Wednesday, September 28, 2016

MidWeek Tease: Your Call, Beautiful

Welcome to MidWeek Tease hosted by Angelica Dawson!

Today I'm offering a snippet from my latest release, IRREFUTABLE. This is the second in my Tortured Love series, and you can purchase it from Evernight Publishing by clicking HERE.

Jagger has caught Carolyn watching him jack off, while fantasizing about her, of course, and now he's desperate to have her...

The desire in her eyes nearly made him come in his pants. “I want to fuck your mouth, your hot, wet pussy, and your fucking gorgeous ass. I want to spank you until you cry, and then I want to fuck you again. Tell me you’ll let me do that, and I will suck your clit until you come so hard you’ll see stars.”

Desperation spread across her face. “Jagger, please…”

“That’s my price, Carolyn. This isn’t a negotiation. I’ll take nothing less than your complete and total surrender.” He released her face, even though doing so was fucking torture. He took a few steps back. If he couldn’t smell how fucking wet she was, maybe he could keep from simply tossing her onto the floor and taking her.

“Your call, beautiful. I’ll wait.”

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If you want to read more from other authors, click the links and enjoy...

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

MidWeek Tease: Special Guest Doris O'Connor with ON HER TERMS

Welcome to MidWeek Tease hosted by Angelica Dawson!

Today I have a special guest!! The fabulous Doris O'Connor is here with her new release ON HER TERMS, available from Evernight Publishing!!

Thanks so much for having me on your blog today with my new release On Her Terms. Like the first book in this series, The Job, On Her Terms started as a tease on my blog. This one, to be precise.

I didn’t get to write the story straightaway because other projects intervened, but when Jamie and Nicole decided it was their turn... Well, my fingers flew.

I loved writing their story which brought with it many twists and turns that I certainly didn’t see coming. Let’s just say all is not as it seems, but then it never is with the Premiere Companions. I hope readers will enjoy these two. Hold on for the ride, because sparks fly and yeah... The story might be a tad hot.

What’s that you say? I write a hot story? Shocking I know.


I blame my muse. I’m sweet and innocent really… Stop laughing in that corner!


She’ll be no man’s property…

Faced with the prospect of marriage, to a man she’s never even met, Nicoletta Cabrizi’s temper gets the better of her. How dare her father use her virginity as a bargaining chip to seal a business deal?
A girl’s first time should be special, and who better to give her an unforgettable night than an experienced Dom provided by Premiere Companions.

A perfect solution…

The reality, however, takes her breath away. The enigmatic Jamie pulls Nicole into a maelstrom of sensation and pleasure, which steals her heart, and soul, and leaves her doubting her previous decisions.

Jamie is beyond furious at this whole, farcical arrangement, especially when Nicoletta turns out be far from the spoiled princess he was expecting to meet. Her open vulnerability and deep need to submit brings out his protective instincts. Come what may, Nicoletta will be his.

Be Warned: BDSM, anal sex, sex toys



Amazon UK:


Jamie always enjoyed this process of getting to know what made a woman tick in bed, never more so than when that woman tapped into her submissive streak for the first time. Most needed far more encouragement than his girl had needed. Whether that was simply due to the unusual circumstances they found themselves in or whether she, too, felt the force of their connection, who could say.

From the minute he’d seen her shred the paper napkins, her nervousness pouring off her in waves, she’d thrown his preconceived notions about her out of the window. It wasn’t just the fact that she was ten times more beautiful in person either. Jamie was used to beautiful women, appreciated women in all their forms and guises, but there was something about Nicoletta Cabrizi that had him utterly hooked. Now with her writhing underneath him, her sweet musk in his nostrils and coating his tongue as he licked up the juices spilling past the elastic of the sodden piece of lace barely covering her modesty … now, he stopped analyzing and simply gave himself over to the moment. He knew the moment she was about to explode, because her thighs tightened involuntary around his head, and her hips bucked as she ground her pussy against his face, coming all over it in the process.

The incomprehensible sounds spilling from her mouth made him grin around his mouthful of hugely engorged virgin clit, and Jamie kept up the suckling of that little bundle of nerves, until the last of her aftershocks abated and her thighs went slack. Only then did he sit back and allowed himself to slowly peel her ruined thong away from her moist flesh.

Jamie sucked in a sharp breath as her sweet cunt came into view. Beautifully bare of any hair, it begged to be claimed, and his cock jerked at the thought as her puffed up pussy lips came into view. She jumped when he parted her outer labia with his fingers, and ran his fingertips through her inner lips.

“Easy there, my sweet. You’re so fucking wet for me. I can’t wait to claim your virgin hole. All of them for that matter. Will you let me do that, bellissima?”

