with an umbrella and some fruit on the side. Something with enough liquor in it to make her forget why she was here.

Her stomach knotted in grief at the memory of the polite phone call she’d received a few days ago. She’d woken to the shrill ring of her cell phone at an ungodly hour of the morning and had been ready to curse the person calling. Those words were forgotten when the caller informed her that her beloved grandmother had died the night before, and that she was needed in Hickory Falls as soon as possible.

It had been several years, more than five in fact, since she’d come here to visit, and she had no idea what would await her on Main Street. Jayde always had an excuse whenever her gran would ask her to come. Looking back now, every one of them sounded even lamer than the one before. Pangs of regret sliced through her as she considered all the time she had wasted. And for what? A dead-end job with an ex-fiancé as a boss?

The only information she had managed to pry out of the attorney was that renovations had recently been completed, and there were currently a pair of tenants living in the guest apartment on the third floor, next to her grandmother’s residence, which she guessed was now hers. She’d looked over the photographs the attorney had given her, and she had to admit she was quite impressed with her grandmother’s vision; the place looked fantastic and not at all like the run-down house she remembered. But nobody had been able or willing to give her a straight answer about the financial status or future plans for the historic home. She would have to dig through her grandmother’s things and find all her financial records herself.

Her gaze swept across each business lining the sidewalk until she spied the familiar stone arch of the old town bank. Anxious to get inside, she pushed through the revolving door, and a blast of cool air brushed her face. Goose bumps prickled across her heated skin, and she wondered if she could just stand there awhile to recover. On a slow sigh of regret, she moved on and searched out the information desk to find a petite, dark-haired woman eyeing her curiously with a smile on her face. She headed in that direction.

“How can I help you today, ma’am?” The thick Southern accent rolled from her tongue.

“I need to access my safe-deposit box.” Jayde showed the woman the gold key she’d been gripping in her hand.

“No problem. Bob can take care of that for you.” She waved to a tall balding man across the room. Jayde watched him approach, wondering if his strictly starched appearance and pasty skin hid a darker soul underneath. Where the hell did that come from? This isn’t San Francisco.

After he verified her ID and declared her the official owner of her grandmother’s box, Bob led her through a series of lifeless corridors in the back of the building. Funny, the farther she followed him, the more her anxiety ratcheted up. Perspiration broke out on her forehead, even with the chilly temperature, and her hands shook harder than before. Silly, really. What could her grandmother have left her that would give her any reason to be nervous? Or for that matter, what could she have left that would require the security of a safe-deposit box?

That was the real question that had burned through Jayde since she’d been told about it. She’d never thought of her gran as the secretive type, but there was no telling what she’d been up to before she died.

“Your box is right in here, ma’am. I’ll just leave you alone, if there is nothing else you need.” While he spoke, his eyes darted down to her breasts, which didn’t relieve the nerves.

What a perv! She turned away from him in disgust and surveyed the room, a tiny, smaller-than-her-walk-in-closet area that was lined with lockboxes. “This is fine. Thank you.”

She gritted her teeth and stepped inside. A stronger sense of foreboding surrounded her like a thick and powerful cloak. Her skin prickled, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to turn and run.

What the hell?

She searched through the numbers until she located the right slot. Maybe she should leave. Her grandmother’s will had left her with a cryptic message about her life being about to change forever. It had said there would be no turning back, all fate was hers. At the time, she’d assumed they were the wild ramblings of an aging mind.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

Slowly she released the breath she’d been holding, one fraction at a time, searching for an internal calm that seemed to elude her. With trembling hands, she pulled the container from the shelf marked with her number and carried it to the table.

She slid the key into the lockbox and turned it.

Jayde lifted the lid to find another box, an old, ornate wooden one to be exact. How old, she had no idea, but from the brown, aged wood and odd markings, she could only guess it was really old — as in centuries old. Her fingers brushed the edges, and her skin tingled from her arms to the back of her neck. When she lifted it from the safe, her throat tightened, making her breathing seem labored. As she eyed the box, she couldn’t help but think how silly she was behaving. It’s just a box.

Her fingers slid along the seam, trying to find the spot that would open it. Finally it dawned on her that the series of levers created a pattern, and she would have to follow it to get inside. One by one she moved the pieces of the puzzle until only one remained.

She held her breath, pressed the last lock, and flipped open the box. Sucking in a deep breath, she stared down at the intriguing antique gold necklace nestled in the corner. The filigreed gold of the chain had aged to a shimmery bronze color, and the intricate beading work around the edges of the rough-cut links gave it a delicate yet sturdy look.

