Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Bang the Drummer! A New Way To Celebrate Christmas

By Desiree Holt (Guest Blogger)

With Christmas practically right around the corner, I wanted to share a taste of my newest Christmas story. Bang the Drummer is part of the collection The 12 Brides of Christmas from The Wild Rose Press – a spicy version of twelve drummers drumming!


Jill Kennedy has plans for a Christmas wedding. She's put down deposits for the flowers, photos, and venue. Now all she needs is a groom. A drummer who'll keep her life as steady as he keeps the beat to his music. With her good friend Charlie Costello as her wingman, she'll interview percussionists, one per month until she finds the right tempo. But with Christmas approaching and no groom in sight, she's starting to wonder if she'll ever bang the drummer of her dreams.


Jill Kennedy curled up on her couch studying her iPad, frowning. Her Christmas tree still twinkled in the corner although the holiday was long past. Coldplay’s latest CD bumped its tunes out from her iPod docking station. The last of her Christmas candles flicked in glass holders on the coffee table, filling the room with the scent of pine and cranberry. She should be feeling mellow, but instead her nerves were jumping and a headache was creeping slowly up from the nape of her neck.

Charlie Costello lounged next to her, sock feet resting on her coffee table, his hands tapping a steady rhythm on his thighs in time to the song.

Jill tucked a strand of her shoulder-length sable-colored hair behind her ear as she studied the information on the iPad screen.

I think I’ve got everything taken care of. Booked the Creekside Winery. Ordered the decorations. Set up a tasting for the food and Stella’s designing the wedding cake.” She glanced up at Charlie. “Why are you looking at me in that strange way?”

He gave her his familiar lop-sided grin. “You are the only woman I know who plans and pays for her wedding without knowing who the groom is.”

She flipped a hand at him. “I’ll have one by then. It’s in the plan. You know.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, I love your interview process. You aren’t even dating anyone right now.”

Because look how poor my choices were in that arena, right?”

He snorted. “So this is better? Tell me how?”

Jill pulled up another memo on her iPad. “Okay. I have a list.”

A list? This I gotta hear. Lay it on me.”

If she didn’t need his help so badly, she would have smacked him. “It’s very specific. I asked around about different drummers in different bands and narrowed it down to the twelve most likely prospects. You know. Twelve drummers drumming, for Christmas.”

Like a grocery list,” he teased.

No, Charlie.” Damn him! “Like an interview process for a job.”

Is that what this is, kitten? A job?”

It’s a lifetime commitment,” she sniffed. She wished he’d just let her get on with this. All these questions were making her have tiny doubts about the wisdom of her decision. She gave herself a mental shake. “I’ll do one a month until I hit on the right one. The exact right one. First I check out their musical talent and their band history.”

Charlie gave a roar of laughter. “Because that’s such a requirement for stability?”

Because it has to be a drummer so I need his performance history,” she snapped.

Maybe it’s a different kind of performance you should be worrying about.”

That comes later. After the phone calls and the coffee dates to see how he is in person and match our likes and dislikes.”

Coffee dates?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Not even a romantic dinner?”

She wanted to sling the iPad at him. “I’ve been that route, remember? The whole nine yards, and what did I get? A bunch of losers. No, I’m doing this like a project for work. As a systems analyst, she knew the importance of things being able to mesh on a practical basis. ”

So you’re going to interview these bozos and then—what?”

Drummers,” she told him. “Interviewing drummers.”

He cocked his head. “And that’s why?”

I told you.” She blew out a breath of exasperation. “Drummers have the best beat. The best tempo. They’re the heart of the band.” She grinned. “And have the best rhythm in bed.”


A Recommended read from All Romance eBooks, the book is available now from all your favorite book sellers!



About Me

Desiree Holt’s writing is flavored with the rich experiences of her life, including a long stretch in the music business representing every kind of artist from country singer to heavy metal rock bands. For several years she also ran her own public relations agency handling any client that interested her, many of whom might recognize themselves in the pages of her stories. She is twice a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award, a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award for best BDSM book of the year, winner of the Holt Medallion, multiple winner of the Whipped Cream Book of the Week Award and is published by five different houses. Romance Junkies said of her work: “Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last.”