A groan came from his girl at his words, and her pussy hole quivered and clenched, expelling more of her essence, in which he coated his fingers and brought them right up to her other hole, while he pushed a thumb into her pussy.

A gasp and a tightening of her internal muscles was his answer this time, and when he looked up her body it was beyond satisfying to see the all-over body flush decorating her fair skin. Her unfettered breasts, reddened by his stubble, carried the marks of his teeth, and her nipples stood proudly to attention. Such a glorious, fucking canvas for him to work with.

He swore to himself there and then that he would mark every inch of her skin, so that when she left here in the morning to resume her life as Don Cabrizi’s daughter, she would remember who her Sir was.

Foolish thoughts, perhaps, he had no right to be possessive, after all, but there it was. He wasn’t going to overanalyze this now, just go with his gut and let the chips fall where they may. He’d always known that any dealings with this woman would be dangerous to him, so the urgent need to make her his didn’t really come as a huge surprise to him.

“I asked you a question, my love, I would appreciate an answer.”

Inwardly he grimaced at the endearment he didn’t seem capable of not making. Love had nothing to do with this. It was or should have been a mere business transaction, dammit.

“What? Yes, please … whatever. I’m yours, Sir.”

Her halting, panted reply stopped him from pursuing that thought, and he gently thrust his thumb in and out of her pussy, making her groan while he pushed the index finger of his other hand through the tight ring of muscle guarding her ass.

Those muscles flexed around the digit, and when he bent his head to lick across her clit, Nicoletta groaned deep in her throat.

“There, you are, come for me again, my sweet.”

He kept up the gentle licks around and over her clit while he thrust his digits in and out of both her holes. The heavy odor of sex surrounded them. His balls drew tight, and his cock leaked copious amounts of pre-cum, while the wet sounds his fingers made added an auditory stimuli all of their own.

“I can’t … too much … oh God…”

Her words drifted off into incomprehensible moans and sighs, which were music to his ears.

“Oh yes, you can and you will. Come for your Sir, bellissima.”

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Saturday, September 17, 2016

Guest Blogger: Jordan S Gray with PRUDE

Labeled: book one
By Jordan S Gray
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: 9/14/2016
Publisher: Evernight Publishing


Rebecca Washington is a girl in control. Well, at least when it comes to acing her college classes. The rest of the time, she seems to be at the mercy of everyone else. Like when she’s dumped in front of her peers, hit on right afterwards by a jerk for some stupid bet, and then paired up with the jerk for a lit project.

In order to maintain her perfect GPA, Rebecca will need to give a stellar presentation while ignoring the prying eyes that will be staring at her. When her partner, Derek, starts to ease her fears of public speaking with his laidback attitude, she’s forced to confront her new feelings about him and his charming smile. Rebecca knows falling for a guy who teases her for being a prudish nerd can only end badly, but what if it’s just another thing out of her control?


Derek grinned. “What do you think about your ex’s girlfriend?”

“Obviously that she’s annoyingly beautiful and, apparently, fun.” The word left a bad taste in her mouth.

“I could say the same about you right now.”

Rebecca felt her face redden even more. She pushed her bangs behind her ear, trying to find something else to stare at other than Derek’s mischievous eyes. Nothing seemed worthy.

“I know we’ve been doing well with the whole friends’ thing,” Derek started.

Rebecca cocked an eyebrow. “What now? Are you going to make fun of me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “I was just wondering if, as a friend, I’m allowed to ask you to dance.”

She let out a choking laugh. “Here? We’re at a party.”

He gestured to the several groups of people who were dancing. “People dance at parties.”

“I don’t think we should.”

“Because you don’t want to, or because you don’t want to draw attention to yourself?”

“Maybe the latter,” Rebecca mumbled to the ground.

Derek took her hand, pulling her to the center of the living room. At first, their position terrified Rebecca, until she realized it was the most popular dancing spot. In the crowd, she felt shielded from prying eyes, like it was just the two of them.

There’d been times, when Rebecca was home alone and listening to music, where she’d danced. But she had never done so in a public setting or with someone else, and in heels too. She bit her lip nervously as Derek guided her hands around his neck.

“Relax,” he muttered. “It’s just a dance.”

His statement didn’t reassure her at all. Her heart beat faster as she realized that she could feel every inch of him. They were so close. Her head was practically resting on his shoulder, and her body was pressed firmly against his.

The feel of his hands on her waist made her shiver, her crop top inching up slightly as they began to move. Rebecca tried to focus on the beat, but it was really no use. Her fingers clasped together as she mentally reminded herself that playing with Derek’s hair was not a friendly thing to do—even if it looked really soft.

