What would you like to tell readers about yourself?
* Part of Decadent Publishing’s 1-Night Stand Series, my interracial BDSM romance is set in Las Vegas at the renowned Carnivore Club, a multi-author world first penned by Kate Richards. Despite my best efforts to be dark and kinky, I only succeeded at the latter. A light-hearted play on the reluctant lovers trope, my novella is a romantic comedy, replete with a Dom in distress, a reluctant submissive on a white horse, and an adorable German shepherd determined to unite the two.
* To celebrate my return to BDSM romance, I’m giving away a $15 gift card. To enter,
leave a comment here and drop your details in the Rafflecopter widget at the bottom of this post. [or at my website]
* Veterinary student Naomi Price is too busy juggling part-time jobs and a full course- load to have a relationship. Though she’s crushed on her client’s gorgeous owner for close to a year, their accidental night together couldn’t have come at a worse moment. With his sexual preferences fodder for countless tabloid blogs, she knows exactly how to keep this Dominant at an arm’s length. So she tells the biggest lie of her life, turns in her notice, and escapes on a vacation to Las Vegas.
* At the Carnivore Club, two exhibitionists meet for a one-night stand, unaware their compatibility stretches far beyond a simple limit list. When their identities are revealed, a reluctant sub must face public spanking for her deceit, and accept several delectable wrinkles in her best-laid plans.
* The two women seemed to be discussing the best method for trimming cat claws.
* To their right, a male sub on a St. Andrew’s cross whimpered as a Domme squeezed his balls. Not far from the scene, a gagged blonde hovered over a sawhorse, her slim legs shaking as she struggled to remain on tiptoe. She moaned as her Dom slid the flat end of a crop between her thighs. When it tapped her shaved mound, her knees gave. She screamed and spasmed as her glistening pussy met hard wood.
* The public dungeon catered to exhibitionists or displeased dominants intent on making examples out of their submissives. Then, of course, there were the inevitable collaring ceremonies. The musky scent of sex, tinged with whiffs of chocolate and alcohol, filled the room. The crack of whips, high-pitched moans, and low grunts combined into erotic background noise, the medley potent enough to serve as an aphrodisiac.
* Naomi’s poor excuse of a skirt ended a few inches above the knees. Her cross-legged position exposed tantalizing expanses of toned, smooth skin. She sat with her spine curved, her long, slender fingers curled around the steaming mug. Her scarlet toenails dug into the plush carpet as she snuggled between two cushioned leather backrests. Given the charged surroundings, no sub in her right mind would appear so comfortable.
* To add insult to injury, her current position broke the club’s protocol. As her Dom for the night, he hadn’t given her permission to drink, talk, or vacate the floor. She should be on her knees, waiting on his arrival.
* He shook his head. This was Naomi. His Naomi. How the hell had she ended up at a place like the Carnivore Club?
* His gaze drifted to the sign in front of the booth: Reserved. As far as he could tell, he’d neither had a break from reality nor stumbled into the wrong place.
* She’d come to fuck a stranger. Her date happening to be him failed to blunt the blow.
* The crackle of crumpling paper drew attention to the printout in his fisted hand. Having discovered the identity of his mysterious date, the limit list he’d ignored captured his interest. As he read through the items she’d marked prior experience, the vein on his temple started to pound. Her reason for not going out with him had been complete bullshit. She might be a lightweight, but she’d more than dabbled in the lifestyle.
* “Not a sub, my ass.”
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1 comment:
Thanks so much for having me over!
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