Adults Only- 18 years plus
Welcome to the BDSM Authors Playroom first ever blog hop. This is my coming out day. No, I'm not gay, and yes, those who read my books already get that I write BDSM. My coming out is more to do with realizing that I need to come clean about what I write.
I don't just write BDSM.
- though my sex scenes are hot enough to melt your kindle flipping finger and any other bits of your anatomy that get in the way.
My author's tagline used to be - Scorched Souls, Bound Hearts.
But...I don't write straight contemporary modern day erotic romance. So it's going to change.
This is my new tagline.
Locked and Loaded for Lust, Adventure and Unforgettable Heroes
Because that is me. I love writing extra plot lines into my stories. I write smart, mostly kick-ass heroines. Sure they cave at the knees at the touch of the hero, but get in their way and you're likely to end up a sizzled, vaporized, bullet-riddled mess on the floor.
So there's no point denying it. I love me some crazy action in my stories, and if some villain has to die, I do it in the most gratuitous and ickily violent way I can imagine. Except on Tuesdays.
Tuesdays I get my nails done.
I don't just write BDSM.
- though my sex scenes are hot enough to melt your kindle flipping finger and any other bits of your anatomy that get in the way.
My author's tagline used to be - Scorched Souls, Bound Hearts.
But...I don't write straight contemporary modern day erotic romance. So it's going to change.
This is my new tagline.
Locked and Loaded for Lust, Adventure and Unforgettable Heroes
Because that is me. I love writing extra plot lines into my stories. I write smart, mostly kick-ass heroines. Sure they cave at the knees at the touch of the hero, but get in their way and you're likely to end up a sizzled, vaporized, bullet-riddled mess on the floor.
So there's no point denying it. I love me some crazy action in my stories, and if some villain has to die, I do it in the most gratuitous and ickily violent way I can imagine. Except on Tuesdays.
Tuesdays I get my nails done.
To celebrate I'm putting up an excerpt from Rough Surrender, my BDSM historical. One which has both sexiness and action. Which do you prefer? Sex, action, or both in your stories? Tell me in the comments and I'll enter you in the giveaway. If you're curious enough to maybe want to buy the book. Go here, for buylinks.
"The attention to details, the chemistry and sexual tension between the central characters, the historically accurate trivia, all combine to be one of the best books this author has EVER written and she has really come into her own.
Loved, loved, loved this book." MsMarz - Amazon review of Rough Surrender
I'm giving away a copy of 31 Flavors of Kink. Go here, to check it out. Yes, yes, yessss, it is contemporary but it's different. 31 Flavors of Kink is based on a true story.
Rough Surrender
Cairo 1910
At a time when airplanes are as new-fangled and sensational as the telephone, Faith dares to fly. The one territory she has not explored is her own sexuality. In Leonhardt Meisner she discovers the man who can teach her how a woman surrenders her body and her mind. However, Leonhardt has a shadowed past and his own learning to do. He doesn't have the right to keep Faith from flying, even if he thinks airplanes are flimsy death-traps made of canvas, timber and their inventor's prayers.
Faith has her limits, Leonhardt has his flaws, and sometimes the nicest people get murdered by unscrupulous bastards. Even if Leonhardt can save the woman he loves, the battle for Faith’s heart will be the hardest one of all.
WARNING: BDSM, anal sex, orgasms galore, and a Dom who likes to claim his property with pen, ink and bondage.
Excerpt
The front passenger seat was leather and hard under Faith's bottom. Her pulse already seemed to pound as loud as the throttled back engine. Mr. Meisner drove along to the lumber pile then turned the car so it faced down the road toward Mawson and his light.
“Goggles?” he asked her.
“Thank you.” She took the leather-and-brass pair from Mr. Meisner and put them over her eyes, shuffling them about on her face. As she reached back for the buckle, her fingers met Mr. Meisner’s. Faith jumped. “I can do this... Sir.”
“Ah.” He brushed aside her fingers. “I see you’ve at least remembered the sir.”
“One always calls gentlemen that, just as you--”
With only a rustle of cloth to warn her, his teeth met in the lobe of her ear, sending a spark into her middle. Like the melt of winter snow, she felt heat pool in her lower body. Her fingers curled against her collarbone where her hands still rested either side of her neck.
“I’m not a gentleman, Faith.”
Seated as she was, her dress reached to just above her ankles. Mr. Meisner placed his hand on her lap and began gathering it, grasping fabric and pulling. Soon the hem of the dress had reached her upper thighs. Through it all, she stayed where she was, her hands in the same place, reveling in it, in how he exposed her, in the casual way her skin was bared.
Without asking, or speaking again, he slipped his hand under her dress and a finger into her cleft. She settled lower in the seat, hooded her eyelids and breathed out a moan.
“Good, girl.” He kissed her cheek once and drew away.