They swayed together, his hands staying rigidly in place. Rebecca wondered what he was thinking about and why he’d decided to dance with her, but it was no use. Derek was likely someone she’d never fully understand.

The song switched to something with a faster pace and erratic rhythm, but Rebecca hardly noticed. Derek moved a hand away from her hip, leaving Rebecca feeling a little colder, until he used it to brush a piece of her fallen bangs behind her ear.

She had no idea how her legs and hips were still moving because, on the inside, Rebecca was totally, completely still. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his breath on her neck. Every single one of her nerves were on fire, zapping around in her body like lightening. Rebecca had never felt more alive … or scared.

One of her hands drifted down to Derek’s chest, and she pressed against it. She hoped that he’d know she was trying to get away, but he only pulled her closer to him. Rebecca let out a gasp, clutching his neck and shoulder tightly.

“Are you having fun?” he asked softly.

Rebecca nodded once, unable to muster up anything coherent. Her brain was shutting down, and she wished it was from embarrassment or anger. No, this was something entirely different. So often Rebecca felt like two-halves of her were always in disagreement, but now, every part of her felt the same. She didn’t want him to let go.

About The Author:

Jordan S Gray is a full time mother, college student, and writer. She never did quite grow out of that emo stage, and considers coffee, punk music, and Taylor Swift to be the necessary fuel for her writing. PRUDE is her debut novel, and you can find her on Twitter @JordanStephanie where she procrastinates most of her adult responsibilities and all of her schoolwork.

Purchase links:

Social Media Links:

Friday, September 16, 2016

Guest Blogger: Katerina Ross with TENDERLY WICKED

“Tenderly Wicked” by Katerina Ross

Max has always been interested in the wicked ways of BDSM, but his unusual tastes haven't always been well received. But now he has Vadim, an eager Russian sub willing to fulfill his most daring fantasies.

There’s one problem—Max isn’t quite ready to accept what's right in front of him. His deep-seated insecurities threaten to spoil what's growing into more than just a kinky pastime. Will Max embrace Vadim's love or throw away his chance at true happiness?

And a hot excerpt…

When they were deep into the park, Max stopped and brought Vadim to a halt, too. “See those bushes?” He pointed at hazel shrubs on the hill slope above the path. “Go there and fetch me a branch. A supple one. And remove the leaves and small twigs. The smoother it can be, the better. Better for you, this is.”

Vadim shot an apprehensive glance at him.

“Yeah, I suppose you guessed it right,” Max confirmed. “I did say we had to work on your punctuality. I tend to keep my promises. Luckily, the necessary implements are available on every tree. Convenient, isn’t it?”

For a moment, he felt a twinge of uncertainty, despite an attempt at a joke. Was he pushing too far? But it was only a moment, and then Vadim marched to the bushes without a word of protest. Max let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

When Vadim presented him with his trophy, Max inspected it thoroughly and even tapped at his palm with the rod. “Acceptable,” he said. It was quite resilient. “Now come here.” With a switch in his hand, like a shepherd, he guided Vadim to a thicket of bushes and onto a small grassy clearing among them. It was the closest thing to a secluded grove they were going to get. “Bend over there.” Max pointed at the nearest tree with the tip of his switch. “Lower your pants.”

It was unlikely someone would see them from the path, but still, Max stood so that he was able to monitor this direction in case some picnic enthusiasts came looking for a hidden clearing, too. He was now at Vadim’s left side, enjoying the view of his well-shaped buttocks, so obscenely white before the first touch of the switch.

“Do you remember the number of minutes you were late?”

Vadim shook his head, silently, his palms flat against the rough bark of the tree, his pants and underwear down around his ankles.

“Too bad. Fortunately, I remember it all too well. Twelve minutes. Guess how many swats you get for this.”

The first stroke was gentle, barely more than a tap. Max tested his aim and the force of impact. At the second one, maybe too intense, Vadim let out a hiss. Max stepped closer and gently rubbed the pink welt that appeared on the pale skin. “Don’t clench. Don’t fight it. It’s for your sake after all. It’s for you to remember that you should plan your life more efficiently. You better count, out loud. Show me you embrace the lesson. Okay?”

Vadim nodded, silent again.

Max applied the strokes slowly, with intervals, waiting for Vadim to count them and not applying the full strength this time. He used his arm only from the elbow down and was careful to watch that the light, flexible end of the switch wouldn’t bite into the outer flank too harshly. When six slim, even lines had appeared across Vadim’s buttocks, Max decided to pay attention to the back of his thighs as well. They seemed to be even more sensitive. Vadim almost jumped every time the switch landed across the delicate skin, and yet he was pressing back to meet each slap. After ten blows, he suddenly reached around and pulled his butt cheeks apart so Max could add two more onto his twitching hole, which Max did, surprised and aroused by this uncalled-for act of submission.

