Various Persuasions by AE Lister

General Release Date: 23rd March 2021

Word Count:  67,764
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 273

Genres:

BONDAGE AND BDSM
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
TRANSGENDER

Add to Goodreads

Book Description

A non-binary Dom. An eager young sub. Service, orgasm control, bondage. An initial encounter leads to a synchronous exploration of identity and intimacy.

Nic Walker is not your typical Dom—physically female but identifying as male. And Vincent Blake is not your typical twenty-four-year-old straight guy—seductively submissive with a penchant for lacy underwear.

When Nic’s Dominatrix friend Daphne encourages them to get together, she can only hope they recognize the compatibility of their desires and personalities.

Nic has been holing up alone in their townhouse for too long, getting over a bad ‘relationship’, and it’s time for them to start living again. When Nic meets Vincent, neither expects the tentative relationship to take off like a runaway train. But each layer of the attractive and seemingly vulnerable young man Nic exposes ignites their own desires and leads both on a path to revealing the most interesting parts of themselves.

Who knew piano practice could be a form of sexual service? Or that a pair of overpriced panties could inspire such devotion?

Through bondage, service, objectification and the purchase of large quantities of lacy unmentionables, as well as a few specific sex toys and devices, Nic explores how far Vincent will go to please them and how much of themself they will risk to have him.

Reader advisory: This book contains mention of a Dom’s abuse of a sub, anal play, and public sex.

Excerpt

The call came in near midnight that Friday.

I was sitting down with a beer and my remote to watch The Great British Baking Show when my phone started playing Sympathy for the Devil—Daphne’s ringtone.

What could she possibly want from me at this hour? She should have been working. I knew she was working. It was Friday night, for fuck’s sake. But the curiosity got to me.

“Hey, doll.” My standard greeting for Daphne.

“My lovely Nic. Are you busy?”

“Never too busy for you, Daphne. What’s up?”

She giggled. I pictured her face, its pixy-like innocence that belied a very dark soul. “I have this client—”

“No,” I said without thinking. I knew what she wanted, and the answer was no. It was always no.

“But, Nic, I haven’t even told you—”

“You know I don’t do that anymore.”

She sighed. “Just listen, okay? Just listen to what I have to say.”

My jaw tightened and I wanted to hang up, but I wouldn’t do that to Daphne. We’d been friends for too long. She’d known me, like…forever.

“Fine. But the answer is still no.”

Not to be deterred, Daphne continued. “This client… His name is Vincent.”

I snorted with derision. “A guy, Daphne?”

“Yes, Nic, a guy. Get over it. You, of all people, shouldn’t get hung up on gender.”

I mean, she was right. But…still. “I don’t have experience with guys, Daphne. You know that.”

“Look… Hear me out. Please, Nic.”

I looked at the clock above my flatscreen. It was twelve-oh-four. “You have five minutes.”

She giggled. “Okay. So, he just left. And our session was…interesting.”

“Really.” I tried to sound remotely engaged.

“I don’t think he’s into women like me,” she said with a pout in her voice.

“Huh.”

“I mean, he’s into submitting. That’s for sure. And he did submit for me. And he liked submitting for me. But…”

“But?” I picked up a pen from the coffee table and started pushing the button with my thumb. It made a comforting clicking sound.

“I think he needs something else. I think he’d respond better to something else.”

I closed my eyes. Click. “To what?”

“To you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Daphne?”

“No.”

I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to be reeled in. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame, Nic, because you were the best at it.”

I snorted again. “That’s debatable.”

“Not by anyone I’ve ever spoken to about you.”

I held my breath. “Who have you spoken to?”

She hesitated and I knew the answer.

“Fuck you.” Click, click, click.

“I mean, I know a lot of people who knew you when you—”

“Daphne,” I said and closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the wall. “Did you talk to Zane?”

She hesitated again and I knew she had. “He misses you.”

My heart shattered a little bit, but I put it back together with sheer will. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Nic, he didn’t mean to treat you badly.”

“Doesn’t matter. He did.”

“But you don’t have to stop doing what you’re good at.”

My voice, when I found it, sounded small. “I’m only good at it…because of him.”

“I know he taught you. I know he mentored you. But you surpassed him a long time ago.”

“Daphne, that’s not true.”

“It is true. And he told me that.”

That surprised me…and didn’t. Zane had never been one to hand out compliments directly. It figured this would be how I found out.

“He did?”

“You know I wouldn’t lie about this, Nic.”

“I know.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

She continued in a soft voice. “Can I please just tell you about Vincent? Please?”

Maybe it was because she was such a good friend. Maybe it was because we’d known each other for so long. Maybe it was because what she’d just told me about Zane was something I’d wanted to hear for so long.

“Fine. Tell me.”

“Okay. Well, he’s twenty-four and cute as shit. You know I only agree to the cute ones.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Daphne had high standards when it came to physical attractiveness. I’d never cared about that as much as she had. Still…

“Twenty-four? That’s way too young, Daphne.”

“Too young for him to know what he wants?”

“I thought you said he’s not working out.”

“Yes, but that’s my fault, not his.”

“Why is it your fault?”

She giggled again and I heard her self-deprecating sigh. “I’m too girly.”

“Fuck, Daphne.”

Honestly, she was girly. She was fucking high heels and corsets and ribbons, doling out praise and punishment with crops and paddles and rulers. Most of her clients dug that. Maybe not this one?

“It’s true. He needs something else.”

“Um, like a guy maybe?”

“Not exactly. Like you, Nic.”

“Is he gay?” He might have been gay and closeted—trying to get off on a Dominatrix when he really wanted a Dom.

“I don’t think so. Maybe bi. He likes lady parts. I mean really likes lady parts.” She paused. “I think he’s attracted to the masculine but not necessarily to men.”

“So, what am I, Daphne?” That was the question I’d been trying to answer my whole life.

“You are my Nic. You’re a guy, a man for all intents and purposes. Except you have that unique element…”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “A pussy?”

She laughed too. “Well, yes.”

Honestly, I didn’t feel like a man or a woman and I didn’t feel like I had to choose between those two things. I was myself. I was Nic Walker.

My name had been Nicole, but people had started calling me Nicky, then Nic. That was probably because I’d never really looked like a girl—and I’d never really acted like a girl and I’d never really felt like a girl. But I’d never questioned what I was.

Physically, I was female. I had a pussy and I had boobs, albeit really small ones—small enough that I could ignore them for the most part, which I generally did. I didn’t need a bra or a binder. If I had been stereotypically female, their size would have been a problem. I could pass as male most of the time. I did pass as male most of the time and I had no problem with that, except romantic relationships could be tricky.

I had predominantly dated women. I was predominantly attracted to women. There had been the occasional man—like Zane—and I’d always regretted those experiences. But Zane had taught me to embrace my Dominant side, and he’d taught me the practical skills to do it—not with him, but with women. Daphne had helped too. She had helped me to accept who I was and what I liked to do.

When Zane and I had ‘broken up’, for lack of a better term, I had turned my back on all that. And here was Daphne bringing it back up when it was really the last thing I wanted.

“What’s his story?”

“He’s lost, Nic. He’s shy and he’s ashamed of himself and what he wants. But he’s at a point that he can’t deny himself anymore. So, he came to me. But I think he needs you.”

“How do you figure?” Click.

“He’s not looking for stereotypes. I don’t…do it for him.”

I leaned my head back against the wall and propped one bare foot on the sofa. It was small, perhaps the most feminine part of me and the reason I generally wore boots and clunky shoes. I didn’t deny I dressed like a guy. I looked like a guy. I felt like a guy most of the time. But I didn’t hide the fact that I had female parts. It simply didn’t come up in conversation. I wasn’t ashamed to be atypical. To be honest, I liked it. I strived after uniqueness. I didn’t want to be like everyone else, and I wasn’t.

“You’re not a stereotype, Daphne.” I felt like I had to say that, even though if you looked up ‘Dominatrix’ on Google, you’d see Daphne or someone who looked a lot like her.

She laughed again. “I kind of am.”

“Okay, you kind of are, but you’re lovely.” The truth of this choked me up and I realized I’d missed her. “I don’t think I can compete with you.”

“I’m not asking you to compete with me. I’m just asking you to meet with Vincent and see what happens.”

“Have you told him anything about me?” Click.

“No. I feel like he should make up his own mind.” She said this with confidence.

