My Book Crush with Terran (Breeder 2) by Cara Bristol

The highly anticipated second book in Cara Bristol‘s Breeder series released a couple weeks ago. I loved the first book in this series, but could the second book give me the same sense of wonder and suspense that happens when you fall in love in a sci-fi world? The answer is YES!

I’m in love with this series because it mixes so many things I love. It’s a great story with romance that’s spanking hot and it’s all mixed in a sci-fi world that doesn’t overwhelm, but adds an undeniable uniqueness.

You can read more about my reading experience in my review on Goodreads.

Terran has been climbing the Amazon charts too. It’s simply a great read that’s not to be missed.

click the image to see Terran on Goodreads
Terran (Breeder 2)

by Cara Bristol

Published: May 6, 2014

Publisher: Loose Id

After fleeing loneliness and heartache on Terra, Tara Diehl has adjusted to male-dominated Parseon better than most vendors–until she is kidnapped by Alpha Marlix, one of the five rulers of the planet. At first she’s terrified of her tall, muscled abductor, especially when he doesn’t hesitate to quell her struggle for freedom with a little corporal discipline. After all her methods and ploys to escape fail, she decides to seduce her way to freedom. 

But out of seduction and subterfuge grow a true intimacy that cause Marlix and Tara to take action that drives Parseon to the brink of civil war, and threatens not only their relationship, but also their lives. 

Terran, the second book in the Breeder sci-fi series, is a “capture” romance involving a domineering but hunky alien, and a female with a bad dye job and an even worse attitude.

EXCERPT:

If people gawked, she did not notice. Panic blinded Tara to all but instinct as she tore through the Bazaar. Suck it up. Suck it up. Sobs of relief convulsed in her throat when her feet found their way to her shop. Perched on a counter stool eating lunch, Ramon leaped to his feet as she stumbled in.
“My God, Tara! What the hell happened?” He grabbed a bolt of flannel off its stand and threw it around her, then hugged her to his chest.
Unable to stop crying, she heaved and shuddered as Ramon rocked her and swore under his breath.
“I th-thought it w-would be o-o-okay. I only went out-outside to check.”
Ramon stiffened.
“They grabbed me,” she sobbed.
“They?”
“Th-three males.”
“F***,” he swore, his voice laden with concern. He did not need to say I-told-you-so to remind Tara how foolish she’d been. “We need to call Security. The Terran Embassy.”
She shook her head. “No.” The Terrans held little authority and couldn’t do anything. Parseon Security did have power but would do nothing. Nor could she endure an interrogation by males cut from the same cloth as her attackers. Parseon did not consider sexual assault a crime but rather a sport, which was why the treaty attempted to protect its female vendors by insisting they travel with an escort. By venturing into the Market alone, she had disobeyed the rules intended to protect her.
“Yes. My God, Tara, you were attacked.” He dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Did they rape you?”
“No,” she lied. She squeezed her eyes shut against Ramon’s shoulder. She’d been pinned to the ground. They had sodomized her with their fingers–they just hadn’t gotten around to the rest of it, because the Commander had intervened. She recalled his growl, his shadow. The boot on her back had lifted, and her attacker had flown through the air. She’d heard a thud and a snap, and then the pounding of feet as the other two attackers had scrambled away.
Only Alpha remained. Though he’d saved her, the rage and intent to harm that enlarged his already huge body had terrified her, and she’d fled, as much from him as the attack.
“You’re bleeding,” Ramon said, and she became aware of searing pain in her legs, back, and chest. 
They’d cut her when they had sliced at her clothing and had pummeled her with their fists and feet. “You need medical attention. I’m calling Security.”
“No!” came a gravelly shout.
Ramon started, but Tara did not. Hadn’t she known all along he would follow her?
“I will handle this.” There was no mistaking the threat in the gaze the Alpha cast upon Ramon. “Leave us.”
A brave Ramon shook his head. “No, I’m staying.”
Aggression shimmered off the Commander in waves. Ramon was wiry but little match for most men on Terra, let alone an Alpha. She had little doubt how he would fare in a confrontation. Again, she pictured her attacker sailing through the air as if the Commander had thrown a stuffed toy and not a live adult male.
She opened her mouth to reassure her shop mate she would be okay, but before she could speak, the Commander yanked her out of Ramon’s protective embrace and slung her over his shoulder. The Alpha stalked out of her shop into the Bazaar.

Where you can find Terran:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | ARe | Loose-Id

Spotlight: BET ON ECSTASY by Stacey Kennedy

click to see all books Spotlighted by SJPact of Seduction, Book 3 is here. I can’t wait to read BET ON ECSTASY. I’ve been loving this series. See the series on Goodreads here. Enjoy!

Bet on Ecstasy cover - click to see on Goodreads

BET ON ECSTASY

Pact of Seduction, Book 3

By Stacey Kennedy

Publisher: Loose Id

ISBN: 978-1-62300-462-0

Release date: September 24, 2013

BUY LINKS:

Author website – http://www.staceykennedy.com/bet-on-ecstasy/

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/Bet-Ecstasy-Pact-Seduction-ebook/dp/B00FEIYY5K

Loose Id – http://www.loose-id.com/pact-of-seduction-3-bet-on-ecstasy.html

Book Description:

Business partners, Smith and Brock share their fortune, success, and they share their women. A healthy competitive streak built MDR Software into a multi-million-dollar enterprise, and their on-going bets continuously raise the stakes. The current proposition: an arranged ménage encounter through the sex club, Castle Dolce Vita. The prize: a sexy kitten, Kyra.

