Okay, for those of you who don’t know, this is my next hero. Scrumptious, right? :) I’ve completed the sequel to Reluctant Surrender and just to drive y’all nuts I’ve titled it Required Surrender. This is the story of Dom, Ted Basel (The Disciplinarian), and his ever so feisty heroine, Jo (Josephine Nehr). I fell in love with these guys from page one. He’s tough and she’s stubborn, so if you like a lot of fireworks and sizzle? These are the characters for you. I truly hated. HATED to say goodbye to them. *sigh* But I had to because this book will be published by Ellora’s Cave in the New Year. I should have a definitive release date shortly. When I do I’ll post it.

Here is my hero Ted

This is pretty straight forward but to set this excerpt up, Ted and Jo are finally clashing in a battle of wills. Someone is going to win. I bet you can’t guess who comes out on top. No seriously. Think about that because it may not be the hero. ;) 

“So leave.”

“W-what?”

“Go before I change my mind.” He wrapped his hands around hers and forced her to let go of him. When she did he gave her a gentle shove creating a distance between them. He had to. She smelled of apples. Fresh, crisp and tart Macintosh apples. His favorite. Too bad he couldn’t take a bite out of her. The thought that he wanted to prompted him to step back. She noticed because she immediately latched onto his retreat.

“Just like that?” Coming forward, she snapped her fingers under his nose and he had to muster all the strength he had not to grab that hand and use it to pull her and her belligerent ass across his lap for the spanking she so richly deserved. “I’ll go when I’m damn good and ready to go. Right after you apologize to me.”

This time there was no turning the other cheek. The challenge had to be met. “You sacrifice much. Take now for instance. I’m offering you the chance to simply leave and instead you’re hoping to save face by seeking an apology from me?”

“Yeah, well,” She wasn’t paying him any mind as she adjusted her blouse sleeve in a totally dismissive manner. “You sound like Yoda on steroids. Sacrifice much,” she mocked. “What a stupid thing to say.”

“Did you really hear the words?”

Now she looked at him. “Of course, I just repeated them, didn’t I?”

He took a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back. With his hands in this position, it lessened the chance he’d do what he had a hankering to do and wring her lovely neck. “Yes, you did repeat them, but did you understand them?”

She glared and crossed her arms. “Are you going to apologize to me or what?”

“Or what.”

She frowned and tapped her foot several times. “Or what, what?”

“Nothing,” he said. Unclasping his hands, he walked forward and forward some more, until she was walking backward. Banging into a chair, bumping her knee against a table just before her ass met the wainscoting which made her yelp. When she quieted he added, “Just.” He brought his arms up caging her in. “Or.” He curled down over her. “What.”

“Move.” She tried to slide right, he wouldn’t let her. “I said move.” She attempted an escape going left, but he stopped her.

“You asked me a question and I answered it. Since I’m not going to apologize there’s only ‘or what’ left for me to do.”

She flattened herself against the wall trim and when she looked up he hissed in a breath. There wasn’t a drop of fear to be found in her large eyes. They shone with a confidence that nearly undid him. Hell, he was trying to intimidate her, he should be pissed she was resisting his every attempt and yet, oddly he was emphatically turned on by her coolness. Somewhere in the back of his mind the voice of reason that always stood him in good stead, warned. “Back off. Let her go. Apologize even.”

Him apologize to her? Yeah, he would. Right after he single handedly negotiated world peace and then stopped to collect his pot of gold from the little green guy at the end of the rainbow.

“So do it.”

His heartbeat sped and that wave of adrenaline once again, pulsed to life inside him. Dom mode was revving. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do, but I’m warning you, I don’t fight fair. Especially when my opponent has a huge size advantage over me.”

He waited for her to blink and when she did he scooped her up, cradling her as he pinned her arms and legs against him.

“You rotten mother-fucker. Put me down.”

“No.” He stalked to the door and called, “Decklan?”

The door swung open, “Yes sir?”

“I’ve had a look at the signed release and since there have been no other takers, I’ll be bringing Ms. Nehr to the rodeo suite myself. Please let her friends know she’s in good hands.”

“You Goddamn, mother-fucking, asshole, dickwad with half a brain. Put me down.”