After that, with the switch still in his right hand, Max stroked its length across the tender insides of Vadim’s still spread buttocks—a feather-like touch that made Vadim suck a sharp breath in, much to Max’s delight. So responsive. So obedient. Mine. The proprietary feeling that welled up from deep within him was intoxicating.

Book links:

About the author: Katerina Ross lives in Russia and works as a journalist. There are no M/M publishers in her country at all, and thus she wrote a hot and kinky M/M romance in English. It’s set in Moscow, so you’ll get to know the city she lives in.

Come find Katerina on Facebook, Tumblr, and LJ if you’re so inclined :)

Thursday, September 15, 2016

Entire First Chapter of IRREFUTABLE

Chapter One

Carolyn Lucchesi had certainly been inside a police station before. In fact, as she glanced around the 18th District in Chicago, she was fairly certain she’d been inside this particular station, at least once. They all looked alike after a while. They smelled the same, too. Dirty and funky, like a locker room, only a locker room had never made her break out in a cold sweat from claustrophobia.

The detective typing away at his keyboard looked like every other detective she’d met. Overworked, needing sleep, and wishing they were anywhere but sitting at a desk, filling out paperwork. But she’d rather be sitting next to him at a desk than in one of the holding cells. Carolyn took a few deep breaths to calm down.

Two uniformed cops had picked her up on Michigan Avenue, claiming she fit the description of someone seen taking a Prada bag from Neiman Marcus on Northbrook Court. Once they realized she had a record and was on parole, she knew she’d be here for a while, even though they hadn’t found a Prada bag, or so much as a Prada charm, on her person.

She had done the crimes and had paid her time, but that record would follow her around for the rest of her life. Now, she was here for background information, or so she’d been told. That was their way of saying they felt like harassing her because of her family and personal criminal history.

But this time, they had nothing on which to hold her, and Carolyn knew that. She’d be released eventually. All she had to do was stay cool, although it wasn’t easy to do. She still had nightmares about being trapped in dark, dank places, even though she’d been out for six months. Her last stint had been the longest one of her life, and it had changed her.
“I need to pee.” Anything to get up from this desk and walk around for a moment or two.

The detective barely glanced up. “Hey, Rosie. Come over here and take this perp to the can for me, will ya?”

And they say chivalry is dead.

“I’m not a perp.” She said it more to remind herself of that fact. As she’d suspected, the detective ignored her correction.

An equally tired-looking uniformed officer shuffled over and pulled Carolyn out of the chair by one arm. Carolyn knew the drill. She would have no privacy in the bathroom, but at least she wouldn’t have to sit there watching the tired detective type, while she freaked out because she was inside a police station again.

When she finished, Carolyn asked for something to drink because she needed a few more moments away from that desk. “Water is fine.” Carolyn didn’t care for soda, and she wasn’t likely to get a glass of wine offered.

The cop eyed her warily.

“I’ll take tap water, even. I’m thirsty. Please.”

“You’ll have to pee again.”

“Not for a while. I’ll sip it. Please?”

“Come on.” The cop led her by the elbow into a tiny room that smelled of stale food. She opened a fridge that had seen better days, and pulled out a half liter bottle of water, handing it to Carolyn.

“Thank you.”

Several other uniforms and detectives were seated at the far end, and Carolyn’s attention was piqued when she heard one of them mention the Art Institute of Chicago.

“Second largest heist in US history from an art museum. Half the collection is gone, and we caught it.”

“Why us? This sounds like something the Feds would be all over.”

“Yeah, they are, but we’re working on it, too.”

Once the cop led her back into the hallway, Carolyn asked what heist they were talking about.
“Don’t ya read Google? Some of those Russian crown jewels from the last family of czars were on display, and two nights ago someone broke in and took half the collection.”

Could the cop feel the shiver of apprehension running up her arm? Carolyn forced a neutral expression to her face. “Really? Any suspects?”

She gave her a droll look. “Why? You think you know who did it? This is your area of expertise, after all.”

Carolyn ignored the mocking tone. Her mind was too busy racing. Uncle Tony had recently talked about getting back into the game, even though he had once sworn he never would. He had mentioned an upcoming exhibit at an art museum, saying it was a sure thing.

Even when Carolyn reminded him he was supposed to be dead, and had gone to great lengths to fake his own death, she could see this was too damn big of a catch for him to pass up. But as usual, he never gave his favorite niece too many details.

The less an outsider knows, the safer they are if picked up for something unrelated. That was one of the many things he’d taught her growing up. He’d just proven that one correct.

