About the Book:
As the sister of a powerful Viking chief, Brynhild Freysson is used to giving orders and having them obeyed, which makes it all the more difficult to accept when she suddenly finds herself at the mercy of a Celtic warrior intent on bringing her back to his village whether she likes it or not.
Taranc was a leader of his people before he was taken captive by Viking raiders, and now that he is a free man once more he has no intention of allowing a headstrong Norse woman to slow down his journey home with her stubborn disobedience. When Brynhild refuses to do as she is told, he wastes no time in baring her bottom for a thorough switching, and he makes it quite clear that she can expect even more painful and humiliating punishments if she continues to defy him.
Though her hatred of the Celts runs deep, Taranc’s stern dominance awakens desires in Brynhild that she thought she would never feel again, and when he takes her in his arms and claims her properly it is more pleasurable than she would have thought possible. But though her passion for him grows by the day, can she ever truly love a man whose people are enemies of her own?
Taranc bowed politely to Brynhild. "Lady, " he murmured as be bent to wind Njal's line around his pole.
He expected Brynhild to stalk off after her nephew, but she did not. Instead, she remained where she stood, her eyes narrowed in a malevolent glare which remained fixed upon him as he busied himself clearing up his own fishing rod. That task accomplished he attached each of the three landed fish to hooks from Njal's bag in readiness to hang them from his own belt for the journey back to the slave barn. All set to leave himself, he made to pass the still fuming Norsewoman.
"You will excuse me," he murmured.
He glanced at her, surprised. "Because I am leaving."
"I mean, why are you spending time with my nephew. What do you plan to do?"
"Plan? Nothing." Well, nothing that concerns the boy, at least. "He is lonely, and curious. There is no harm in him. And I mean him no ill."
"I do not believe you."
Taranc's slender patience frayed. "And I do not care what you believe. Good night."
She moved fast, he would allow her that much. He barely even saw the slender hand which snaked from within the confines of her cloak to land a resounding slap across his cheek, and certainly he had no opportunity to dodge that first blow. Not so the second. As she drew back her hand to strike him again he grabbed her wrist and squeezed, only relaxing his grip marginally when she let out a startled squeal.
"I shall let the first slap go, since you are a woman and no doubt consider yourself provoked. But you shall not raise your hand to me again, lady, lest you wish to find yourself upended across my lap and spanked. Do I make myself clear on this?"
"How dare you? Let go of me! I shall—"
"Do I make myself clear?" His grip remained firm despite her frantic tugging to be free.
At last, with no other choice if she was to be released, Brynhild gave a sharp nod. "Very well, I shall not slap you."
"Excellent decision. And I shall not spank you. This time. Instead…"
He bent his head, lowered his face to hers. Taranc took in the startled expression, the widening of her kingfisher-blue eyes as his mouth descended to brush across hers. Despite his words of just moments ago he was without doubt inviting another slap and the Viking woman could hardly be blamed for delivering it.
Her mouth was soft under his, her breath warm in the cool evening. She parted her lips as though unable to prevent her artless response and his tongue found the seam of her mouth. She opened fractionally more, and it was enough. He slipped his tongue between her lips and caressed the inner surface of her teeth with the tip.
Her hands were on his shoulders, and she clung to him, her fingers curling into his rough tunic. The sane part of his mind expected a protest, expected her to shive him away, to screech her outrage, to summon her guards but the madness which drove him now ignored all of that.
What am I doing? I don’t even like this haughty, cruel woman.
His cock disagreed. His rampant erection liked her perfectly well and tented his pants in instant recognition of the Norsewoman’s ample charms. He deepened the kiss, tunnellinghis fingers through her blonde locks to hold her head still. Brynhild let out a soft moan, followed by a gasp. Now, at last and somewhat belatedly, she stiffened in his arms and sought to be free.
Taranc broke the kiss and released her, his own breath less than steady. Brynhild backed away, her stunned expression one he found he did not entirely care for.
“You… you should not have done that.”
“Why…? I do not understand…”
Neither did he.
“Go! Go Back to the slave barn. Now!”
A decent plan, at last.
Taranc stepped back to execute an exaggerated bow. "Sleep well, Lady Brynhild."
About the Author:
USA Today best-selling author Ashe Barker has been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres. She still loves reading, the hotter the better. But now she has a good excuse for her guilty pleasure – research. Ashe tends to draw on her own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to her plots and characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event or quirky character, any of these can spark a story idea.
Ashe lives in the North of England, on the edge of the Brontë moors and enjoys the occasional flirtation with pole dancing and drinking Earl Grey tea. When not writing – which is not very often these days - her time is divided between her role as taxi driver for her teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, tortoises. And a very grumpy cockatiel.