Daphne was perceptive and smart. “Good.”

I heard a squeal on the end of the phone. “Then you’ll meet him?”

What am I doing? “Okay. Sure.”

“Yes! Even if it doesn’t work out the way I think it will, thank you for agreeing to do this, Nic. It means everything to me.”

“Sure. I know.”

She cleared her throat. “I should mention that he’s not a paying client. I took him on as a favor to someone.”

“That’s fine. You know I don’t monetize this sort of thing.”

“I know, and you’re nuts. Do you know how much money you could make?”

“Yes, Daphne, I know. I’ve really got to go.”

“Listen… He’s really sweet. You’re going to like him.”

“We’ll see.”

“Love you, Nic.”

“Love you, Daphne.”

Buy Links

Choose Your Store
First For Romance

About the Author

AE Lister 

AE Lister/Elizabeth Lister is a Canadian non-binary author with a vivid imagination and a head full of unique and interesting characters. They have published 10 books, one of which received an Honorable Mention from the National Leather Association – International for excellence in SM/Leather/Fetish writing.

“Sensual and visceral BDSM.” – Amazon.ca

Find out more about AE Lister at their website, and follow them on Instagram and Patreon.

Giveaway

Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a First For Romance Gift Card!

AE Lister Various Persuasions Giveaway

AE LISTER IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GET A FIRST FOR ROMANCE GIFT CARD! Notice: This competition ends on 6TH April 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Adorned in Blood by L.S. Barron

General Release Date: 23rd March 2021

Word Count: 52,184
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 201

Genres:

ACTION AND ADVENTURE
CONTEMPORARY
GLBTQI
SWEET ROMANCE
TRANSGENDER
VAMPIRES
YOUNG ADULT
YOUNGER READERS

Add to Goodreads

Book Description

Once Jenna, now Michael…soaked in blood but cleansed by love. I sink my teeth into the pulsating artery. Crimson red blood sprays across the misty fog.

Michael is a transgender teenager who is well on his way with his gender transition and finding a life path that better suits him. And as if that weren’t enough of a freak-out for the teen, he’s been turned into a vampire…a Nosferatu!

Luckily, Michael has a group of good friends to help him through his struggles, and who would think that this would be when he’d find love for the first time?

But just to keep his already-interesting life in a wee bit more turmoil, a murder leads to a discovery that could change not only his life but the lives of everyone he knows…and loves.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence and murder, the death of a parent, attempted suicide, and bullying.

Excerpt

The golden rays from the alleyway streetlamp glimmered through the mist and fog. The drizzly rain fell lightly upon my eyelashes. I felt the coldness as it wreaked an ill chill through my body. Somehow, the thirst had taken over once again. Everything else in my mind had been put aside.

The back door of the diner opened. It was a shabby place—hardly even a rat dared linger there, except the rat that ran the place. There in the mist was the man himself, throwing out the night’s garbage into the already rank alleyway. He was a savage of a being. He was mean to my kind, mean to all kinds.

“Hey, kid, what are you doing back here?” the crotchety man asked.

I wiped the rain from my eyes. The saliva ran down the side of my mouth. Attack!

It was soon over. I so liked the color blue and how it looked on me. I thought it brought out more of the blue in my hazel eyes. Almost all my shirts were some shade of blue. Dang, I shouldn’t have worn my favorite.

The blue T-shirt had streams of crimson red blood running down it, like it was a newly designed pattern, meant to be that way.

The savage lay at my feet, lifeless. No more will he be unkind to me…or to anyone, for that matter. I pushed the man’s side with my sneaker to make sure he was now lifeless. There was no movement, no breath. Dead.

I wiped the blood from my face on my arm. I looked up into the drizzly rain, letting it rinse my face clean, erasing my sinful act. I admired the rays of light from the streetlamp. I felt pure, rejuvenated. I was not mournful for the beast of a man. There was no regret. I felt renewed and fell into a deep, restful sleep.

My alarm clock sounded. Morning had quickly arrived, with the memories of the night only a fleeting moment in my mind. The school day ahead was not what I was worried about. I combed my now short blondish-brown hair as I stood in front of my bedside mirror. I glanced down at one of my old swimming trophies. ‘High Point Award, 9–10 girls, Jenna Holliday’. Jenna Michelle Holliday, hmm… I chuckled. Yes, that once had been my name. Now, however, it is simply Michael Holliday.

I repeated that in the mirror out loud. “Michael Holliday.”

The name flowed so much better off my tongue. It felt right. It felt comfortable, fitting.

When did I know that I was Michael and not that lost girl Jenna? Probably before I even had memories. My mom told me that by the time I was two, I had already started showing preferences toward the other gender. She told me that I would just drag my doll around by its hair like I hated the thing. Then I would fight the neighbor boy for his Matchbox trucks.

In my memory, I’d known by kindergarten at least. I’d known for sure dresses were out. All I’d wanted to wear were jeans and a T-shirt so that I could play roughhousing games with the boys any chance I got. I’d loved to fight, play football and wrestle. I’d wanted everything in a boy’s life. I’d found no use for my girlie body and didn’t feel like it belonged to me. I’d kept it at a distance, almost, like looking into the mirror and not seeing my real self.

Things have changed now. I was F2M post-op, at least the top half of my body, which I now loved. I was going to leave the lower stuff alone for now. Mom and Dad had been super supportive, so that was pretty cool, not like some kids who I’ve seen struggling. I’m on the T—testosterone injections. I was starting to finally show some facial scruff. That was pretty sick. I could do without the excessive underarm odor, but that was what Axe was for, I guessed. I have noticed of late that my shoulders are getting broader, but I also work out in the gym pretty hard.

However, right now, besides all this, I have this new thing to deal with. It’s not like being sixteen brings enough problems already. Now I’m cursed with this bloodthirst too. I can’t even remember who did this to me, but I’ll find out. I’m going to have my revenge!

I had my suspects. Number one on my list? Mr. Drakon Branikov, my high school’s history teacher. I think he’s from Bulgaria—or maybe Hungary. I’m not sure, but he’s definitely not from around here.

Mr. Branikov has long hair that he keeps pulled back in a ponytail and dark brown eyes, almost black. I feel like he could stare into my soul, though the girls seem to gaze at him in adoration. He dresses strangely, almost old-style, yet he seems young. That brought another question to my mind. Why does he always seem to look the same age? Other teachers had gotten older over the years. Not Mr. Branikov. I had lived in this town all my life. I had paid attention. This teacher was not what he seemed.

I had permission that night to go out with friends after the high-school football game. My plan, though, was something completely different. I would follow my suspect.

There had been criminals missing around town. There had been missing girls, not schoolgirls but ladies of the night, the skanky kind. I had done my research at the library. It seemed that the local papers showed that there had been several unsolved deaths and missing persons in recent years. Guess what? All since Mr. Branikov and his family had moved into town.

It seemed the cops didn’t care much. Why would they? The town was becoming a safer and nicer place to live.

It had been a while since anyone had been missing or killed. I figured, if Mr. Branikov was like me, it was time to rejuvenate. I knew I could go a month or so, but not much longer. I didn’t know about Mr. Branikov. Is he an old Nosferatu? Did he draw the blood from my body first? Did he cause my thirst? Why?

This notion that one should be moral and only live on animals? Yeah, that didn’t work. I’d tried. No, only the pulsating blood of a human would suffice. So, I’d choose the most immoral beings that I could find—at least I’d try.

This would be a good night to feed. Town would be busy. Lowlifes would be crawling about, looking for trouble. If my suspicions were right, Mr. Branikov would feed and I would be there!

Mr. Branikov departed the stadium from the back entrance. It was dark and quiet, leading down the back alleyway of the high school. I followed at a distance. I thought we were alone.

“Hey, Michael…or is it Michelle? No wait! Wasn’t it Jenna?” I heard from behind me, along with sudden laughter.

I turned. It was James Day and his pack, some of the popular boys who I found to be very irritating.

“Come on, James. It doesn’t even know what it is,” another boy said, as they all laughed again.

The pack walked closer to me. James looked at me and shook his head. “Well, it got rid of its boobs. Maybe we should see if it has any balls.”

My anger rose and I saw the vein in James’ neck pulsate. He was a jerk. I was losing my thoughts. Everything was starting to spin. Attack!

In the blur of the moment, out of the darkness, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Not now. It’s okay,” a calming voice whispered in my ear.

