Are you searching for your next steamy story to binge read? Then check out these hot bad boy, grumpy boss, alpha and billionaire box sets today: https://books.bookfunnel.com/boxsetsteamysales/iqcraldhll
Are you searching for your next steamy story to binge read? Then check out these hot bad boy, grumpy boss, alpha and billionaire box sets today: https://books.bookfunnel.com/boxsetsteamysales/iqcraldhll
She’s his natural enemy – and the only woman who can satisfy his perverse sexual needs.
Andrew MacIntyre, heir to a vast empire of railroads, mines and mills, is by far the most eligible bachelor among the society folk summering in Newport, Rhode Island. His mother has filled their opulent mansion with the daughters of bankers and industrialists, but Andrew knows none of these callow young women would ever consent to being bound and beaten, to serving and obeying him the way he craves. His money gives him the freedom to purchase anything except his heart’s desire: a submissive partner to share his life.
Labor activist Olivia Alcott is dedicated to helping the exploited factory workers responsible for Andrew’s wealth. The strike she organizes triggers a confrontation between her and the handsome billionaire. Although their disparate backgrounds and values make them natural foes, something stronger draws them to one another: his need to command and hers to surrender.
Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound under the title Challenge to Him. It has been revised, expanded by two chapters, and re-edited for this release.
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09HSS7C6T
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09HSS7C6T
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1108116
Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59240690-power-and-persuasion
“Mademoiselle Olivia!” A skinny girl raced up the street that led to the riverside mill, stirring clouds of dust. “Il vient! He is coming!”
The sputtering racket of an internal combustion engine drowned out the girl’s excited voice. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for a boxy vehicle of shiny black, with silvery headlamps like extruded eyes. The noisy Studebaker rolled to a stop in front of the strikers, who stopped in their tracks like everyone else to stare at it.
The door creaked open. A tall man unfolded himself from the somewhat cramped interior, snatched off his hat and goggles and tossed them into the vehicle. He strode towards the massed strikers, his fists clenched at his sides.
“Where is she? Where’s your damned leader?”
The newspapers generally described Andrew MacIntyre as handsome. The epithet did not do him justice. As he stormed towards her, Olivia was struck with a sense of physical power and keen intelligence. He had wavy red-gold hair, a high forehead, a square chin, a determined mouth. His eyes were hazel, deep set under brows darker than his hair. Those eyes drilled into her, fierce and compelling. The women around her shrank backwards in alarm. Olivia steeled herself, holding her ground and fighting the urge to grovel at his feet. Instead of retreating, she took a step forward, holding out her hand.
“Mr. Andrew MacIntyre, I presume?” She marveled at the steadiness of her voice, the cool neutral tone.
“Damned right. And you are…?”
“Olivia Alcott.” She pulled herself up to her full height and forced herself to meet his gaze. She saw anger simmering there, but behind his irritation there was something else, something that intrigued and thrilled her. Something that she might be able to use to further her goals.
Olivia Alcott recognized lust when she saw it.
He towered over her by at least a head. Though his body was hidden by his loose touring coat, his decisive, economical movements suggested he was lean and athletic. For a moment he hesitated, staring at her proffered hand. When he finally accepted it, his firm grip confirmed her impression of strength. His palm felt warm and dry against hers. She suddenly wished that she were not so sticky and disheveled. When he released her, a momentary lightness swept through her, as though she might float away.
“And can I assume that you are the instigator and cause of this illegal strike, Miss Alcott?” He seemed flustered, less confident than she would have expected. Her spirits rose.
“Instigator? Perhaps. But not the cause.” Sweat trickled from her hairline, down into her eyes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.
“Here.” He surprised her by offering a crisp handkerchief of fine linen, of a white so pure it almost seemed to shine with its own light. The initials ‘AM’ were embroidered in the corner, in golden thread. A faint scent of lavender reached her nostrils.
“Why, thank you!” The square of cloth was far more effective than her hand. When she’d mopped the perspiration from her face, she held out the swatch of now-damp fabric. “Here you are.”
He waved dismissively. “Keep it. I’ve got dozens more. Let’s get back to the matter at hand.”
“How much did this handkerchief cost, Mr. MacIntyre?”
“I have no idea. My secretary handles my personal expenses.”
“It’s imported linen, I suspect. Belgian, perhaps?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Look, Miss Alcott—”
“And the monogram looks like real gold. Is it?”