She was quite a handful. Stronger than he expected and her language? “Before I take her upstairs do you mind?” He caught Decklan’s attention and nodded toward his desk.

“Sir?”

“My tie’s in the top right-hand drawer. Gag her for me.”

(end of excerpt)

 

Below I’ve chose a scene from each of my other “Surrender” stories. Ones that I like. This first one is in Reclaimed Surrender when Rene owns the week with his wife, Alexis. He’s ready to reclaim her submission in the most devious ways possible.  Here he’s just text her to tell her to come home from work. This picks up from her walking through the front door.

 

Reclaimed Surrender

This is my hero Rene

“Rene?”

“In here.”

Alexis didn’t bother to take her coat off and went directly into the living room. He was there seated on the back of the couch. He had on a pair of faded jeans and a camel-colored turtleneck. The width of his shoulders blocked out her view of the fireplace and once again she marveled at his size. She’d always teased him about it. When she’d first met him she’d joked that he would have made a great Viking, if he didn’t have black hair. At the moment he looked so relaxed, so handsome she almost smiled at him. She probably would have if she hadn’t spied the gauzy thing draped in his hand. “What’s that?”

He held up the little bit of nothing and said, “Your outfit for today. Put it on.”

 She wasn’t surprised. She’d been waiting for this. With Rene having carte blanche owning the week as he did, her only surprise was that this bit of dental floss hadn’t come out sooner. But just because she’d been expecting this didn’t mean she was going to agree with what he wanted without even trying to negotiate some quarter in the deal. “I’m not putting that on unless…”

 She’d let the words hang in the hopes he’d be drawn in and give up something, but it wasn’t to be. “You are putting it on and there’s no unless about it.”

She shrugged out of her coat and laid it over the couch. “What if I don’t want to?”

 “What you want doesn’t matter. This is all about me. So,” he leaned forward and brushed her bangs to one side behind her ear, “here’s your choice. You can either put this on right now without complaint or I will do it for you and you can complain all you want. Pick one.”

 “Pick one? Either I do it your way or you make me do it your way. That’s my choice?”

 “My week. My rules.”

 She tried to stand strong against his “brook no defiance demeanor” and failed miserably. “Fine, but I’d just like to remind you that you’re supposed to be getting back into my good graces and threatening me like this is not a smart place to start. That’s all I’m saying.”

He stood and she was nearly nose to nipple with him. This wasn’t good. She didn’t look up at him. She refused to until he growled, “Careful, Alexis.”

 Hating the thrill that coursed through her at his reprimand, she snatched the piece of lingerie from his hand and stepped back. “I’m not the one who’s careless.”

 Crap. When she saw his expression darken she wished she could grab those words back. His voice was deathly calm. “I get to be whatever I want this week. Remember that, Alex.”

Swallowing hard to tamp down her fear, she turned away. She intended to go upstairs and change before she said something worse than she already had, but his voice halted her at the bottom step. “Wait.”

She stopped and hoped he’d continue to speak from a distance, but no such luck. He came up right behind her and the heat of his whispered words flooded her ear and drained right down to her center. Crashing in delicious tingles and twangs that made her shiver. “Do you remember what I said about the britches, Alex?”

 Nodding, she closed her eyes.

 “Good, because for that careless remark they’re coming down. All the way down. Your ten minutes is now eight. Tick-tock.”

(End of excerpt)

 

Reluctant Surrender

 

My hero Ethan

This is from Reluctant Surrender when my hero, Ethan, is doing a BDSM tapas scene with my heroine Colin. Think small bites of sexual role playing. In this one he’s her doctor and as you can see she’s not being the perfect patient. :) 

“Sure you do. There’s no need to be embarrassed in front of me. I’m your doctor,” he murmured, unclasping her hands and placing them at her sides. “You can tell me anything.”

He lifted her one foot off the other and spread her legs apart. A wicked thrill sizzled along her nerve endings. The butterflies were back to flutter low in her belly and the delicate flesh between her legs got hot and moist. She stared at the corrugated tiles on the ceiling and tried to think of something to say to him. Meh, why not the truth? “I have had this ache lately. It’s been very persistent.”

 “I know. I read your chart.” He leaned over her and undid the side tie to her gown. “I need your arms out of this, Ms. Reneaux.”