I turned to find Mr. Branikov behind me. I heard the pack of boys scatter. Mr. Branikov was standing there. He smiled, pushed the hair away from my eyes and gently said, “Walk with me.”

I learned that night that Mr. Branikov was who I’d thought him to be. However, he had not doomed me to this life but had saved me. I learned that while I had still been Jenna, before I had come forward about my true self, I had been very unhappy. Mr. Branikov told me that he’d found me below the old town bridge with hardly a breath left. He’d chosen to save me.

I didn’t remember any of this. It was after this moment that I had gone forward in my life. I’d found my new self. I found new meaning. I’m a new creature—actually two new creatures—although I think I’ve always been the one. I’ve found happiness at last.

Choose Your Store
First For Romance

About the Author

L.S. Barron

Laurie enjoys taking advantage of the warm desert air in the winters and roams the mountains of Colorado in the summers. She is a retired fire captain and is now taking advantage of her time to develop her writing skills. On many occasions you can find her at the local coffee shop working on her next story.

Laurie likes to point out that her six grandchildren contribute many of the ideas for her stories and she often uses their creative thoughts in her books. Their language skills come in handy when working on any middle-grade or young-adult book. “Bro, that is so lit!”

Find out more about Laurie at her website.

Giveaway

Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a First For Romance Gift Card!

L.S. Barron Adorned in Blood Giveaway

L.S. BARRON IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GET A FIRST FOR ROMANCE GIFT CARD! Notice: This competition ends on 6TH April 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Love by the Stroke of Midnight
by Raven McAllan

General Release Date: 23rd March 2021

Word Count: 30,503
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 124
Heat Rating: Simmering
Sexometer: 1

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
PARANORMAL

Add to Goodreads

Book Description

History, family, fate. Accept it or deny it at your will.

The day you discover your boyfriend is using you as a free meal ticket—and a way to save his money—is the day you say bye-bye.

Marcail Drummond does better than that.

She sells up, plans the rest of her life and heads north. It’s time to go home, to a castle on an island in a Scottish loch, and face up to the fact she’s not quite the same as the rest of her family. They can see the past—and the future—and hear others. Heal the sick and help the broken-hearted.

She can’t.

After all, talking to yourself isn’t the same thing, even if one of the voices in your head is male and argues a lot.

As far as Marcail is concerned, it’s just her way of amusing herself.

To Paden, it’s more than that.

To him, it’s a matter of life and death.

Excerpt

Loch Lomond and the Trossachs, Scotland

Present Day

Marcail Drummond staggered out of bed, tired and sated, and wished she could sleep for a few hours more. As it wasn’t going to happen, she turned to speak to the man who had shared her night to…to what?

To see no second indent in the pillows. No crumpled sheets except where she’d slept—or not slept, as the case may be.

In fact no sign of any occupant—except herself.

She surely hadn’t imagined the night she’d just had? The sinfully sexy, hot, male, aroused body next to hers. The way his hands had caressed her so skilfully and held her close when she flew over the edge and into one of the best climaxes ever. How he’d gradually inched inside her, almost reverently, until she’d tightened herself around him and begged… “Please fill me now…please.” And he’d obliged so they could move together.

Then another climax, this time as he also came hard and fast, and the long gradual coming down to earth, held close and cherished.

The soft words in her ear… “Mo ghaol, it’s been oh so long…”

Marcail blinked. Had she dreamed it all, or…or what?

There couldn’t be any other explanation—could there?

Somewhat disgruntled, she stood up and stretched.

Boy she ached. Ached in places she hadn’t known it was possible. If that was what happened after an erotic dream, she wasn’t sure she’d have another one in a hurry.

“I’m here when you need me.”

That was the last thing she wanted. She had enough to worry about, without him niggling her. It was bad enough to know his voice was in her head—whoever he was—but surely he wasn’t in her dreams as well?

“You know I’m yours, however, wherever and…”

“Enough.” She put her hands to her hot cheeks. “Go away and let me get on in peace.”

“As ever, I’ll do your bidding.”

That’ll be the day. Marcail muttered under her breath, stripped the bed, got washed and dressed and headed out. She hadn’t the time to argue with herself, voices, or the man in the moon. Dammit, she hadn’t even seen his face.

“You’ll know me.”

“Ha, as if I’m bothered.” She ignored the laughter that appeared to surround her at that mental comment. The long drive ahead was her priority.

The journey north wasn’t easy. Especially after that night of very explicit, erotic dreams, where she woke up hot and bothered, every nerve in her body throbbing, and dozed off again before she welcomed ‘him’ into her bed. The man who, she understood, was important, but whose face she couldn’t see.

Why? What was she missing?

“Me.”

“Go to hell.”

The laugh in her mind echoed around the room. “Naughty.”

“Look, head voice, go away.” She was used to it, but at times she could see it far enough. “You were annoying when I was two, albeit I thought it was normal to talk to myself and a mysterious other. You never knew when to butt out in the past and it seems you still don’t. Why? What does it all mean? I thought everyone must have a head friend.”

“Only people like us.”

She didn’t bother to say ‘define us’, as she’d tried before and been met with an uncompromising ‘you’ll know when the time is right’. Instead she carried on with her list. “An embarrassment when I was ten and my teacher told my parents they might need to take me to see a doctor as I was talking to myself a lot. She suggested a psychiatrist might be able to discover what my troubles were. Luckily Mum and Dad told her they were sorting it and told me to ignore her. That she was close-minded and would never open it to what we believed and understood. If that wasn’t enough, whenever I met a bloke I really liked you…” She gritted her teeth. “Grr.” Was that why nothing happened with her ex-fiancé? He hadn’t been as important as she assumed he was?

“Had to get him out of your system. He was no threat.”

That was as maybe, but, her fledgling kisses and fumbles had never got past the peck on the cheek and hands removed as if by osmosis, and the would-be suitor was never seen again, or if he was, he turned and nigh on ran in the other direction. “Then a sodding intruder at twenty, when…” Marcail shut up, conscious her voice was rising. If she wasn’t careful she’d be screaming like a termagant.

Take a deep breath, and count to ten.

She wasn’t going to add, have sex or get intimate with someone. It had been bad enough at the time when the voice went on about condoms, safe sex and how the bloke in question had a shifty look about him.

The fact the said bloke stated, somewhat belligerently, that he hated condoms and the withdrawal method worked for him, was enough for her to tell him nothing doing and to sling his hook. The head voice adding he told her so had done nothing to help her temper then and, remembering her humiliation, did nothing for it now.

“Bless you, always grumpy when you don’t get your eight hours, aren’t you?”

“Too right, now shut up.” She swore as yet another sheep decided it would try to outrun her down the narrow track that led to the landing stage where, God willing, the boat would be waiting to take her across the loch. If not they might have more lamb than they bargained for when she turned around and drove back up the track.

The sheep meandered to the verge and turned to stare at her, as if to ask how she dare travel down that track at that time, when it wanted to use it.

“I’m going home, mate, you got a beef with that?” Marcail said. “Or should it be a lamb? Anyhow…I’m off home and this is the way.”

If sheep could grin, that one did. And strangely its eyes glowed briefly, and she would swear it winked.

I’m losing it. I need a holiday. Or one of Mum’s casseroles. I need to go home. Chill and not think about stuff that can’t be possible. Voices I accept, winking sheep not so much.

Home. Castle Bearradh—Hill Castle. A bit of a misnomer as the so-called hill was no more than a slight incline on the middle of a craggy, cliff-edged island that was less than two miles from tip to toe and around half that across, midway between two shores of a loch. The place her family had lived for years. Where she and her two siblings had been born. And where, with a bit of luck, they and their parents would get together to celebrate her birthday, and All Hallows’ Eve. Samhain. When the veil between the living and those who had passed was at its thinnest.

How long was it, Marcail mused, as the errant sheep swerved off into a field and she was able to drive without fear of depleting the local flock, since they’d all been together at home?

Too long.

“I’m going home,” she said out loud. “To Scotland, where I want to be for a while.” Just to admit it was a relief. “Not in England, managing a flower shop where Bloody Roddy wanted to be.” Nor slowly, unhappily discovering Roddy—her not so long before live-in boyfriend—was using her as a convenient way to save money.

A few weeks before, Marcail had left the house and realised she’d forgotten her phone. She’d gone back inside and not bothered to shout hello or anything. Before she’d even closed the door or taken any steps along the corridor to the kitchen, where she remembered putting her phone on the worktop, she’d heard him laugh.

