Monday, June 30, 2014

Kick (Completion Series) by Holly S. Roberts - Tour & Review


Cami Avesque is a shy, wannabe journalist, working for the largest newspaper in Ohio. She’s stuck editing classified ads until she lands her big break. That break comes when the only female sports reporter goes on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. For some reason, Cami is chosen to cover The Slam, a rugby team in Colt, Ohio. They have a chance of going all the way to the Rugby League Championship.

Unfortunately, Cami has a poor track record with jocks and going all the way is one of her problems. Because of her past, she hides her assets behind clothes that are a size too large and big glasses that camouflage the sexual sizzle that eats ripped bodies for lunch. Shy, she must remember she’s shy. If only man muscle didn't bring her wild side out to play she might survive a rugby try.

Gorgeous brothers, Van and Joel Stelson, own, manage, and play for The Slam. They see through Cami’s cover up and attack in order to make their goal. Who will be the first to get her in bed? Who will be the first to win her heart?

Remember in rugby… 80 Minutes, 15 Positions, No Protection, Lets Ruck!

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A low groan, coming through the closest door, had me walking in that direction. The door was propped open a few inches. With the next groan, I stopped without going inside. My stomach clenched. Who the heck was on the other side?

I was on time for my interview, but maybe I was interrupting an early morning quickie. Or God forbid he was in there by himself. I straightened my shoulders, nervously ran my hands down the sides of my unfitted navy jacket, and timidly approached the door. He was only a jock after all, and my expectations weren’t too high.

Eye contact, eye contact, I repeated to myself for the hundredth time since leaving my hotel room.

I peeked around the room until I saw two men—one lying face first on a table with nothing on but a small towel across his butt cheeks. The other man dug into the naked guy’s oiled muscles with his fingers and palms. Oh my. I couldn’t look away and practically drooled over the raw muscle lying on that table. Who was I kidding? All my lady parts came to instant attention at the display of pure dazzling brawn. Dammit, not again.

“I think your reporter’s arrived,” said the man giving the massage.

The naked man lifted his head. Our gazes locked. I’m sure my jaw fell to the floor, because no picture did those eyes justice. They were baby daddy gorgeous.

“I’m good, Curtis. Thanks.” He gave another low moan as Curtis dug one last time into his back.

Curtis added a small series of chops, picked up a towel to wipe his hands, and walked around me on his way to the door. He gave a small nod and then it was only me and a naked Van Stelson alone in the room. Van rolled to his side before dropping his feet over the table. Somehow the towel slid forward and pooled between his legs. I gulped.

He grinned, and his eyes took a quick scan of my body. “I’m walking to the shower and I’ll be out in two. Your choice if you wanna watch, but the towel isn’t going with me.”

His low voice sent a shiver across my skin. As his words sank in, heat raced to my cheeks. I spun so fast I lost my balance and had to use a side table to keep from falling on my ass. Van’s husky chuckle sent shivers clear to my toes. What was I supposed to do now? I answered my own question; stay upright and absolutely do not turn around. I heard the water turn on. Though I couldn’t peel my eyes from the naked man when I walked in, I had noticed the entire back of the room was tiled and had shower heads and nozzles interspersed. Nothing blocked the showers from view and now all I could think about was water sliding over oiled muscles. I fought a groan. If I was smart, I’d walk out of the room immediately. It was happening again, and something wild was taking over intelligent, practical Cami and turning her into a ball of hormonal lust.

The water shut off.

As always I'm a very happy reader after reading one of Holly Robert's works. Oh and I'm also in love (like WHOA love) with Joel (shh, don't tell Cami!) Kick is a fun, romantic, touching and sensual read that any fan of the genre will enjoy ;)

Cami's had a run of bad luck in the relationship department. So badly that she basically shut herself out of the dating world by covering up her goodies so no one would come on to her. Luckily she still continues on with her dreams and all of her hard work just might have finally paid off! Or it could be another slight run of bad luck...
Muscles, muscles and more muscles. But there's only one for her and man is he a great catch!