While the two wealthy, powerful men are enough to pique Kyra’s interests to fulfill the Pact of Seduction and live out her ultimate fantasy, a bet forged between the men comes with an intriguing promise. Her pleasure is now part of their wager.

Soon, Kyra fights against her desire for the men as she struggles through the complications of a ménage relationship. Of course, the men take their bets seriously and are determined to show Kyra that in this game of seduction no one loses.

About the Author:

StaceyKennedyStacey Kennedy is an urban fantasy lover at heart, but she also enjoys losing herself in dark and sensual worlds. She lives in southwestern Ontario with her husband, who gave her a happily-ever-after. Together, they have two small children who can always make her smile, and who will never be allowed to read Mommy’s books. If she’s not plugging away at a new story, you’ll find her camping, curling up with the latest flick, or obsessing over Supernatural, True Blood, Lost Girl, and Sons of Anarchy.

Website – http://www.staceykennedy.com/

Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/AuthorStaceyKennedy

Facebook Fan Page – www.facebook.com/StaceyKennedyFanPage

Twitter – https://twitter.com/#!/Stacey_Kennedy

Goodreads – http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3473046.Stacey_Kennedy

CHECK OUT THE OTHER BOOKS IN THE PACT OF SEDUCTION SERIES:Bind Mehttp://www.staceykennedy.com/bind-me/

SK_BegForIthttp://www.staceykennedy.com/beg-for-it/

EXCERPT:

“Prick.” Smith slammed the pool cue down on the table, cursing the game that had cost him a thousand dollars. The muscles in his neck ached, as did the throb in his head from concentrating on winning for the last twenty minutes.

His business partner, Brock, laughed. The black ball spun in the corner pocket, and the white ball swept up the table to hit one of Smith’s two remaining striped balls. “Pay up,” Brock stated.

Smith scowled at the glow in Brock’s blue-gray eyes. He mentally flipped Brock off for his satisfied smirk. With a snort, Smith grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, then tossed the money onto the pool table. “You got lucky.”

“Lucky!” Brock gave a booming laugh. “It’s all skill, buddy.”

He cursed again under his breath, dropping down into the leather seat in the corner of his office. Perhaps he shouldn’t have purchased the new pool table. Then he wouldn’t have had his ass handed to him.

His secretary had thought he’d lost his mind when he asked her to place the order. Smith figured it made total sense. A game in between the long hours he worked kept him sane, which made a thought rise. “Did you go through the last stack of résumés?”

Brock nodded. “Sure did, but no one stood out.”

Smith pointed. “You’re too damn picky.” He’d seen at least four résumés that fit exactly what they were looking for to hire new employees to ease up their workload.

Brock grinned. “Perhaps.” He hesitated, then gave a halfhearted shrug. “Why change something that works.”

Even if the month-long search grated on Smith’s last nerve, he also couldn’t deny the truth behind Brock’s statement.

MDR Software had been built upon years of hard work and sweat, not only from Smith, but from Brock too. When the company had celebrated its five-year anniversary, it had grown into a million-dollar venture in Chicago. After the takeover a year later of fellow software company HighDot, located in the heart of Baltimore, MDR’s worth tripled.

Brock leaned against the pool table, his gaze glowing. “New bet?”

“You emptied my wallet, who says I want another bet?”

While Smith did have money in the bank, he didn’t have any other cash on him. It had taken a good year to stop the memories of living paycheck to paycheck and pinching every penny. Though he’d grown more comfortable with money, he’d never forget when they first opened the company, he ate hotdogs for an entire month.

“Not interested in winning your cash back?” Brock asked, stretching his arms.

The sardonic look Brock delivered usually raised the stakes in their bets. A competitive streak had remained healthy between them, and not only in business. For the most part, Smith enjoyed betting on things, except when he lost. “Possibly.”

Smith laced his fingers behind his head, catching a glimpse of the Baltimore skyline out the large panoramic window. The dark night was typical. There wasn’t a day he, or Brock, didn’t put in a ten-hour shift.

Hard work made for a solid company. Yet the long hours had also been the reason why Smith had been pushing for new employees. He wanted a life, not more time in his damned office.

The telephone next to Smith rang once, and Brock’s grin became sinful. Smith’s irritation at the loss of the game morphed into a new type of heat, pooling low in his groin. He reached for the phone on the side table, then held it to his ear. “Smith.”

“Kyra Garner is here to see you,” the security man, Antonio, said. “I realize it’s late, but she said you were expecting her.”

“Send her up.” Smith placed the phone back on the base, spotting Brock’s expression shift in intensity. Smith also sensed the growing impulse to control and conquer. It’d been a long day waiting for Kyra to arrive, and now Brock’s question held a stronger appeal. “I take it she’s the bet?” At Brock’s nod, he added, “What’s the wager?”

Brock smirked. “Ecstasy.”

