Showing posts with label Book Promotions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Promotions. Show all posts

Monday, June 8, 2015

Book Spotlight~ Beyond Redemption


Check out the new book by author Michael R. Fletcher, Beyond Redemption. 


Title: Beyond Redemption
Author: Michael R. Fletcher
Publisher: Harper Voyager Impulse
Genre: Fantasy
Format: Kindle/Paperback

Faith shapes the landscape, defines the laws of physics, and makes a mockery of truth.  Common knowledge isn't an axiom, it's a force of nature.  What the masses believe is. But insanity is a weapon, conviction a shield. Delusions give birth to foul new gods.

Violent and dark, the world is filled with the Geisteskranken—men and women whose delusions manifest, twisting reality.  High Priest Konig seeks to create order from chaos.  He defines the beliefs of his followers, leading their faith to one end: a young boy, Morgen, must Ascend to become a god.  A god they can control.

But there are many who would see this would-be-god in their thrall, including the High Priest’s own Doppels, and a Slaver no one can resist. Three reprobates—The Greatest Swordsman in the World, a murderous Kleptic, and possibly the only sane man left—have their own nefarious plans for the young god.

As these forces converge on the boy, there’s one more obstacle: time is running out.  When one's delusions become more powerful, they become harder to control.  The fate of the Geisteskranken is to inevitably find oneself in the Afterdeath.  The question, then, is: 

Who will rule there?

To Purchase Beyond Redemption

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Redemption-Michael-R-Fletcher/dp/0062387030/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1431365233&sr=1-1&keywords=beyond+redemption

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beyond-redemption-michael-r-fletcher/1120380078?ean=9780062387035


Michael R. Fletcher is a science fiction and fantasy author represented by Cameron McClure of the Donald Maass Literary Agency.

His novel, BEYOND REDEMPTION, a work of dark fantasy and rampant delusion, is being published by HARPER Voyager and is slated for release in the summer of 2015.

His dĂ©but novel, 88, was released by Five Rivers Publishing and tastes like dystopia with a dash of cyberpunk. 88 is available from AmazonBarnes and NobleKobo, and elsewhere.

The next two Manifest Delusions novels, THE ALL CONSUMING and WHEN FAR-GONE DEAD RETURN, have been written and are currently in editing.

For More Information
Visit Michael’s website.
Connect with Michael

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Discover Luanne Rice's The Lemon Orchard, @LuanneRice @RockStarPRLC

From bestselling author Luanne Rice—a captivating and sexy novel of love, both enduring and unexpected.

 
About The Lemon Orchard:
The Lemon Orchard CoverA heartrending, timely love story of two people from seemingly different worlds—at once dramatic and romantic

In the five years since Julia last visited her aunt and uncle’s home in Malibu, her life has been turned upside down by her daughter’s death. She expects to find nothing more than peace and solitude as she house-sits with only her dog, Bonnie, for company. But she finds herself drawn to the handsome man who oversees the lemon orchard. Roberto expertly tends the trees, using the money to support his extended Mexican family. What connection could these two people share? The answer comes as Roberto reveals the heartbreaking story of his own loss—a pain Julia knows all too well, but for one striking difference: Roberto’s daughter was lost but never found. And despite the odds he cannot bear to give up hope.

Set in the sea and citrus-scented air of the breathtaking Santa Monica Mountains, The Lemon Orchard is an affirming story about the redemptive power of compassion and the kind of love that seems to find us when we need it most.