I have to say, even though I don't know SQUAT about Rugby, I really got into the story and found myself curious about seeing it played in real life!

Overall Rating:

 Sex Rating: 


“You’re beautiful.” He stared into my eyes not moving or, more precisely, making a move. 

Without thinking, I went to my tiptoes and pressed my lips gently to his. His arms circled me or I would have fallen. He pulled me against his rock-hard chest making me feel stable. No… that wasn’t it… invincible. Cami the prude was gone.

I needed to fuck Van Stelson.

The kiss changed as Van took over. His fingers sought the zipper on the back of my dress. Once the material was loose, he pulled the sleeves down, exposing my lace bra and dipping his rough fingertips under the material.

“God, your tits are incredible,” he said with a whispery groan. 

Every nerve ending on my body centered on each stroke against my breast. Before I realized what I was doing, my arms were around him, my fingernails digging into his back. A dizzying whirl of sexual need shot straight to my inner thighs. His mouth took complete control. He sucked my lower lip continuing his assault with gentle nips. I could no longer think past the driving ache that wanted to explode from my body. Never had I felt such blinding need. He pushed my dress past my hips until it pooled on the floor. I had no idea that he unclipped my bra until it fell to the floor too. He swung me into his arms without ending the kiss. My shoes fell off along the way. I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to think.

His bedroom was dark, but he knew where the most important piece of furniture was, and within seconds of entering, I was on it. His chest, I wanted to feel his bare chest against my naked breasts. I started working the buttons, but he had no patience. He pushed my fingers aside and buttons went flying. I was drunk, he was sexy as hell, and now all I wanted were his pants. Coming off. Now.

He pulled back slightly so he could help me with his zipper. I couldn’t think past where I needed his body next. He shuffled above me and I heard a drawer next to the bed open. A minute later, the unmistakable sound of a condom wrapper being torn open. God, I hadn’t thought that far, but good. So good.

The tip of his cock pushed against me.

Holly S. Roberts is the author of twenty books using three pseudonyms. She goes from hot and steamy athletes, kinky BDSM, vampires, weres and dragons shifters to humorous non-fiction police procedural. She lives with husband of thirty-five years and two spoiled dog along with a wild rabbit who adopted the family and visits daily. For all the latest information on her fantasy writing world and real life misadventures as a sex crimes detective sign up for her mailing list at

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Thursday, June 26, 2014

Silver Strife (Immortal Quicksilver #1) - Blog Tour

J.A. Kenney


Release Date — June 21, 2014
Tour Dates — June 21 - 27, 2014

Bottom Drawer Publications is proud to announce the release today of Silver Strife, book one of the sci-fi/fantasy Immortal Quicksilver series, by J. A. Kenney.

Genre: Sci-fi/Fantasy
Book: Novel
Length: 87,000 words
Formats: ePub, mobi, PDF & Paperback


Silver Strife: An Immortal Quicksilver Novel
Quicksilver is an ancient immortal warrior. One of a group of alien beings that were once pure energy, living in the void between galaxies, and who have taken mortal form to influence history.
The Purists, compelled by a zealot prophet, are immortal extremists who will use any means at their disposal to wipe out all mortal life. Qui and her Conservationist brethren have spent millions of years fighting for their survival.
In Silver Strife, Quicksilver has been reincarnated on an Earth devastated by centuries of planet-wide civil war. She awakens in the body of a human Elite named Lini: one of a race of superhumans, bred and trained by a Purist-led government to massacre the remnants of humanity. Quicksilver joins the rebel forces, despite their reluctance to trust a hated Elite, determined to take down the brutal dictatorship that has decimated the human race.
From their first meeting, she is drawn to Captain David Mitchell, the rebel officer who aided her escape from the Elite's gilded cage. Even after swearing to never love again when her last mortal lover was killed saving her life, she finds herself falling for the honorable and driven soldier.
When Quicksilver crosses the path of an immortal ally on a top-secret mission behind enemy lines, a decision is forced upon her. She must choose between the fate of the human rebels, her mortal lover, and fulfilling her Conservationist oath to protect all mortal life.


