Friday, July 31, 2015

Book Spotlight & Giveaway~ Forbidden Things: Dissident

Don't forget to enter the giveaway at the end of the post. The author will award a $50 Amazon/BN GC to one randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter during the tour. The tour is sponsored by Goddess and you can find all the tour stops HERE

Now let's chat with the author, Nikki McCormack...

What is the sweetest thing someone has done for you?
I think I would have to say that my husband encouraging me to give up my other work and focus on my writing is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. It showed so much belief in me and my work and a willingness to support me chasing my dreams that I can’t imagine anyone doing anything sweeter.

How would you spend ten thousand bucks?
I would pay off debt. I know that’s incredibly boring, but getting a good start as an author can be expensive and it takes time to build up an income. Paying off debt would free me up to do more things for the people I love and the causes I care about.

Where do you get your best ideas?
Looking at my project list, a shocking number of my ideas come from dreams. Either a character in a dream sticks with me or a scene does. Sometimes both. When I give it my attention, I often find that there is already a story in my head to go with that character or scene. Other ideas have come from the lyrics in a song or, on rare occasions, something someone says will trigger an idea, though those more often express as short stories.

What comes first, the plot or characters?
Most of the time it’s the characters that grab my attention first, demanding that I tell their story. People and psychology, especially the psychology of human relationships, fascinate me. That is a major driving factor behind the stories I tell and the characters I tell them about.

What does your main character do that makes him/her special.
Indigo is a kind and giving individual in spite of the fact that the misdeeds (or, in some cases, attempted good deeds) of others have left her trapped in miserable situation. Her struggle to cope with the cards she’s been dealt without losing that part of her and the resilience she shows along the way are some of the things that I think make her a special and appealing character.

Now onto Forbidden Things: Dissident (Book One)...

Ascard power can strengthen, heal and create. It also has great potential to destroy, enough to topple entire governments. Indigo’s country places strict limitations on the use of ascard so she must channel her talents into the healing arts or risk severe punishment. An orphan from a disgraced family, trapped by her father’s treason, Indigo struggles to reclaim her place in a society that has driven her into an abusive engagement.

Then a mysterious stranger from a neighboring country contacts her using ascard. He needs help escaping his prison so he can bring an end to his emperor's oppressive rule or die trying. His unshakable devotion to his cause and the passion hidden behind his cool arrogance move her to help him at the risk of being branded a traitor herself.

When the politics of society bring them together a second time, Indigo decides to use her growing powers to help him fight his war. If only she dared fight for her own future with such passion. Perhaps she can find the courage to do so by helping the man she has fallen for win his revolution. She might have exactly the power he needs to succeed.

Teaser Excerpt:

Her attention wandered to the fountain sprouting up in the center of a nearby courtyard, simple and elegant like a great stonework lily. A man stood by the fountain, watching water droplets falling with the shimmer of multicolored gems in the bright sunlight. Long silver hair hung to the middle of his back like a frozen waterfall. His smooth pale skin and unusual hair marked him as Lyran, but his regal bearing and rich attire didn’t befit a slave or merchant.

Curious. “Have you seen him before?”

Andrea turned, following her gaze. “Who?”

“The man beside the fountain.”

“There’s no one by the fountain.”

Andrea’s reply tugged at her awareness, but the silver-haired Lyran was turning toward them now. His pale eyes met hers and the air pressed from her lungs as if a corset were being pulled too tight. The buildings lurched and spun in her vision.


She sank to her knees. Andrea crouched down with her, her eyes wide and frightened. She held Indigo’s shoulders tight, her lips moving. Indigo heard only the pounding of blood in her ears.

Buy link: Elysium Palace:


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Nikki started writing her first novel at the age of 12 (which is still tucked away in a briefcase in her office). Despite a successful short story publication with Cricket Magazine in 2007, she treated her writing addiction as a hobby until a drop in the economy left her with an abundance of free time to focus on making it her career.