“Maybe,” said Carolyn, giving the cop a sideways glance. “Like you said, I know people who do this sort of thing.” Always tell them the truth, but make it something they don’t think you’d do. That way they won’t believe it. That was another of Uncle Tony’s pearls of wisdom.

They reached the desk again. The cop pushed her down into the chair. “Right. You’re going to give up the perps, no strings attached.”

The detective looked up from his keyboard. “What perps?”

“The ones who pulled the job at the Art Institute.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You know who did that?”

“I might. Tell me more about the MO.” She didn’t really expect him to tell her anything, but she was anxious now to know whether Uncle Tony had taken part. If he had, she would need to forget that detail. She would also need to forget that he was still alive, living under another name.

The detective and Rosie exchanged an amused glance. “Right,” he said. “‘Cause you know, we do that all the time. We talk to suspects about crimes. You watch too much TV.” This time, she didn’t bother reminding him she wasn’t a suspect.

He returned to his keyboard and Rosie left. They had taken her cell phone, but the detective’s was on the desk next to him. “Mind if I search Google on that?” she asked, pointing.

“Yes.” He glanced around, handing her a tablet from the desk next to his. “Use this instead, but keep the screen where I can see it.”

“Whose is it?”

“No one’s. What’re you looking for, anyway?”

“Details of the heist, of course.” No sense in lying. He’d see her search results anyway.

“Not much to find.”

She was counting on that. If there wasn’t much to find, there wouldn’t be anything that might implicate her uncle. Even if there was something to suggest he’d taken part, they thought he was dead.

A quick search told her the detective was right about one thing. There wasn’t much information about the event, but there was an image from the security video in the lobby, before the thieves had disabled the system.

It showed part of a tattoo on the neck of one of the robbers. The man was facing away from the camera so he couldn’t be identified by his features, but that tattoo was distinctive. She’d seen it before. The image was grainy, but she could tell the man had dark hair. It looked to be long and perhaps tied back. Even light brown hair showed up dark gray in a photo like this. It would be next to impossible to ID anyone specific from this, but that tattoo did narrow down the list considerably.

Taken by itself, the tat might easily be overlooked unless the FBI had already run this image through their databases, and some enterprising agent recognized this part of the tat design. Carolyn swallowed hard as she stared at the ink. She’d seen this partial image twice in her life. Once was on her uncle.

The second time was on a man whose name she didn’t even know, in a club called Lia’s Domain, not too far from where she lived. She’d been going there for a few months, shortly after turning twenty-one, and had consented one evening to do an impact and bondage play scene with a Dom who wore an elaborate gold and black mask over the top half of his face. She’d only known him by the name Diamond. Carolyn had been so green she hadn’t even used a code name. She’d used her middle name, Marie, but she had worn a mask.

“Well?” The detective’s question pulled her back to the present.

“You’re right. Not much to find.” Her answer was automatic. When he grunted in response, she let her memories drift back to nine years ago . The first time she’d seen him, his startling ice blue eyes had drawn her right in.

“Nice mask,” he had remarked, looking hers over. She’d bought one that reminded her of the Mardi Gras masks one finds in New Orleans, and had chosen gold and emerald because the person who sold it to her said it brought out her eyes. Diamond had agreed.

During the scene, which was the most erotic thing that had ever happened to her, she’d caught sight of part of a tattoo on Diamond’s neck. She couldn’t remember the exact shape, but something about this image reminded her so much of Diamond’s tat that her hands began to tremble. She only remembered part of it, and this was a partial image as well. It could be nothing, and surely there was no relationship to the tattoos.

“Hey, Rosie, get me a cup of coffee, will ya?”

Laughter bubbled up that Carolyn tamped down quickly as Rosie gave the detective a look that would melt steel. He sighed loudly and rose, glaring at Carolyn. “Do not move. I’m only going over there.”
Once more, she let her memories return to the past, but this time they lingered on Uncle Tony. By the time Carolyn was a mere child of four, her uncle had been pulling jobs for more than ten years. The image she stared at and her uncle’s tattoo were a definite match. No doubt about it.

Once they identified it, it wouldn’t take the FBI long to realize there was a connection to the job that had put her uncle behind bars in the year 2000, and this one. He’d been released four years ago, and faked his death a year later. He had served longer than anyone else who had pulled the job with him. He still resented that. Most of all, he resented a man named Jagger Tyrell, who had only served seven years. Uncle Tony told Carolyn that was because Jagger had fingered them all in exchange for a reduced sentence.

A thought occurred to Carolyn that sent her imagination into overdrive. What if the man in this image was Jagger, instead of her uncle? Was Jagger the one back in the game? Or was it one of the others who had pulled the original heist? It had to be one of them. Uncle Tony had told her about the time they all got this same tattoo, before they pulled the heist. It was so distinctive. Surely it meant something to anyone who knew all the men had the same one.

