Thursday, March 31, 2011

Miranda's Rights by KyAnn Waters

Miranda's Rights
by KyAnn Waters

She needs pain…she needs punishment…she needs him.
Jase Ralston gets hot under his very blue collar just thinking about his friend and neighbor, Miranda Carlucci. Yet she can’t possibly be interested—not when she could have champagne, caviar and her pick of Vegas high rollers.

The bruises change everything. She denies she’s in an abusive relationship, but his cop instincts won’t let him rest until he finds out the truth. When he follows her to a BDSM club and finds her writhing under a flogger’s stinging kiss, his Dom instincts kick in.

Jase takes command of the scene—and Miranda—at Club Creed. This is what she’s always wanted. Pleasure, pain…and rough-around-the-edges Jase. Yet after his domination transports her to a level of subspace she’s never known, he leaves her—unwilling to continue the scene.

Confusion gives way to hurt…then anger. He’s claimed her and Miranda wants more. Even if it means confronting Jase and making demands of her own.

Copyright © 2011 KyAnn Waters
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Jase acknowledged he wasn’t in Miranda’s league—not for more than friendship. He was blue-collar and hardworking. Miranda deserved diamonds and caviar. They might live in the same apartment complex, spend time together watching television and even grab dinner together several times a week, but those weren’t dates. Miranda dated up. Her work behind the scenes in the casino industry exposed her to the wealthy, powerful men of Vegas. Upscale scourge. Jase had a gut feeling that her latest guy wasn’t treating her well.

Jase was a Dom. He liked control, but he’d never abuse a woman. Lately he wasn’t sure if someone was hurting her, demeaning her—forcing her to do something she didn’t want to do. That was the problem. She wouldn’t open up to him about her late nights. His thoughts raced in a thousand different directions. Only one conclusion made sense. She didn’t want Jase to know.

Across the hall, a key worked into a lock. Jase stomped across the floor and swung the door open.

“Jase!” Miranda sucked in a sharp inhale, slapped a hand over her heart and spun in his direction. “You scared me.”

Perhaps he should have put on a shirt. Her gaze traveled his torso, igniting small fires over his flesh. She lingered on the open snap of his jeans riding low on his hips and trekked lower to his bare feet.

“And put on some clothes. If Ms. Perry in 3D sees you, you’ll have a stalker on your hands. She drools at anything with a nice body, especially a nice tight butt and—” Her gaze locked on his groin. “Well, and the right anatomy. If she gets her inch-long dragon-lady nails into your back, you’ll need surgery to remove her.”

“It’s close to four a.m. No one else is awake.”

She snorted. “This is Vegas. No one sleeps.”

“Where have you been?” In the span of a heartbeat, he glanced over her from her tousled hair to her askew clothing. The buttons on her blouse weren’t aligned and her stockings were torn. “What the hell happened?” Her sexy lips, normally pouty and pink, were slightly swollen. Dark circles shadowed her red-rimmed eyes.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she whispered. “I’m fine now, Detective. It’s late. You should be in bed.” Her lips curled into a smile.

“You aren’t fine.” His hands balled into fists. This craziness had gone on long enough. He couldn’t stand by and watch her self-destruct. He took a step back. “Get in here.”

Her head cocked to the side. “Jase, I’m tired.” She turned back toward her door and wiggled the key until it turned and the lock popped. “I had a rough night, but really. I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

She glanced at him and her tired eyes widened.

“We need to talk.”

“I’m sure whatever scolding you’re going to give me can wait until morning.”


“Okay.” Her hand paused on the knob without turning the handle. Her head bowed and her shoulders visibly trembled. She was petite, not more than five-foot-five. Jase had eight inches on her and outweighed her by eighty pounds. He could force her into his apartment. But he wouldn’t have to. The Dom in him stirred at her willingness to heed his words. Whether she’d ever acknowledge it, Miranda had submissive tendencies. He tamped down the small thrill and focused on the anger coiling in his gut instead.

“But I’m tired and don’t want to talk.” Miranda crossed the hall and entered his living room. “I just want to crawl into bed and sleep.” She clasped her hands in front of her, a small purse clutched in her fingers. The door closed with a thud and she jumped.

“What is going on with you?”

“Nothing. I went out.” She stood in his living room, glancing at his couch, the window, anything but his face. Normally her bubbly personality had him laughing. At the moment, she seemed almost afraid. He had an infuriating idea of why. The thought of someone hurting her… He growled and jammed his hands into his pockets. He had the mounting need to slam his fist into the wall, scour the city for the piece of shit and show him a little payback. Any bastard who could hurt a woman deserved his ass beat.