You can find her at
Pinterest desiree01holt
desireehol [at] desireeholt [dot] com

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Review: Seven Kisses by Giselle Renarde

Seven Kisses by Giselle Renarde

Introverted, order-loving Gabrielle goes for a walk one afternoon, planning to explore a wooded parkland in her home town. Instead of the forest path shown on her map, she encounters a gated driveway that leads to a magnificent Victorian mansion. An unprepossessing sign identifies the property as Loindici Rehabilitation Centre.

As far as the Internet is concerned, the place doesn’t exist, but as Gabby stands marveling at its forbidding glory, her life shifts. A limousine enters the vast grounds. A teen-aged girl in provocative attire emerges. Rushing to Gabrielle, she blurts out “You’re Suzanne!”, then flees. And before Gabrielle realizes what’s going on, several burly figures in scrubs and surgical masks arrive to take “Suzanne” to the rehabilitation centre. At first Gabby protests, but some imp of the perverse – a mixture of curiosity and fatalism – motivates her to assume the patient Suzanne’s identity and agree to undergo Madame deVilleneuve’s “therapies”.

Then she descends into hell. Suzanne is apparently a nymphomaniac and “chronic masturbator”. The Madame’s therapy involves drugs, restraints, beatings, humiliation, sensory deprivation and violent sexual penetration by a Beast – an ominously silent creature whom Madame de Villeneuve explains is the externalization of Suzanne’s own wild and untamed sexual cravings.

This isn’t a question of playing games or acting roles. The pain Gabrielle endures is real and lasting. After several days of therapy her flesh is bruised and torn. She is unable to walk. Yet despite the terrible indignities inflicted upon her, Gabrielle somehow craves these experiences – not with her mind, which turns away appalled and disgusted, but with her traitorous body.

The delicious and chilling aspect of this situation is that the whole scenario is consensual – at least in a formal sense. Gabrielle has freely chosen to enter the Madame’s purgatory. Her reasons seem trivial, but Ms. Renarde makes it clear that in some sense, the Madame is right. Though Gabrielle’s behavior has never been anything other than exemplary, she shares the real Suzanne’s unlimited sexual needs. She has managed to hide this truth from herself all her life – until she entered Loindici Manor.

Madame de Villeneuve furrowed her brow. “My dear, we do not commit patients against their will. You are a legal adult and, as such, your parents’ signatures are not sufficient to gain entry to my program.” She pulled a document from her drawer. How odd—the papers were put together not with a staple but with a brass tack. “It is up to you to commit yourself to my program, Suzanne.”

Oh.” Could Gabrielle really go through with this? Could she really pretend she was someone else, some rich nymphomaniac? She hadn’t acted a part since the Grade 8 Christmas play, and she wasn’t very good in that.

Handing Gabrielle the wooden calligraphy pen, Madame said, “I must warn you: my therapy is intensive but it yields results. When we begin, you will more than likely wish to return home to a world of comforts. But this, I will not allow. Once you sign my document, you are committed to my care. You do as I instruct. You will not leave until I tell you to go. If this is understood, then sign your name at the bottom of the page.”

The contract, or whatever it was, hadn’t been typed on a computer. The whole thing had been written in Madame’s dense calligraphy hand. Gabrielle couldn’t read a word of it, yet all she could think to ask was, “My parents are paying for this, right?”

Madame nodded solemnly, seeming offended by the mention of money. “Your stay has been paid in advance.”

This place was basically a five-star resort masquerading as a rehab clinic. What was the sense in letting the booking go to waste while the real Suzanne camped out in Loindici Woods, or boarded a plane out of the country, or whatever she was doing right now?

Once you sign that page, Suzanne, you are mine to treat. You give up your right to say no. Are you prepared to do that, young lady?”

As the therapy proceeds, Gabrielle’s reality begins to dissolve into dark fantasy. Liveried monkeys act as the Madame’s servants. Walls waver and melt into mist. The Beast who so expertly batters her becomes her lover. Madame reveals her own prurient interests in the hapless patient, in an almost unbearably kinky interlude in the mansion’s stables. The Beast helps her to escape. Yet the first thing Gabrielle does when she’s out of the Madame’s clutches is to race back in order to save her beloved Beast from de Villeneuve’s inveterate cruelty.