Nikki lives in the magnificent Pacific Northwest tending to her awesome husband, two sweet horses, three manipulative cats, and a crazy dog. She’s a wine and tea fanatic who loves sitting on the ocean in her kayak surrounded by open water or hanging from a rope in a cave, embraced by darkness and the sound of dripping water. She also enjoys horseback riding, archery, PC gaming, dancing, good anime, etc. She studies Japanese and practices Iaido because she believes we should never stop learning.

Twitter handle: @Author_NikkiMc
Facebook page:
Goodreads author page:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Release blitz for Slippers and Chains: Sugar Dust

Out Now! Slippers & Chains: Sugar Dust by Raven ShadowHawk (@ileandraXraven) #erotica #bdsm #domination #submission

Dan loves submissive women and longs to build a harem of willing females to fill what he lovingly calls his ‘Slave Library.’ He shares his plans for sexual bliss with Karen, the first of his submissives in his mind and his heart. But when an unexpected visit from his mother leads to uncomfortable questions about his ex, Dan realizes that past mistakes are catching up to him, faster than he can run.

The first D/s relationship to blend comfortably with her vanilla life is the one Karen shares with Dan. She treasures the freedom in the act of submission and wants nothing more than to share it with her Master for as long as possible. Why then, does he insist on bringing other women into their bed? And why can’t he say he loves her?

As Dan battles his inner demons, Karen hopes a sexy mini break at the exclusive fetish club, Sugar Dust will allow them time to relax and reconnect. There she meets Beth, personification of Dan’s past storming in to demolish her present. Can she show Dan that their relationship is strong enough to break the chains of his past, before Beth drives an immoveable wedge between them with her tales of what once was?

Buy Links

. . . and so on!