At the last count Ashe had over forty titles on general release with publishers on both sides of the Atlantic, and several more in the pipeline. She writes M/f, M/M, and occasionally rings the changes with a little M/M/f. Ashe’s books invariably feature BDSM. She writes explicit stories, always hot, but offering far more than just sizzling sex. Ashe likes to read about complex characters, and to lose herself in compelling plots, so that’s what she writes too.
Ashe has a pile of story ideas still to work through, and keeps thinking of new ones at the most unlikely moments, so you can expect to see a lot more from her.
About the Book:
Buried inside all of us are dark desires, some we refuse to acknowledge. But we crave…
I hunger for a powerful man, one strong enough to tame the woman inside. For highly respected attorney, Joelle Parker, the words had unleashed a hunger she could no longer control. Her days are filled with prosecuting monsters, vile men and women content on vanquishing the sanctity of innocent lives. Her nights are something else entirely. Fantasies of finding a dominating man, one who could yank away the tight confines of her conservative life, finally filter into her waking hours. Tasked with prosecuting a brutal and very political murder case, her needs are placed on hold—until a chance meeting changes everything.
Randolph ‘Craze’ Mitchell is a loner, preferring long rides on his Harley to human companionship. A man of the law, he has a difficult decision to make; whether or not to run for a seat in the State Senate. Every aspect of his life is well planned, organized and exactly what he doesn’t want. His dark desires, sexual needs encompassing kink and domination, are kept locked away. No woman can withstand his requirements. No one knows the real man or the secrets he holds. Painting is his only solace, he’s come to terms with remaining very much alone—until a vivacious woman crosses his path, daring to push aside his tightly woven shield of armor.
The two enter into a passionate and intense journey, the question of consent never far from the surface. Both crave what the other offers, as well as concern about discovery, but they can’t stay away. Every act shared pushes their respective boundaries, fulfilling their carnal needs, until reality thrusts them into the light of day—a blackmailer has surfaced. Craze is faced with a horrific choice, one that could end both of their careers. Can he use his best judgment or will he succumb to his personal demons?
Can Joelle and Craze trust each other enough to explore their needs together? Their chemistry is off the chain, is it real or just a chance encounter? Can they join together to protect each other from public scrutiny?
Craze walked into the office and immediately the entire administrative team stopped what they were doing to watch him walk down the hall. He chuckled, seeing their expressions. “Good morning, team. How is everyone today?”
“Looking hot, I mean really nice, sir.”
He kept a smile on his face as he walked down the hallway. They weren’t used to seeing him in anything but a suit and tie. The black jeans and turquoise shirt were more his style, one he kept for the few who knew him outside of the day-to-day drudgery. Whistling, he strutted into his office and sat down behind his desk, flipping on the computer.
Mark walked into the doorway, folding his arms as he leaned against the doorjamb. “Okay, I think I might have to call 911 for assistance.”
“And why would that be?”
“At least three of the women out there are having trouble breathing.”
“Should I offer my personal assistance?” Craze asked, then winked.
“Dear God, please don’t even consider it, boss. We don’t need any lawsuits on our hands, even if you are the best-looking lawman in town.” Mark snorted as he eased inside. “You’re in a good mood. Dare I ask why?”
Craze shrugged and swiveled his chair, glancing out the window. “It’s a gorgeous day. Why shouldn’t I be in a good mood?” When Mark remained quiet, he tipped his head. “What’s wrong?”
“Why does there have to be anything wrong?”
“Because I know you, remember?” He noticed Mark had a folder in his hands and a pensive look on his face. “Spill it.”
He walked to the desk and eased the folder down onto Craze’s desk.
“Okay, but don’t shoot the messenger.”
Craze didn’t have to look inside to know what he was going to find.
“Let me guess, the information on Michael Trent will ruin my day.”
“Not ruin, but certainly give you pause. The reporter doesn’t have much in the way of stories, but he does have connections.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Who should I be terrified of?” Craze opened the folder and scanned the few pages. One was the same article he’d read. Another was a basic resume printed off Indeed. The third was a list of names. The third page he held up into the light, reading the information over twice. He wasn’t a fearful man and certainly refused to be blackmailed by anyone. Whether or not the kid had it in him, time would tell. “Interesting.” There were certain people even Craze didn’t want to tangle with.
“I thought you’d have more of a reaction.”
“Why? Because his father is connected? Because he was hand-picked for the job, no matter that he has few credentials?” Craze closed the folder, shoving it out of his way.
“Well, yes,” Mark said as he narrowed his eyes. “If you announce, don’t you think Michael is going to pounce?”
“And tell the world what? That I’m formidable in the courtroom? That I use somewhat creative tactics in order to win friends and influence people? Hogwash!”