Seven Kisses offers a totally original mix of heart-catching romance, unbridled kink and wondrous magic. Sometimes the meld is a bit awkward, but overall it works. Occasionally the book reaches the heights of great fantasy. I particularly loved the scene in which Gabrielle leads the wounded Beast through the crumbling wreckage of the manor, as the Madame’s sorcery unravels.

A warning, though: this is not a book for the squeamish or faint of heart. Despite Gabrielle’s having committed herself by signing the Madame’s illegible contract, much of what occurs in this book would be considered non-consensual. Just because Gabrielle enjoys some aspects does not erase the fact that she’s being raped.

If you’re interested in the interaction between desire and will, however – if, like me, you think you were Victorian in a previous life – if you believe in magic - if you’ve ever fantasized about making love to your own Beast – I highly recommend Seven Kisses.

Monday, December 15, 2014

Sneak Peek: Darker Edge of Desire

Darker Edge of Desire: Gothic Tales of Romance
Edited by Mitzi Szereto

Foreword by Kate Douglas, author of the Wolf Tales series
Afterword by Rachel Caine, author of the Morganville Vampire series

Love, passion and sex…it’s all here in Darker Edge of Desire. Gothic literature has always possessed a dark attraction ripe with the promise of the forbidden and the sensual. In Darker Edge of Desire, Mitzi Szereto takes the sexualized Gothic and ratchets it up a few notches into the danger zone, opening the door into the darker side of lust and love that only the courageous dare to venture through. Venturing even further into the world of mystery and romance than she did in the critically acclaimed Red Velvet and Absinthe, Szereto creates an atmosphere with a distinct Gothic flavor where we explore our more forbidden desires. In these tales, love and lust (and kink!) know no boundaries, and all nature of beings—from vampires, werewolves, shape shifters, ghosts, succubae—abound. Tread carefully, danger and desire lie ahead!

Mitzi Szereto is an author and anthology editor of multi-genre fiction and nonfiction. Her most recent books include The Wilde Passions of Dorian Gray, the epic-fantasy anthology Thrones of Desire: Erotic Tales of Swords, Mist and Fire and the quirky crime/cozy mystery Normal for Norfolk (The Thelonious T. Bear Chronicles). A popular social media personality and frequent interviewee, she’s known for having pioneered erotic writing workshops in the UK and mainland Europe and has lectured in creative writing at several British universities. She divides her time between London, England and various locations in the United States.

From “Moonfall” by Rose de Fer

The young woman blinked in confusion, feeling as though she had just woken from a strange dream. She had only a vague memory of the journey and it took her a moment to register where she was. She struggled at first, but the men were strong and she knew she had no hope of resisting their firm grip.

Come along, miss,” one of them said, not unkindly. “You’ll be quite safe inside.”

Madeleine Chancery allowed herself to be lifted from the carriage and she puzzled at the strange sensation as her bare feet touched the snowy ground. Where were her shoes? A glance down at herself showed that her dress was in tatters. She caught her reflection in the gleaming shell of the carriage and gave a startled little cry. She looked a fright. Her hair fell in wild blonde tangles about her face, which was smeared with mud.

Mrs. Chancery.”

The tall man descended the steps and Madeleine peered up at him. She knew him, of course. Dr. Charles Thorncroft. James’s brother. Panic leapt in her chest. Had he seen them together? Did he know of their trysts? Worse: had he told her husband?

But instead of accusing her, he extended his hand as though she were alighting at the home of someone hosting a midnight ball. “Welcome, my dear,” he said. “You will be very comfortable here. Of that I can assure you.”

Dazed, she offered her own hand without thinking and he took it, frowning slightly at the sight. It wasn’t just dirty; it was streaked with what looked like dried blood.

She gasped and yanked it back, wrapping her arms around herself. “Why am I here?” she asked at last.

We’ll talk inside,” said Dr. Thorncroft pleasantly, his deep voice booming in the stillness. “A warm fire. Perhaps a little brandy to take away the chill and calm your nerves?”

Madeleine glanced warily at the men on either side of her. Running away would be utterly pointless and only serve to humiliate her further. She could never hope to escape and even if she did, she would surely freeze to death.

Very well,” she said, lifting her head proudly and trying to retain some dignity. “You can explain to me why Henry had me abducted in the night and brought to this—this place.”