“Find something or not?”

The detective was standing over her, coffee in hand. His voice startled Carolyn so much that she quickly scrolled past the image so he wouldn’t take a closer look. “Not really.”

The detective made a noncommittal grunt and sat down to return to his typing. The tattoo that her uncle and the others had done was in the shape of a broach that was one of four missing pieces of jewelry from the original Russian Crown Jewels. The four pieces had disappeared somewhere around 1922.

All the men had had the tattoo done one night while they’d been drunk, to mark the date they’d decided to steal part of the collection of pieces that weren’t missing. Carolyn thought it had been a very stupid move on their part, even if they had been drunk, because those tattoos had helped convict them.

She had asked Uncle Tony once if the distinctive tattoo had more to do with the FBI rounding them all up, as opposed to Jagger Tyrell naming them. Carolyn had read that there was video footage of them getting the tats, but her uncle had been insistent that Jagger had given the Feds names and addresses, and that’s what led to them all being apprehended.

The detective snatched the tablet out of Carolyn’s hand. She reached for it, but he pulled it away. “You do know something.”

“No, I don’t.”

He scrolled through the pages she’d just looked at. “It sure looks like something your uncle might pull off, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, except he’s dead.”

“Maybe his former associates did this?”

“I’m sure they did, because no doubt they’d be stupid enough to go after pieces in the same collection that sent them to prison in the first place.” But what other conclusion would anyone reach, once they identified that tat?

“I can hold you as a material witness in this.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I can call the FBI and tell them we strongly suspect you know something.”

To keep her hands from trembling any further, she casually folded them in her lap. Staying quiet, she forced a neutral expression to her face. She knew he was right. They could hold her. If she screwed up her parole she was in big trouble, and this detective knew it. More importantly, if she went back to jail, she wasn’t sure this time she’d survive it.

Being able to endure bondage during a play scene in a BDSM club was not something she could do now. Not since the incident that had led to her nightmares and fear of dark, damp places. She had to avoid prison at all costs.

Detective Talio watched her for what felt like hours, but she steadily held his gaze. She knew their tricks. He was looking for anything subtle that might indicate she’d given herself away. Carolyn knew how to avoid that, if she concentrated hard enough.

As a way of distraction, she let her thoughts wander to the beach in Plage de l’Almanarre in Hyères, between Nice and Marseille. It was her favorite place in the entire world. When her parents were alive, they used to take her there, and she’d watch the windsurfers and kite surfers, fascinated. She wanted to fly the way they did.

Finally, the detective placed the tablet back on the desk he’d plucked it from. “I’m done. You can go. But, don’t forget that we’ll be watching you and your uncle’s former associates.”

“What about my things?” Carolyn rose, praying he wouldn’t notice her legs shaking.

“See the desk sergeant for them.” He waved a dismissive hand.

After Carolyn collected her cell phone and wallet, she walked a few blocks before she called her uncle. He had one of those pay as you go cell phones. He didn’t answer, so she left a message, asking him to call her back. She wanted to make sure he knew about the image of the tattoo.

When she reached her apartment, she called her parole officer and left a message, explaining what had happened. It was better to be proactive and let them know beforehand, rather than receive an angry phone call once they got the police report.

What did normal people do at two in the afternoon? She lay down on her bed to ponder the question. What was “normal”? She was thirty years old, she’d grown up in a family of thieves, and she’d been in and out of prison for shoplifting since she turned seventeen. She had no job because no one would hire her with felony convictions. She’d stopped and started several degree programs at universities in the Chicago area, but she had no formal training in anything except how to steal.

If it wasn’t for the money her uncle had put in several bank accounts for her, courtesy of jobs he’d pulled in the past, she wouldn’t have anything to live on. Carolyn didn’t feel any guilt over this. She knew no other way. She’d be happy to work if someone would hire her. Her PO had told her he was “working on it”. He’d been “working on it” for almost six months now.

So she did wonder, especially on days like this when the sun was shining, and she’d been wandering through Neiman Marcus and Saks, watching the sales clerks with their crisp clothes and smooth voices. She liked to pretend she had a job like that, where she could use the same voices they did to persuade people to spend money on things they didn’t really need.

The customers also fascinated her. She loved to watch them rushing in and out on their lunch hours. She liked to try to guess what each one did for a living, based on what they wore, how they spoke, and what they smelled like.

What it would be like to have a normal life? A routine life? A life where one worked for a living, and didn’t have relatives who were famous for the crimes they’d committed? A life where she didn’t have dreams about being confined to dark, musty places, with no hope of escape? One where she didn’t wake up from her nightmares screaming, bathed in sweat, at least once a week?