In the center of the delicate arcs of the pendant sat a pearlescent oval moonstone, sparkling in the artificial light of the room. The stone was large and flat, so that when she ran her thumb across it, she found it to be smooth as glass. But where she expected a cool, solid surface, she found heat and life. Jayde pulled it from the box and held it up in front of her. The stone seemed to change color as it moved in the light. She guessed the necklace to be the perfect length to nestle between the breasts, atop the beating heart of its owner.

The weight and texture of it seemed perfect, not too heavy nor too light. She wanted nothing more than to put it on and wear it. Feel it against her skin. Why had her grandmother hidden it away in a bank? More importantly, why had she never seen her grandmother wear it? It was far too beautiful a piece to never be appreciated and kept hidden. Unable to resist, she unhooked the clasp and slid the chain under her hair.

With the necklace fastened, she let the chain fall, and the dangling moonstone did exactly as she’d thought. It slid between her breasts to nestle in the cleavage there. The contrast of the cool temperature of the chain and the heat of the stone felt delicious against her flushed skin. A sudden crackle of energy swept the length of her body, causing her to shiver. Heat continued to build inside her, until her sex tingled with arousal and surprising need.

Jayde’s fingers followed the sensation as she skimmed her hands up the seam of her skirt, stopping at her hips. She looked around the room, hoping to find something she could use as a mirror; she wanted to see how it looked. No luck. She would have to wait until she got to the house before she could admire the beautiful necklace around her neck. Not to mention figure out why her pussy throbbed between her legs.

Unable to resist, Jayde slid her hand down and cupped herself, applying pressure to her clit. Common sense told her to stop. Yet her hand rubbed harder as carnal, wicked thoughts filled her head. Maybe she could just go with it for a few minutes.

“Is there anything you need in there?”

Her hand jerked at the bank manager’s voice outside the door. Heat flooded her face as she smoothed her skirt and fought back a desire she didn’t understand.

“No…no, I have what I need.” Not really, but this was not the time and place to figure that out.

Opting to keep the necklace on, she picked up the box and tucked it under her arm. No need to keep this locked up here, not when she fully intended to wear the beautiful stone.

A piece of paper fluttered to the ground as she lifted the wooden box. Unfolding the worn and wrinkled paper, she found one sentence scrawled inside.

Beware the obsession.

Juniper Bell – Training the Receptionist

Genre: Erotica
Length: Novella
Available March 2, 2010 from Samhain Publishing: http://samhainpublishing.com/coming/training-the-receptionist


It’s her naughty dream job—if they’re satisfied with her performance…

Eager to escape her miserable existence in Low-Life, Long Island, street-wise Dana Arthur jumps at an entry-level position with the consulting firm Cowell & Dirk. As her training period begins, she quickly discovers she’s required to do more than take messages and order office supplies. Her job description contains some deliciously naughty duties that give receptionist a whole new meaning.

Simon has almost given up on finding the right woman who will please his clients as well as his demanding partner and mentor, Ethan Cowell. No one measures up—until Dana. Her inner fire and fearless nature are perfect for the job. No matter what wicked punishment he devises to chastise her for her on-the-job mistakes, she accepts with a relish that leaves him wondering which one of them is really in control.

The last thing he expects to discover is that she’s a perfect sexual soul mate he can’t bear to share. But share he must—it’s part of his business agreement. Unless he makes Ethan the deal of a lifetime…

Warning: This title contains explicit sex, bondage, ménage, ingenious use of office furniture, lingerie, and the occasional sex toy. Oh, and did I mention the package delivery guy? 

Simon stood at the wall-to-ceiling picture window that looked out over the depressing downtown. His jacket was off, hands in his pockets. I stopped just inside the door. When I closed it behind me, I felt a strange sense of safety. As if anything could happen inside this beige space and it would be okay.

“You can take off your jacket now,” he said without turning around.

My heart seemed to jump into my throat. Every nerve ending in my body stood at attention. I opened my mouth to say something snappy, but nothing came out. Instead, I slid one arm out of my jacket, then the other. Not sure what to do with it, I dropped it to the floor.

“Good. Now you can put your hands on your nipples.”

I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure I’d heard right. Besides, my heart was beating too fast. There was a long pause while we both stood still, me looking at his back, him looking out the window. Finally, he turned and gave me a mild stare.

“You’re not touching your nipples.”

I cleared my throat. “No.”

“I would imagine they’re in need of some contact right now. How do they feel? Aroused? Irritated?” His expression was one of concerned interest.

He had a point. “Like I want to jump out of my skin,” I admitted.

“Ah, I thought so. That’s why I suggested touching them. I certainly wouldn’t want you to jump out of that beautiful skin. Would you like to try it now?”