What? Lust still muddled her.
The engine revved. “Hang on tight.” The car lurched forward with a small scream of metal.
It took her a moment to recover. They were hurtling down the track. Her pussy was swollen and hotter than the engine powering this car. She prayed the dress wouldn’t show if her moisture dribbled on it. She bit her lip and glared across at the man through the goggle lenses. How dare he treat her like some sort of object to be pawed, except... She sighed, oh, she had liked it.
Fast as an eyeblink, they shot past Mawson and his light. By the time, Leonhardt had driven the car around again to the starting place at the lumber pile, she’d rearranged her dress and her mind. She’d show him. If there was one thing she knew, it was racing automobiles.
They switched places. She refused to look at him. The pedals were a little far so she inched forward in the driver’s seat and poised her feet.
“Ready?” drawled Mr. Meisner.
“Yes. Sir.”
“Go!”
Her shoe rammed down on the metal. The car took off like a rabbit with a fox in sight. Switch gears with the selective and stamp her foot again. Bumps in the road juddered her hands on the wheel but she kept her grip loose enough to steer straight without losing control. The roar of the motor reached a peak then flash they were past Mawson.
“Well done! I can see you know how to drive.”
Hmph. Though the praise made her feel like glowing. “Thank you. Shall we see what Mawson says of the time?”
She steered around and back to the man, braking with a little skid of dust and halting the car with Leonhardt’s door precisely opposite his servant. Dust washed in.
Dash it, that had been good. If he’d meant to distract her with his little maneuver back there, it had not succeeded. She pulled off the goggles and strained her ears to hear Mawson’s reply. Twenty-five seconds for Mr. Meisner. Twenty-three seconds for her. Yes!
“Thank you, Mawson. That is all I need you for.”
Mr. Meisner climbed back in, clicked the door shut and shifted his body around to face her. “You have your win, Faith.” He added nothing more, just looked at her with that calm expression--patience and control personified. His gloved hand rested on his knee.
The winner gets to command the other to do anything at all for the night. But what did she want him to do?
“Mawson?” She tilted her head.
“He’s walking home. It’s not far from here.”
“I see. Um. Good.”
Her imagination conjured up all sorts of things. Mr. Meisner serving her at a table or kneeling at her feet--no she couldn’t embarrass him like that. Wearing his jacket inside out. Silly ideas, all of them, some of them humiliating to a man of such composure.
Maybe she could wait until they were alone and she could tie him up? The image that revealed made her stomach turn. She couldn’t... She didn’t want to see him like that. And anything else she thought of just seemed wrong. Besides, she’d wanted him to teach her, not the other way around.
“What is your command?” he asked.
Such a big man. The top of his head almost brushed the car’s fabric roof and his shoulders inside that great coat filled the gap between seat back and windshield. If he were any larger the car would burst. Her mouth dried. Her heart picked up pace, thumping at her chest, at her temples.
Oh, hell and damnation. She met his eyes. She didn’t want anything from him except...him. This was appalling and yet exhilarating all at once. She let out a long, measured breath. How to say this?
“My command is that...you have to...do whatever you want, tonight. In other words, I don’t want to command you.” She shrugged.
“You don’t want me at your feet?” One corner of his mouth curved.
“Ugh. No.”
“But I might want you at mine.”
Yes, her heart sang to her. Oh yes, please. It was an effort not to squeeze her thighs tightly, one against the other. How far did he mean to go? There was a limit to this.
Below here is the list of blogs participating in the hop.
"The attention to details, the chemistry and sexual tension between the central characters, the historically accurate trivia, all combine to be one of the best books this author has EVER written and she has really come into her own.
Loved, loved, loved this book." MsMarz - Amazon review of Rough Surrender
I'm giving away a copy of 31 Flavors of Kink. Go here, to check it out. Yes, yes, yessss, it is contemporary but it's different. 31 Flavors of Kink is based on a true story.
Rough Surrender
Cairo 1910
At a time when airplanes are as new-fangled and sensational as the telephone, Faith dares to fly. The one territory she has not explored is her own sexuality. In Leonhardt Meisner she discovers the man who can teach her how a woman surrenders her body and her mind. However, Leonhardt has a shadowed past and his own learning to do. He doesn't have the right to keep Faith from flying, even if he thinks airplanes are flimsy death-traps made of canvas, timber and their inventor's prayers.
Faith has her limits, Leonhardt has his flaws, and sometimes the nicest people get murdered by unscrupulous bastards. Even if Leonhardt can save the woman he loves, the battle for Faith’s heart will be the hardest one of all.
WARNING: BDSM, anal sex, orgasms galore, and a Dom who likes to claim his property with pen, ink and bondage.
Excerpt
The front passenger seat was leather and hard under Faith's bottom. Her pulse already seemed to pound as loud as the throttled back engine. Mr. Meisner drove along to the lumber pile then turned the car so it faced down the road toward Mawson and his light.