Smith had always understood why women flocked to Brock; his charisma, handsome features, matched with a lighthearted personality impressed the ladies. Smith witnessed the toughest businesswomen crack under the assault of that smile. “Bet on ecstasy, hmm?” He rubbed his jaw, considering the proposition. “I’m intrigued, but why that one?”

Brock lifted a lazy shoulder. “Any other bet would make us assholes.”

Smith nearly offered a bet on who Kyra would take an interest in, perhaps who she might want to date when the night concluded. It had happened before. Smith had attempted to date two of the women he’d met through ménage adventures with Brock. The last woman had become near obsessive, causing Smith to shut her down when she showed up at his office. The only thing that resulted from any relationship lately was money-hungry women who wanted a certain lifestyle he wouldn’t give them.

Even the women he dated who weren’t into ménage relationships ended up more interested in where he took them for dinner. The social circuit in Baltimore had been disappointing and hadn’t given him anything other than one-night stands.

After consideration, he dismissed the thought of his idea for the bet. Anything too emotional crossed a line neither him, nor Brock, would cross. He preferred no-strings-attached sex, but he wasn’t a coldhearted bastard. “Interesting bet. Indeed.”

Brock ran a hand through his sandy-colored messily styled hair, which amused Smith. No matter if they were surrounded by millionaires, at work, or watching Sunday-night football, his hair always remained disheveled. “Christ, she’ll reap the rewards anyway.”

From what Smith heard out in the hallway, Kyra was nearly at his office, her high heels clicking along the marble floor. “No one loses,” Smith agreed. “Well, except one of us, which will be you.”

“Dream on.” Brock jumped off the pool table as the sound of her heels against the floor drew closer. “You in?”

Smith nodded. “Double it up.”

The clicks of Kyra’s heels sounded right outside the door. One second passed of silence—far longer than he expected. He wondered if she searched for bravery. When she finally entered through the opened door, the sight of her stunned him, and his entire body came to life.

His cock hardened to steel, causing him to groan as raw primal need tensed his muscles. He experienced a pull to her that shocked the wind right out of his lungs—it was more than lust; it was raw chemistry. Kyra was beautiful.

Standing at the doorway, she offered a sweet smile that held a mysterious edge. Her green eyes were a stunning light color he’d never seen before. Her long black hair would drape beautifully over his thighs when her puffy lips pleasured him.

“Hello, Kyra,” he murmured.

She strode into the office with a confidence he favored in women, chin high, gaze fixated directly on him. Once in the center of the office, she licked those lovely glossy pink lips. “Smith.” Her gaze cut to the right. “Brock.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Brock winked, a playful smile teasing the corners of his mouth. “I mean to say, in person, and not through e-mails and texts.”

Her laughter was as lovely as the women who owned it. “Yes, exactly.”

Smith stood from the chair in the corner, gesturing to the leather couch. “Please take a seat.”

Kyra approached the couch, and her scent carried to him. Smith inhaled the mix of flowers and spice that suited her. Sweet with a slice of fire. He reveled in that combination. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

Her smile was polite. “Yes, thank you.”

Smith chuckled under his breath, unable to stop himself. An outsider would think she arrived tonight for business. Kyra looked all too proper in her rose-colored blouse and black pencil skirt, but her killer legs were anything but appropriate.

The meeting tonight had nothing to do with discussing software.

Brock closed the office door and locked it before he dropped down into the couch across from her, while Smith retrieved her wine from the small bar in the corner.

“Do tell us, Kyra, about this pact of seduction you made with your friends,” Brock said. “I must admit, I found your ad at the Castle Dolce Vita…appealing.”

A personal ad Smith and Brock had stumbled upon late one night on the Web site’s forum. Castle Dolce Vita was located out of Bowleys Quarters, a half-hour drive from Baltimore. The castle catered to everything from ménage encounters to BDSM to just about anything the mind could conjure.

Smith poured her wine and corked the bottle. He turned to hear her reply in a strong voice, “It’s a silly pact between friends to live out our ultimate fantasies. Call it boredom, or maybe insanity, but that’s the gist of it. Two of my friends have already completed the pact, and so, here I am.”

Smith enjoyed the strength Kyra portrayed. Most women wouldn’t voice such thoughts so freely without a stumble in speech or mere hesitation. Impressed by her, he approached, eyeing her silky calf crossed over her knee, envisioning exactly where and how he planned to touch her.

Smith reached her, raised his attention to her face, and she bewitched him with her elegance. He offered her the wineglass. “You all joined the Castle Dolce Vita to fulfill this pact?”

She accepted the glass and as she did, he brushed his fingers over hers. Kyra’s eyes widened, breath hitched. “Yes, we all joined. It seemed like the best place to find others looking for similar ventures.”

The perfect place, Smith thought.

Though that interested him, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, more than pleased he wasn’t the only one affected by the clear heat between them. Tonight would be enjoyable for all, if her reactions were anything like she’d shown from the simple touch.

He and Brock had both been members of Castle Dolce Vita since they relocated to Baltimore. Of course, they also had visited many sex clubs around the country who catered to sexual exploration. He’d reveled in the freedom. No emotions. No needy women. He could have fun, then walk away.