C h a p t e r   O n e


I was alive, in a new mortal shell, a different place, and time. If I had believed in some benevolent supernatural creature that controlled every aspect of reality, I would have thanked it. Instead, I just felt a sort of ambivalent relief.
Time was a true fourth dimension. Ages and epochs made long sweeping circles across the void, and immortals traveled between those rings like icebreakers smashing through a frozen sea. So we died just like everyone else, a truth that I thought a glaring irony. However, we came back, born again into new flesh, and in this new vessel, I could forge ahead in the eons long war against the Purists—a war that raged across the whole of space and time.
For years, I caught only brief glimpses of this life: a stern woman’s face looking down at me as I lay in a clear plastic bassinet, the pain of a broken wrist, and the unpleasant jab of tanbark against my spine. Born into this body, my spirit slept in a small corner of its mind. United and yet separate until the physical form was ready, for a child’s mind simply could not process eternity.
My thoughts snapped into place, and I inherited, in excruciating detail, the memories of a lifetime lived. No immortal knew what happened when our minds achieved synergy, but it felt like my soul suddenly clicked into alignment with this body’s neurons. The process was abrupt and shocking even after untold permutations, like a memory dump from a massive supercomputer. Twenty years of daily events, knowledge, and struggles were mine in a split second. I knew who I was, where I was, and what I was. A place, time, and identity that could not have been less to my liking.
My vision cleared. I stood in a well-lit hall lined with thick metal plates and reinforced doors. A calm yet commanding voice played in the background—a subtle reminder to cultivate unity and serve the greater purpose. “Preserve strength. Embody perfection. Maintain obedience.”
My eyes discreetly explored the lines and curves of my body. It was petite and feminine, with sufficient curves to avoid being boyish but a distinct lack of height. The skin on my delicate long-fingered hands was a dark caramel, the nails neatly manicured, and I ran one of them through straight waist-length black hair to feel its smooth silky thickness.
Surrounding me were a plethora of other young people, all of them disturbingly alike. They all had dark hair, dark eyes, and honey-toned skin, complemented by bodies that were young, attractive, and fit. These were the Union Elite. All dressed in uniforms of white button-down shirts, black slacks or skirts, and shiny polished black shoes. They looked like bronzes cast from the same mold, and the effect was eerie, like being surrounded by dozens of identical twins all filing in an unnatural orderly fashion to their next classes. This compound was built to house and educate society’s so-called best and brightest, but the hall and building surrounding it were armored for a reason.
I knew, from this and previous lives, that there was danger here, and not just to the students’ minds from blatant indoctrination. Their Civil War was a constant threat, often bleeding over into these remaining pockets of civilization. The year was three hundred and fifty-six in the Plebeian calendar, and this was the planet Earth.
The Elites’ university was situated on the semi-arid high plains that I remembered as the United States of America. Now this area of windblown and sun-scorched earth was called the North Western Sector. When the new era was founded centuries ago, the people of the world had experienced a brief period of renewed hope. The world had been united, all people were equal, and they would work together to build a better future for humankind. The newly christened Elites would be benevolent and altruistic leaders.
The naïveté of those people and their dream of endless peace had not lasted a decade. Instead, the world had been plunged into a centuries-long Civil War, and was ruled over by a cruel and selfish caste of super humans who viewed the rest of humanity as base, dangerous, animals. All at the whim and design of a single Purist, another immortal, who had twisted those noble dreams to his purpose. Yet, those events were now distant history, and I had to live in the here and now.
A bell chimed, and the students disappeared into their bunker-like classrooms. I stood frozen in place as they passed me by, still caught in the shock of a new and different existence. A number of confused glances were thrown my way.
“Lini. Is something wrong?” A soft touch to my arm preceded the serious expression that drifted into view. The voice and face were familiar. One of the many Elites who was genetically this body’s first cousin. She motioned me toward one of the open doors.
“No, nothing is wrong, Saran. I apologize for my inattention.” I forced myself into motion and trailed after the line of students filing into their next lecture.
The room was stark, white cinderblock walls with a half-dozen small wooden desks facing a larger desk and chalkboard. The lack of windows managed to give it an even more depressing penal feel. I plopped into an open seat, dropped my light backpack on the floor, and turned to face the instructor.
“Today, we will be discussing the foundation of the Union,” said Charles, the history professor. He leaned against his large wooden desk in a casual pose that portrayed both confidence and arrogance in spades. Dark hair and eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a toned body, a model specimen of the Union’s breeding program. In a vain attempt to delay a long afternoon of monotony and conveniently edited events, I sighed, and put my hand up.
Charles ignored me.
“Before the founding of the Union, the world was littered with separate countries. These small powers drove a nearly constant state of warfare, resulting in widespread poverty, and humanitarian abuses. Today, I want us to discuss how these governmental, cultural, social, and economic entities were motivated by greed, racism, and false prophets to enforce their individual wills on all peoples. Saran, if you could read the excerpt on page 325, the third paragraph concerning Manifest Destiny.”
History, or the self-serving fiction of a victorious reactionary authoritarian regime.
The Union had started out as a tempting illusion dangled before the people of Earth by a Purist, but it quickly turned into the malignant nightmare he intended. Millions died in the ethnic cleansing Petrov instituted, and even more in the unsuccessful wars to overthrow him. Hundreds of years later, a small group ruled from on high by virtue of the “superiority” of their birth and technological advancement had ground to a screeching halt. Meanwhile, the rest of humanity was withering under the weight of its own impotence.
The distinct crack of submachine gun fire yanked me back into the present. My senses instantly alert to the slightest movement. Another shot rang out, and men’s shouts laced with pain came from the direction of the building’s entrance. The unexpected sounds faded into a misleading tranquility.
“Raid,” I whispered to shatter the pregnant silence.