 She shifted and was surprised how careful he was to keep the gown in place over her breasts. The afforded modesty was sexier than if he’d bared her chest.

 Slowly he checked her neck, collarbone and each arm. When he was done he looked into her eyes and quietly asked, “How long have you had trouble in the bedroom, Ms. Reneaux? What seems to be the problem? You can tell me.”

 Oh, she’d tell him all right. He probably expected her to spill about how horny she was all the time around him. He’d already gotten that out of her, so… “Erectile dysfunction.”

 His head was down as he adjusted her gown lower on her breasts, and replied, “ED?” He nodded. “I can help you with that.”

He was still working the edge of the gown down and she automatically grabbed at it, holding it in place as she sputtered, “I-I— It’s not my erectile that’s dysfunctioning. It’s my husband’s and he’s not here today so I really don’t think you can help me.”

 “Why?”

 She stopped struggling with him and let go of the bunched-up gown. “Why what?”

“Why is his,” he cleared his throat and straightened out the gown edge, “erection dysfunctional?”

“How would I know? Maybe he pulled a groin muscle or something.”

 “That’s not how it works, Ms. Reneaux. Let me have a look. Here,” he said. “Take hold of these handles while I do my examination.”

(End of excerpt)

I’m working on a few other projects at the moment so I hope you’ll stop by once in a while to check them out. Ooh, and once I have a firm release date with “Required” I’m going to post an audio clip of a SUPER SEXY scene between Ted and Jo. It’s narrated by a Dom with the most fantastic voice. I swear. I nearly melted in my desk chair when I heard the scene come to life. I can’t wait to share it!

Riley 

 

Seriously? This is the title I needed to use to get you here?  Meh, I’m not going to judge. I probably would have clicked on the link too. :)

Seeew, now that you’re here, whatcha want to talk about?  Sex?  Hmm…  what can I say about that?  Uh oh, a writer’s random thoughts are getting ready to scatter.

Did you know that impotence is grounds for divorce in 26 U.S. states?  Interesting.  Best part about that?  Your soon-to-be ex would likely grant you a quickie divorce rather than let that get out about him.

How about: when a woman gets off, her body releases endorphins (our natural painkillers). So. Really when you think about it, having a headache is, in fact, a bad excuse not to have sex. And about having sex?

Did you know women who read romance novels have sex twice as often as those who don’t. <- Waaaay!  It’s a fact!

Bet you didn’t know either, that a giraffe’s erect penis can reach four feet long. <-Okay, don’t ask about how I knew that one.  Let me just say, that it involved me, taking my two kids and their cousins to the zoo on a brisk day, which probably accounted for the frisky – and wholly inappropriate – bisexual behavior I had to shield the little ones from.  Kinda tricky too, I nearly missed all the action myself. ;)

Boy, this is fun.  What can I say about lies?  Ooh, I know.  When I write I prefer to throw in a few internal dialogue lies.  You know, so the reader’s in on it. In this example – I’ll purposely use a schmuck to make it fun – so, um, don’t judge me. ;)

A guy in a bar says to the woman he just met.  “My place or yours?”

She smiles and quickly replies, “Yours.”

He hesitates.

She notices.  “Is there something wrong?

He clears his throat. “Wrong? No” But he’s thinking:  Geez, that was fast. I hope you’re as good looking when I’m sober…

Then at his place she admits as she flirtatiously undresses, “I love being naked.”

He grins, thankful the room is well lit, “Great.” he says, until her dress comes off. Then his interior dialogue goes something like this:   Damn, on second thought, let’s turn off the lights and close the drapes and…shit, I may need a blindfold for this.

Then they’re down to brass tacks in the dark. Let’s see if I can work the spanking in as promised.

Him asking: “Are you comfortable?”
Her bent over his knee.  “Yes.” but then she asks, “Hey, this is your first time doing this, right?”
He gives her bottom a little smack and answers: “Yeah.” but he’s thinking - today.

Sure, I know.  I probably could have fleshed out the spanking thing.  I’ll have to think about that.  Maybe doing one that’s funny someday.  Anyone out there ever write a spanking scene where the macho hero is left with the hot seat?  Inquiring mind wants to know.  And if so, how did it read?