“I tell you, mate, I’ve never had it so good,” he’d boomed in the voice he used for phone calls. “I’m saving half of each month’s salary and even though the sex is only so-so, it’s worth it. I close my eyes and think of my bank balance.”

That had opened her eyes. She’d gone back to her car, driven out of sight and rung her colleague to say she was sick.

Five minutes later she’d watched Roddy drive past on his way to work. By the time he’d come back that evening, all his belongings had been on the path outside the house. The fact he didn’t even try to bluster his way through an explanation had told her everything. She should have burned the stuff and left him the ashes.

Marcail had decided it had been a wake-up call. She’d handed in her notice, put her house on the market, sold it within a week and booked a ticket to New Zealand. She’d promised herself a trip there for years, now she was going to take herself up on her promise. All Hallows’ Eve and her birthday at home, a month to get everything sorted and she was off.

Buy Links

Choose Your Store
First For Romance

About the Author

Raven McAllan

After 30 plus years in Scotland, Raven now lives near the east Yorkshire coast, with her long-suffering husband, who is used to rescuing the dinner, when she gets immersed in her writing, keeping her coffee pot warm and making sure the wine is chilled.

With a new home to decorate and a garden to plan, she’s never short of things to do, but writing is always at the top of her list.

Her other hobbies include walking along the coast and spotting the wildlife, reading, researching, cros stitch and trying not to drop stitches as she endeavours to knit.

Being left-handed, and knitting right-handed, that’s not always easy.

She loves hearing from her readers, either via her website, by email or social media.

Giveaway

Raven McAllan Love by the Stroke of Midnight Giveaway

Enter to get a FREE Raven McAllan romance book! Notice: This competition ends on 6TH April 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Snowbound with the Billionaire
by Aurora Russell

General Release Date: 23rd March 2021

Word Count: 59,719
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 222
Heat Rating: Sizzling
Sexometer: 2

Genres:

ACTION AND ADVENTURE
BILLIONAIRE
CONTEMPORARY
ENEMIES TO LOVERS
EROTIC ROMANCE
MYSTERY
THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE

Add to Goodreads

Book Description

A blizzard traps her in a remote cabin with a man she can’t stand. But what if she doesn’t want to leave when the snow clears?

Marina Lopez might have sworn off love for herself, but that doesn’t stop her from being overjoyed that her best friend Annelise has found true happiness with her new man. Determined to help the couple celebrate in style, Marina drives up early to help organize their engagement party at a lodge in rural Vermont owned by the Gaspards, the future bridegroom’s wealthy, powerful family. Unfortunately, the weather reports were wrong and she gets snowed in with just about the last person she ever wanted to face again.

Pierre Gaspard, the head of his family, company and financial empire, is used to controlling everything and everyone around him and seldom has a regret. However, he does with regard to the harsh lesson he’d decided to teach Marina months earlier, and he’s not thrilled to have her as an unwilling guest at his family’s cabin, which became his sanctuary as he recovered from injuries sustained during an attempt on his life.

Explosive and irresistible chemistry draws them together, but as strange accidents accelerate, they begin to fear that they might not be so alone in the snowy Vermont woods after all. When Pierre sends Marina away over a misunderstanding, he unknowingly puts her squarely into the path of the menace that continues to stalk his family. He rushes to her aid, but even if he makes it in time to protect her, he isn’t certain he’ll ever be able to convince her to forgive him—or that he doesn’t want to take the place of her lost love, but instead to build something new together.

Reader advisory: This book contains a scene of attempted murder and violence.

Excerpt

“Don’t worry, Rina! You’re going to love Rémy’s family. His brothers and sister totally can’t wait to meet you! Also, you look amazing in that dress.” Annelise turned her head halfway to look behind them and Marina wondered what had caught her best friend’s attention in the quiet valet area of the sparkling-clean parking garage.

“In fact,” Annelise continued in a lower voice, “the back looks pretty freaking fantastic. Are you wearing those butt-boosting underwear things? Or have you been hitting the gym harder than usual?” A spark of mischief lit her eyes before she went on. “I don’t mean to be crass…” Annelise waggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, I know I’ve got really nice ass!” Marina had to stifle an undignified snort-laugh as she finished one of their favorite sayings, trying to keep her voice down. “Annelise! Such language so close to the hallowed halls of the Mount Valder Club! I would expect that kind of comment from me, but from you?” Marina mock-chided, but Annelise’s light comment had cut the tension and her anxiety in half.

Annelise flushed pink. “Rémy says it isn’t as stuffy as its reputation would suggest.” She waved her hand dismissively, making the subtle mauve polish that Marina had painted onto her nails a couple of days earlier during a rare girls’ night flash in the soft lighting. “And anyway, it’s not like anyone is going to dare complain about us. Pierre fast-tracked membership for the whole family as soon as they decided to open a Gaspard Industries branch here in Boston, and we have the entire ballroom reserved just for our soiree tonight. All that must have cost, like, a squillion dollars.”

They fell into step together, linking arms by unspoken mutual consent as they headed toward the elevators.

Marina arched one eyebrow. “Look at you, huh? Engaged to a member of one of Canada’s most preeminent families—oh, and wealthiest and best-looking, too—for a little over a month and suddenly even the Mount Valder is small potatoes,” she teased, and Annelise’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of rose.

“Well, we have been going to a lot of parties—all kinds of parties. The lifestyle Rémy has—really, that they all have—to maintain is kind of crazy. And the events are all so fancy and exclusive and luxurious… I’m getting”—she paused thoughtfully as they stepped into the elevator—“not jaded, but definitely a little less impressed by everything than I used to be.”

Marina showed surprise. “Really? That’s saying something, Anna, for someone who literally plans fancy events for a living.”

Annelise shrugged a little sheepishly, the movement making her shimmery golden dress sparkle all around her. “It’s crazy, right? But I can see why Rémy avoided a lot of this for so long. I don’t know how Pierre does it. He’s in the spotlight the most of all of them, since he’s the CEO and everything.” Annelise leaned closer and Marina smelled the warm vanilla scent her best friend had always favored. “Honestly, I think all of Rémy’s siblings would prefer to be at home most nights, but there are such expectations… They don’t always have a choice.”

Annelise had hinted before at the fact that everything might not be as picture-perfect and easy as it seemed for Rémy’s fabulously wealthy and powerful family. Case in point, just a few months earlier, the Gaspard siblings had had a crazy ex-friend—also the ex-fiancé of Rémy’s sister—who’d ended up trying, repeatedly, to murder them. He was still awaiting trial.

“That does make sense,” Marina agreed, nodding slowly. She thought of how she and Annelise had been struggling over the past months to make time to get together even once every couple of weeks. Marina totally understood that Anna had been caught up in not only the intensity of a new romance but also in being introduced as a member of ‘the Gaspard family’. Marina wasn’t offended—of course I’m not—but she missed Annelise. Plus, not meeting her best friend for lunch or drinks as often anymore had made her own small studio apartment seem so much emptier.

That was part of what had made Annelise’s invitation to tonight’s party so important—so much so that Marina had gotten a little uncharacteristically nervous. It was a small, exclusive event only for close friends and contacts of the Gaspards and also an unofficial celebration of Rémy’s oldest brother, Pierre’s, expected reentry into society. Marina wasn’t sure what had been going on, and Annelise had been maddeningly vague, but Pierre had been letting everyone else shoulder the lion’s share of the family obligations for months while he mysteriously wasn’t around. Personally, her guess was that he had been hanging out on the family yacht off the coast of St. Tropez with a revolving door of supermodels. Whatever the reason, he was finally deigning to come back at tonight’s event.

At that thought, Marina’s previous anxiety started to ramp up again, but she took a deep breath and straightened her spine. I am smart, fun, beautiful and Annelise’s best friend, she reminded herself. This is for Anna, and if they don’t like me or think I’m good enough, it won’t be because I haven’t given it my damnedest. As though feeling her tension, Annelise squeezed her hand reassuringly as they walked toward the brightly lit ballroom with unmistakable party sounds coming from it, and Marina raised her chin with a confidence that she wasn’t sure she totally felt. It was showtime.