Buy Links

The e-book is available for sale for $5.99 via the BDP Digital Shop and other online booksellers

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Links for Amazon, Apple, All Romance, Barnes & Noble, Kobo etc will be provided when the book becomes available for pre-order soon.

Release Giveaway

1st Prize: Paperback copy of “Silver Strife”
2nd Prize: $10 BDP Voucher
3 copies of “Silver Strife” e-book

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About the Author


J.A. Kenney lives in Aurora, Colorado, with a breathtaking view of the Rocky Mountains—in the winter, when the sky is clear, and if she stands on her tiptoes in exactly the right spot.

Three cats, a Chihuahua mix who thinks she is a Mastiff, and her beloved husband share her humble abode.

She has been writing since she found out that playing alien witches was more fun than tag. Her stories are a blend of science fiction, fantasy, and romance with strong female protagonists and drool worthy heroes.

When she is not writing she reads voraciously, sings, skis, rides her Harley, and grudgingly assists with home improvement projects.

The Inner Room by Claire Thompson Blog Tour

The Inner Room – where submissive dreams become reality

Dr. Marissa Roberts takes charge and saves lives by day, but spends lonely nights embracing fantasies of erotic submission. When a friend encourages her to explore her submissive longings, Marissa agrees to an evaluation to become a member of an exclusive local BDSM club. With that act, a door is opened to Marissa, and her long-standing fantasies may just become reality. 

Cam Wilder, a nurse at the same hospital as Marissa and an experienced Dominant in his private life, has no idea the prospective slave girl he will assess in The Inner Room of The Power Exchange will be his reserved co-worker. Sparks of desire ignite into flames of passion as Cam recognizes in Marissa the heart of a true submissive yearning for freedom, and she sees in him a Master who speaks directly to her soul.