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  Excerpt
Roberto
September 2012
Right now the breeze blew cool off the Pacific, but Roberto knew it could shift at any time. Summer had ended, and now the desert winds would start: the Santa Anas, roaring through the mountain passes, heating up as they sank from higher elevations down to the coast, and any flash, even from a power tool, could ignite the canyon. It had been dry for two months straight. He walked to the barn, where the control panel was located, and turned on the sprinklers.
The water sprayed up, catching rainbows as the sun crested the eastern mountains. It hissed, soft and constant, and Roberto couldn’t help thinking of the sound as money draining away. Water was delivered to the orchard via canal, and was expensive. The Rileys had told him many times that the important thing was the health of the trees and lemons, and to protect the land from fire.
He had something even more important to do before his coworkers arrived: make the coastal path more secure. He grabbed a sledgehammer and cut through the grove to the cliff edge. The summer-dry hillsides sloped past the sparkling pool, down in a widening V to the Pacific Ocean. Occasionally hikers crossed Riley land to connect with the Backbone Trail and other hikes in the mountain range. Years back someone had installed stanchions and a chain: a rudimentary fence to remind people the drop was steep, five hundred feet down to the canyon floor.
He tested the posts and found some loosened. Mudslides and temblers made the land unstable. He wished she would stay off this trail entirely, walk the dog through the orchard, where he could better keep an eye on them, or at least use the paths on the inland side of the property. But she seemed to love the ocean. He’d seen her pass this way both mornings since she’d arrived, stopping to stare out to sea while the dog rustled through the chaparral and coastal sage.
He tapped the first post to set his aim, then swung the sledge- hammer overhead, metal connecting with metal with a loud gong. He felt the shock of the impact in the bones of his wrists and shoulders. Moving down the row of stanchions, he drove each one a few inches deeper into the ground until they were solidly embedded. The wind was blowing toward the house. He hoped the sound wouldn’t bother her, but he figured it wouldn’t. She rose early, like him.
© 2014 by Luanne Rice


 
About Luanne Rice:
Luanne Rice
Luanne Rice is the author of thirty-one novels including many New York Times bestsellers. Five of her books have been made into movies and mini-series, and her work has been featured at Hartford Stage in Hartford, Connecticut, the Geffen Playhouse in Los Angeles, California, and in several off-Broadway theatre productions. She divides her time between New York City and the Connecticut shoreline.

Want to know more about Luanne's other books? Have a look at The Complete Collection!

Website // Twitter // Facebook // Goodreads // Amazon Author Page  

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Friday, June 20, 2014

Discover Sarah Castille's Yield to Me



New Release! Sexy fighter romance Yield to Me by Sarah Castille

On sale for $0.99 from June 2-9, and then it will be priced at $2.99. 



BLURB

Below the belt, no-holds-barred attraction...

Amateur
MMA fighter, Marcy Foster is determined to win the state championship. But dark secrets and a broken trust mean there's one submission she just can’t master. Fortunately Club Excelsior has hired a coach who knows all the right moves.

Sexy, confident and commanding, fight consultant Jax demands control, both in and out of the ring. But once he has Marcy against the ropes, Jax knows he’s in too deep. He has the dominance to give her what she needs, but once he unleashes her hidden passions, there's no going back.

Under Jax's skilled hands, Marcy submits to her deepest desires. But when her personal and professional worlds collide, she is forced to face a brutal truth—yielding to her darkest needs may be the one thing that costs her the fight...and her heart.


EXCERPT

“Mount.” Jax beckoned her forward, his voice curiously husky, and for a moment she wondered if his touching exercise had affected him as much as her.

Marcy crawled up his body and then sat astride his abdomen in Full Mount. God, his stomach was rock hard. Just like the rest of him.

Jax’s body stiffened beneath her. “Christ, Marcy. Are you trying to kill me?”

Puzzled, she shrugged. “I thought you wanted me like this.”

“I do. No. Hell. I mean…to practice the submission, you need to be in High Mount.”

Understanding dawned and she tried and failed to repress a smile. “Am I mounted too low for you, Jax?” She was sorely tempted to give a little wiggle because she could feel something hard pressing into her ass and she was desperate to know if he was wearing a cup. In all her years of training she’d never affected a guy this way and she had to bite back a laugh.

His eyes blazed with liquid heat and his voice dropped to a husky bark, “Move up.”

Marcy eased herself up, her thighs parting wider as she positioned herself high on his chest, her knees under his armpits. “High Mount is easier with female fighters. Your chest is so broad…”

He cut her off with a low growl. When she glanced down to see what she’d done to irritate him this time, she was caught in the blistering heat of his gaze.