Excerpt (Naughty!)
‘Well done, Kaz. Take it out now.’
She moaned, turning a bleary eye toward him. ‘I still don't get to come?’
The pitiful tilt of her downturned lips softened his intended response. ‘Not yet.’
‘I hate you sometimes.’
‘You'll thank me later. Promise.’
Her fingers slipped beneath the shiny hem of her latex dress. He enjoyed the contrast of her dark skin against the white material as she fumbled around. Seconds later, she held up the remote controlled bullet, wet and gleaming. The musky scent of her frustrations filled the car and Dan breathed deep, filling his nostrils with the wonderful smell.
‘Put it in there.’
Karen shoved the bullet into the glove compartment and composed herself with a series of slow breaths.
‘Better?’ he asked.
‘I suppose.’ Glowering, she clambered from the car and kicked the door shut.
Dan chuckled and when Karen walked around to open his door, the grin grew wider. He stroked her burning cheek with the pad of his thumb. ‘Karen,’ he murmured, ‘my sweet, little Kitten. You'll be okay. Before the night is out you'll get to come.’
She whined. ‘But I need it now.’
He peered over his shoulder, casting a sweeping gaze left and right. The chance to further tease his slave presented itself in the form of a deserted car park. How could he resist?
‘Now?’ he whispered. ‘Here? In the street? I can do that.’ With deft hands, he gripped her slender shoulders and spun her round. Her back pressed flat against his chest, and he stroked the slippery latex clinging to her skin. First her breasts, squeezing the firm globes before skimming down to the small dent of her bellybutton. He tickled her thighs beneath the hem of her dress. She jumped.
‘I could,’ he breathed in her ear, ‘and no one would think anything of it. Not here. I could hold you against the car.’ He did, pushing her hands out to lie flat on the roof. Her cheek touched the metal and he watched the condensation of her breath mingle with the wisps of steam rising from the hot surface. She groaned.
‘I could pull off your knickers.’ Dan released her hands and teased his way back under the dress. He could feel her thighs trembling. ‘Wait, you're not wearing any.’
‘You bloody took them!’
‘I know.’ Dan resisted the urge to check his pocket. He knew they were still there, damp and musky. ‘One less barrier.’ He flipped the bottom of the dress over Karen's high, round ass and tucked it in around her waist. Both hands stroked her exposed skin, watching the pattern of goose bumps prickling in the cool night air. So fucking beautiful . . .
‘It would only take a few minutes.’ He thrust his hips against her. ‘Wouldn't even have to pull my trousers down all the way. A quick fuck.’ When he nipped her ear, a low growl rumbled at the back of her throat.
Her instant responsiveness made him aware of a tightening across the front of his trousers. He resisted the urge to adjust himself; wouldn't do to let the submissive know that she was actually the one in charge.
‘You'd love that, wouldn't you? A speedy shag against the side of my car in the middle of a public car park. You're such a dirty girl.’
The loud slap of his hand against her ass cheeks made them both jump. The giddy thrill of power made Dan's head spin. His breathing hitched, and he caught the scent of Karen's arousal on his fingers again. It fired his blood as surely as any over the counter aphrodisiac.
‘Do you still need to come? Now?’ As his breathed the words into her ear, Dan walked his fingers over the curve of her bottom. Passed the top of her thighs and round the front to cup her pussy. So hot. So wet. He groaned. ‘You shaved?’
Karen humped his fingers. ‘Of course I did. It's Sugar Dust.’
‘I love it when you're smooth down there. It's so fucking sexy. You missed a bit though.’
‘You try catching everything with a shitty lady-razor.’
‘Don't worry, it's amazing.’ Dan glanced over his shoulder. ‘Don't move.’
The lights in the huge exclusive club made pools of yellow light on the tarmac. Though he heard the faint notes of music from within, he heard no voices. Saw no people. Perfect. He dropped to his knees behind Karen and pressed his nose against her backside. He rubbed his cheek against her lower one then nipped the fleshy underside of her arse. She gasped. He did it again. A third time. The fourth bite drew forth a strangled wail as he brought his teeth together and turned his head from side to side.
‘You're mine,’ he whispered, made bold by her intense responses. ‘This mark proves you're mine.’
Karen sounded like she might be having trouble breathing. ‘You don't need a mark to prove that.’
He traced his finger along her trembling inner thigh. Thick, slippery wetness coated his fingers, a tangible reminder of the day she'd had. He licked it away. ‘You've been so good today. It will be worth it, little Kitten.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Good. You ready?’

Author Bio and Links
Raven ShadowHawk is one face of the author who writes fantasy and horror under a second pseudonym. She is, according to most . . . okay, according to herself, the fun one of the pair.

Living in Leicester, UK with her partner (the Funk Master) and twin sons (known as Sprog1 and Sprog2), Raven writes erotica ranging from sensual and romantic to graphic and totally PWP.

Her interests include badly produced porn, chocolate, dressing up (particularly in matching underwear) and shouting at women who wear stupid shoes and/or skinny jeans.

Discover more about Raven on her blog (
Contact Raven via email (
Interact with Raven on Facebook (
Interact with Raven on Twitter - @ileandraXraven (
Get Raven’s newsletter (

Thursday, July 30, 2015


It appears this month we are reminiscing about some of our previous books.  STEEL EMBRACE is an alter ego venture written by the naughtier side of our personalities.  It was a fun ride, and took us to the other side of our imaginations!  Hope you enjoy.

Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane

After jutting a finger toward the direction of the lounge, Fawn dissolved through the opening marked office, her garment swishing. A lump formed in Raina‘s throat as she forced her legs to move. She needed the job. Interviews terrified her, actually, anyone with authority basically terrified her. Growing up in an orphanage, one of the last of its kind, and then a foster home with atypical trauma, Raina ended up sheltered in a wrap of solitude until she discovered she had a brother, Storm. Being nearly a decade older than her, he remembered a time when they had parents. That revelation, that moment was an epiphany that gave her foundation and legacy. She remembered with fondness he teasing about their parents being fixated on weather.