Their potential BDSM paradise is threatened by the unwanted attention of an arrogant bastard who refuses to take no for an answer. His secret surveillance and devious plans lead to terrifying results that threaten to destroy not only Marissa and Cam’s careers, but the bonds of trust and love they’ve forged together as Master and sub girl.

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“You must be Marissa. Welcome to The Power Exchange.” Marissa looked up to see a man of medium height with massive arms, barrel chest and a shaved head. He was wearing a black leather vest and matching leather pants, every visible bit of skin below his neck covered in tattoos. 

“Hi,” Marissa said. The man held out his hand, which engulfed Marissa’s as they shook. He appeared to be in his late forties, and while he wasn’t an especially tall man, he looked solid, with bulging, muscular arms and a thick neck. He was wearing a black T-shirt that stretched tightly over his barrel chest. His large nose was crooked, as if it had been broken, perhaps more than once. His eyes were dark and penetrating, and Marissa could feel the power in his gaze. 

“I’m Jack Morris.” His voice matched the rest of him, deep and strong. He spoke like someone used to being obeyed. “Tony’s told me a lot about you.”

Marissa glanced at Tony, who sat with her and Dana at the same table they’d occupied the last time she’d been to the club. Tony lifted his glass in Jack’s direction. “All true,” he grinned. Smiling at her, he added, “You’ll be in excellent hands, Marissa. The trainer who will assess you tonight is regarded as tops in his field—a real pro, and with good reason.” He turned back to Jack, adding, “Marissa won’t let you down. This one’s a keeper, Jack, you’ll see.”

You’ll see? Was Jack going to be her trainer? 

Marissa bit her lower lip. Where Tony had been understanding of her fears, and had let her go at her own pace, she strongly doubted Jack would go as easy on her. While Jack was certainly compelling, he was also rather formidable, and not what she had visualized. In truth, she’d been harboring a fantasy that she would be trained by someone like the tall, dark and handsome Master Mark from the training videos. 

Don’t be stupid. This is the chance of a lifetime. Tony and Dana say he’s the best. He owns the club, after all. He has to know what he’s doing. She realized they were all three staring at her. “If you’ll come with me,” Jack said, holding out his hand.

Marissa glanced nervously at her friends. Tony was smiling encouragingly at her. Dana put her hand on Marissa’s shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Good luck,” she said softly. “I know you’ll do great.”

Marissa pushed her chair away from the table. Excitement warred with trepidation inside her as she took Jack’s offered hand. She was ready. She wanted this. More than that—she needed this. 

Jack stepped to the bar and lifted a panel, gesturing for her to follow him. With a last look at Tony and Dana, Marissa stepped behind the bar. The bartender didn’t even glance up as they passed her. They walked down a wide hall past a kitchen to a set of double doors. Tony turned the knob on one of the doors and pushed it open. He stepped back, ushering Marissa in ahead of him. The room was larger than she expected and looked something like Tony’s playroom, except there were more pieces of equipment, some of which she recognized, some she didn’t. 

In addition to a St. Andrew’s cross, several spanking benches, a whipping post, a medical exam table and a set of stocks, there was an interesting series of rubber strips in one corner strapped to a metal frame. The apparatus was shaped like a huge spider’s web, with cuffs and chains dangling from various parts of it. Nearby were two cages, one upright with cuffs attached at the upper and lower corners, and one low and oblong, with newspapers spread on the bottom and what looked like a dog’s water bowl set inside it.

Muted lighting was provided by a series of sconces set high along the perimeters of the room. Marissa noticed several racks, some with floggers, some with canes, some with wicked-looking single tail whips of various sizes, the largest a coiled bullwhip that looked like a shiny-skinned, sleeping snake. 

Marissa jumped a little when Jack closed the door behind them.

“You can put your things over there.” Jack pointed to a small set of cubbyholes, not unlike those found in a kindergarten classroom for book bags and lunchboxes. 