Two hours later, Marina was shocked to find that she was actually having fun. Clothilde, Annelise’s future sister-in-law, was kind, down-to-earth and had a wickedly sharp wit that made her feel like an instant friend, in spite of the fact that she looked like she should be on the cover of a high-fashion magazine. Actually, Marina seemed to recall that Clothilde had been on the cover of several women’s magazines in the past. Luc, who was Rémy’s younger brother, had flown in from Paris just for the event and he was absolutely charming, but in a genuine way. He was handsome, funny and his light flirtation had made her giggle and blush.

Still, so much dancing and socializing had worn her down a little bit, so when Rémy had asked Annelise to dance again for the umpteenth time that evening, leaving Marina alone for a moment, she had seized her chance to sneak away and rest her feet. Not that she was ungrateful—no, it gave her warm fuzzies to think of how attentive Rémy and his family had been to her all evening, obviously determined not to let her feel awkward or nervous for a second—but she was just a little overwhelmed. This was Annelise’s scene, not hers, and her cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling as much as her feet were beginning to ache from spending too long in high heels.

She ducked into the dark hallway behind the ballroom and noticed that the rooms were labeled with the names of prominent Bostonians from the past. They looked like conference rooms, and she nearly sighed with relief. No one was likely to be having a conference at this time of the evening, so she could take a little break in peace to pull herself together again. She opened the first heavy, dark-wood door, which was surprisingly well-oiled and silent. Even with the lights out, she could make out the outlines of several chairs surrounding an enormous table. Definitely a conference room. Perfect.

She pulled the door closed behind her and let out a long sigh, stepping out of her shoes immediately and relishing the feel of the cool hardwood floor underneath her stockinged feet. If she were honest with herself, it wasn’t just the physical strain of the party she’d wanted to escape. It was also the brilliant, effervescent happiness and love that she had felt radiating from Annelise and Rémy. She was overjoyed for her best friend—absolutely, I am—but here in the darkness, alone, she could admit that she was envious, too. The hole that remained in her soul, the slash of pain whenever she remembered the beautiful, wonderful man she’d loved and with whom she’d planned an entire lifetime of happiness, ached and throbbed more than any physical wound ever could. Oh, Jaime.

She could picture his face vividly, although now, after so much time, she hated that he was starting to look more and more like the pictures she had of him and less like the man in her memories. He had been young—so incredibly young. She’d been cheated by a stray bullet, friendly fire during a skirmish, out of knowing what he would look like any older than twenty-one. What would he have looked like if he were as old as the woman she saw in her own reflection these days? Would he even recognize her, dancing in a ballroom with multiple men in tailored suits, sipping champagne and eating foie-gras and caviar canapes from silver platters, offered by tastefully dressed and silent waitstaff? Joking and flirting with Annelise’s future brother-in-law as well as several of the other charming older men who were friends of Rémy’s family?

That was the crux of her tiredness…the reason she’d needed to escape. What the hell was she doing, enjoying herself like this when Jaime was cold and buried in the Virginia ground, still wearing his dress blues? And when she’d sent him away the way she had… But she refused to even start to think about that tonight. She tried not to cry anymore, and most days, she succeeded. But this evening, watching Annelise with her fiancé, wrapped up in his love at every moment, had made Marina feel fragile all over again. As if Jaime’s loss were closer tonight, somehow.

She felt for and made contact with the closest chair, planning to sink down onto it.

“Unless you want to find yourself on my lap—which I’m not opposed to, mind you—you’d better choose another seat, chérie.”

Marina yelped and leapt away, her heart pounding up into her throat. The man’s voice had been deep, raspy and amused, and she might have found it sexy under other circumstances. However, alone in a dark conference room behind doors that had looked extremely thick was not the right circumstance for anything but terror.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came in?” she finally managed to ask, wincing at the accusation in her tone. She heard a rustle and could almost feel his shrug.

“I hoped that you would leave quickly, and I didn’t want to startle you,” he answered simply.

His answer made sense, but Marina was irrationally annoyed. “What are you doing in here, anyway? Who would leave a party to come sit in the dark?”

His chuckle was dry, and goosebumps raised on her arms. “Who indeed?”

She pursed her lips. “Touché,” she acknowledged.

“I’ll reveal some of my demons if you show me yours.” His tone was mocking as he echoed the childish dare. She couldn’t help the way her pulse quickened, as though he were offering to show her something illicit.

“No thank you.” She winced at how prim her tone was, but the stranger’s amused chuckle rolled through the small room.

“I didn’t think you would, but I hoped…” He trailed off meaningfully.

“I’m going to sit down in, uh, another chair,” she announced, trying to change the subject. “My feet are killing me from so much dancing.”

“Be my guest, chérie. Seat yourself anywhere you desire.” Again, his rough voice made his words sound like innuendo. She sank down onto the chair one over from his. “I can imagine your lovely feet must throb from those beautiful yet completely impractical shoes you wore earlier. I could rub them, if you’d like?”

“What? Of course not!” Marina gasped, actually shocked at his audacity. “You can’t just…offer to massage a complete stranger!”

“Good point,” he answered in a reasonable tone. “Tell me a few things about yourself so I can offer again.”

She laughed in spite of herself.

His chair creaked as he leaned forward. She could make out his silhouette now that her eyes had adjusted, and from his frame, he looked to be very tall and muscular. A dark, spicy scent teased her nose, masculine and exotic.

“Here’s an easy question. Why did you leave the party? The Gaspards always throw the best… It’s expected.”

It might have been the shroud of darkness that caused her to pay such close attention to his voice, or maybe she was just attuned to him, but there was a curious tension in his tone.

“Apart from my feet starting to ache? I…had to get away from all the happiness for a bit. My best friend is engaged to one of the Gaspards—Rémy—and they’re blissfully in love.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Marina couldn’t believe she’d actually said them out loud—and to a near-stranger no less.

The man made a sound of understanding. “Ah, of course. And you love him, too?” There was a resigned sadness in his voice.

“What? No!” Marina denied instantly. “I mean, he’s great, and wonderful for Annelise, wonderful to her, but…no. I just—” She trailed off, not wanting to tell him about Jaime, not wanting to sound like the totally bitchy, selfish friend she knew she was being.

“You don’t like the Gaspards, then? It is common. They are notorious as well as famous.”

Marina noticed the stranger’s accent more on those words. He was obviously one of the French-Canadian guests, which wasn’t surprising, since they made up the majority of the party.

“I like the Gaspards. Or, at least, I think Rémy is awesome, and even though I just met his brother and sister, Luc and Clothilde, tonight, they seem great too. I’m not sure about the older brother, Pierre. I hear he can be a cold bastard.” She gasped again as she realized she’d been bashing one of the Gaspards to someone who was probably friends with all of them. “I mean, that’s the rumor, but…like I said, I’ve never met him, so I don’t really know,” she finished lamely.

Luckily, her companion didn’t seem offended. “The rumors are correct. Pierre Gaspard can be utterly ruthless when it comes to his siblings and their associates.”

Marina was so relieved that she didn’t pick up on a subtle warning in his tone.

“What matters is that your friend is happy, though, is it not? She must love the lifestyle her fiancé can provide for her.”

“Yes, she does. It’s like a fairy tale, isn’t it? And Annelise is the princess. She always loved pretending we were in a fairy tale when we were kids. I mean, nothing is perfect.” Marina thought of how Annelise had admitted that the lifestyle of being a Gaspard was filled with obligations. “But I’m sure they won’t be so busy handling so many public appearances and duties once Pierre gets back from wherever he’s been. Annelise and Rémy just want a little more time to enjoy each other.” She broke off suddenly, embarrassed again at how much she’d revealed. God, Annelise was going to kill her. She’d been babbling away into the darkness, and she knew part of it was nervousness, but also…the stranger just felt so easy to talk to.

“Ah, yes, the roaming Pierre. Tell me… What do Annelise and Rémy have to say about his whereabouts?” The question was probing. Marina ignored her growing sense of unease, which was buried by her curiosity. Maybe this stranger, who must be close to the Gaspard family, could finally give her more information about where the hell the oldest Gaspard brother had been.

“That’s the weird part. They don’t really have anything to say, but…I think they’re covering for something.”

“Oh yes?” her companion prompted gently.

Marina nodded, even though she knew her mysterious fellow guest would barely be able to see the gesture. “I suppose it could be something like he’s been sick—or maybe he’s an alcoholic or drug addict in rehab,” she speculated, really warming to the topic. “But my best guess is that he’s been living it up on one of their yachts, hooking up with supermodels and too busy partying to take care of his responsibilities.”