“Honestly, what does that have to do with anything?”
Olivia tucked the handkerchief into her bodice, noting that MacIntyre’s eyes followed the movement. Indeed he didn’t try to hide his survey of her figure, rude as it was. Another tremor of strangeness fluttered in her belly.
“I’m no expert—I don’t have anything so fine myself—but I’d estimate that each of the dozens of handkerchiefs like this that you possess cost at least ten dollars.”
“Ah—really I don’t know—perhaps. Something in that vicinity.”
“That’s about two weeks of salary for one of these women who work here in your factory.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“The cause of the strike, Mr. MacIntyre. You asked about the cause of the strike. These poor women—your employees, sir, to whom you have a certain responsibility—generally make five dollars a week. They’d have to work for two weeks—twelve days, twelve hours per day—to afford one of your handkerchiefs. Do you think this is just?”
“Well, they should be grateful they have jobs.” MacIntyre leaned closer, his manner and his voice menacing. “And if you don’t stop your meddling, they won’t. I’ll fire every single one of them in a minute. There are plenty of people who’d be happy for steady work, for a reputable company that’s not about to go bust and put them out on the street.”
“Won’t you consider raising their salaries, Mr. MacIntyre?” Olivia countered, inserting a bit of sweetness into her own voice. She laid her hand on his upper arm and felt his muscles shift under her fingers. “An additional dollar a week would make a big difference to them.”
“I’m running a business here, Miss Alcott, not a charity.” He pulled away from her grasp and shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, then stepped past her to speak to the assembled workers.
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub, BingeBooks and Twitter.
Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh
Everything can be bought. Except love.
Kace Karrington is a wealthy, self-made investor with no qualms about steamrolling others to achieve his goals. He’s attracted to men, but picks up beautiful women, giving the cold, unfeeling world of Finance the appearance he’s successful…powerful. That is until he meets a smoking hot street punk eager to show him there’s more to life than making money.
Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads
See photos that inspired me to write the book on Pinterest
And then happens what happens to me once in a long while: he catches my attention. I mean really makes me stop and stare. I’m attracted to men, after all, and some can be surprisingly handsome. This specimen is a lot more so than one would imagine of a drug addict. Strong, symmetrical features and tanned skin make quite the tableau with full lips, an aquiline nose, and dark green, gold-flecked irises framed by thick eyelashes. Even unkempt blond hair and a three-day stubble look sexy on him.
This is the guy who calls himself my sister’s friend? He’s so easy on the eyes, he has to be more than a friend.
He scowls. “Do you always do that?”
“Do what?” I take in the rest of him. He’s my height, but much skinnier. Probably can’t afford to go to a gym and do weights three times a week like I do.
“Refuse to shake someone’s hand,” he replies, tone offended. His voice sounds light but mature. Warm, comfortable to the ear. “While your sister’s in there…fighting for her life.” Tears form in his eyes. So, their redness was due to him crying.
“Sorry, it’s the nerves.” I give him my hand.
“Yeah.” He accepts to shake it, but his wet glare tells me he’s not convinced.
Me? I’m so taken aback by his good looks and intense presence, I almost forget why I came out of the room.
Oh yeah. Coffee.
About the author
Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.
Meet Lea Bronsen on
As part of the British peerage, Jordan Graystone knows what it’s like to live in the public eye. Which is why he holds hard limits when it comes to scening with submissives—no kissing, no penetration. Both lead to unwanted emotions and women attempting to take more than he’s willing to give.
Entrusted with the care of raising her younger sister is a responsibility Natalie Perez doesn’t take lightly. She focuses solely on her troubled ward, putting aside her own desires even when confronted with the temptation Jordan promises—fulfilling her fantasies to be bound and worshiped upon an old church’s altar.
Secretly snapping a photo ends in a confrontation that arouses Natalie to the point of turmoil—and Jordan past the point of caring about limits. He’s determined to give Natalie the release she needs, but her obligation threatens to rip apart his plans for more than their agreed upon one night.
Will Natalie’s selfless dedication to her sister be the key to bind her and Jordan together or the fault that tears them apart
Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/BINDMESIR
Books2Read Universal: https://books2read.com/bindmesirbow1
GOODREADS LINKS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/47870665-bind-me-sir
A flick of the lights flooded the room in brightness, and I blinked until he dimmed them enough I could glance around the church’s interior. It appeared the same as the first time I’d trespassed—dark and seductive, the excitement of the unknown heightening my pulse and breath.