Mark remained quiet. “Look, this is none of my business other than I care about you as a person. You’re a good man, an honorable man.”
“But what, Mark? What?” His assistant knew enough about his past to either be an asset or a person who could endanger his political career. Either way, he wasn’t going to rush to judgment or worry just yet.
He held up his hands and took two steps back. “Okay. I just wanted to give you the information you asked for.”
“I appreciate it.” Craze leaned back in his chair.
Mark remained where he was.
“What else, Mark?”
“Nothing. Except, have you decided if you’re going to announce?”
“I said three weeks, not three days.” Flipping off the computer, he rose to his feet. “I’m taking the rest of the day off. If anything happens, you can reach me by phone, but don’t unless it’s an emergency.” He needed to clear his head, rid his mind of the ugly cobwebs that had been forming the last few days.
“Really? You never take time off.”
“Exactly, which is why I’m doing so now.” He grabbed the file and walked toward the door. No one was going to pressure him into or out of anything. Period.
After shoving the file into his satchel, he jerked the helmet from the back of the Harley and jumped on the bike. A long ride followed by a night spent with a dazzling lady would ease his discontent.
About the Author:
Piper Stone writes in several genres including thrillers, erotic romance, dark erotic, Domestic Discipline, spanking, Domination and submission and traditional romance. She has a love of the non-traditional, preferring to create worlds that defy the imagination. Wine and sous vide cooking are only second to her love of golden retrievers and you might find all three nestled in the pages of a book or two.
About the Book:
When she is offered the lead role in a bold, controversial new play by Axel Masters, the hottest off-Broadway director in the country, twenty-seven-year-old actress Cleo Martinelli is delighted. As rehearsals get underway, however, she finds herself having trouble getting into the mindset of her character, a woman whose firm-handed husband spanks her when she is disobedient.
After Cleo's difficulty playing her part convincingly leads to a public confrontation with Axel, she worries that she will be fired, but instead the handsome director calls her into his office, scolds her for her petulant attitude, and then suggests that she is in desperate need of the kind of stern correction the character she is struggling to play receives from her fictional husband.
To her surprise, being reprimanded like a naughty girl proves to be intensely arousing for Cleo, and soon enough she is lying over Axel's lap with her bare bottom exposed for a thorough spanking. His bold dominance leaves her begging to be taken long and hard, and a passionate romance quickly blossoms between them.
Cleo's new understanding of what it means to submit to a man's strict discipline pays off on stage, but as the positive reviews pour in she cannot help wondering what will happen to their relationship after the curtain falls on the last showing of the play. Is Axel truly in love with her, or does he see her as nothing more than an actress in need of his firm direction?
“Sorry, Cleo.” His voice held remorse and resolve. “This is supposed to be punishment, so no more rubbing until it’s over. It’s time for those extras you earned… the ones with the belt. Don’t touch your ass.”
Adrenaline swirled through her body and she swiveled to look at his face.
“Watch what I’m doing, Cleo,” he ordered, shifting her so she was sitting on the couch.
“Ow! My butt is already sore,” she complained, but at a stern look from him, she stayed seated, although she shifted uncomfortably on the rough fabric, which made the stinging more prominent.
“No, please,” she begged, anxiety flooding her, as he deliberately held her eyes, pulling the belt from the loops with a soft swish. He folded it over and slapped it into his palm, and she jumped. “God! Axel.”
“Sir.” He nodded his chin at her. “In just a second, you’re going to get up on your knees and lean over the back of the couch. Keep your thighs spread wide. You’re getting ten hard ones with the belt. After that, I think you’ll be properly contrite.”
“Twelve. I suggest you stop arguing, Cleo, if you don’t want the count to go higher.” He took the panties from his pocket and tossed them to her; startled, she caught them. “Slide these back on, but only up to your thighs. Now.”
“Because I like the way it looks.”
About the Author:
Alexis Alvarez is an author, photographer, and digital designer who loves writing steamy romances. Her female heroines are always strong, intelligent women who fall for the sexiest guy around...and get the happy-ever-after ending of their dreams.
Alexis is a wife and mom, a former chemical engineer, a dachshund-whisperer -- wait, that’s a lie. The dachshund usually does the exact opposite of what he’s told.
Do you like contemporary romance? Darker BDSM/erotica novels? Alexis has you covered. She writes in both genres.
You can usually find Alexis hanging out with her family or her sisters, who are also romance writers, at their website, Graffiti Fiction. The three of them love to drink wine together and laugh like hyenas while making dirty jokes and really inappropriate comments. Their mom is very proud.
One really cool thing about Alexis is that she’s a friendly author who loves meeting new people on Facebook. Please come on by and say hello. Thanks, and happy reading!