He told Raina if they had another sibling, he or she would probably be named Thunder or Drizzle. She longed for the comfortableness being with him brought, rather than the upheaval of this uncertain moment. Storm made her laugh. She didn‘t know she could laugh so much with another. Though, her students usually made her chuckle. With young people she felt a sense of oneness that was missing from her socialization with many of her peers. Storm reinforced the ideal that not all people were cruel, that sometimes you just had to take a step of faith and trust. They had a perfect year together even though he wasn‘t around as much as she wished. Storm had made his money in the stock market, but he applied it to mysterious ventures that took him to various parts of the country. He said one day he‘d reveal all, but not until he knew the truth, not until he had proof. Truth? What truth? Proof? Of what? Those were question he had left unanswered.
None of that mattered to her. All that mattered was that she now had a modest sense of home. All her life she knew she needed to belong to something or someone other than herself. Now, that love of family was in jeopardy.

The start of their second year together, Storm became ill. The medical community devoured his fortune, and Raina took him as a dependent. The Anderson Medical Facility specialized in blood disorders. It was only a thirty-minute drive from Raina‘s previous job and home. Then the job dissolved and her medical would as well by the end of the month. This job, today, was important. Storm required this hospital. The idea of moving elsewhere was unacceptable. Besides, Storm had given her the job lead, told her to do whatever it took to get the job, suggesting there were odd circumstances boding. From the moment he came into her world, she obeyed him like a father. While making her way to the lounge, she noted more of the same primed walls with etchings left undone. If the hall and foyer were her only work, it would take at least six months to finish, and that was encouraging She might not need the entire year, by the way things looked. She assumed the lounge was on her left, headed that way, when a cry of pain caught her attention. Raina wasn‘t the type to ignore such a thing and followed the sound to a room at the far end of the corridor. A door stood partially open. She did not hesitate to peer into the area. Astonished, she retreated a half step. On the other side, an enormous, muscular woman, haplessly tucked into a red, leather corset, flesh overflowing. Supported by bold legs covered in sheer silk stockings with spiked-heeled boots. The appearance did not astound. What she was doing did. She flogged a spindly, partially naked man not much older than Raina. Wrists had been manacled, with fur lined cuffs, to a hook in the ceiling. His feet dangled inches from the ground. It appeared painful. Blood beaded and dripped from long sleek lines marking the length of his back, buttock and thighs. Adrenalin-spirited palpitations heaved Raina's chest. "Red," he shouted. "Red!"

Eyes enormous, Raina realized she was somewhere she didn‘t wish to be. She understood the scene, a Dominatrix and her slave. Why in the world did her brother steer her to such a place? Why indeed? The answer emerged like a sword from a sheath, desperation. They needed the medical coverage and from Raina‘s inquiries, this job supplied it. Her second epiphany was an understanding of where she was. This placed catered to the unusual. Could she separate herself from that reality? Hoping as an artist, she wasn't expected.... She did not finish her thought. 

The woman threw her arm back and the leather straps of the flogger connected with the man‘s thighs. Its crack rippled as he cried out, and again screamed. "Red!" The word red was wheedled as if it held purpose. Raina suspected this must be his safe word. The woman purposefully ignored him. Raina took a step forward even though this was none of her concern. Momentarily she rationalized, that he could be a masochist and might not appreciate Raina interrupting. Should she intrude where she wasn‘t wanted? Yet it didn‘t at all seem like he was enjoying himself.

 Her compassion moved her feet forward. As if to confirm her suspicion, a whimper of despair seeped past the man‘s white-pursed lips which was followed by the woman‘s cruel laugh and harsh words. "Since when do you have limits, maggot? You are mine and I‘ll beat you to a pulp if that‘s my pleasure."
"Red," he cried, this time in a tattered tone. "Please Mistress, no more." Another blow which appeared harder. Tears bubbled from pale, blue eyes that started to roll back in his red-face. A sharp snap of leather to flesh echoed in the small chamber, its rip insisting.