She followed Dr. Thorncroft inside, taking in her surroundings with wide eyes. Her feet tingled against the mosaic tiles of the elegant entryway as he led her down a long corridor. Gaslight flickered along the oak-paneled walls and from somewhere deep within the building came a scream. She froze, gazing with horror up into the darkness of the curved staircase.

She had a very bad feeling about this place. And most especially this man.

Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” Dr. Thorncroft said darkly. “Not everyone here is as compliant as I know you will be.”

He met her eyes for a long, uncomfortable moment before taking her arm and guiding her firmly away.

Madeleine was startled at her body’s strange response to him as she allowed herself to be led to the room at the end of the corridor. He was as strikingly handsome as his brother and there was something in his authoritative tone that made her body tingle in spite of her apprehension.

Author Links

Mitzi Szereto website:

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Errant Ramblings: Mitzi Szereto’s Weblog:

Darker Edge of Desire website:

Buy Links

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Sunday Snog #153: Almost Home

It's Sunday again, which means I go burrowing into my backlist for kisses to share with you.

Today I've got another excerpt from my M/M/F holiday romance, Almost Home. I hadn't browsed through this book in a while. I have to say, it has some really hot scenes - too raw, I thought, for a Sunday!

So I've got a gentler bit to share today, from near the end of the book. It really captures the special quality of New England winter. Especially if you happen to have a outdoor hot tub!

After you're done with my snog, head over to Victoria's for more weekend kisses. She's running an awesome event called BlisseMas, all through December, by the way, and giving away Kindle Paperwhite plus lots of other prizes!

Suzanne had never seen stars so bright. The night sky was a black bowl above them, studded with blazing jewels. The snow blanketing the yard gleamed with some faint inner radiance. At the edges of the property, evergreens clustered in deeper shadow like silent sentinels.

She took a deep breath of the crystalline air, so cold and sharp it hurt her lungs. The tiny hairs inside her nose stood on end. Her earlobes felt like icicles. From the neck down, though, she was bathed in delicious warmth. The bizarre contrast almost made her giggle.

Smooth, hard muscle brushed her thigh. After a moment, roving fingers skittered across her lap and burrowed into her pubic fur. A fiery bolt of lust struck her core.

Gino!” she scolded. “Behave!”

Why should I?” asked her lover, rubbing his body against hers under the surface of the water. “Harry doesn’t mind. Do you?”

The lanky blond on Gino’s other flank grinned. “Not at all. Long as you keep up what you’re doing over here, that is.”

Harris had untied his ponytail. His golden locks flowed over his shoulders, darkening to sepia where wet. With his thin face and chiselled features, he looked like some warrior ascetic, a knight on a quest for some sacred prize. Suzanne could understand why Gino found him attractive. She wondered whether he really was one-hundred percent gay.

Leaning back against the redwood wall and closing her eyes, she allowed the peace of the night to enfold her. Her limbs were heavy. Her heart felt as though it was about to overflow.

The growl of motors and a rattling of metal reached her ears. Gino’s solar-heated hot tub was at the back of the house, away from the street. Still, the faint noise shattered the intense quiet of the snow-smothered night.

Ploughs,” said Harris, cocking his head in the direction of the sound. “At last.” He pointed to the cloudless sky. “Looks like they were wrong about more snow, though.”

We’ll drive you over to Pelham early tomorrow morning,” Gino added. “Actually, the highway department might have towed your car already. We’ll call first, assuming we’ve got power. Anyway, don’t worry, you’re likely to be well on your way back home by tomorrow afternoon.”

Home. Suzanne didn’t want to think about California—her neat, modern, empty condo, all the problems and decisions awaiting her at work, the bland weather and the vacant sky.

There’s no rush,” she said finally. “I’m going to miss my Monday appointment anyway. But thank you.” She squeezed Gino’s hand. “For everything.”

Now, despite all that they had done together, she found she was shy. Steam drifted up in pale swirls from the heated surface of the water. Underneath, she could barely make out the shape of their naked limbs. “I’m going to miss you,” she murmured finally. “Both of you.”

You’ll be back for Christmas, though, won’t you?” Gino’s eyes were shadowed but Suzanne understood the yearning she’d see there, if there were more light.

Maybe…” she began. She imagined another holiday with her parents, pleasant but predictable. They wouldn’t mind if she disappeared after the opening of the presents. And suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of not being with Gino again, very soon. “Yes. I’ll be back. I promise.”