“I’m on to you, little fighter.” His eyes glinted, amused. “Don’t think for a minute you’ll distract me from doing what I came here to do.”

A smile curled her lips. All week she’d had to listen to the fighters at the gym talking about the aura of mystique surrounding Jax and his “fighter whisperer” ways. And yet his visible discomfort at her position on top of him made him seem all too human. All too male. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He raised an eyebrow and exhaled through gritted teeth. “How about we try for Mid Guard?” The warmth of his breath caressed her inner thighs and heat flooded her veins. How unprofessional. She’d practiced this position countless times with other fighters in the club. Not once had she ever wanted to tear off their clothes and…

“Actually, probably better if we move to Full Guard.” Jax bucked suddenly, throwing Marcy forward and onto her hands and knees, a standard defense to High Guard, but one that put her breasts within an inch of his lips.

Her nipples tightened and she quickly rolled to her back to hide her body’s response.

Jax moved into position on top of her, taking his weight on his elbows, his legs tucked between hers. So hot. So heavy. So masculine.

Dominant. Controlling.

Arousal coursed through her veins and she tried to think of anything but the erotic weight on top of her.

Coach. Training. Professional. But her body, now a live wire, wasn’t on board.

“How do you want me?” Her breathy voice shaded into a whisper.





BIO

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Sarah Castille, writes contemporary erotic romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha males and the women who tame them. A recovering lawyer and caffeine addict, she worked and traveled abroad before trading in her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home in shadow of the Rocky Mountains. Readers can find her at sarahcastille.com.


CONNECT WITH SARAH:

Sign up for Sarah's newsletter for info about new releases: http://bit.ly/LgFZlb




Facebook http://www.facebook.com/sarahcastilleauthor
Twitter (@sarah_castille): http://www.twitter.com/sarah_castille

BUY LINKS FOR YIELD TO ME

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Discover The Runaway Mail-Order Bride/Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Anne will be awarding an eBook copy of The Runaway Mail-Order Bride to a randomly drawn commenter in their choice of format at each stop during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. Remember, the more stops you visit and comment, the better your chances to win.


She thought she’d met the man of her dreams. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

His letters had won her heart. Leaving everything behind, Lisa Hanlon is ready to start a new life in the West. Sheriff Donald Skroch is attractive, influential, and eager to wed his mail-order bride. Shortly after arriving in Tate City, Lisa discovers that he's also short-tempered, violent and possessive…and she’s soon fleeing for California, desperate to escape the man she’s promised to marry.

Arriving at a broken-down ranch in the middle of nowhere, Lisa is only seeking a place to hide. She’s dismayed to discover a rugged drifter, Pearce Folsom, in one of the outbuildings. Burdened with secrets of his own, Pearce hides the truth of his past but not his attraction to Lisa. When he steals a burning kiss during the middle of a midnight storm, Lisa knows this handsome cowboy wants more from her than she is ready to give. She can’t truly offer her heart until she is finally and forever free from Donald.

Then, one terrible day, a telegram arrives: FOUND YOU.


Now enjoy an excerpt:

Lisa had to accept the darker reason why she wanted Pearce to remain nearby.

I can’t be alone when Donald arrives.

Presented with an audience, Donald pretended to be who he wasn’t. He shook hands and slapped backs, presenting himself as everyone’s favorite good fellow. It was only when the audience drifted out of sight that he smiled his shark’s smile.

Only in the shadows that he felt free to do as he wished.

Warned by his telegram, she knew Donald would arrive in Wyatt Ridge shortly. There would be a badge on his chest, likely granting him a few favors from the town’s officials, but he carried no legal authority in this part of the country. In this place, he couldn’t indulge his appetites and expect that others would pretend indifference to his behavior.

When he rode up to the ranch, he’d expect to find her there alone. He wouldn’t be prepared to meet Pearce Folsom. Whatever else he might be, Pearce wasn’t a man who frightened easily. When her derringer was at his throat, he didn’t flinch. His voice didn’t quaver and his hand didn’t tremble.