“My…things?” Marissa said faintly. She knew she would have to get naked—Dana had warned her. But now that it had come to it…

Jack glanced sharply at her. “Yes. Everything. Strip naked. Oh wait, leave on the heels. You will wait for the trainer on that dais, there.” He pointed again, this time toward a raised dais in the center of the room with a set of three wooden steps set along its side.

…wait for the trainer… Did that mean Jack wasn’t the trainer? Who was? Where were they? She realized Jack was watching her, his eyebrows now raised, as if questioning why she was still just standing there. 

Don’t blow this. Do what he says. Remember, you can always use your safeword. 

“My safeword is lemon,” she blurted suddenly, and then felt herself blushing.

Jack’s lips lifted into a half smile. “That’s nice,” he said flatly. “Now do what you’re told.”

Marissa tried to swallow, but somehow her mouth had filled with sawdust. She moved toward the cubbies and reached for the zipper of her skirt with trembling fingers. She realized she had left her velvet jacket over the back of her chair in the outer room. She stepped out of the skirt, folded it and set it into an empty space. With a glance toward Jack, she reached for the hem of her chemise and pulled it over her head. Blowing out a breath, she reached behind herself and undid her pretty new bra. Jack was standing with his tattooed arms crossed over his massive chest, an implacable expression on his face, his eyes trained on Marissa.

Just do it, she admonished herself. Nudity was the norm at The Power Exchange. Half the people in the outer room were in various stages of undress, and no one batted an eyelash over it. She was being silly and self-conscious. It was just skin. No big deal. She reached for her panties and slid them down her legs, stepping carefully out of them while still balancing in her heels. 

She placed the panties on top of her clothing pile and turned to face Jack Morris. His eyes swept over her body, his expression still difficult to read. “Good,” he finally said. “Now get up on the dais.”

As Marissa moved through the room on rubbery legs she could feel Jack’s dark eyes on her. She climbed the small set of stairs and stood on the dais, wondering what to do with her arms. As if reading her mind, Jack said, “Stand at attention, arms up, fingers locked behind your neck, feet planted shoulder-width apart, eyes forward. Don’t move until the trainer tells you to move.”

Marissa attempted to do as the man had ordered, feeling at once ridiculous and at the same time kind of sexy, naked in nothing but high heels. The position forced her to thrust her breasts forward, and she felt like an object designed to be ogled, which was no doubt the intent of being forced to pose on a raised dais. Oddly, rather than feeling humiliated by being put on display, arousal burned its way through her, spreading into her sex and engorging her nipples. 

Without another word, Jack turned and left the room by the door through which they had entered, closing it with a small click that seemed to echo in the empty room. Marissa drew in a shuddery breath and released it slowly. Her nose itched suddenly, and she wondered if she dared fall out of position in order to scratch it. Keeping her head still, she managed to glance around the room, wondering if there was a camera or something tracking her movements. She didn’t see anything. Jack had said not to move, but who would know?

The itch was now driving her nuts. She dropped her arms and quickly scratched her nose. Shaking back her hair, she once again assumed the somewhat awkward position, her fingers laced behind her neck. The room was cool, but she could feel the prickle of perspiration beneath her arms, and the dampness of undeniable arousal between her legs. 

She was there on a completely voluntary basis, she reminded herself. She could leave at any time. No one was holding her prisoner. This was just an assessment, and Tony had said she was a natural sub. Not that she needed him to tell her. She knew what she was now, or more accurately, she understood now what she had the potential to become. She was being offered a rare and precious opportunity to be assessed by a top trainer. 

Marissa heard the sound of a door opening from somewhere behind her. Though she’d been told to keep her eyes straight ahead, Marissa couldn’t help turning toward the sound. Her mouth fell open as she took in the figure standing there dressed in a black muscle T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered along his body toward a narrow waist and slender hips. He wore black leather pants that looked like they were molded to his long, muscular legs, his feet shod in heavy black boots of the Master Mark variety. 