There was a long silence that stretched uncomfortably in the darkened room.

“Ms. Lopez,” he began, and Marina felt herself go cold at his use of her name, “I realize that you are new to this world and this level of society, and I am willing to make concessions to your ignorance. However, even you should be aware that as someone closely connected to my future sister-in-law, what you say might very well reflect back on my family.”

Marina felt like she was back in her family’s cozy little home, eight years old again, and being lectured by her nana, who’d just told her that she was disappointed and had expected better of her young granddaughter. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“You should know better,” the stranger continued, “than to speculate on where I have been and what I have been doing. If you can’t control your tongue and prevent it from gossiping, I will be forced to take countermeasures. Do you think you can manage never to gossip about my family again, especially to a stranger who very well could have been a reporter who’d be only too happy to print your comments as truth?”

Marina felt sick as the realization of who the stranger was dawned on her. The flighty, rich playboy she’d been talking about didn’t seem to be very flighty at all, and he was sitting right next to her.

“I apologize for my comments,” she said, feeling the heat of a blush creep up into her cheeks and continuing all the way out to her chest and even her arms. “I don’t normally speculate so much or say things like that to strangers, but… There’s no excuse. I didn’t think of the implications. I will be more careful in the future.”

Pierre rose, even taller and more imposing than she’d realized.

“I hope that you will.” His voice grew colder as he leaned over her chair. “I will do anything…anything at all…to protect my family’s reputation.” Marina thought he was finished, but he continued, surprising her. “Not because it is so precious to me, personally, but because it affects the welfare of thousands of employees who depend on us—on me—and who could be harmed by negative rumors.”

“I understand,” Marina answered, and she realized that she did. While she had focused on how much fun it must be to have so much wealth and power, their company and influence must also be a burden to manage.

“Good.” The word was clipped, and he sounded…disappointed? “Now, will you allow me to escort you to your vehicle?”

Dios, Marina thought. I’m being kicked out politely but firmly. If I don’t leave, is he going to call a bouncer? Does a social club even have bouncers, or does he bring his own? She stiffened her spine and rose with as much pride as she could muster while barefoot in a dark room.

“No, thank you. I can find my own way, Monsieur Gaspard.” She slipped her shoes back on at the door and made an intensely dignified exit.

As the door closed behind her, she thought she heard him whisper, “Too bad.”

Buy Links

Choose Your Store
First For Romance

About the Author

Aurora Russell

Aurora is originally from the frozen tundra of the upper-Midwest (ok, not frozen all the time!) but now loves living in New England with her real-life hero/husband, two wonderfully silly sons, and one of the most extraordinary cats she has ever had the pleasure to meet. But she still goes back to the Midwest to visit, just never in January.

She doesn’t remember a time that she didn’t love to read, and has been writing stories since she learned how to hold a pencil. She has always liked the romantic scenes best in every book, story, and movie, so one day she decided to try her hand at writing her own romantic fiction, which changed her life in all the best ways.

You can find out more about Aurora at her website here.

Giveaway

Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a First For Romance Gift Card!

Aurora Russell Snowbound with the Billionaire Giveaway

AURORA RUSSELL IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND  GET A FREE EBOOK FROM THE AUTHOR! Notice: This competition ends on 6TH April 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Splinters of the Heart by Alyssa Rabil

General Release Date: 16th March 2021

Word Count:  83,220
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 349

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
GAY
GLBTQI
ROMANCE

Add to Goodreads

Book Description

Love finds a way.

Aaron Beaumont is a mess. Life has never been easy, so why did he think bondage would help? While he solved the problem of making some quick money, it came at a price he wasn’t willing to pay. To his great relief, he’s rescued by Silas Anderson. Silas, a doctor, takes him home and treats his physical injuries, but his gentle touch and reassurance can’t touch Aaron’s internal turmoil.

When Aaron tries to return home the next morning, the worst has come to pass. He suddenly finds himself with nowhere to go. Once again, his world collides with Silas’.

With the future uncertain, a friendship blossoms into something neither Aaron nor Silas has experienced before, and they know it’s something they may never experience again.

However, happiness is just out of reach, and before they have a happily ever after, they must face a demon from the past.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of verbal and physical abuse, consensual pain, parental abuse, drug use, homophobic language, mentions of anxiety, suicide and drug dealing.

Excerpt

Aaron sat on the edge of the bed with his hands in his lap. The man behind the camera clicked something and a red light blinked to life.

“Shy?” asked the man.

“Cold,” answered Aaron.

“Shy plays better for the camera,” said the man. “But I can also work with stubborn denial.” There was that smirk again. “Introduce yourself.”

“Aaron. Do you need my last name?”

The man rolled his eyes. “No. And you’ve ruined the take.” He took a breath. “Introduce yourself.”

“Aaron.”

“Good boy. I’m Farley. Your Dom will be in shortly. You will call him ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’.”

“Okay.” Aaron shifted on the bed. He wanted to move his hands—make a point and prove he wasn’t afraid—but that would probably just earn more snide comments from Farley. He didn’t like being the only one naked. Then again, he wasn’t sure how much better it would be once the other naked guy joined them.

Will he be naked? Aaron wondered. Please be naked. Or don’t. Maybe he won’t show up.

It wasn’t too late to run. He hadn’t signed a contract or anything. The money was still in a bag in the corner of the room. He could bail at any time.

“Why are you here?” asked Farley. He nodded to the camera.

Aaron wasn’t sure where to look. He settled on Farley, who rolled his eyes. “I need the money,” he answered.

“Is this your first time doing porn?”

“Yeah.” Aaron glanced at the camera. “I mean—I’ve been filmed before, but—”

“Shut up.” Farley held a marker up to the lens. “I’ll cut that out later. Don’t elaborate.”

Aaron sighed. He could leave, drive home as fast as possible, take a long hot shower and forget this ever happened.

“Are you gay?”

“No,” answered Aaron.

“Then what brought you here?” asked Farley.

“Money,” answered Aaron.

Farley held another marker up to the lens. “Is it even remotely possible for you to look less like an angry mountain gorilla and more like a virginal twink?” he asked. “I understand your IQ may only extend to that of a mountain gorilla, but surely you can follow basic instructions.”

Aaron glared. “What’s a twink?”

“Christ,” said Farley. “Fine. Never mind.” He paused again. “Why do you need the money?”

“Uh—” began Aaron. “It’s—that’s personal.”

“Girlfriend?” asked Farley.

“No,” answered Aaron.

“Just say it’s for your girlfriend.”

“It’s for my girlfriend.”

Farley rolled his eyes. “Ever sucked a cock before, Aaron?”

“No.”

“Ever thought about sucking a cock before?”

Aaron glanced between Farley and the camera. “Yes.”

“Tell me about that.”

“It—it was a long time ago.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I got curious back in high school,” answered Aaron. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Man of few words,” said Farley. “That’s fine. You won’t need to do much talking today. Ever thought about having a cock in your ass?”

“I guess.”

“Any idea what you’re in for?”

“I googled some stuff.” Aaron had spent the entire week leading up to today scouring the internet for advice. He’d taken seven showers in the past three days and hadn’t eaten for two days. He’d told himself he was just being thorough—that it wasn’t because he’d lost his appetite or because he’d felt dirty after hanging up the phone to confirm the meeting. He’d told himself it was just sex. Men liked sex. Sex wasn’t a big deal.

Farley pulled a sheet of paper from the desk behind him. “Do you know what makes my business such a special production company?”

“Your warm and fuzzy personality?”

Farley grinned as he looked down. “Authenticity,” he said. “Everything is consensual, of course. Men like you come in for whatever reason—overcompensating for their nerves with masculine bravado—but they don’t leave until all parties have been thoroughly satisfied.”

“Yeah, you need a money shot,” said Aaron. “You said that in the email.” He’d found these guys online. The ad had been vague, but had promised a shitload of money for two hours’ worth of work. Aaron had emailed them, called them, then showed up in person. Farley had even flashed him the money before Aaron took his clothes off. It wasn’t a high-class setup by any means, but it was about what he’d expected from a vague ‘call for adult actors’. He probably should have told someone where he was in case things went south—but then someone would know he was here doing this.

“No fake orgasms,” continued Farley. “Our audience likes to know what you’re feeling is real.”