Raina didn‘t have a clue nor care as to the proper protocol in this situation or if there was any, but she knew this man was in trouble. She could tell by his sparse breathing and a harsh, choking sound that the man was about to have a seizure. She had seen her brother in this state. Bursting into the room like an avenging angel, Raina shoved the much larger woman aside with enough force to have her stumble. "Are you out of your mind? He‘s in trouble."

"How dare you!" the woman roared, her brightly painted lips an effigy of fury. She raised her lash to Raina who turned toward the larger woman in defiance daring her to snap leather. The lash did not move. "Get away," Raina shouted as she tried to figure out how to undo the manacles and get the man down. She dragged a chair over to him, and she was grateful the cuffs were but a series of straps that could be quickly unfastened.

"He is mine!" Her anger was real.

"Get help, now!" Raina commanded in a judgmental tone, "or I swear if this man dies, I‘ll testify that you beat him to death." The woman blinked, screamed something about being a paying member of the club and that the owners would know about this, and mid-rant she finally left. Raina could hear her shouting for help, but Raina had the impression it wasn‘t for this man‘s sake.

As she managed the last binding, trying to manipulate his weight, they both fell, first to the chair and then to the floor. He began to shake, eyes rolling, spittle sprayed from his mouth. She feared the worst. A Japanese tea service decorated a nearby table. The elegance of it contrasted against an array of whips decorating the wall above it. However, it provided a spoon, and she crawled toward the table, snatched it up then flung herself back to the distressed man. She stuffed the spoon between his lips to keep him from swallowing his tongue, not really knowing if it was the right or wrong thing to do.  She simply had to do something. "It‘s all right. You‘re going to be all right," she said, her tone more shaky and scared rather than soothing. The seizure seemed to last an eternity, but it was only a minute or two. Soon others sprawled into the room, infested it like ants on a cookie crumb. She recognized the corseted woman and Fawn, but not the three burly men.

"See," the large woman exclaimed in an angry screech. "She dared to interrupt our scene. What sort of place allows this? I pay good money to be a member of this club and I expect privacy." There was a snap in her voice the rivaled that of her whip. 

"The door was open," Raina managed after a heavy swallow. Please don’t let me lose this job opportunity wild ravings rivered in her thoughts. "He was in trouble. Can‘t you see that?" Raina pushed at the young man‘s hair, watched as his pale colored eyes returned to focus. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing emerged. 

"Get Doc," ordered the tallest of the men exuding authority. "As for you, Mave, consider your membership canceled. You‘ll get a full refund in the mail."

Raina ignored the lot of them; her gaze focused on the prone, bleeding and sweating man. "You‘re going to be all right." Inside, Raina wondered if that were true for her as well. She had stepped out of her comfort zone, and that never brooded well. Had she interfered? Was this a boundary where the consequences to her would be devastating? Someone must have ushered the woman away, for her salty curses grew distant.

A moment later, an elderly man with crinkly, old eyes and a soft tone, gently nudged her aside. "I‘ll take it from here, girl." She nodded, found her feet, smoothed down her skirt not noticing the new spots of red, felt the over-sized waistband settle on her hips rather than her waist. She behaved as might a scolded lad, whereas, the floor looked very appealing and she didn‘t take her gaze from it. 

"And just who the hell are you?" a distinctive though unfamiliar voice commanded. Fawn answered for her. "May I speak, Sirs?" Someone must have nodded, for Fawn continued. "She‘s here for the interview. Her résumé is in the office." Surprisingly, none of the three men outwardly ogled. 

Nodding acknowledgement he turned. "Give her a moment to collect herself then show her to the lounge and get that résumé," was said in the same authoritative voice. "Doc, is Kenny all right?" "Seems just fine to me, now. We are lucky he is young!" the older man said, a bit of a drawl to his tone. "But he could have been in real trouble if this young lady didn‘t poke her nose in where Mave didn‘t want it to be." He half-smiled and winked. 