While both of them had numerous relationships throughout the years, some lasting longer than others, all failed miserably. Their tastes included an active sexual appetite. Smith had never met a woman who fulfilled him enough, and none of their ménage relationships had ever worked out. The women they’d been with had thought they could handle two men, but it always turned out two was just a little too much.

“Why are you members?” Kyra asked.

Simple question. Simple answer.

Together, they weren’t only solid partners in business and excelled at their work, but with a woman between them, they shone. They’d shared their fortune, success, and enjoyed sharing their women.

Smith watched as Kyra took a sip of her wine and her eyes fluttered closed, indicating she enjoyed the taste of the wine. At six hundred dollars a bottle, Smith wasn’t surprised. He sat down in the leather chair to her left, gazing over the long lines of her shapely, silky legs.

Images of them wrapped around his waist while he drove into her could be his undoing. He forced his gaze onto her face again, which was currently turning a lovely rose color under his examination.

Smith liked the effect he had on her.

He fought to remember her question and cleared his throat. “Our business is our top priority. This tends to mean our time is limited. The castle has provided a means for us to enjoy sex without involving relationships. Also, it has the highest form of privacy.” Even he heard the cold distance in his voice and saw her eyebrows rise.

Every person who joined the castle signed a waiver swearing to keep things private and not share identities to nonmembers, and everyone went through STD and AIDS testing. Smith preferred knowing his sexual partners were clean rather than having casual sex with strangers from a nightclub, and the privacy of the castle offered a sense of freedom.

Kyra took another mouthful of her wine, then with a twinkle in her eyes, tipped the glass at him. “Understandable. Privacy is something I can appreciate too.”

Woman, you are to be appreciated, and then some.

Brock chuckled at Smith, clearly reading his thoughts. He turned to Kyra. “Tell us a little something of yourself. More than the basic details in the profile we saw when we discovered you, kitten.”

The side of her mouth arched at the nickname indicating she didn’t mind, and why would she? Smith had no doubt Brock lowered his voice to inflict a straight attack on her hormones.

“I’d prefer if we kept the small talk to minimum,” she said.

Smith leaned back in his seat. He’d never met a woman who didn’t want some type of intimate connection before they had sex. Not in any of the encounters that had been arranged through the castle, or relationships out of the castle for that matter.

He lifted his chin. “All business, then?”

She drank a larger sip of her wine before she lowered the glass. “We’re not here to get to know one another, are we? We’re here to fulfill my ménage fantasy.” Her eyebrows rose higher. “That is what we agreed to, yes?”

“All action. No talking.” Brock’s grin widened as he rubbed his jawline. “Damn, kitten, you’re my type of woman.”

While Brock seemed eager and accepting of her response, Smith wasn’t so easily swayed. Women, even if they came in different colors and shapes, were still women rich with emotions. Right now, Kyra acted more like a man, void of any emotional connection. “Are you comfortable with that arrangement, Kyra?”

Her deep swallow displayed her nerves, but she sipped her wine in haste controlling the reaction. “I prefer it.”

Smith grinned at her while she shifted uneasily in her seat. He enjoyed that he unnerved her, since her presence gave him a hefty erection. Plus, she made him far more interested than he’d ever been in any woman.

While he believed she had, in fact, lied to him with her answer, he wouldn’t speculate as to why. He also wouldn’t argue it out with her either. Her emotions belonged to her. “Fair enough.”

He paused while she drank her wine again. Once he had her fixated on him, he leaned forward, resting his arms on his elbows. “It’s important you’re aware of what’s ahead of you tonight. Before you arrived, Brock and I decided to make a bet on you, if you’re agreeable.”

Suspicion darkened her eyes as she lowered her glass onto her lap. “What sort of bet?”

“Your orgasms,” Brock declared.

A blush crept over her face, yet her expression didn’t hold any wrath at such a bet, which Smith would’ve expected. She blinked. “E-excuse me?”

Brock added, “The wager is simple: orgasms for points. Whoever gains the most points from your pleasure by the end of the night wins the money.”

Her pupils dilated, and her lips arched up into a sexy smile. “Might I ask what the value of this bet is?”

“Two thousand dollars,” Smith stated.

All the heated reaction vanished in a millisecond replaced by wide eyes, and her mouth fell open. She glanced around the office as she must’ve realized their wealth. Maybe only now she realized they didn’t just work at MDR Software, but they owned the company.

Smith had seen the reaction many times—fancy things impressed women, sparkly things even more. What he hadn’t ever seen before, once the surprise faded from her eyes, she didn’t seem at all interested in that. “Seriously, a two-thousand-dollar bet on my orgasms?”

“Yes, kitten, we’re quite serious.” Brock grinned. “Are you willing?”

Christ, Smith could only grip the armrests to stop himself from going to her, tossing her legs over his shoulders, and having himself a snack. No woman had ever made him this damn hard.

In a slow, seductive slide of her finger she traced the rim of her glass as she regarded them. “I’m agreeable to join the bet.” Her cheeks flushed a color that wreaked havoc on Smith’s cock, making it ache in need. “But I’m afraid there’s a problem.”

Smith forced his attention away from her slender finger that he hoped would make a similar move on his dick. He also ignored her pinkish cheeks that he prayed burned deeper while she writhed beneath him. “Which is?”

She hesitated, then said on a quick breath, “I don’t orgasm easily.”