“Okay,” said Aaron.

“Your safe word for this Dom is ‘grace’. Use it wisely. If things are not going well, I’ll switch out for someone I think will be more successful.”

Aaron nodded. He felt a little nauseated and closed his eyes for a moment.

“You read my mind,” said Farley. He crossed the room and tossed Aaron a piece of fabric. “Tie that tight over your eyes, and no peeking.”

Aaron bit his lip, but did as he was told. “Like this?” Suddenly something soft hit him in the face. “What the hell?” he shouted. He fumbled with what felt suspiciously like a pillow and threw it away from him.

“Just making sure you can’t see.”

“Dammit,” muttered Aaron. He heard the door open. He heard Farley return to his position by the camera and heard another set of footsteps approach the bed.

It’s not too late. Fuck this and go home. No one has to know I was here. I can find the money somewhere else.

“Hello, Aaron,” said a deep voice. A firm, calloused hand ran through his hair. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” asked the man—Master.

“No,” breathed Aaron.

Farley coughed.

“No, Sir,” corrected Aaron. He could feel his body shaking, but he told himself he was just playing along. Farley had told him to be a virginal twig or twing or something. He was acting. He wasn’t scared.

Master thumbed over Aaron’s lips. “Open your mouth,” he said. Aaron obeyed.

Master nudged his leg between Aaron’s knees, forcing his legs open. “Hands behind your back,” he said.

Again, he obeyed.

Run. It’s not worth it. Sell a kidney. Sell sperm to a rich lady. Learn to juggle and join a circus.

Something warm and wet touched Aaron’s lips and he jumped. Master ran his fingers through Aaron’s hair again, and pulled him back. A kiss. The Dom was kissing him. He trailed a line of kisses to Aaron’s ear.

“Are you all right?” whispered the Dom.

Aaron leaned his face away from Farley and the camera. “Yeah,” he answered. “Sorry.”

Nerves.”

“Let me know when you feel uncomfortable,” he whispered. He nibbled at Aaron’s neck.

“Safe word is ‘grace’, right?” asked Aaron.

“Right.” Master kissed Aaron again and breathed against his lips. “I promise, I won’t hurt you.” He stood up, fingers once again entangled in Aaron’s hair. “Open wide,” he said.

Aaron did as he was told, and this time he was about ninety percent sure the thing he tasted was a dick. A quick thrust from the Dom confirmed his suspicions. Master was slow at first, keeping his movements steady and shallow. One hand had a vise-like grip on Aaron’s hair while the other caressed his cheek.

Considering the many awful ways this decision could come back to destroy him, Aaron was surprisingly relaxed.

Suck him off. Then you get off. Then you go home. It’s not that bad. Just an hour and a half more to go.

Suddenly, Farley snapped something. “Cut,” he said.

Master pulled away from Aaron. “What could possibly be the problem? You’ve been rolling for under a minute.”

“His sad little deflated cock is the problem,” said Farley. “No one wants to see that.”

“Give him some time,” said the Dom. “He’s nervous.”

“Sorry,” said Aaron, sensing his paycheck might be on the line. “I can get hard.” He gripped his dick in his hand and gave it his best shot.

They’re watching me. Get hard. Get off. Get paid. Get out. Get the money to Daniel.

Aaron felt nauseous again. If his little brother had any idea where this money was coming from, he’d probably never speak to Aaron again.

If Dad knew—

If Robert Beaumont knew, he’d make sure Aaron never saw Daniel again. “This is pathetic,” said Farley.

“Let me try,” said the Dom. “Aaron, lie on your back.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Farley.

“This is a lot to take in,” said Master. “We need to ease him into it.”

“I don’t want to waste your time,” said Aaron. “I can do this.”

“And yet here you are, wasting my time,” said Farley. He sighed. “Silas, give us a moment, won’t you?”

“No. We can figure— Who are you calling?” asked Master.

Farley must have picked up the phone. He shushed the Dom. “Send in Regina. She has the edging equipment. Tell her we need Ralph.”

“This isn’t an edging scene,” said Master.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” said Farley. “Regina knows what she’s doing. Now get out.”

Master ran his fingers through Aaron’s hair again. It was pleasant, but it didn’t stop Aaron from trembling.

“I can do this,” mumbled Aaron.

Master untied Aaron’s blindfold and knelt down between his knees. He placed a hand on Aaron’s thigh and rubbed small circles into the muscles with his thumbs. Master was also naked. He had dark, messy hair. His eyes were icy blue and beautiful. He was beautiful.

“This line of work isn’t for everyone,” said Master. “There is no shame in leaving if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No,” said Aaron. “I can do it.”

“For God’s sake,” said Farley, “get up. I should have paired him with Ralph in the first place.”

“Don’t put him with Ralph. He’s too rough,” said the Dom.

Farley rolled his eyes. “You can’t fall for some doe-eyed little virgin.”

“I told you we shouldn’t work with amateurs,” said Master. “It’s too risky.”

Farley muttered something that sounded like ‘savior complex’ and put his phone into his pocket. “New rule,” he said. “Every time you hold up a scene to have a little heart-to-heart with the actors, I’m taking a nickel from your paycheck.”

“That’s not fair,” said Aaron.

“Ignore him,” said the Dom. “He has to be petty to stay alive, the same way a shark must keep swimming.”

The door opened. A woman entered carrying a large duffle bag. A tall man with a scruffy beard followed her.

“The cavalry has arrived,” said Farley. “Silas, leave.”

“No, I—”

“You want to cost this young man his money?” asked Farley. “He needs someone more forceful.”

“Then why partner him with me in the first place?” asked Master.

“I was being kind,” snapped Farley.

Master turned back to Aaron. He looked scared. “You can still say no.”

“Leave now, or you’re fired,” said Farley.

“Go,” said Aaron. “I’ve got this.” He tried to force a smile. Master searched his eyes.

“How about this,” said Farley. “You can stay and slow down production and make sure we don’t hurt this precious boy, and I’ll just cut his pay in half and you won’t get paid at all for today.”

“No,” said Aaron quickly. He shoved the Dom away. “Leave. I know what I’m doing.”

Master got to his feet and stepped back.

“Go,” said Aaron. No contract. No witnesses. Of course these guys could cut his pay. He wasn’t exactly a member of the amateur porn worker’s union.

Master clenched his jaw. He turned, jabbed a finger at the new man in the room and whispered something.

The man ignored him. Master left, slamming the door behind him.

“Lock it,” said Farley. He turned to Aaron. “Sorry about all that. You weren’t what I expected. Normally a two-hour shoot only takes two hours.”

Aaron glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s only been forty-five minutes,” he said.

“And of those forty-five, I only have three usable minutes, and those are all your bumbling interview.”

Shit.

“So how much longer?” asked Aaron.

Farley glanced at his watch. “Two hours. Maybe less. Don’t worry. Ralph is very good.”

The new man, presumably Ralph, approached Aaron. “Do you want this done fast or do you want to enjoy it?” he asked.

“How fast is fast?” answered Aaron.

“Two hours. Maybe less.” The man echoed Farley.

“What if I want to enjoy it?” asked Aaron.

“No guarantee that you will.”

Aaron took a deep breath. “Fast,” he said.

“Good. I’m your new Dom. Call me ‘Sir’. You’re allowed to talk, but you must show me respect or you’ll be punished. Understand?”

“Yeah,” answered Aaron.

Ralph grabbed him by his hair, flipped him onto his stomach and slammed his face into the mattress. He slapped Aaron’s ass so hard, he was sure it had left a welt.

“Son of a bitch,” shouted Aaron. “Yes, sir. Fuck.”

Ralph hit him again, harder.

“God dammit,” said Aaron. “What did I—”

Ralph hit him again.

Aaron bit his tongue. After a moment of silence, Ralph pulled Aaron’s face out of the mattress. “Do you know what you did wrong?” he asked.

“Yes—sir,” said Aaron.

“You are worthless. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are mine.”

“Yes, sir.”

Buy Links

Choose Your Store
First For Romance

About the Author

Alyssa Rabil

Alyssa has always had a love for fiction. She read her first romance novel from her mother’s collection. Her first love story was about a tiger that fell in love with a zebra.

Alyssa lives in a wild west with her cats. She loves cooking and writing. Follow Alyssa on Facebook and Twitter.

Giveaway

Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a First For Romance Gift Card!