Jordan released my hand, and I clutched my arms around my middle as he flipped the switch on a lone electric candle in the front window.
“To let others know the church is occupied,” he explained once he turned to find my brow furrowed in question. He took his time lighting candles around the room, and eventually flicked off the dimmed overhead lights and stood before me.
A shudder rippled over me at the look in his eyes, a darker blue, like the sky at twilight, full of unknown, lurking shadows. He stared at my lips and tugged me close. I dropped my arms to my sides, unsure of what to do but trusting him to tell me.
“We need to talk about a few things first, okay, love?”
The pet name, the accent in his low tone, nearly buckled my knees. I managed a nod, swallowing against the dryness in my throat as I stared at his lips.
“Do you have any experience in this lifestyle?”
I shook my head.
“Are you a virgin?”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and even though I’d only experienced sex a handful of times, I’d never enjoyed it as the women in the eBooks Lily insisted I read. I shook my head once more, too embarrassed to admit the truth of my lackluster sex life.
“Do you know what a safeword is?” he continued with the questioning, and my face heated even more at memories of the last book I’d devoured the evening before.
“Like traffic lights?” I whispered.
A twinkle lit in his eyes. “Yes. Tell me what each color means.”
“Green means go.” I swallowed. “Yellow is slow down, I need to think. Red means stop.”
He nodded. “You’re in control, Natalie. I will learn your body, your tells, but you decide what will or won’t happen tonight, okay, love?”
He would learn my body…
“Tell me—” Jordan turned me to face the room, his hands on my waist as he pressed against my back, his chin on my shoulder “—what part of this room excites you the most?”
Gulping, I glanced at the altar. “Everything,” I whispered rather than admit to the truth.
“Instruments of pain?”
The rack of items including a crop and flogger snagged my attention, but I wasn’t sure about pain other than the idea of his hand prints on my backside.
I eyed the St. Andrew’s cross, flinching at the memory of a woman I’d read about being strapped to such a contraption, angry red marks across her thighs and lower back.
Rings on the sturdy posts drew my focus, and I licked my lower lip.
My breath caught, nipples aching as I studied the table meant for worshiping God and the ungodly images flashing in my head of being tied down—open and unable to move. Bound for a dominant’s pleasure—Jordan’s pleasure.
“Mmm.” His hot breath caressed my ear. “You do want to be strapped down to the altar, don’t you?”
I jerked my head in agreement, a million butterflies fluttering my stomach.
Jordan steered me closer with his hands on my hips, stopping me right in front of the padded altar. Coils of rope sat atop it, and I gulped at the thought of abrasions on my wrists and ankles—not that I had any intention of fighting whatever he wished to do to me.
“Tell me what you want, Natalie,” he said, his breath once again hot against my ear.
Dare I? I hesitated, embarrassed to admit what I’d fantasized about. My gaze flitted to the bed once more and the lengths of black silk draped over the bed’s foot.
I jerked my focus back on the altar and flicked my tongue out to moisten my lips. “Bind me, Sir.”
© Lynn Burke 2018
ABOUT LYNN BURKE:
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
Rex Carruthers can have any woman he wants, but he wants only one – his stepsister, Carmen Shelby. Their desire was once forbidden, and Rex walked away from his heritage as a result. Now, the reading of a will brings them back together, and Rex has something Carmen wants – his birthright, the stately home, Burlington Manor.
Carmen Shelby is haunted by her desire for her stepbrother, Rex – a dangerous, masterful player, the man who broke her heart. Then Rex makes an outrageous suggestion – he will give her the Burlington Manor Estate, in exchange for the affair they were denied.
Carmen must risk her fragile heart and explore a new, submissive sexuality with Rex, a natural Dom. She quickly discovers Rex may be her true master, but can he control the powerful family secrets that both drew them together – and threaten to tear them apart.
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2rNbHNR
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2qgxM52
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B071DCTDK3
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B071DCTDK3
Coming soon in print.
HERE’S AN EXCERPT
Carmen’s attitude triggered something dark in Rex. Something that was hungry and demanding to be fed. “Crawl to me,” he commanded.
Carmen’s head dropped back as if she’d been physically slapped.
The urge to push her some more roared in on him, taking charge. He strode to the chair where his clothes lay abandoned from the night before.