Smith smiled. As if that would be a problem. But it was glaringly obvious she pretended to be a sex kitten who was, in fact, more or less, in way over her beautiful head.

He could see himself respecting a woman like Kyra.

He exchanged a look with Brock, who gave him a firm nod, indicating their thoughts ran on the same line. Smith turned to Kyra again, and he noticed how she squirmed in her seat.

Exactly how he wanted her.

Smith appreciated a confident woman who fought to be brave, and he respected the trait, yet without a certain vulnerability to her, the appeal would fade. He loved pink cheeks and a stunned speechless woman under his touch. More to the point, enjoyed when a woman unraveled in his presence. To hold such heady power fed a greedy part in his soul.

In the minutes Kyra had been in his office, she’d given him all these things.

He tilted his head, regarding the treat awaiting him on the couch. “Quite the dilemma, isn’t it?” He stood from his seat and approached her. It delighted him how she sucked in a deep breath, and how ragged it sounded from her parted lips.

Once in front of her, he took the wineglass from her hands. The stunning clarity in her eyes mesmerized him. “Sit on the desk. Do not cross your legs.”

Her eyes blazed with reservations, even as she licked her lips. “Why?”

Smith scanned over her long, beautiful neck, her silky skin stretching over her hammering pulse. “We take our bets seriously and need to know what we’re up against. It’s a lot of money to wager if it’s bound to fail.” He leaned down into her face, his cock pressed against the zipper in his slacks. “Get on the desk, Kyra.”

Cover Reveal BET ON ECSTASY by Stacey Kennedy

Bet on Ecstasy cover - click to see on GoodreadsBET ON ECSTASY – PACT OF SEDUCTION #3

by Stacey Kennedy

Erotic Romance – Ménage à Trois

Publisher: Loose Id

Length: Novella

Release date: September 24, 2013

BET ON ECSTASY Book Blurb: 

Business partners, Smith and Brock share their fortune, success, and they share their women. A healthy competitive streak built MDR Software into a multi-million-dollar enterprise, and their on-going bets continuously raise the stakes. The current proposition: an arranged ménage encounter through the sex club, Castle Dolce Vita. The prize: a sexy kitten, Kyra.

While the two wealthy, powerful men are enough to pique Kyra’s interests to fulfill the Pact of Seduction and live out her ultimate fantasy, a bet forged between the men comes with an intriguing promise. Her pleasure is now part of their wager.

Soon, Kyra fights against her desire for the men as she struggles through the complications of a ménage relationship. Of course, the men take their bets seriously and are determined to show Kyra that in this game of seduction no one loses.

Find BET ON ECSTASY on Goodreads

ABOUT STACEY KENNEDY

StaceyKennedyStacey Kennedy is an urban fantasy lover at heart, but she also enjoys losing herself in dark and sensual worlds. She loves in southwestern Ontario with her husband, who gave her a happily-ever-after. Together, they have two small children who can always make her smile, and who will never be allowed to read Mommy’s books. If she’s not plugging away at a new story, you’ll find her camping, curling up with the latest flick, or obsessing over Sons of Anarchy, Supernatural, True Blood and Lost Girl.

Connect with Stacey

Facebook | Twitter  |  Website

@Stacey_Kennedy

Spotlight: Destiny’s Chance by Cara Bristol

It’s a double release week for one my favorite must read authors. Of course I jumped at the chance to highlight one of them. I have all the details on Cara Bristol’s Destiny’s Chance. Squee. I know what I’ll be reading this weekend. 🙂

Destiny's Chance cover - click to see on GoodreadsDestiny’s Chance

by Cara Bristol

Genre: contemporary paranormal/fantasy
Length: 115 pgs
Released: May 14, 2013
Publisher: Loose Id

Blurb:

Destiny Grable can’t help that she’s fallen in with love Chance Everett, her best friend’s boyfriend, but she’s never, ever acted on her feelings — until she and Zoe are in a car accident, her friend is killed, and she is reincarnated in her body. She never wished for something like this to happen, but perhaps now she’ll be free to love Chance the way she always wanted to.

Chance might have had pursued Destiny, but he has a kinky side and she was a nice girl. But now she’s dead, and the accident has forced him to take in his ex-girlfriend. As soon as she recovers and moves out, he’ll get on with his life.

Can two star-crossed lovers ever find happiness?

Excerpt:

A bleeping permeated her brain, steady, repetitive, as annoying as a dripping faucet. She tried to turn away from the sound but couldn’t and found herself waiting for the blips, clinging to the respite of silence in between. Nor could she escape the smell. Rusty. Antiseptic. Invasive. She wrinkled her nose, but the odor crept into her sinuses, stuck to her skin, seeped into her bones.

Her cold bones. Her hands and feet had frozen to ice, and she curled into a fetal ball to conserve her heat, ward off the pain. She hurt all over. Why?

Warmth arrived out of cold and darkness to settle on her shoulder with light pressure, like the soothing caress of a man’s hand. Destiny moved against it, seeking comfort. So real. So solid she could almost imagine fingers curling over…She peeled open her eyelids.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Chance Everett leaned close.