In the back of my mind, I wondered why we were talking about my nipples rather than proper phone procedure, or some other job-related issue. But his green eyes flicked over my body, scattering sparks of heat wherever they went, and before I knew it my hands rose to my tits. I put my fingers around my nipples. The heat of them surprised me. My poor nipples were burning up under there. How had he known it was exactly what I needed, to touch myself like that?

“Tighter,” came Simon’s soft, almost hypnotic voice.

I pressed tighter and felt the texture of the lace dig into my flesh. My breath caught and my face flushed. A jolt of heat zinged on a straight line from my nipples to my insides. Moisture sprang between my legs. Startled by my body’s reaction, I snatched my hands away from my nipples.

“Did I ask you to stop?” Simon sounded disappointed. Reproving. My hands jumped back to my breasts.

“No, stop,” he said.

I stopped, hands hovering a few inches away from my breasts.

“I want to see what you look like now. Unbutton your blouse.”

What the F? Was my brand-new boss really telling me to undo my blouse? And was I really on fire to do whatever he said? It kills me to admit it, but I couldn’t disobey him. Didn’t want to. He was leading me somewhere with that sexy voice. Somewhere I’d never been. Somewhere I wanted to go. I unbuttoned my blouse and drew it off my shoulders. I dropped it onto the floor, on top of my jacket. The stuffy office air felt cool against my skin.

“Beautiful,” said Simon, a note of approval in his voice. “Exactly how I’d pictured it on you. But your hair’s all wrong. It should be piled on your head. Do it.”

That last phrase came out stronger, more like an order. Without thinking, I filled my hands with my hair and pulled it to the top of my head. It felt thick and silky against my hands. I’d never been quite so aware of the feel of my hair before.

Simon walked across the office with deliberate slowness. When he got to my side, he walked around me.

From behind, I felt his finger touch lightly on the back of my neck.

“Fascinating tattoo.” He seemed to realize it was still tender back there, because he didn’t linger on the tattoo.

Instead he traced his finger along the side of my neck, down the rounded front of my shoulder, into the crevice between my breasts, creating a trail of fire wherever he touched. Then he delved under the lace of the teddy. Unbearable excitement filled me as he lifted my nipple away from the fabric.

“Mm,” he said noncommittally as he examined my nipple. He reached around my back and brought the other one out of its nest. His body, strong and smelling of some kind of jet-set aftershave, pressed against me. In the office window, I saw our reflection. His intent face bent over my shoulder, his hands at my front, tugging at my nipples. Me in a provocative teddy and tight hobble skirt. The sight added to my excitement and I leaned back against him. “You’ve had an interesting morning, haven’t you?” He murmured in my ear. “Look how these juicy little morsels swelled up. I bet that lace teased you hard, didn’t it? Rubbed up against you like a rough little kitten tongue. I thought about you all morning, thought about these breasts stirring under your blouse. Thought about how wet it must be making you. Thought about how your nipples would feel against my hands, all hard and excited and…”

A spasm shook my body. It shocked me. What was happening to me? It was as if he had suddenly acquired ownership of the body that had previously been mine. I was dancing to his tune, singing at his command.

He pulled my nipples again, hard, and again my body arched back against him. I felt his erection press against my ass. The thought that I’d given him that hard-on made me even more excited. I wanted him to ravage me with it. Grind it deep. I squirmed and panted, but he wouldn’t let me get closer to his cock.

The Marvelous Michelle Polaris

I don’t know Michelle all that well, yet, but I have a feeling we’re all gonna get to know her a lot through her books. What I do know so far is she’s a bit of a mystery, very sweet, has interesting taste in erotic jewelry and writes HOT! The title is Bound Odyessy after all! grins…

Genre: BDSM Menage (Fem Dom)
Length: Super Plus Novel
Available from Ellora’s Cave: http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-7702-598-bound-odyssey.aspx
Author Website: www.MichellePolaris.com


The year is 2067 and Earth is self-destructing from environmental cataclysms. A portal to a new world is ripped open and refuge there is Earth’s only hope. Enter Jace, cowboy diplomat, who is preparing for the negotiation of a lifetime. A sexually conflicted alpha male, he hates everything with a cock, especially himself. The last thing Jace expects is to fall in love with both a woman and a man.
His dark history presents the ultimate challenge to Mira and Roman, the sexual Dominant team hired to prepare Jace for the female-dominant culture of the new world. Tragedy has made Mira distrust her Mistress abilities. Survival is her priority, and she resists her deep attraction to Jace’s haunted eyes and sculpted body.
Roman, however, falls hard and fast for Mira and Jace, ready to honor Mira as his Mistress and force Jace to recognize him as Master. Bound in one another’s chains and pushed to the limits of arousal and pain, they must outrun sabotage and conspiracy to find salvation for their bodies, souls and hearts.