Swiping up his jeans, he fished into the pocket. He tossed the key chain out across the floor, holding on to the end of the long chain. “Get down on your hands and knees and crawl over here for it.”
When the key landed on the Persian rug, she stared down at it.
Rex jerked on the chain.
The key flipped over on the floor between them, like bait. Like a lure.
“Show me what you want, what you came here for,” he said.
Carmen shook her head.
“I want to know exactly what you wanted when you stepped through the door. The truth.”
She stared up at him. “I can’t do this.”
“You can, because you want the Manor, and you agreed to do whatever I said to get it.” Would she use the safeword? Would this push her humiliation trigger just that bit too far? He didn’t care, as long as it got the truth out of her. He had to know. “Why are you here? What did you want? Just the property?”
“Yes.” She dropped onto her hands and knees. Her voice was weak, forced. “It’s a fair exchange, that’s what you said.”
The light outlined her body, drawing his eye to her curves.
She moved suddenly, jerking forward and crawling toward the key, but she was in turmoil. He could sense it. He could see it.
The sight of her that way made him painfully hard and yet his sense of frustration only grew. He wanted to understand this woman more than anything in the world.
When she got to it, her hand wrapped around the key, but she stayed there, shifting uneasily. The light from the window fell across her naked form, delineating the arch of her waist and the curve of her hip. Her soft skin glowed in the morning light. In contrast, her face was shadowed by her hair as it fell forward, and she looked up at him like a wild creature, her eyes blazing.
“Tell me why,” he demanded, and he held tight to his end of the key chain.
Her body rippled, her back arching. Her head swung to one side. She whimpered. Taking a deep breath she moved again, gathering the chain up in her hand as she went.
“Just the house?” he asked. “That’s all you wanted? You were that mercenary?”
She froze, then sat back on her heels. Her breathing was labored. She was battling inner demons.
He pressed her further. “Why is this so hard for you to talk about?”
“Because I’m scared.” She stared up at him, and her eyes looked wild.
Rex swallowed. “Why are you scared?”
Her eyes flashed shut. “Because I wanted you.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper “I didn’t realize how much, at first, but I came here because I’ve always wanted you.”
Rex’s chest felt tight and restricted.
He let go of the key chain, throwing it down on the floor, and clicked his fingers. “Then come to my side.”
She moved fast, kneeling at his feet, her arms wrapping around his thighs. The key and its chain lay abandoned on the floor. Rex stared down at it, assuring himself of what had occurred.
She clung to him, and he felt damp tears against his skin. “Please don’t tease me about it.”
Rex let his head drop back, relief barreling through him.
Grateful, and empowered, he stroked her head possessively, admitting to himself that a month would never be enough.
Author bio and links:
Saskia Walker is a USA Today Bestseller and award-winning author. Her short stories and novellas have appeared in over one hundred international anthologies and several international magazines, including Cosmo, Penthouse, and Bust. After writing shorts for several years Saskia moved into novel-length projects.
Fascinated with seduction, Saskia loves to explore how and why we get from saying “hello” to sharing our most intimate selves in moments of extreme passion. Her novels Double Dare and Rampant both won Passionate Plume awards and her writing has twice been nominated for a RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award. She has lots more stories in the pipeline! Saskia lives in the north of England on the edge of the Yorkshire moors, with her real life hero, Mark, and a house full of felines.
Sign up for Saskia’s newsletter to hear about her latest releases
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Welcome back to My Sexy Saturday! This is where writers post either 7 words, 7 sentences or 7 paragraphs from their published work or work in progress. I’m sharing another snippet from my co-authored novel, The Billionaire and the Wild Man. I hope you enjoy it!
I look around, half-expecting to see an angry husband chasing after her, or maybe even a shopkeeper. She could be a thief. Glancing at her again, I realize that can’t possibly be the case, unless she’s stolen something invisible. All she has are the clothes on her back.
She still hasn’t spoken, so I try again, attempting to make myself appear friendly, welcoming. Not an easy thing when you’re over six feet tall and pretty wide, too. Also, the fact I haven’t had a change of clothes, shave, or a haircut for a while won’t help.
Grab your copy of The Billionaire and the Wild Man here: https://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/coming-in-hot/
Add to Goodreads here: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32520398-the-billionaire-and-the-wild-man
Please use the list below to head on over to the other blogs participating in My Sexy Saturday, and don’t forget to leave us all comments, we love ’em!