Someone cursed. Raina didn‘t know whom. The floor kept holding more and more appeal for the focus of her eyes. Now, if only it would cooperate and provide a hole she could drop through. Her angst caused her to noticeably shiver. The heaviest of the men smacked her on the back hard enough to make her jump a step and look up. "You done good, Doll, even if you did break a house rule."

We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at (Write - Blog Dawn - in subject line) and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane - -

Release Blitz~ Challenge Accepted

Challenge Accepted By Annabeth Leong (@annabethleong)


After being shamed for her dominant desires too many times, Christine has resolved never to date a vanilla man again. She needs a man who knows he's submissive, and she's determined to hold out until she finds one.

Until she meets Sam, that is. Christine can't bring herself to turn down the handsome parkour aficionado, so instead she tries to scare him off with an intensely kinky first date.

When Sam meets her extreme challenges head-on, Christine must decide if he can become the man to serve her every need—in the bedroom, and in her life.

Warnings: m/f anal play; BDSM content includes impact play, foot worship, dominance and submission, clamps placed in fairly extreme locations, and implied piercings.


Even seeing only her back, Sam had no trouble recognizing Christine as he carried a sack of dirty clothes into the basement laundry room of his new apartment building. He’d liked her tall, thick frame the moment he’d caught her watching him, and he liked the way she moved. She folded clothes with sure, clean gestures. He’d been an athlete for enough of his life that he could immediately spot a woman in full control of her body and presence.

He hefted the laundry onto his shoulder and assumed a casual stance. He made his movements feel easy so they would look easy. “Christine.”

She turned. He liked that she didn’t jump. Maybe she knew he was coming.

He saw her reacting to him—gaze flicking down his body, body shifting to emphasize her hip. Her eyes were fierce, not welcoming. She looked as if she might be about to set him on fire. Apart from that, though, her nod was polite and distant.

Stretching and making a show of it, he set the laundry down beside a free machine. He didn’t know what to think of the contradictions he read in her body language. He was intrigued and wanted to get to know her. She, on the other hand, wasn’t being clear about what she wanted. He couldn’t tell if she was hoping he’d strike up a conversation or wishing he’d drop his clothes into the wash and get the hell out.

Sam had been raised in the type of family that communicated in code, and he didn’t like it. The only way he knew to make sense of the world was to speak his mind. “You up for company?”

She hesitated. “I think so,” she said finally.

“I’m glad.” His voice came out softer than he’d intended, his tone deferent.

There was something about Christine that made him want to address her that way. He stole glances as he started a washer. She dressed professionally, but not in an imposing way. Her body looked strong, but her shoulders were relaxed, her face at ease. She didn’t loom or intimidate, though he imagined she could if she wanted to. She had big, dark eyes and rich, brown skin. Her features weren’t delicate—he liked the bold lines of her nose and jaw—but neither were they harsh. The only hint of real severity he could see was in the way she wore her hair—straightened to within an inch of its life and sharply restrained.

“The weather’s gotten nice,” Sam said, reaching for an easy conversation starter. “Anything you’re looking forward to doing now?”

Christine shrugged. “Not wearing a heavy jacket.” Was that a touch of humor in the curve of her lips? He wasn’t sure.

“Definitely.” Sam kept his voice light. “You recognized parkour. Is that your sport?”

She laughed. "Afraid not." Sam wondered if she was warming to him, but she was still so difficult to read. He hated the idea of lingering where he wasn’t wanted.

“Look,” he said. “I’d like to get to know you. I’d like to take you out sometime. Are you interested?” He had a nice Italian restaurant in mind if she said yes. If she said no, he’d ignore the flickers of interest he kept feeling from her.

She didn’t agree or refuse, though. Instead, she looked pained. “Why would you ask me that? We’ve got nothing in common.”