Marissa forgot all about holding her position. Instinctively she tried to cover her naked body. Her heart was thumping like a drum against her bones while her mind struggled to place the man with these surroundings. 

His piercing blue eyes moved over her body and settled on her face, and his mouth, like hers, also fell open. They stared at one another for several beats of the loudest silence Marissa had ever experienced.


Chapter 1 

The naked woman in the video was on her hands and knees, a bucket of sudsy water beside her, a large sponge in her hand. Marissa sucked in her breath as she watched Master Mark lift his heavy black boot and bring it to rest on the woman’s back. The woman’s face was obscured by her long blond hair, but Marissa could feel the sudden tension in her body, though she continued to move her hand in wide circles over the stone floor. Master Mark pressed down with his boot until the woman collapsed onto her stomach on the cold, wet floor. 

“Why are you here, slave M?” Master Mark asked in his deep, sexy British accent. He moved his boot along her back until it rested on the nape of her neck. 

The camera moved in for a close-up of slave M’s face, capturing what seemed to be genuine fear in her wide blue eyes. “Because I was a dirty little slut, Sir,” she replied in a tremulous voice.

Master Mark laughed. “We already know that, slave. What precisely did you do that resulted in this particular punishment?” He slid his boot to her cheek and then lifted it, leaving a wet streak of dirt behind. Crouching beside her, he stroked strands of blond hair behind her ear and Marissa was struck by the tender expression now on Master Mark’s face.

“I—I was touching myself without permission, Sir,” the girl whispered.

Marissa sighed and shifted on the bed. She slipped her hand between her legs, her fingers seeking her throbbing clit. Though intellectually she was repelled by the man’s treatment, emotionally she thrilled to it. Her defenses now lowered by her desire, Marissa had to admit in her heart of hearts she yearned to be that naked girl lying on the wet stone waiting for her stern master’s retribution.

Master Mark wrapped his hand in slave M’s thick hair and twisted it back from her scalp. She winced but remained otherwise still. “That’s correct,” Master Mark said. “You touched my property without my express permission. Get up.” He tugged her hair to pull her upward. 

As the woman struggled to her feet, he continued, “Time for part two of your punishment. Stand at attention, hands locked behind your head, legs shoulder-width apart.” The camera pulled back, revealing the long, whippy cane Master Mark now held in his hand. “Twenty strokes,” he intoned. “You will maintain your position, and you will thank me for each stroke.”

The slave cast a fearful glance at cane. “Yes, Sir,” she breathed. Marissa could see the tremble in her limbs and the faint sheen of sweat on her face. Master Mark’s cock bulged in his leather pants. If these were actors, they were doing a hell of a job. 

The camera angle shifted again, giving Marissa a good view of the woman’s back, ass and long legs that ended in very high, shiny black heels. The cane hissed in the air. Marissa winced as it struck the backs of the woman’s thighs. “Thank you!” the woman yelped.

Marissa rubbed herself with fingers lubricated by her desire as Master Mark struck the woman over and over, leaving red, angry stripes on her thighs and ass. When the camera moved to her face, it was twisted in an expression that could have been agony or ecstasy. 

“Oh, thank you, Sir. Thank you! Oh!” slave M cried.

Marissa’s mouth was dry, her breath a rasp in her throat, her fingers flying in the wet heat between her legs as the Master with the hard eyes and cruel smile struck the willing masochist on the screen again and again. A warm tingling sensation rose deep in Marissa’s belly, culminating in a shivery burst of sensation as her cunt spasmed in release. 

Her hand fell away and she closed her eyes with a sigh. She lay limp, no longer focused on the scene still playing on her tablet. When she could rouse herself sufficiently from her orgasm-induced lethargy, she reached for the tablet, where slave M was now on her knees slurping and sucking Master Mark’s huge cock with enthusiastic abandon. 