He wasn’t afraid of danger. She suspected he wouldn’t be intimidated by the gleam of a silver badge, either.

If she could convince him to stay at the ranch, his presence alone might buy her some time. Time enough, perhaps, to convince Donald to leave her in California. If her pleading didn’t work – and she doubted it would – a few extra days might give her the time she needed to build her courage.

Because, if all her other options failed, she had one last, desperate plan:

Kill Donald.



A collector of vintage Barbies and younger boyfriends, Anne Glynn currently resides in the American Southwest.

The truth is a little more complicated. I'm Anne and my S.W.P. (Significant Writing Partner) is Glynn. Together, we write as 'Anne Glynn'.

However, I am a collector of vintage Barbies and I have, on occasion, collected the younger boyfriend. Not so much these days.

Links: http://www.anneglynn.com/

http://www.amazon.com/Anne-Glynn/e/B00I2CFKXK/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1398974715&sr=1-2-ent

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/anne-glynn

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/AnneGlynn
Giveaway Information: Please leave a comment for the author and be entered to win the following prize~ Anne will be awarding an eBook copy of The Runaway Mail-Order Bride to a randomly drawn commenter in their choice of format at each stop during the tour.   

Remember to follow the tour and leave additional comments. The more you comment the more you are entered. Follow the tour at http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/04/virtual-book-blast-tour-runaway-mail.html

Thursday, May 1, 2014

Glory Lands Blog Tour Stop-Win a Victoria's GC or Amazon GC




Glory Lands by Vastine Bondurant
Dreamspinner Press
Historical M/M
Available at Publisher / Amazon / ARe

A Texas Piney Woods Story

Rural East Texas, 1931. Preacher’s son Emory Joe Logan and a fiddler from Shreveport, Glory Lands, meet and form a tender bond. When they are caught and arrested for homosexual acts by Sheriff Elihu Bishop, the lawman’s sanctimonious bigotry threatens to rip the young men from their families.

Emory Joe’s father, Pastor Charles Logan, is brought to his knees in terror, confusion, and anger. He still regrets not standing up against Bishop when the lawman murdered a youth in cold blood nine years ago.

Now there’s no longer a choice for the preacher to stand up to the lawman. Cold-blooded justice, bigotry-disguised-as-religion, and hatred take on a whole new meaning when they’re standing on his doorstep, ready to take the son he loves.

Excerpt Teaser:



East Texas, 1922


Emory Joe

WEARING A giant smile—just as clear, bright, and happy as that very October morning—Othello “Ted” Jenkins stepped from Jousan’s Mercantile and out onto the crowded sidewalk. Against his shoulder rested a brand-new Winchester rifle, its shiny black barrel pointing to the sky.

A cluster of townsfolk, my Daddy and me included, who’d been milling in front of the store window stepped up to Ted to see his purchase, and he beamed like a proud mother with a new baby while they admired it.

Elihu Bishop moved slowly through the flock of people.

Even if Bishop hadn’t sported a stiff white Stetson or toted two—not one, but two—Colt .45s on his hips, his stride, with its perfect mix of statue-straightness and catlike grace, shouted City Marshal’s Deputy.

Just the sight of Bishop—silk and ice, all six-foot-four of him—scattered folks like kids, who, although they hadn’t done anything wrong, reckoned they’d best make themselves scarce just in case.

Nobody strayed far, though; they just sort of spilled away from Ted like a bunch of leaves flittering across the road on the breath of a soft wind.

Which left Ted alone in his own little spotlight as Bishop sauntered nearer.

Daddy grabbed my wrist, his fingers awful tight. I resented like hell his taking hold of me, right there in front of everyone, as though I was a squirmy toddler.

But right then, riled as I was, I sensed it. Something dark slithered through the crowd and settled tight as a fist of ice in my own chest—fear. Oh, at the time, I was too young to really grasp why this silent, invisible angel of darkness terrified me so. Maybe nothing more than me channeling my father’s tension.