“Goggles?” he asked her.
“Thank you.” She took the leather-and-brass pair from Mr. Meisner and put them over her eyes, shuffling them about on her face. As she reached back for the buckle, her fingers met Mr. Meisner’s. Faith jumped. “I can do this... Sir.”
“Ah.” He brushed aside her fingers. “I see you’ve at least remembered the sir.”
“One always calls gentlemen that, just as you--”
With only a rustle of cloth to warn her, his teeth met in the lobe of her ear, sending a spark into her middle. Like the melt of winter snow, she felt heat pool in her lower body. Her fingers curled against her collarbone where her hands still rested either side of her neck.
“I’m not a gentleman, Faith.”
Seated as she was, her dress reached to just above her ankles. Mr. Meisner placed his hand on her lap and began gathering it, grasping fabric and pulling. Soon the hem of the dress had reached her upper thighs. Through it all, she stayed where she was, her hands in the same place, reveling in it, in how he exposed her, in the casual way her skin was bared.
Without asking, or speaking again, he slipped his hand under her dress and a finger into her cleft. She settled lower in the seat, hooded her eyelids and breathed out a moan.
“Good, girl.” He kissed her cheek once and drew away.
What? Lust still muddled her.
The engine revved. “Hang on tight.” The car lurched forward with a small scream of metal.
It took her a moment to recover. They were hurtling down the track. Her pussy was swollen and hotter than the engine powering this car. She prayed the dress wouldn’t show if her moisture dribbled on it. She bit her lip and glared across at the man through the goggle lenses. How dare he treat her like some sort of object to be pawed, except... She sighed, oh, she had liked it.
Fast as an eyeblink, they shot past Mawson and his light. By the time, Leonhardt had driven the car around again to the starting place at the lumber pile, she’d rearranged her dress and her mind. She’d show him. If there was one thing she knew, it was racing automobiles.
They switched places. She refused to look at him. The pedals were a little far so she inched forward in the driver’s seat and poised her feet.
“Ready?” drawled Mr. Meisner.
“Yes. Sir.”
“Go!”
Her shoe rammed down on the metal. The car took off like a rabbit with a fox in sight. Switch gears with the selective and stamp her foot again. Bumps in the road juddered her hands on the wheel but she kept her grip loose enough to steer straight without losing control. The roar of the motor reached a peak then flash they were past Mawson.
“Well done! I can see you know how to drive.”
Hmph. Though the praise made her feel like glowing. “Thank you. Shall we see what Mawson says of the time?”
She steered around and back to the man, braking with a little skid of dust and halting the car with Leonhardt’s door precisely opposite his servant. Dust washed in.
Dash it, that had been good. If he’d meant to distract her with his little maneuver back there, it had not succeeded. She pulled off the goggles and strained her ears to hear Mawson’s reply. Twenty-five seconds for Mr. Meisner. Twenty-three seconds for her. Yes!
“Thank you, Mawson. That is all I need you for.”
Mr. Meisner climbed back in, clicked the door shut and shifted his body around to face her. “You have your win, Faith.” He added nothing more, just looked at her with that calm expression--patience and control personified. His gloved hand rested on his knee.
The winner gets to command the other to do anything at all for the night. But what did she want him to do?
“Mawson?” She tilted her head.
“He’s walking home. It’s not far from here.”
“I see. Um. Good.”
Her imagination conjured up all sorts of things. Mr. Meisner serving her at a table or kneeling at her feet--no she couldn’t embarrass him like that. Wearing his jacket inside out. Silly ideas, all of them, some of them humiliating to a man of such composure.
Maybe she could wait until they were alone and she could tie him up? The image that revealed made her stomach turn. She couldn’t... She didn’t want to see him like that. And anything else she thought of just seemed wrong. Besides, she’d wanted him to teach her, not the other way around.
“What is your command?” he asked.
Such a big man. The top of his head almost brushed the car’s fabric roof and his shoulders inside that great coat filled the gap between seat back and windshield. If he were any larger the car would burst. Her mouth dried. Her heart picked up pace, thumping at her chest, at her temples.
Oh, hell and damnation. She met his eyes. She didn’t want anything from him except...him. This was appalling and yet exhilarating all at once. She let out a long, measured breath. How to say this?
“My command is that...you have to...do whatever you want, tonight. In other words, I don’t want to command you.” She shrugged.
“You don’t want me at your feet?” One corner of his mouth curved.
“Ugh. No.”
“But I might want you at mine.”
Yes, her heart sang to her. Oh yes, please. It was an effort not to squeeze her thighs tightly, one against the other. How far did he mean to go? There was a limit to this.
Below here is the list of blogs participating in the hop.
 | PS. For those who have read and enjoyed Iron Dominance - It's going to print! |
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