It was unlikely she’d ever find out, but on days like this, she did wonder.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

IRREFUTABLE - Tortured Love 2

Tortured Love 2

***Click HERE to purchase directly from
Evernight Publishing***


Ex-con Carolyn Lucchesi receives a shock nastier than another prison sentence when she discovers she inadvertently lied to the police. Uncle Tony had sworn to her the man in the photo taken from the video footage of a robbery at an art museum was none other than infamous ex-con and jewel thief Jagger Tyrell. But when Jagger confronts her in the park, he tells a different story. One that, if true, means her uncle lied to her and set her up for a parole violation.

Jagger has spent nine years avoiding his former associates, and anything to do with prison or the police. When Carolyn’s lie thrusts him back into the spotlight, he uses everything at his disposal, including Carolyn’s body, to find out who is trying to frame him for a crime he did not commit, and why. But falling in love with Carolyn is not in the plans…


They stared into each other’s eyes before he kissed her again, probing her lips with his tongue until she parted them. She moaned softly into his open mouth, but when her hands pushed against his chest, she broke the kiss again and shoved him away from her.

“Carolyn, what the hell?”

“Oh, right. Just because you kiss me, I’m supposed to fuck you?”

“You’re so full of shit. You want this as much as I do.” Jagger grasped her hair again and kissed her once more, sliding his tongue in and out. Her moans intensified, spurring him on.

Kissing her was everything he’d imagined it would be, plus more. She tasted like wine and the avocado dressing from the Grand Lux Café, which was just fine with him. His dick was so fucking hard now it was painful. He ground it against her abdomen, but her damn hands came up again, pushing him away one more time.

“Oh, this is bullshit.” He forced her head up again. “Look me right in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to fuck me.”

“We can’t do this.”

“Carolyn, do you want to do it? Yes or no?”

“We can’t!”

“Why the hell not? We’re adults. We can do whatever the fuck we want.”

“It will complicate everything.”

Even though he agreed with her, they’d gone too far to stop now. Jagger stroked her hair, gazing into her eyes. The lust in them was unmistakable. “How long were you standing there watching me?”

A small sound, almost like a plea, came out.

“You watched the whole thing, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Tiny whimpers escaped her throat as Jagger brushed his finger along her collarbone. The sound sent shivers down his spine. When he ran his thumb across her left nipple, she cried out softly.

“Please … please don’t.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No. I mean I do like it, but this is wrong.”

Even through the tank top, he could see how swollen her breasts were. He was dying here. Jagger flicked the other nipple. He had to see them and taste them. “Why is it wrong?”

“Because … because of who we are.”

“We’re just people. A man and a woman who are hot for each other. Tell me you don’t find me as attractive as I find you.”

“You’re gorgeous. And sexy. Not the point.” Her voice betrayed the fact that her willpower was caving fast.

“It is exactly the point. You’re fucking beautiful, and I want to fuck you. You want to fuck me. We might as well have some fun while we figure this out.”

When he brushed both hands between her legs, Jagger grinned as he realized how soaking wet her pussy was. “I knew it. Can’t fake that, Carolyn. You do want me.”

Her eyelids fluttered as he rubbed her clit. She sighed. “Oh … please…”

“Please what?” Jagger nuzzled her neck. “Tell me what you want me to do.” He pushed harder on her clit.

“Oh fuck…”

“You’re close, aren’t you? I can smell it on you.”


When Jagger took his hands away, her eyes flew open. “Why did you stop?”

He cupped her face. “Tell me you’ll let me fuck you, anyway I want to, as long as I want to, and in every room of this apartment if that’s what I want, and I’ll let you come.”

Monday, September 12, 2016

Guest Blogger: Lea Bronsen with THE HOTTER THE LOVE


After sexy cover model Yushka proposed, life is more turbulent than ever for erotic romance author Andrea. He is expecting a baby with his ex-girlfriend, who says she doesn’t want to keep it. How will Andrea's sons take upcoming life changes? To make things more complicated, her ex goes to great lengths to coax her back, and one of her sons' girlfriend is a tad too interested in Andrea's young and very handsome fiancé...

On the writing front, Andrea anxiously awaits news on her latest manuscript submission, and she has to decide whether to accept her publisher's offer to model in a sexy photo shoot—the same kind she and Yushka did in Cannes—in the hopes of making a new "Cover Photo of the Year". Considering the erotic poses the previous photographer demanded, can Andrea model with another guy other than Yushka?


We enter a hall so big the tiniest sound echoes. It’s quite humbling. I shrink in my clothes and barely dare to breathe. Dark wood furniture towers over us, with a mix of contradictory smells—orchid-scented sanitizer and old dust—filling the space.