Wonderful.” Gino pulled her into a kiss that made her heart pound and her pussy tremble. “You can stay over, you know,” he added when he finally released her. “You can stay for as long as you want.”

The house has six bedrooms,” Harris commented. “Way more space than we need.”

Yeah—even with my office and Harry’s studio, there are two rooms we barely use.”

We do have broadband Internet, by the way. Even if we don’t have mobile service.”

There’s a local limo company that can get you to Logan in two hours. Harry uses it when he has an exhibition in New York…”

This is freak weather,” Harris interrupted. “Most winters we don’t get much snow…”

And the summers here are glorious, green everywhere, bright sun and lingering twilights, fresh sweet corn and luscious home-grown tomatoes…”

I know!” Suzanne couldn’t keep from laughing. “I grew up here, remember?”

Saturday, December 13, 2014

About Writing: Your Essential Writing Manual

By Suz DeMello (Guest Blogger)

About writing ABOUT WRITING

Why yet another writing manual? Hasnt this ground been covered before, by far more able authors, such as Rita Mae Brown and Stephen King?

Well, yes, but...


Yes, I do quote the above authors liberally in my short little book. But I do add material they don’t have.

Oh yeah? Like what?

There’s some cool stuff on the mythic structure...

Mythic, schmythic. Joseph Campbell and Chris Vogler dealt with all of that stuff.

Yeah, but I offer something slightly different. Read this:

Legacy from the Distant Past

I wrote earlier that this story is hardwired into our consciousness, our bodies, our very cells. Why?

Picture this:

We are asleep in a cave or a den, curled up with our mates, our brothers, our sisters. This is our ordinary world.

Dawn comes, sliding sly fingers into the darkness. We awaken. Hunger and thirst are our call to adventure. Is there a refusal of the call to join the hunt? Perhaps from some pack members—the old, the very young, nursing mothers.

But others are insistent, approaching the alpha of the pack—the mentor—with a demand for food. Those who answer the call leave the safety of the cave—crossing the threshold.

The alpha selects our best fighters, finding allies while rejecting enemies who might take an opportunity to betray him during the excitement—the test—of the hunt.

We form a hunting party and set forth, seeking prey. But our targets are wily and fast. Some may take refuge in a different cave, behind a waterfall, or in a swamp.

Nevertheless, the alpha leads us to the danger, for the pack must eat. This stage of the hunt corresponds to Campbell’s approach to the innermost cave.

We find another dire wolf trying to kill a great beast, perhaps a mastodon. Even the combined efforts of the pack with our new ally aren’t equal to taking the mastodon, which tramples off, dripping blood from wounds we have inflicted. However, we have gained a powerful new hunter. These events are the ordeal and the reward...

Interested yet?

So here it is: ABOUT WRITING... Both of Suz deMello’s famed writing manuals, now in one handy paperback. A perfect gift for any writer!

Heres what folks said about Plotting and Planning:

Sue has written a concise manual that is valuable for both beginning and seasoned writers. Going to write a book? Read this first!
--Bestselling suspense author Kylie Brant

Suz deMello's PLOTTING AND PLANNING is a concise, informative, and entertaining look at writing a novel.
--Paranormal author Silver James

Not only did Write This, Not That! reach #2 on Amazons writing reference list, but it also garnered many five star reviews:

Five stars...good advice and fun to read.
--Jo Frye

Five stars... Kudos to the author for a well-written manual!
--Book CraZ

Five stars from me... This short guide covers the essentials and is
useful for both new and experienced writers.
--Author Catherine Cavendish


About Suz deMello:

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written seventeen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s held the positions of managing editor and senior editor, working for such firms as Totally Bound and Ai Press. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

Stalk Suzie online:

--Find her books at
--For editing services, email her at suzdemello [at] gmail [dot] com
--Befriend her on Facebook:
--She tweets @Suzdemello
--Her current blog is

Friday, December 12, 2014

What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection

What to Read After Fifty Shades of Grey (#WTRAFSOG) began as a Facebook page created by Summer Daniels dedicated to helping book lovers discover great reads after FSoG. The page has grown in popularity and now has over 90,000 followers! 

*11 Bestselling Authors, 11 HOT books, 1 Incredible Savings* 

By Sabrina York
Available Now!