Though she ached everywhere, she found relief in his presence. Chance often had visited her fantasies looking like this: broad-shouldered, his body-molding T-shirt showing off serious pecs, his dark hair finger tousled, his worn blue jeans more faded over the parts she shouldn’t gawk at.

But since she only dreamed him, her conscience allowed her to feast her eyes on every inch of his six-foot frame.

To smell him too. Destiny inhaled to capture soap, masculine comfort, and…automotive grease?

She glanced at the hand warming her shoulder. Roughened by work, it bore a line of grime under the fingernails, the result of a cursory washing. She creased her forehead into a tiny frown and lifted her gaze to his face.

Tension bracketed his sexy, full mouth; the usual twinkle in his rich brown eyes had dulled to flatness.

This wasn’t the way her dreams went. Far from it—by now their clothing should have mysteriously disappeared, and he should be kissing her while whispering the naughty things he planned to do to her. Nor had he ever seemed quite this solid, had the sensation of being touched felt so real. And what is that irritating blip? She grimaced.

“Can you speak?” he asked.

“Uh, um. Yeah.” Or maybe not. The husky, quavering voice didn’t sound like hers. And her throat hurt.

Destiny rolled her head to the side, noting institutional green walls, medical machines and monitors, and that the bed on which she lay had rails. Like a hospital bed. Hospital!

“Do you remember what happened?” he asked.

Memories flooded in. Sheeting rain. Malfunctioning windshield wipers. A massive truck. Skidding. Crashing. Screaming. Grabbing for her friend Zoe, who was driving the car.

Please, be a nightmare.

Voicing her fear would solidify it. But Chance waited. “The accident.” She swallowed. “It was real, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “Yes. The police called me at the body shop.”

That accounted for the grease under his fingernails. He’d been working, hadn’t taken the time to fully clean up. It also explained his presence at the hospital. Although he and Zoe had split up recently, they had remained on good terms, and since she had no close relations, authorities would have notified him. So why was Chance with her and not Zoe?

Unless…unless…

She would have bolted upright, except for Chance’s hand on her shoulder. “Oh my God!

She’s…she’s all right, isn’t she?”

Buy Link:

Amazon buy link

Where you can Find Cara:

Website/blog | Twitter | Facebook

Be sure to visit Cara to find out what she released this week and what she has coming next week.

Spotlight: MASTER CLASS by Cassandra Carr

MASTER CLASS

by Cassandra Carr

Publisher: Loose Id
ePublish date: TODAY! 12/11/2012
ISBN: 978-1-62300-068-4
Word count: 47,250
Genre: BDSM Contemporary

Website ~ Facebook ~ Twitter

@Cassandra_Carr

BLURB:
Ryan Tomasi feels like a failure. His marriage is officially over; the ink dried on the divorce decree. His friend Jack introduces him to BDSM and he agrees to attend a Halloween party at a club. A submissive approaches him, offering herself, and how can he refuse the kneeling beauty? They do a whirlwind scene and Ryan is addicted—both to dominance and to her.

Lisette Rinaldo is returning to the BDSM club for the first time since ending a bad relationship with her former master. She spots Ryan and is taken by the combination of self-assurance and nervousness the man displays as he takes in his surroundings. And after he gives her an incredible re-introduction to the lifestyle, she knows she needs to see the man again.

Ryan and Lisette explore each other and the lifestyle, but what started out as playtime quickly evolves into something more. The problem? Ryan isn’t ready to get serious again and Lisette doesn’t want to fall in love with a guy who can’t give all of himself to her. Both of them are going to have to break out of the bonds holding them back from happiness.

EXCERPT:

“What the fuck is an acceptable costume to wear to a Halloween party at a BDSM club?” Ryan Tomasi muttered aloud to himself. He did that a lot these days, since he lived alone after his recent divorce. “Sheesh.”

From his Internet research, he knew people who practiced BDSM—the term “practice” cracked him up every time—already dressed in some pretty outrageous outfits. Between the leather daddies and the pony play, as well as the other strange getups he’d seen online, Ryan wasn’t sure what to think. Full-body latex encasement? He shuddered.

But one thing was clear. He couldn’t keep fucking random women and feel good about it or himself. The whole mess had started after Ryan’s now ex-wife had blindsided him with divorce papers about a year ago, saying she didn’t love him anymore. The fact he’d loved her and had wanted to work on the marriage apparently wasn’t good enough, and Ryan found himself living in a rented house with nothing but his recliner and a futon to sleep on. Over the past year, he’d done what he could to rebuild his life, and now it was time to take the next step.

Ryan needed to find someone for more than a one-night stand and, it seemed, someone who wanted to submit to him, since he’d found he really liked some of this BDSM stuff, especially the dominating side. He felt like a fool on the bar scene, and he really wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of guy, though that had been his MO lately. He’d never even known there was a whole formal “thing” like BDSM until his friend Jack, a fellow professor at the college where Ryan taught English literature, had asked one day, while Ryan was lamenting his pathetic sex life, if he’d ever engaged in any BDSM activities. Ryan had been taken aback, to say the least. He’d thought that kind of thing was limited to porn. Real people didn’t get kinky like that, did they? Hell, he’d gotten married at twenty-two and had been with his ex-wife for almost fifteen years. It appeared he didn’t know shit about sex—kinky sex scene in particular.