Shoes clamping on a hardwood floor, we follow the tall, silver-haired man into a living room with exquisite furniture, gold-framed mirrors, and classic paintings on the walls. Heavy velvet curtains adorn the windows, and an impressive floor-to-ceiling library on one side has to contain literary curiosities from every part of the world. Marveling, I study each magnificent object.

The man stops and glares across the room, his facial expression clearly one of annoyance. What an oppressive atmosphere.

Yushka stands beside him and stares in the same direction.

I follow their gaze. A young and strikingly beautiful woman is half-seated on a green velvet couch with her legs folded underneath her. Dark doe eyes and pink lips stand out in a pale, oval face. A waterfall of rich, glowing auburn-colored hair contrasts with her white dress. She looks cast in a scene from the Russian classic Doctor Zhivago. Beneath full breasts, a pregnant belly protrudes, far too round and big for her frail frame. Jekaterina?

My chest tightens. The more I look at her, the more her beauty takes my breath away. She’s the woman Yushka was in love with last year. The one he slept with and impregnated.

Her gaze is riveted on him, the recognition and warmth fiery.

I shoot him a glance. His features are tight, as if he’s trying to hide his reaction, but he doesn’t take his gaze off her. This is exactly what I feared. They’ve had feelings for each other. Maybe meeting now will revive them. He has fallen for her once, so why would he not fall for her again?

I feel bad, nauseous, want to get out of here. But she’s carrying the baby girl I’m going to call mine very soon. I need to overcome my unease. Hopefully, once the formalities are done, this is the only time we’ll have to meet.

She tells him a few words in Russian, her voice the cooing of a turtledove.

Yushka replies calmly, but his throat sounds choked. He grabs my hand, palm sweaty, and leads me to a sofa opposite hers. His discomfort is more than clear in his features. He tears his gaze from her and searches me, his expression vibrating with an intensity I seldom see. It hits me—he’s afraid.

I squeeze his hand. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he replies instantly, but his tension is palpable.

My chest tightens to a painful level. What is he so nervous about? From his interaction with Jekaterina, this has nothing to do with the baby. It’s about them, their relationship, and me. Is he afraid he’ll have to choose between us?

Goodness, I’m delirious. I sit very still, take small, shallow breaths, and pray for everything to be all right. Then bolt out of this house after the arrangements are resolved.

Jekaterina addresses me, her dark pupils glimmering. “You’re very beautiful. Are you a model, too?”

I’m as taken aback by her speaking a fluent English as I am by her compliment, and need a few seconds to shake myself. “Um, no, I’m not.”

She raises a brow. “That’s funny. I would’ve sworn you were a model. So how did you two meet?”

“At an author conference.”

Yushka clears his throat. “Andrea writes books, and I’m featured on the cover of her last one.”

“Oh, how exciting.” Her lips curve upward. I can’t decide whether it’s a genuine smile or she’s faking it.

“Yes,” he continues. “That’s why we … uh … were bound to meet. They had organized a Meet-and-Greet for authors and cover models of their books.” Why does he sound like he’s trying to make an excuse?

She flutters her long lashes at me. “What kind of books do you write?”

Before I can answer, her father walks over to a cabinet and picks up a bunch of papers. “All right, enough chit-chat.” His voice booms like thunder.

Book trailer


Book links

Evernight Publishing / / / Bookstrand / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / All Romance eBooks / Goodreads / Pinterest

About the other books in the series


The Perfect Shoot (book #1)

When Andrea Johnson, writing as author Cindy Vega, signed up for a Meet & Greet with the cover model of her latest book, she didn’t expect sparks to fly. Yushka is dangerously good-looking and too young for her. But their connection is instantaneous, and during a photo shoot with the two, the photographer picks up on their growing attraction. Seeing the potential for THE cover photo of the century, he decides to push their comfort limits…

Get The Perfect Shoot at

Mine to Love (book #2)

The writing conference in sunny Cannes was fantastical, a dream. Back at home, reality catches up with author Andrea Johnson and the sexy cover model of her book, Yushka. With tough working schedules, challenging family relations, and seductive temptation from all sides, the couple’s explosive romance is put to the test. Will their love be strong enough to have a future?

Get Mine to Love at

Lea Bronsen
About the author

I like my reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strive to give my own stories the same intensity. After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with my debut novel Wild Hearted, I divide my writing time between psychological thriller, suspense romance, and erotic dark/contemporary romance.

I love to hear from my readers! Write to or meet me on:

Website / Lea's Crazy Nights Blog / Facebook profile / Facebook page / Twitter / Amazon