Sam stepped back, holding up his hands. “I asked because I wanted to know your answer,” he said, the words low and even. “If you’re not, it’s cool. I won’t bother you about it.” He’d be disappointed, of course, but he wasn’t the kind of jerk who would try to make a woman feel guilty about turning him down.

Christine reached toward him but dropped her arm just before she made contact. “You couldn’t handle me.”

Sam probably should have walked away at that point, but he’d noticed the way she’d almost touched him and the stubborn part of him couldn’t let the challenge pass. “What do you mean, I couldn’t handle you?”

Familiar anger rose to his chest. In high school, everyone had assumed he was a nerd because he was Chinese. He’d been told he wouldn’t be able to handle being on the football team, wouldn’t be able to handle American-style boxing—though everyone also seemed to expect him to be an expert at Wing Chun—and wouldn’t be able to handle going with the other guys on the team to play pranks on the local rivals.

Sam had responded to each of those challenges by proving his doubters wrong, doing everything better and harder than the people who had questioned him. He’d given up on obligatory popular sports to focus on parkour, but there was still a part of him that thrilled each time he pulled off a difficult move, exulting that, yet again, he’d shown them.

Christine’s skin darkened with a blush, but she lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m kinky, okay? I doubt you’re ready for that.”

Sam blinked. “Wow, okay. That seems like something we could sort out after we go on a date and find out if we like each other. No need to jump ahead.”

“No point.” She shook her head, the gesture firm and dismissive. “It’s a waste of time to get to know each other if we’re just going to wind up incompatible.”

“Really?” Sam bristled. It irritated him when women assumed a Chinese guy wouldn’t know anything about sex, and he hoped that wasn’t what was going on. “I have heard about that book, you know. The one all the women are reading.”

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about. I like to be the one on the handle end of the flogger. You don’t want it, trust me.”

Sam had almost no idea what that entailed, but he pressed, annoyed that she’d presumed to tell him what he would and wouldn’t want. “How do you know? Talk to me about it first. Try me.”

“If you don’t already know about it, it’s just not going to work. I promise.”

Sam had never been aware of an interest in kink, but he couldn’t stand assumptions. “Tell me straight-out what you want to do,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll tell you whether or not I want to do it.”

Christine stared as if he’d suggested a really strange plan. It reminded Sam of so many movies he’d seen, times when characters acted like telling the truth was such an odd and original thing to come up with. “I don’t know…” she said.

He grabbed his now-empty laundry bag. The fabric snapped as he yanked it through the air. The fresh, warm scent pouring from the dryers seemed sour in that moment. “Or turn me down. Just don’t tell me what I can and can’t handle.”

Again, she moved as if she wanted to take hold of his wrist and stop him. Sam paused, trying to make it clear he would let her if that was what she wanted to do. They were still for a while, and then he gave up and walked to the door.

“Wait,” Christine said before he could leave.


“Maybe. Do you use IM? Can we talk later?”

He shrugged. “Sure.” This was probably another part of the brush-off. Maybe she thought it would be nicer if she offered to chat online. He didn’t particularly like that tactic, but he didn’t feel like criticizing it now. Without expecting to hear from her again, he gave her his username.

Buy Links:

All Romance eBooks:


Annabeth Leong wears high heels and frequents the former haunts of H.P. Lovecraft. She is obsessed with baseball and marine life, and is an enthusiastic member of New England Feet. She is frequently confused about her sexuality, but enjoys searching for answers. Her work appears in more than 50 anthologies, including Best Bondage Erotica 2013, 2014, and 2015, Best Women's Erotica 2015, and Best Erotic Romance 2014 and 2015. She is the author of a number of erotic novels, ranging from sweet to dark. Find Annabeth online at, and on Twitter @AnnabethLeong

Book Spotlight~ Life on the Leash

LIFE ON THE LEASH By Victoria Schade On sale September 18, 2018! Trade Paperback • Price: $16.00 • ISBN: 9781501191671 eBook ...