Ryan had been shocked when Jack offered to let Ryan see what his submissive, Callie, and Jack did in some of their “scenes” so that Ryan could get a feel for what domination was all about. Jack didn’t allow any actual intercourse or other sexual contact between him and Callie when they got together, which Ryan totally understood, so there was a little bit missing from what he wanted to experience after reading how great the sex could be.

But just watching the way Jack dealt with Callie, and then having the opportunity to try a bunch of things out himself during subsequent play sessions with the two of them, had given Ryan a light at the end of what had been a very dark tunnel since the ex had walked out on him. He believed he’d finally found what he was looking for; what he’d been missing his entire life. The high from a woman submitting to him was the most natural, yet most powerful thing he’d ever felt, and Callie wasn’t even his submissive. What would that feel like?

Shaking out of his reverie, Ryan decided reinforcements were in order and called Jack. “Hey, man.”

“What’s up?”

“Am I interrupting anything?” He was almost afraid to ask.

Jack laughed. “If you’re asking me if Callie is tied up somewhere waiting for me to fuck her six ways to Sunday, no, you’re not interrupting anything. That’s later.”

“TMI, dude, TMI. Anyway, I need help.”

“You need a lot more than help.”

“Yeah, yeah. Seriously, I need to know what a Dom should wear to this Halloween party.”

“Uh, clothes? Usually only the submissives are naked.”

“Are you going to help or not? You’re the one who said I should go to this.” Ryan knew Jack was just messing with him, but as this Halloween party was his “coming out” of sorts as a Dom, he didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

“All right. I’ll take pity on you. What types of costumes are you looking at? What will make you feel comfortable?”

Ryan snorted. “Not sure anything can do that. I’m nervous as hell.”

“Remember, a Dom needs to portray an air of confidence. If you don’t, no sub is going to trust you enough to play with you.”

“I know. And by the time I get there, I’m sure I’ll be a lot calmer. I’ve been pretty good when I’ve played with Callie, haven’t I?”

Ryan could practically see the smirk on Jack’s face.

“Yeah, but I was there too. She knows better than to disobey me and that I would keep the play safe. Goes back to that trust issue. Plus, you didn’t have any sexual contact or anything that might’ve freaked you out. Speaking of that, you got your medical test results, right?”

“Yeah. Sent them to the club the other day.”

“Good. They won’t let you in unless you can prove you’re clean. Now, back to the costume. How about something easy like a police officer or a soldier? Some take-charge type of thing would be fitting.”

“Oh, I like the idea of a soldier.” Soldiers were powerful, respected—everything Ryan thought a Dom should project. It was the perfect costume to convey the image he wanted during his first public play. Ryan quickly typed that into the search engine of the costume store. “Awesome. They have a pretty cool one.”

“See how simple it is, once you’re not freaking out? I know this is all new and a little scary for you, but remember, kinksters are people too.”

“Yeah, yeah. You guys are going to be there, right?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t let you go into the big, bad world of BDSM all by yourself. Also, I’m your sponsor, so you can’t get in without me anyway this first time.”

“Okay, cool. See you then. And thanks for talking me off the ledge.”

“Anytime.”

Jack hung up, and Ryan looked over the costume specs. It had a camouflage shirt and pants, along with a set of dog tags. He had black boots already for when he did stuff around the house. Though he wasn’t imposing by any means at five-nine and one-eighty, he wasn’t tiny either. Hopefully the costume would make him look like a bit of a badass. He flexed his bicep. Maybe allow him to show off the muscles he was just starting to develop with regular workouts at the gym over the past several months.

* * * *

On Halloween night Ryan dressed in his costume and drove to the club. Jack and Callie were waiting just inside the doors, and when Jack saw him approach, he spoke to the bouncer, who waved Ryan through without a word. Jack was clad as Zorro, and Callie’s dress, if you could call it that, was liberally scored with slashes. It looked more like a bunch of black bandages than anything else, and Ryan wondered how long Jack would allow her to remain clothed. If he knew Jack—and he felt he did after playing with him several times and spending hours talking to him about BDSM and a whole host of other topics—not long.

He wasn’t sure what was appropriate to say to Callie, so he forced his gaze away from her and greeted Jack, who grinned.

“You can tell her she looks hot. It’s not like you’ve never seen her naked.”

Ryan smiled, relaxing. He pivoted back to her. “You look hot, Callie.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Shall we?”

Jack gestured toward the door at the end of the short hall, and Ryan could hear a bass beat pounding from the other side. He nodded, swallowing thickly. Ryan needn’t have worried, though. As soon as he stepped into the room and looked around, his nerves settled.

I’m home.

The people around him were engaged in all manner of things, but even a cursory glance at the various scenes playing out before him made him finally feel like he was normal. He wasn’t a freak for wanting sex and control like this, despite what his ex-wife had said when he’d suggested some pretty mild stuff to spice up their sex life.

“What do you think?” his friend shouted over the music.

“It’s fucking perfect.” Ryan couldn’t have kept that note of awe out of his voice even if he’d tried.

Jack laughed. “I figured you’d say that. I’ll give you a tour, but we need to do one thing first.”

“What’s that?”

“Lose the shirt. You’ll look way more Dom-ish without it.”