Jase understood BDSM. Power and dominance went hand in hand with trust and devotion. He understood the high from pain play. He’d been in the scene long enough to know that the glimmer in Miranda’s blue eyes wasn’t from being taken to the brink and pushed over the edge. She’d been broken, and that wasn’t willing submission. “What has he done to you?”

Her head snapped up and her eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Who? Christ, who do you think?” He stormed across the room and grasped her wrist.

She winced and tried to pull away. “Don’t.”

“Who is doing this to you?” He jerked back her sleeves. Angry red welts banded her delicate wrists. Deep purple and maroon bruises crisscrossed her porcelain flesh. Higher on her arm, four equally spaced marks bore the impression of someone squeezing her, restraining her. “Miranda, I see it all the time. I recognize an abused woman.”

“I’m not being abused!” She jerked her arm, yanking her wrist from his hands.

“That’s more than rough sex.”

“I’m not having sex either,” she snapped.

“And I’m not stupid. Are you going to tell me you did that—” he pointed to her wrists, “—to yourself?”

“Are you crazy?”

“No, I’m ready to go ballistic.” He’d kill the bastard who put his hands on her. “I can help you.” He lowered his voice. “Please, let me take care of this, let me take care of you.”

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

5 Stars & Top Pick for Wrong Number, Right Man

An oldie but a goodie! That's how the review from Diana Coyle at Night Owl Reviews made me feel about my 2006 release, Wrong Number, Right Man.

Here's some of what Diana had to say...

"I really enjoyed this short story and loved the interaction between Lori and Jack. The sex was hot and left me definitely wanting more...If you’re looking for a hot, steamy read that leaves you breathlessly dying for more then you’ve found the perfect story to add to your library."

To read more of the review, click here.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Spotlight on Waking Maggie by Cindy Jacks

Waking Maggie
by Cindy Jacks

Maggie’s just decided she’s been stood up when she bumps into hard-bodied guitarist Calvin—literally. Once the shock of their abrupt meeting wears off, Calvin asks Maggie out for a drink and she figures, why not? She’s all dressed up for a date…just not this one.

She enjoys his company, even if he’s only twenty-seven and she’s forty…something. And while witty conversation’s all good, they’re just as compatible in bed. One drink turns into multiple romps between the sheets. He’s old enough to know how to make love to a woman and young enough to look damn fine doing it…and doing it. He even manages to convince Maggie she’s still pretty hot herself.

Now if he would just stop serenading her with that infernal Rod Stewart song.

An Excerpt From:  

Copyright © CINDY JACKS, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

The sound of a gently strummed guitar roused Maggie from sleep. Eyelids flickering open, she saw Calvin sitting in the tufted chair next to the bed, his acoustic guitar on his lap. A lazy smile tugged at her lips.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Good morning, babe.” He shifted his grip on the fretboard to strike a chord and then slid his fingers back to another. “I’m serenading you…obviously.”

“Is it after ten?” Maggie sat up, stretched.

“Of course. And there’s coffee on your nightstand.”

With delight, she picked up the steaming mug and inhaled—Viennese roast, her favorite. The first sip slid down her throat, smooth as velvet.

He turned his attention to the guitar again and started singing under his breath.

She rolled her eyes. “You know I hate that song.”

Calvin chuckled, a boyish gleam in his hazel eyes. “But I’m sure Rod Stewart wrote it for you.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I am not that old.”

Continuing to strum the melody, he shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

As Maggie’s gaze roamed over the young man’s taut, muscular body, she noticed he was sitting there stark naked, the guitar covering some of his most admirable attributes.

Her eye grew wide. “What have I done to deserve a morning serenade with you au naturel?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked, plucking individual notes.

A gust of wind outside the bedroom window drew her attention. The great oak out back danced, shaking loose a few vermillion leaves.

“Of course I remember,” she murmured, setting down her cup and rising from the bed. Smoothing her silk nightie over her ample curves, she padded across the shag carpet and kissed his soft cheek. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

He stopped playing and set aside the guitar, revealing a red ribbon around his cock. “Are you ready for your present?”

Clapping a hand over her mouth, Maggie let out a yelp of amusement. “You’re certifiable, you know that?”

She caught a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror. Messy blonde curls cascaded down to her shoulders and her eyes looked a little puffy from sleep. Skin not quite as fresh and tight as his—maybe the morning sun really did show her age, as the song stated. Still, not bad for a women of forty-something.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her onto his lap. She twined her fingers through his longish bronze hair. A hungry smirk on his face, he brushed his lips over hers. She felt his cock twitch against her thigh.

“We should unwrap you before you cut off your circulation,” she said, pulling one end of the ribbon.