Once he reached Ted’s side. Bishop blew a quiet, admiring whistle. “What you got here, Ted?”

Poor Ted’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his long skinny neck. His dark fingers toyed nervously on the butt of the rifle. “It’s a rifle.”

Bishop shot up an eyebrow and took his good time pulling a cigarette from his lips.

Ted gulped and amended his reply. “It’s a rifle, Deputy Bishop.”

“Isn’t that a beaut, Ted, isn’t that just a beaut.” A sneer pretending to be an interested smile turned up the corners of Bishop’s thin lips. He squinted and tossed the cigarette onto the pavement. Tucking his chin, he stretched out a khaki-sleeved arm to now-trembling Ted. “Mind if I take a look, boy?”

An acquiescent grin tried to reach Ted’s mouth, and he nodded, the rifle wobbling in his grip when he handed the firearm to the lawman. “Sure, sir. Sure.”

“Now would you just look at this nice piece of weaponry.” Nodding, his lips pursed, Bishop studied the Winchester. It didn’t shake in his hands as it had in Ted’s. “What’re you aiming to do with this fine thing, boy?” The deputy’s steely blue gaze shot to Ted from under the shade of the Stetson’s brim.

“I figured to do some huntin’, sir.” Ted shifted from one scuffed-booted foot to the other, and his glance danced around the crowd.

I recognized that familiar frenzy in his brown eyes. A desperate search for a place to run. I figured I’d donned that same expression many times in the classroom when I was about to be on the receiving end of the teacher’s yardstick.

“I see.” Bishop’s severe gaze narrowed. “Hunting what, boy?”

Ted shrugged. “Squirrels and rabbits, I reckon, sir.”

While being pinned under that stony scrutiny, Ted’s body went rigid, except for his shaking hands.

“Squirrels and rabbits,” Bishop murmured.

“Yes, sir.”

There went Daddy’s fingers again, squeezing me even harder.

Through the years, even when I’d grown old enough to recognize the face of hatred and its always-hovering dark cold cloud, I still wondered how I didn’t sense what was going to happen next.

With no warning, just offering a gentle “I see,” Bishop grasped the barrel of the Winchester and, with one fast-as-lightning movement, brought the butt of the piece down on the back of Ted’s neck.

The impact split the air and echoed off the buildings like a clap of thunder.

I cringed, the sickening thud jarring my innards.

Ted crumpled to the pavement, boneless as an empty potato sack.

With a deep sigh and a slow stare around the circle of spectators, Bishop stood for a moment, the rifle in his big fist

Then, like throwing a bit of stick into the garbage, he tossed the gun onto Ted’s still frame.

The Winchester bounced off Ted and clattered to the sidewalk.

The deputy shot one last glance at the stunned audience, sauntered to the wrought-iron bench at the end of the sidewalk, and commenced lighting a cigarette.

Daddy shuddered to life. Murmuring “Jesus, sweet Jesusover and over under his breath, he started down the sidewalk, dragging me toward our truck.

Over my shoulder, I kept my gaze on Bishop while being hauled away from the scene by Daddy. I’d been mesmerized, terrifyingly so, by the image of the deputy lounging on that bench as though nothing had happened.

At one point, Bishop’s eyes met mine. He must have enjoyed the terror in my own eyes because, after a long drag on the cigarette, he exhaled and winked at me through the spiral of smoke.

 What are readers saying about Glory Lands?

"...But every so often a story comes along and absolutely annihilates me. Glory Lands is that story..." ~ Astrid (Amazon)

"...This story is beautifully written with charm and a very classy writing style..." ~ Cathy (Amazon)

About the Author:

I’m Texas born and raised, an old fashioned, bling-loving girly girl. I love to read and write stories of men and women and the sizzling chemistry that draws them together. Passion. My heart is helplessly bound to romance of a time long gone- gritty, sexy stories of men in fedoras and overcoats. Old Spice Aftershave, Lucky Strike cigarettes, fancy cuff links, hair pomade, mobsters. Clandestine whispers on Bakelite telephones from the shadows of cheesy restaurant phone booths. Stories of a time when sex was all the more sexy because it wasn’t plastered on every billboard—no naked Joes and dames in every ad in every magazine. Lovemaking—hot, sweet-and-naughty, a secret between lovers. My make believe world is sex and danger, hotter than Hades but wrapped up in a deceptive package—gals with soft skin, pretty lace slips, seamed stockings, satin peignoirs, powder puffs and Chanel No. 5. And the tough guys in dress shirts and suspenders who lust to get their hands on the garters they know tease just beneath those kick pleats. I’m a goner for the dynamics of testosterone meets sugar and spice.

Find Vastine online at:


 
Giveaway Information- Enter the rafflecopter below and be entered to win A 100.00 Victoria's Secret Gift Card or a 100.00 Amazon Gift Card. Contest runs till May 10th!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Friday, April 25, 2014

Tour Stop for My Wicked Master/Giveaway


My Wicked Masters (Club Wicked #4)
Loose Id Publishing
Contemporary bdsm/kink, Menage
Available at Publisher

Rhiannon Mirga, known as Goddess at Club Wicked, has a reputation for being a beautiful and unapproachable ice princess. But beneath her hard exterior beats the tender heart of a submissive who yearns for a Master love despite a nightmare past that makes it hard for her to trust anyone. For Rhiannon there are only two men that can help her overcome her fear, the club’s incredibly sexy trainers, Master Rory and Master Liam. 

Unfortunately, after a long history Rory and Liam are on the verge of parting ways, driven apart by Liam's refusal to accept Rory's love as anything more than friendship. Despite their own issues, the men find they cannot refuse her plea for help and together they embark on a training session like no other where the Masters are the ones who learn the true meaning of love and surrender. 



Naughty Excerpt Teaser:



Rhiannon forced herself to open the door and step through into the school-themed playroom at Club Wicked.
Her heels hit the polished wood floors with a decisive click that made her Masters look up from where they were standing at the front of the mock classroom. On either side of her two rows of school desks lined the aisle. Directly before her Master Rory stood behind a podium, dressed in an impeccable gray three-piece suit. He also wore a pair of glasses with thin silver frames. The color set off the coldness in his gaze. A delighted shiver went through her.
She’d tried to role-play with one of her ex-boyfriends. It just seemed like Fred dressed as Superman in bed with her, not Superman himself. That wasn’t going to be the case with Rory. He held himself differently now, and there was a dismissive turn to his generous lips that made him seem more imposing, more stern than usual.
Master Liam had exchanged his leather kilt for a plaid one that matched her plaid skirt. He wore a white button-down shirt and a black suit jacket over it. The suit jacket had a patch of some kind on it, and as she sauntered down the aisle toward them, she could make out the words Club Wicked Training Academy on it.
“How good of you to finally join us, Ms. Rhiannon,” Master Rory said as he studied her from the other side of the podium.
She slouched against the side of one desk and crossed her legs slowly, making sure each man was looking as she shifted enough to almost give them a hint of her sex. “Sorry. Had stuff to do.”
Master Liam slammed his hand down on the desk. “We are here as a favor to you. Without our tutoring, you will fail your biology exam on the human anatomy. I will not tolerate such disrespect from a student.”
Blinking rapidly, she tried to force her mind to think about something other than the kinky things they could do with a class like that. “Sorry, Sir.”
Master Rory raised an eyebrow, and she quickly corrected herself, remembering she was a brat. Curling her upper lip, she sneered at them. “I’m here, so let’s get this over with. I have a party I need to go tonight. You know, people to see, guys to do.”
“Sit down,” Master Rory said in a low voice that made her sex clench again.
Goodness, she wanted him in the worst way.
With a huff, she took a seat in the front row. Because of the height of the desk she had a hard time crossing her legs. Finally she just gave up and sat with her knees pressed close together. Both men watched her, and she grew a bit nervous. They were so big, so strong. They could do anything they wanted to her. Unease tried to worm its way into her heart, but Master Liam chose that moment to move from around the table.
He sported an erection that pushed against the fabric of the kilt that should have looked silly but instead found it really, really sexy and it turned her on something fierce. She wondered what his cock looked like up close, how thick he was, how much he was going to stretch her. Her sex continued to throb with the beat of her heart, and she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more aroused without having even been touched. Even hours of sex with one of her ex-boyfriends hadn’t led to this desperate craving.
Master Rory gripped the lectern and leaned forward. “When asked on your final exam what the name of the female sexual organs were, you replied ‘a cunt.’”
She flushed and looked down at her hands. Swearing was one of those things that made her uncomfortable yet aroused. “What? You wanted me to call it a pussy?”
Master Liam picked up a ruler off the table and hit it on the surface hard enough to make her jump. “Watch that insolent mouth.”
Feeling bold, she stuck her tongue out at him and grinned when he gave her a wink. Master Rory was very intense in his role-playing, which she liked, but Master Liam also made it fun. Sometimes laughter was even better than sex.
“Girl, eyes on me.”
She immediately gave her attention to Master Rory and swallowed hard. He looked so darn good in his suit; she wanted to rip it off him in the worst way. More than that she loved how possessive his gaze was, how commanding and in control. She loved men that were strong, both inside and out.
“Ms. Rhiannon, since you’re such an expert on the female anatomy, why don’t you tell me about the G-spot.”
“Um…” She tried to remember what little she knew. “It’s a place inside a woman that can be stimulated during sex.”
Master Liam scoffed, “My grandmother could give a better answer than that.”
“Do you talk about sex with your granny a lot?”
Instead of being amused, Master Liam gave her a stern look that sent pleasurable little shivers through her. Her pussy ached with the need to be touched. She parted her legs and slowly slid her hand down the front of her panties.
Let’s see how they liked a little bit of teasing.
“Hold on. Let me see if I can find that spot.”
Holding Master Liam’s stare, she widened her stance farther. His gaze moved between to the juncture of her thighs, and passion flared in those hazel depths. When he glanced back up at her face, she took in a small breath at the desire suffusing his features. He captured her with his eyes, enchanting her will to his, making her want to serve him, to make him happy, to make him come.
He shifted and gave his cock a leisurely stroke through his kilt, and she gulped in a huge breath of air.
“Sir, I know I haven’t studied as much as I should for this class.” She began to stroke her pussy through the thin panel of transparent fabric. “But I really do need to pass it. Is there any kind of special credit I could do?”
Master Rory cleared his throat. “Actually, there is. I’ve been researching the G-spot, and I need a volunteer to experiment on.”
Not sure exactly what he was talking about, she shrugged and removed her finger from her panties, then licked it before answering him. “Anything’s better than having to sit here and listen to you ramble.”
After standing abruptly, Master Liam cleared off the books and papers from a desk with one sweep of his large arm. “Get over here, lass.”