Marissa clicked away from the site and closed down the tablet. Her immediate urges satisfied, the usual vague feelings of shame and dissatisfaction began to reemerge in her psyche. Why was she like this? She was a medical doctor, a professional who had always held her own in her romantic relationships. What was wrong with her that she got off watching women be degraded and sexually tortured? Even worse, why did she long with such a deep and abiding intensity to be one of those women? 

Oh, get over yourself. Marissa heard her friend Dana’s voice in her head. It’s a consensual act. They both like and want what’s happening. Stop beating yourself up for your feelings. If only she could be more like Dana, who was completely comfortable in her own skin and fully accepting of her masochistic tendencies and sexual needs. 

Maybe if I found the right guy, Marissa thought, not for the first time. Someone who would just know what I want without my having to spell it out. She snorted at this line of thinking. If there was a Prince Charming, or rather a Master Charming, out there somewhere waiting to sweep her off her feet, he sure was taking his sweet ass time about it. Or maybe he just couldn’t find his way to the hospital where she spent most of her waking hours.

Pushing these unproductive thoughts from her mind, Marissa reached for her smart phone and set the alarm for five a.m. That should give her time to get to the gym for her workout before hospital rounds at seven. She reached for the lamp and turned it off. Pulling the covers to her chin, she closed her eyes.



Claire Thompson has been writing erotic fiction and romance since 1996. With over fifty novels published, Claire recently established hew own publishing venue,, where all of her work is available for direct sale. Claire’s novels involve the sensual exploration of D/s and erotic romance, as well as the more intense and edgy side of BDSM. Her D/s romances explore the power and beauty of a loving exchange of power. Her darker works press the envelope of what is erotic and what can be a sometimes dangerous slide into the world of sadomasochism. Ultimately her work deals with the human condition, and our constant search for love and intensity of experience. 

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Blog Tour - Escaping Heartbreak by Regina Bartley

It’s time for Sawyer to start living her life. Since she was fifteen she has taken care of everyone but herself, including her older brother Dane. She has been lying to herself to keep from feeling the pain of her parent’s death. Now she is twenty and she’s ready to start a life of her own. Moving into her parent’s lake house would be the perfect escape. Wouldn’t it? That’s what she thought. Only, it led her right into the emotional place she’s been hiding from all this time. All of those years of running from her feelings, she now has to face them. It’s too much. She can’t deal with it alone. Someone has to help. She’ll do anything to escape the heartbreak, but you can only run so far. 

Travis can’t believe his eyes; his half-opened, blood shot eyes. Sawyer Evans was in the flesh and standing over him. He hadn’t seen this girl since he was ten years old. Travis only saw the Evan’s during the summer when they moved into the lake house. He and Dane were best friends. When Dane invited him and the old gang to a welcome back party at the Lake House, he couldn’t wait to go. It turns out getting wasted was only half the fun. Seeing Sawyer was the other half. She was the sexiest girl he’d ever seen and he was going to make sure that she knew it. Only she shot him down time and time again. He’s determined to break down those walls and get inside her head, but he’ll have to be sober to do it, and no matter how hard he tries, she’ll always run. He can’t keep chasing her. He has to figure out a way to make her stay.

It’s time to stop running, stop hiding, and start learning where the true escape lies. Everyone will face heartbreak, but not everyone will find love. 

Stand Alone Novel for ages 18+ due to graphic language, and sexual content.

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Regina lives in Kentucky and is currently releasing her third book. Her books include Chased and Challenged, both of The Graysen Pack Series, as well as her newest book Moonshine. Her true love is writing paranormal, but writing Moonshine made her discover a hidden love for Adult Contemporary Romance. She says that you can expect her to write a little in both worlds. 

She is married with two kids and when she is not writing she is reading and reading and reading. She loves her cat Jacob, who was named after her favorite werewolf. Go figure... If you put her in front of the T.V. she would most likely watch sports, unless The Vampire Diaries is on. Her favorite things are her family, books, football, chocolate, Bruno Mars, and well Bruno Mars, enough said. She loves to keep up with her fans and you can find her several places.

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