Buy Link:

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Shoshanna Evers - What Keeps Me Turning Pages

My fellow Belle, Shoshanna Evers is here today to tell us what keeps her turning those pages and to share a bit about her newest release from Ellora's Cave, Hollywood Spank. Welcome Shoshanna!

Thanks for having me on your blog, Darah!

So glad to have you, Shoshanna. I've been following you and boy, are you a busy girl!

I’ve been doing a lot of reading this past week, to the point that I’ve barely been writing. I keep buying awesome books and then getting so sucked in that all I want to do at the end of the day is cuddle up with my Kindle!

So it got me thinking – what about the books I love makes them so entertaining? Sure, the writing is usually good, and the characters are intriguing, but the main answer here is conflict. Conflict in a story is what keeps me up at night, turning pages (ahem, pressing buttons) to find out what happens next.

So when I wrote Hollywood Spank, my new erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave, I knew I wanted it to be rife with conflict. I took a movie star and a tabloid reporter—each with a big secret— and gave them the hots for each other. I love torturing my characters :)

LOL I'm sure it's a slow and yummy torture, too. Tell us about your book.


When the studio heads for Mark Cannon’s new action movie discover that their leading man likes to spank his personal assistants, they insist Mark hire a professional submissive who won’t run to the tabloids with his kinky secret. 

Andrea Landley may be a wonderful assistant, but she lied through her teeth about being a BDSM pro to get the job—and now her real career as an undercover tabloid reporter has gotten very interesting.

Andrea is willing to do whatever it takes to get the dirt for her scathing exposé—even if it means learning how to take a spanking from a movie star. She doesn’t realize until it’s too late that Mark Cannon has a lot more in store for her than just a simple spanking.

An Excerpt From:

Copyright © SHOSHANNA EVERS, 2011
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Mark stepped quietly into his trailer and placed his script on the little desk. The sight of the slender, beautiful young woman lying on his cot caught him off guard and he swallowed a gasp of surprise. His new personal assistant.

Despite how busy they’d had him in the last couple of hours, Mark had been unable to get Andrea off his mind. He had almost flubbed a line, since his thoughts kept wandering back to his trailer and that amazing ass of hers.

And now, to find her sprawled out on his cot, looking so sweet and…inviting, he could see why she had proved to be so distracting.
His gaze lingered over her long, shapely legs, clad in tight denim jeans, then traveled up her fitted long-sleeve blouse, its deep V-neck revealing just a hint of the swell of her perfect breasts.

He could stare at Andrea like this for hours and never get bored. Mark wanted to pull those tight jeans off her gorgeous legs and ravish her right then and there. His cock thickened at the very thought of having sex with Andrea. Too bad he promised her he wasn’t there to fuck her…and too bad she agreed there would be no fucking.

Andrea crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him.

“Uncross your arms,” he said. “I want to see your breasts.”

Andrea slowly uncrossed her arms and actually blushed as she did so, even though she was fully dressed.

“You aren’t really experienced as a submissive, are you.” It was a statement, not a question. She had lied. It was obvious now that this was all very new to her.

Andrea gasped and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sir. I just really, really wanted this job.”

“Enough to let me actually spank you?” he asked, surprised.

“I may have lied about my BDSM experience to get the job, Sir, but I wasn’t lying about my skill as an assistant, and you saw for yourself that…what you did turned me on.”

Mark looked at her thoughtfully. “That’s true. So let me get this straight. You’re a very good assistant and you’re fully willing to explore the idea of me spanking you.”


“Because it turns you on.”

Andrea blushed again. Man, that was cute. “Yes,” she said softly.

“So even though I said no sex before, if all this really turns you on, are you willing to get a little sexual?” He sat on the edge of the cot next to her and held her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“I just met you, Sir, and I don’t usually have sex with men I just met,” she said. “I mean, I never do. So, can we get a little sexual without actually having sex, for right now?”

Mark grinned. “Absolutely.”

“So I can stay?”

“Say, ‘Sir, may I stay?’” Mark said.

Andrea didn’t hesitate. “Sir, may I stay?”

“Yeah, you can stay. But I want you over my knee right now for lying to me.”

“Thank you, Sir. For the job, I mean,” Andrea said as she nervously draped herself over his lap.

He locked his legs around hers to keep her from escaping her punishment and raised his hand, relishing that moment right before he brought it down on her ass. “Say thank you for the spanking too.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“My pleasure,” Mark said. “And hopefully, it will be your pleasure as well.”

Yummmm, sounds delicious! Thanks for sharing!

To find Shoshanna, check out her links below.

Shoshanna Ever
Sexily *Evers* After…