She rose on unsteady feet and took a deep breath. They were going to touch her now. Keeping her gaze focused on Master Liam, she made her way to the desk and stood before them with a cocky strut to her hip. She loved how they devoured her with their gazes as if she was the most desirable woman they’d ever seen. Being wanted like this made her feel so damn good, almost powerful.
Master Liam took off his jacket and shirt, then laid them down on the table. Every muscle in his body was firm and delicious. From his sectioned abs to his rock-solid chest with his tiny brown nipples, he screamed virility. A man fully in his prime. She wanted to smell him, to rub her face on his neck and just inhale.
“Take your skirt off.”
Master Rory came over to her side and held out his arm. He steadied her as she took off her skirt. Once she’d put it up on the desk, he moved around and turned her so she was facing him. For a moment he just looked down at her, then very slowly, and with great intent, he slid his hands up her ribs to her breasts and filled his palms with her mounds.
He let go of her, then reached up and tore the shirt from her in a violent motion that sent moisture rushing to her pussy. She was so wet that her inner thighs were slick and she could smell her desire. Master Rory gently caressed the tips of her nipples with a maddeningly light touch. She swayed on her heels, and Master Rory laughed.
“Come on, darling. Up on the table with you.”
He lifted her by the waist, and as soon as her butt made contact with the edge of the table, Master Liam helped her lie back. They adjusted her until most of her body was on the hard surface. Then Master Liam leaned over and began to suckle her left breast. The sensation of his full lips pleasuring her had her reaching up and running her hands over the spectacular musculature of his torso. His smooth, dark skin was a few shades deeper than her own skin tone, and she loved how they looked like honey and chocolate together.
Master Rory spread her legs and starting at her right ankle, began to kiss his way up her leg. Wonderful, amazing sensations unfurled in her blood, and she writhed beneath them, wanting more, needing more. When Master Rory reached her panties, he took an audible breath and groaned. His obvious pleasure felt almost as good as Master Liam now biting her nipples.
Her desire-fogged mind cleared for a moment, and she tried to kick Master Rory and push Master Liam away. “Get off me! You guys stink like old man.”
Both men froze, and Master Liam said in a low voice, “What’s your safe word?”
“Mercy.”
“Are you using it?”
“Are you as dumb as you look?” The Masters had ordered her to be as bratty as she could in this scene. She gave Master Rory another kick, making sure she didn’t hit him. “I bet your balls are as wrinkly as a bulldog’s face.”
Master Liam was off her, and Master Rory had her flipped over onto her stomach. He jerked her down until her legs were hanging off the table and her ass was prominently displayed. Master Liam grabbed her wrists and held them to the table. His hands were so big that he could easily hold both wrists with one hand, leaving the other free to smooth her hair back. The gentleness of his touch was in marked contrast to Master Rory’s rough movements as he moved her around until her position met his approval.
“I won’t take your sass in this classroom, girl.” Master Rory leaned over her back so she could feel his erection between her ass cheeks. He felt so good. She moaned low in her throat, wishing he would take her. “Five lashes with the cane ought to curb your wicked tongue.”
“Why don’t you—”
The first strike came down on her butt. It was a line of fire that really hurt! “What are you doing?”
“Do you need mercy, lass?” Master Liam asked in a low voice.
“No!” She struggled against his hold. The fact that he held her tighter, kept her from moving more than an inch sent shivers of fear and arousal through her. He could hurt her—they could hurt her—but she had to trust them. They weren’t like…him.
Master Rory picked that moment to lay four more blistering lines across her ass. The pain drove all thoughts from her mind. Her ass stung, throbbed, and burned. That ache merged with the need to fuck and be fucked, making her restless and wanting more.
With a soft laugh, Master Liam leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Fight all you want. You’re not going anywhere until Master Rory does his experiment.”
God, he was so fucking hot.
Arching her back, she then spread her legs farther apart, no doubt giving Master Rory a nice view of her pussy. “Get on with it already.”
Master Rory slid his fingers along her sex, his pleased murmur sparking her nerves. It was hard to fight him when he was touching her like this. Master Liam kept his firm hold on her. The knowledge that she couldn’t get away flipped every switch inside her. She was on fire with passion as Master Rory continued to pet her pussy through those scandalous panties.
Master Rory made a low, delicious groan before he said, “You don’t get to tell us what to do, Rhiannon. When you gave up control, you also gave up the right to call the shots. Right now, this is our pussy, our arse, and we will do whatever we want to it.”
He moved behind her, and a moment later, his soft, wet tongue traced one of the burning lines on her bottom, sending a confusing mixture of pleasure and pain through her. She tried to think of some bratty comment or a way to please them with her naughty behavior, but the sensation of his mouth on her skin had her arching into his touch with a needy little groan.
Master Liam kept his secure grip on her wrists, pinning her to the table, but he swept her hair back so he could see her face. “There’s a good girl.”
Her eyelids fluttered shut as the joy from his compliment raced through her like a shot of good whiskey. This is all she ever wanted. To be someone’s good girl.

Schedule:
4/23 We Love Kink 
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Book Blast & Giveaway: Heidenröslein: The Little Rose on the Heath

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