Dane Coulter is mourning the loss of his best friend, fellow Special Ops buddy, Cody. Oh, Cody didn’t die. It’s worse. He’s getting married. Cody is, in Dane’s opinion, whipped. Dane swears he will never suffer the same fate. But when he meets a woman who can take all his dominant loving and beg for more, he realizes he may have met his match. It’s a damn shame she’s the one woman in the world his man-code deems untouchable…his best friend’s sister.


She sashayed over to his side and tugged his tight black tee shirt from the band of his jeans. She wanted him out of it. She wanted to see his chest. She wanted him naked.

He grabbed her wrist in a gentle cuff. “No,” he said.

She peeped up at him. His chin was firm and bristled with enticing scruff. A muscle worked in his cheek. “No?” She went for a playful tone.

He glared her down. “I don’t think you understand. I direct the action. Do you understand my meaning?”

Oh God. Did she.

She’d played games like this with boys before, but never had she experienced such dominant energy. She let her hand fall to her side. Lowered her chin in what she hoped was a submissive mien—she really didn’t do submissive well, and never had. “Yes.”


Yes, I understand.”

He broke character for a moment, rolling his eyes. “How long have you been doing this?” he asked, but it was, apparently a rhetorical question, because he barreled right on. “The correct response is ‘Yes Sir.’”

Oh. Right.” She shot him an impish grin. “Yes Sir.”

And— What’s your name again?”

I didn’t mention it.”

He frowned. “What should I call you?”

She studied him for a moment as a litany of stripper names skipped merrily through her mind. And then a memory, a memory from long ago, suffused her. Her lips curled. “I’m Bambi.”

Bambi.” His snort said it all. Yeah. Right. “And spit out that gum, Bambi.” The rumble in his voice told her the gum really annoyed him for some reason. She filed this fact way—for later. When annoying him might come in handy. But she did as he asked, spitting the gum into the wastebasket with a “Patooey.”

Then she linked her hands behind her and wiggled from one side to the other. She could tell her blasé attitude annoyed him as well. His fingers curled into fists as though he wanted to spank her now. “Anything else, Sir?” She invested her tone with a rebellious thread.

Sure enough, his nostrils flared. “Are you wearing panties under that skirt?” God she loved when he barked.

Yes…Sir.” His eyes narrowed at her deliberate hesitation.

Take them off.”


He sucked in a breath and, astonishingly, seemed to grow even larger. “Off. And don’t question me again.” He put his hands on his hips and stared at her coldly, but heat blazed beneath. “Well?”

Tina thrust away the sudden flurry of nerves and slid her hands to her thighs, palms down, then slowly skated them up, under her hem. His breath snagged when he caught sight of her panties, some lacy confection shaped like a butterfly from a famous store with seriously overpriced lacy confections. She let a little moan escape her throat as she eased them down.

He appreciated the effort. His gaze was riveted. His body hummed with tension.

Like this?” she asked in a little girl voice, as she pushed her panties to her ankles. She turned slightly, so her bare ass was within his line of sight. And she waggled it.

No talking,” he snapped, as though he couldn’t take it. Couldn’t bear to be teased. And wouldn’t allow it.

She stepped out of her panties, leaving them on the floor. Rather than feeling exposed, she felt energized. He still stood by the bed, watching her, staring at her with brooding hunger. The outline of his cock in his jeans was unmistakable.

Sudden need swamped her. Well, not too sudden—she’d wanted him forever, after all—but it was sudden in its intensity, in the brash, bold realization that he was here, hard for her…

And she wasn’t wearing any panties.

Sit on the couch.”

It was a leather couch, buttery soft. And cold. She hissed as the slick material touched her heated flesh. He said nothing more and, setting the condoms and the leather strap at the foot of the bed, prowled across the room. He sat opposite her in the straight-backed chair and studied her in silence for a long while, sipping his drink. So long, it made Tina a little nervous. She resisted the urge to fidget.

Spread your legs,” he said.

She did, watching him as he watched her.

And then, again with the silence.

She nearly jumped when he spoke, his voice, low and silky, filling the room like a caress. “I like your jacket.”

Thanks.” It was a cute leather bolero with metal studs. She’d bought it on sale at a great little thrift shop on the Eastside. It screamed Vegas. Perfect for a wild girls-only bachelorette—

Take it off.”