Alyssa Rabil Splinters of the Heart Giveaway

ALYSSA RABIL IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GET A FIRST FOR ROMANCE GIFT CARD! Notice: This competition ends on 30TH March 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

The Billionaire and the Princess
by Katherine E. Hunt

Book 1 in the Sag Harbor series

General Release Date: 16th March 2021

Word Count: 60,151
Pages: 238
Book Length: Super Novel
Heat Rating: Sizzling
Sexometer: 2

Genres:

BILLIONAIRE
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
ROYALS

Add to Goodreads

Book Description

When a British journalist gets her dream job in The Hamptons, she doesn’t expect to find her dream man too.

All Caitlyn has to do is catch a plane, move to Sag Harbor and start her new job as editor of a brand-new society magazine. That’s what she’s promised herself. No more Mr. Wrong, no more pandering to everybody else’s needs. New life, new Caitlyn.

So when she meets a handsome gentleman on the plane, after a couple of drinks, she’s going to walk away, right? She’s certainly not going to try to join the mile-high club with him.

If it turns out he’s her new boss, Hank Baresi, the youngest son of one of the biggest media moguls in America, but no matter, he doesn’t appear to remember her, anyway.

She’s just going to do her job. No serenading him. No succumbing to his sweet charms and absolutely no falling in love with him.

And, well, if he happens to fall in love with her, she’s just going to say no, right?

Excerpt

There is no excuse for this kind of behavior. I’ve promised, sworn and vowed never to fall for a bad guy again. Take some time out, I told myself, learn the real Caitlyn, love yourself before you love others. Why, oh why, then, am I half-naked in an airplane bathroom with a frickin’ drunken, horny cowboy? Why indeed? He’s hot, there’s that, like six-foot-two hot. You know what I’m talking about. The type of guy that makes you catch your breath when he brushes past you, hair a little unkempt, jaw a little too sharp.

In my defense, I’ve had a very strange year and, frankly, life’s gotten really, really complicated. Then there’s the free alcohol, first time in Business Class… It’s all gone to my head. I might be forgiven for getting carried away. But still, no excuse, Caitlyn, no excuse.

He traces a solitary finger down the outside of my thigh—my leggings hang off one ankle, dragging on the floor. My other foot, placed firmly on the closed toilet seat, is the only thing holding me up.

I lift my hair, curl it up on my head with my hands, soft lips brush against my neck. “You’re so freaking hot,” he slurs.

At first, I’d thought he had a Texan drawl until he’d confessed, giggling as the words came out, that he’d stolen the cowboy hat from the guy in the next seat down.

He’s not Southern—he’s just drunk off his head.

He brushes his fingers up my spine, circling the crux of my neck before gliding over my breasts, past the tips of my nipples, until they stop at the slick gusset of my undies. Fuck. For a man who smells like a brewery and has lost the capacity for coherent speech, he’s pretty deft with his hands.

Pressing tightly onto my pussy, like it’s the only thing holding us up, he fumbles with his trousers, pulling at his belt.

“Do you have a condom?” I ask.

“Uh…shi-it. Maybe?” He tries to grab his wallet with his one free hand and we rock back and forth as he tugs at his pocket.

Is this really happening? It was all going smoothly. Steamy, unexpected, drunken smooch in the corridor, unilateral decision to glide into the bathroom. Semi-naked foreplay.

It’s all so serious, all of a sudden. Sex with a stranger. That’s a sobering thought. Is this how I want to start my new life? It isn’t part of the plan, that’s for sure.

I’ve never done anything like this. I’m not an angel, but I’ve always been the wait a few days, get to know the guy kind of girl. Admittedly, they’d all turned out to be Mr. Emotionally Unavailable, Mr. Terrified of Commitment or Mr. Sleeps with Your Friends Plural Behind Your Back, but hey, I’d always kept my side of the bargain.

His fumbles prove fruitless. He takes his hand off me to grab his wallet, falls backward, slams hard into the door and slides to the ground. Turns out I was holding him up after all.

I spin around. “You okay?” He doesn’t have any visible injuries, but he’s a tall man in a small space and his knees are around his ears. He still looks cute though. God, I need to get laid. My horny is showing.

“Oh shit!” He says it way too loud. Fuck, he’s going to get us caught. I’m not sure what the punishment is for kinky stuff in airplane bathrooms, but I know I don’t want to start my brand-new life in America in an orange jumpsuit.

“Shh,” I whisper, placing my finger over my lips.

“Shh. Hee-hee.” That giggle again. He’s wasted–like, actually out of it. This is rapidly turning into a very bad idea, not that at any point sneaking around with a man I’ve just met had been a solid choice. Kissing him? That had been fun, but now it feels a little like taking advantage.

He flicks through his wallet, still sat, half on the floor, legs splayed either side of me. “Shit. I got nothing.”

I lean down and put my arms around him. He nuzzles into my neck. God, he smells delicious. Whoever he is when he isn’t half-naked and hammered, he has incredible taste in aftershave. “Let’s get you up.”

“Wheeee!” With one hefty yank, he’s on his feet. The effort sends my back crashing against the toilet roll dispenser. It’s like getting a devastatingly handsome, six-foot-two, curly haired, horny octopus to stand to attention. Impossible.

Stepping back to steady myself, I hear a crack. Shit. Hopefully, his phone isn’t super important because it has just smashed into a million pieces under my foot. I kick it out of sight, sit him down on the toilet seat and pull my leggings back up. My libido is fading. Fast.

I pull up my leggings and put my top back on. “You don’t wanna do it anymore?” he drawls, his face downcast.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, do you?” He can’t even stand up for a start. God knows whether he can get anything else up.

“You’re hot.” He snakes his hands up my sweatshirt.

“Thank you. You’re very, very drunk.” I fasten his belt for him, inciting more giggles, and hand him his wallet, which had flown into the sink. “I think I’m going to go back to my seat. It was very nice meeting you, cowboy. Maybe we’ll meet again someday in better circumstances.” I might sound like I’m fobbing him off, but some part of me sort of wishes it’s true. I most definitely shouldn’t. The type of guy who allows himself to get in this much of a state is not boyfriend material. Not for me, anyway. But he’s a sweetie, and he’s cute when he giggles.

Oh, Caitlyn, you’re such a damn pushover.

* * * *

The old lady in the seat next to mine looks very concerned. “Did you hear all that noise in the toilet?”

“Yes. Apparently, some drunk guy fell over.”

“Oh dear.” She cringes. “Some people do get carried away with the free drinks on these flights. I hope he’s all right.” She’s been reading a guidebook on New York for the last four hours and hasn’t even acknowledged my presence, but now that I’ve got gossip, she’s all ears.

“I’m sure he’s fine. So where are you flying to today?”

She closes her book and looks at me. “New York.” Her eyes widen with excitement. Bless her. She has to be at the very least in her seventies. I see a little of myself in her, always excited by new experiences, no matter how old I get. That’s the only way to live.

“Well, yes. I meant for business or pleasure.”

“I’m going to see my son. He’s got a fancy job in Manhattan, going to show me the sights.” She curls her lips into the biggest grin.

“Oh, that’s lovely.”

Something loud crashes behind us. “Oh dear,” she mutters. “What now?”

A flash of white comes racing past our seats. A butt. A very naked butt attached to a very handsome, drunken, giggly cowboy.

“Shit,” I whisper under my breath. Maybe I shouldn’t have left him to his own devices after all. He turns and waves his not-insignificant appendage at a room full of dozing passengers before a hand reaches through the curtain behind him and pulls his drunken, naked butt into First Class.

“Good lord,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen one like that since my Henry was alive.”

I turn to her and smile, hiding my deep regret at my rash decision not to get cowboy’s number before I’d left him. “Lucky you,” I reply.

Buy Links

Choose Your Store
First For Romance

About the Author

Katherine E Hunt

Katherine E Hunt ran off with a Frenchman twenty years ago. She now lives on a French mountain with three children and two dogs. When she isn’t writing contemporary romance she can be found huddled up in front of a roaring fire, with a glass of Chardonnay in one hand and a book in the other.

You can find out more about Katherine on her website.

Giveaway

Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a FREE eBook from the author!

Katherine E. Hunt’s The Billionaire and the Princess Giveaway

Enter for your chance to win romance author Katherine E. Hunt’s Prize Package and get a FREE eBook from the author! Notice: This competition ends on 30th March 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.