October 4, 2067 New Denver Post web service. President Corrigan reflected on the seventeen-year anniversary of the cataclysmic gravity well explosions that changed our world during today’s ceremony, opening temporary housing units. The units are designed to address crowding in New Denver. In a solemn voice, he reiterated that this was a time when we must come together to face the greatest adversity and triumph over it.
* * * * *
Mira leaned into the precious man, the restraints attaching him to the St. Andrew’s cross squeezing his toned muscle and pale skin. Allowing little movement. She visually checked the buckles holding his body, making sure none damaged him as he struggled. His breath came in heaving gulps. Sweat and tears ran down his face, neck and chest in streams to glisten in the ginger hair nesting his genitals. The musk of the male animal, pushed to the point of exhaustion, smelled pungent in the room.
Mira pressed the stem of her crop into the red stripes covering his ass, eliciting another gasp. Her nipples tightened, the pulse of her pussy and the contractions popping inside her a constant reminder of how aroused the work left her. But today was about Eric, not her satisfaction. She was angry with him, true. But he’d wanted this from her. And she was worried about his recent behavior. As she released the buckle of his cock harness, she feathered a light breath against his ear, pressed her mouth flush to his lobe. Even over his groan of agony, she knew he heard her. “Come for me, Eric. Now!”
His body jerked, spasming under her grip on his cock. As he released, a long spewing of ejaculate made longer by the denial she’d forced on him, he cried out. “Mistress,” the plea and prayer as much a sweet song to her as the symphony of his contorted features lost in that high of sub space, that transcendent bliss that blew away all of the barriers of his soul. His eyes fluttered back in his head as his limbs lost all coordination in the little movement the bindings allowed. Finally, as his cock twitched with the final drops of semen, now dripping off his belly, he slumped into the straps securing him to the cross.
Mira kissed the wet bend of skin behind his neck, smiled up at him as she stroked his cheek. “Good boy, Eric. I’ll release you and that fine body of yours will rest.”
She undid the restraints, assisting him off the device as he leaned against her. Her strength allowed her to support his weight although he stood inches taller and weighed more. Mira gently wiped his body with a cloth dipped into the basin beside her four-poster bed. She feathered another kiss on his cheek and tucked him beneath her patchwork quilt. She’d sat for hours sewing together those squares, one designed by every client she’d allowed into her life since moving to New Denver. A labor of love. Now Eric strained to sit up from under it, grabbed her hand as she adjusted the covers.
“Mistress, forgive me?”
“You are forgiven, dear one. But if you ever go outside without your breather again, I’ll cane that ass of yours so hard and fuck it with a dildo so large you won’t be sitting for weeks. The hours I worked you today will seem like nothing.”
He smiled up at her in relief and she faked her own smile in return. Damn it, but why’d he taken such a stupid risk? She suspected she knew. A call for her attention after months of distancing herself from him and every other sub client she saw at The Marked Tree. He knew she’d be forced to punish him. He’d approached her today, craving it. Not once used his safe word to stay her hand. She hated the part of her that drew away from her subs. The last thing Mira wanted to do was hurt any of those under her care. They trusted her, and she betrayed their trust each and every day her bruised heart kept her from giving them her all. And time only made it worse.
At a tap on her door, Mira left Eric drifting off to sleep in her bed and she escaped into the hallway, grabbing her black silk robe and tying the sash around her waist to cover her corset. The light cream leather molded against her body, well broken in from years of wear.
Joanne faced her in the hall, creases marring her usually placid expression. “Moore is here,” she said.
“He’s early. Tell him to wait.” Irritation tightened Mira’s nerves.
Joanne had pleaded with her to talk to this man, one Randolph Moore, some stick-up-his-derriere government official from Joanne’s description. Ten years of working in this private D/s house, and not once was anyone allowed to meet here for business. That is, other than the business of gratifying the soul’s need for honest sexual expression. But this guy held enough clout to have Joanne shaking in her sleek, thigh-hugging boots. Seeing fear in her boss-cum-friend’s usually hard-edged eyes pissed Mira off. She protected her friends, no matter what.
“You said you’d do this,” Joanne answered with a spark of annoyance. Did she think Mira was backing out? “This house stood by you for years. We’ve made it through a lot. You owe me.”
Mira did owe Joanne. Guilt weighed down her shoulders like lead. Mira had backed out of her promise to take over The Marked Tree with little explanation.
“Fine. Give me ten minutes to change my clothes and get Eric settled in a free room. I wrung him dry and he needs recovery time.”
Joanne’s trademark grin was back. It relaxed Mira’s shoulders to see it. “Thank you. I’ll show him up after ten.”
Now Mira only had to keep her mouth shut and listen to this Moore before biting his head off whole.
* * * * *

Ummm…I think I might just have to read some more…