She quickly complied, removing the jacket and revealing the tight black Lycra shirt beneath. She loved this shirt, the way it hugged her curves and highlighted the swell of her breasts. He liked it too. His tongue peeped out as he stared at her. His lashes flickered as she drew in a deep breath and traced her cleavage—just in case he hadn’t noticed it.

Hands to your sides, please.” His tone was light, but carried scorching weight. She dropped her arms and waited for his next command.

But he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Perhaps he wasn’t a boiling cauldron of lust. She was. She longed to touch him. To drag her palms over those bulging pecs, to explore the flex of his biceps. To taste his chin.

He made her wait. Sitting there, bare-assed, stewing in her juices. Punishing her, perhaps, for her earlier insouciance. It was a long, long while before he said, “Now, your shirt. Take it off slowly.” It was small compensation, that tremor in his voice.

Her fingers shook as she took hold of the hem and eased the material up, pausing, now and again, to assess his attention. Oh, it was fixed. On her. His eyes burned as she revealed her breasts, cupped as they were in black lace. She couldn’t resist thrusting them forward as she draped the shirt on the sofa back behind her.

She licked her lips and folded her hands in her lap. And waited.

It was nerve wracking, being bare before him but for a flimsy bra and a skimpy skirt, having him sit there and stare at her. As though he knew the effect he was having on her, his lips, those luscious lips, kicked up into a smile. He took another sip of his drink.

Pull up your skirt.”


He frowned at her question. “Pull up your skirt. Bunch it up around your waist. I want to see all of you.”

She swallowed an eep and did as he asked.

Legs farther apart. I want you exposed.”

Holy God. Her body, of its own accord, clenched, but she complied. She couldn’t not.

Now, sit still.” He stood and ambled toward her, his drink in one hand. Like a lion approaching an antelope. Tina had the sense he wanted to pounce, wanted to gobble her up, but was keeping himself tightly reined.

She ached. Ached for his touch.

He stepped behind her and stroked her hair, just a skim. Then his fingers danced over her bare shoulders, leaving a burning tingle in their wake. His heat, his scent surrounded her as he bent. His mouth scraped her earlobe. The hiss of a hot breath. A nibble.

Sensation rained through her. Her nipples pebbled. Her clit thrummed. Her body was on fire. She gasped when he cupped her breasts, nearly arched into it, but remembered his command, and didn’t.

But when he thumbed a nipple, she could no longer hold still. Her whole body went on alert as exquisite pleasure shot through her, and she edged into his caress.

Mmm,” he murmured. “Your nipple is hard.”

It was. Hard and swollen and sensitive.

He brought his fingers together in a gentle pinch. She winced.

Ah. Yes.” With a hand to her forehead, he tipped her head back against the sofa, until she was splayed out before him. He meticulously arranged her hair in a fall over the back, running his fingers through it as though he was making love to her curls. Then he set his palm on her chest and stroked her slowly, teasingly gliding over her skin, leaving prickles of awareness around her breasts—but avoiding them—over her arms, her neck, her cheek.

He was teasing her, she knew it.

But it cost him.

Her gaze flicked to his face. His muscles were tight, his nostrils flared, his features stark as he focused on his work.

It seemed as though he explored her for hours, forever, just stroking her skin, awakening her, arousing her passion. She wanted to scream. She wanted to beg. She wanted to arch and undulate and demand more. But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be the one to break.

Finally—finally—as though he couldn’t resist, he cupped her breasts again and squeezed.

God,” he mumbled under his breath and then, as though he’d caught himself giving in, he added, in a much more commanding tone, “Over to the bed.”

What people are saying about WHIPPED:

"5 Stars—Whipped by Sabrina York was so good, LOVED all the sexy scenes and then how she mixed in some humor parts. I know she's super busy but I'm really hoping she makes this one into a series because its that good :)"—Read More Romance

"5 Stars—Oh my goodness! I loved, loved, loved this story! The sex was off-the-charts hot! And I mean HOT! The characters were witty and so entertaining. As always, Ms. York's humor and witty writing is on full display. I honestly don't think she could not write a story that doesn't leave me in awe of her slightly sarcastic, yet always smartly written style. I bow to the
master."— Coffee and Books

"5 Stars—This was a great read that kept me glued to the events. Loved the epilogue!"—Ms Romantic Reads

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About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching erotic romance. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!

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