“Dom-ish?” Callie repeated with a chuckle.

“You behave before I decide to leash you,” Jack threatened. “Or maybe we can give Ryan here some more practice with that paddle you hate so much.”

She looked down. “Whatever would please you, Master.”

“Seeing your beautiful ass bright red and ready to be fucked would please me greatly, but we need to babysit Ryan for a bit longer before we can play.”

Ryan pulled off his shirt and stuffed it into his brand-new toy bag. Who would’ve thought a duffel bag he got at an academic conference would come in handy to hold the instruments of pain and pleasure he’d spent a small fortune on?

He followed Jack through the club as the other man pointed out the public play area, the theme rooms, and the staircase to the private rooms upstairs. Then they all went to the bar, which served no alcohol so as to keep the clubgoers sober for play, as Jack explained in answer to Ryan’s puzzled question. They procured soft drinks—drinks were included in the price of the membership—and found a comfy couch that was close enough to the public play area that Ryan had a good view of several scenes taking place. Jack and Ryan sat, and Callie settled on a cushion in front of her Dom.

“That girl,” Jack said, pointing to a submissive tied to a St. Andrew’s cross as a man whipped her from thighs to shoulders, “is a hard-core masochist. As you can see, she’s not wearing a collar, so she’s not owned, but stay away from her. Until you get more comfortable with impact play, all you’ll do is frustrate both of you.”

Ryan nodded, forcing himself not to wince as the man laid another welt on her ass.

“That one,” his friend continued with a jerk of his head at another submissive, “is a horrible topper-from-the-bottom. She’s definitely not a good fit for you as a beginner. I’m not really sure why any Dom would play with her. It would drive me batty to have a sub questioning my every order.”

Jack dismissed a few more for one reason or another as they sipped their beverages. There weren’t a ton of subs running around without collars, and Ryan was beginning to believe none of them would pass Jack’s muster.

“She’s a pretty one,” Jack remarked, and Ryan followed his gaze. He nearly swallowed his can of soda pop whole. Pretty didn’t begin to describe the woman. She was a few inches shorter than him, from what he could tell in his current position, and had enough meat on her bones to be curvy. If he was going to be tying a woman up and fucking the hell out of her, he wanted to be sure her ribs wouldn’t crack at the slightest provocation.

Her long brown hair was piled on top of her head, leaving the slim column of her neck exposed. Ryan loved to nibble on women’s necks, and if he had this one restrained, he’d happily spend hours torturing her in that spot. She was wearing what looked like a harem girl outfit, with a jeweled bra and flouncy, gauzy pants. From the looks of things, Ryan was pretty sure she was naked underneath them.

Jack had been speaking with Callie but straightened up. “Callie said her name is Lisette, and she’s an experienced submissive who hasn’t been to the club as far as Callie knows since her split with her Dom a while back. She’s not owned, as you can see from the fact she’s not collared. The lack of a collar doesn’t always mean a sub is not owned, but at open parties like this, all owned submissives must be collared. As you know,” he continued with a grin in Callie’s direction, “some of us can be possessive bastards, and it cuts down on potential problems.”

“Makes sense,” Ryan murmured. His friend’s eyes suddenly widened a little in anticipation, and Ryan turned in the direction of his gaze.

“Hey, do you mind if we go take advantage of that spanking bench? At these parties, equipment doesn’t stay empty long.”

“No, go ahead.”

Jack helped Callie up and landed a hard swat on her ass. “Go get it for us, pet. I’ll be right over.” He turned to Ryan. “Feel free to watch us or anyone else. We should be back within a half hour or so. Callie’s been naughty lately and needs a good dose of the belt.”

Winking, he walked away, and Ryan laughed. Before Jack had agreed to bring Ryan here for public play, he’d insisted on several private sessions at the house he and Callie shared, so Ryan knew Callie’s favorite implement was the belt. He doubted she would be too upset if Jack used it tonight.

A completely naked woman, save for a collar, came by and took their empty soda cans. Ryan gave her a small smile but kept his attention focused on the scenes unfolding around him. Jack was busy tying Callie to the spanking bench, and the masochistic woman was still being whipped—Ryan couldn’t hold back his wince this time at a particularly hard strike—and a male submissive was going to town on his Mistress’s pussy like he was mining for gold. Turning away from them, he saw a female submissive strapped to what Jack had called a bondage table with cane marks decorating her ass in perfectly spaced lines and her Dom’s dick in her mouth. He’d never tried caning, but it looked interesting, if a little scary. Hell, almost everything looked interesting right now.

Ryan continued to watch as Jack bared Callie’s ass and started out lightly flicking the belt across it. He’d explained to Ryan how important it was to warm the bottom up by bringing the blood to the surface to prevent bruising, and Ryan had spent long hours in the past couple of weeks practicing with a pillow and the strap he’d ordered along with the other stuff Jack had said he’d need to be able to play. The club had a nice selection of implements lined up on the walls of the public play area, but Jack had recommended he get used to his own so he didn’t make a mistake and hurt a submissive.

He was just about to rise and make his way back to the bar when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The submissive Callie had called Lisette knelt directly in front of him, a bottle of water laid on her upturned palms. Ryan raised an eyebrow.

Copyright 2012, Cassandra Carr

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