 

Riley

The blade slams home. The searing pain is intense, but strangely it’s not burning your kidneys or the area of your spine where you’d expect it to. Instead it’s your heart that’s left ripped open and bleeding…

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about this very human phenomenon and I’m wondering how a writer could construct a scene to capture this very real and totally raw emotion on the page. I mean, the cut of betrayal your heroine might sustain from someone she placed her trust in isn’t the same as being hit by someone she shouldn’t have trusted at all. Think about it. If I had to put a visual analogy to this I would say the wound the heroine withstood from the person she put her faith, who consequently betrayed her, cut less like a knife and more like a scalpel. Making an invisible incision that’s precise. Quiet and yet, deep enough to pierce straight through all her protective layers. While the injury she sustains from the person she shouldn’t have trusted at all? I see that as more as an OJ Simpson (crime of passion) type attack. You know? Strike anywhere you think you can to hurt. Sure the blade might tear the skin in places. The metal might touch bone a time or two, but nothing in this attack can compare to the other because your heroine was prepared for it.

Hm. That being the case, there’s all kinds of emotional mining to do with this type of scene isn’t there? Heartache and anger are the forerunners I’d think. Because if I were going to write this scene I’d be smart enough to know that it’s what isn’t on the page that’s important. Sure I could describe the pain and fury. The outrage, even for what happened in my made-up scene, but that’s too easy. That’s external happenings. Yeah, I’d make the situation bad and my reader would no doubt sympathize with my heroine on some level, but not on the level that would make it human if I left it right at that. No, if I wanted a visceral reaction from my readers to emotionally connect with my character I’d start digging into the internal. I’d highlight the sense of grief and loss my heroine has to endure from this page forward because she’ll never be the same as she was the page before. It’s that simple and completely complicated at the same time. Change is never easy. And forced change a person has no control over? Brutal.

Fortunately, if I were writing this scene I’d make sure that my heroine was a survivor. Oh, she’d have been knocked off her feet initial, but she’d suck it up without complaining and refocus with a vengeance. In fact, I’d probably write this so that her OJ Simpson type attacker would look a little naïve in the eyes of my readers. I mean, surely that character would have to know that I’d write this so that the villain will get theirs in the end. (They always do) But really, and I don’t want go all Freud on you here because, meh, it’s only fiction. My heroine would know the second after the incident happened that she already had her revenge on good old “OJ”. You see, the win for my heroine would come exactly at the moment that person felt the need to attack her in the first place.

Wow, there’s two more things to add to my emotional mining list. Fear and insecurity. Kewl.

Riley.      

 

Alright!  I know I’ve been neglecting my musings of  Honey.  I get your emails, but it’s been a tough couple of weeks that’s all I’m saying.

So tough, that I’ve barely been given enough time to spend with him to be inspired to write a post about his uniqueness.  Well, sort of.  He’s great material but frankly, I’ve been too tired to write any of it up.  This in itself is funny, but I digress. So without further adieu, a slice of my life with  Honey for those that have been asking.  (Thanks for that btw)

Here’s Honey after I get home late for the third night in a row, “Hey, are you having an affair?”

Me dog tired, hungry and aggravated as hell.  “Oh, sure, men are lining up for a piece of this.”

He grins.  “It could happen.”

There’s me ripping off my shoes and huffing the bangs out of my eyes. “Yeah right.”

He grumbles,  “So instead you come home to me like this?  Gee, thanks.”

Hm. He had me there.  So later that night there I am getting ready for bed and he’s like, well, you know? Ready for me to make it up to him.  Here’s the conversation once we get into bed.

Him, “Come here.”

Me, “Sorry, too tired.”

Him *HUGE sigh*

Me defensive, “Oh no you don’t. What happened last night?  We were both awake at three in the morning.  Why didn’t you–”

Him growling, “How am I supposed to know you’re up for it then?”

Me, *Crickets*

Him ever resourceful, “We need a code.  How about… Snow is falling on cedars.”

Me thinking weird, wasn’t that a movie? But hey, anything to get him off the topic at this point so I can get some sleep is looking pretty good.  “Great.”

We get into bed and both fall asleep, but then the evening bewitching hour arrives and it’s 3:30 in the morning.  I open my eyes and he’s lying there awake.  I blink and after I think about it I realize I’m wide awake too.

So, there’s me doing the equivalent of a mental shrug thinking, “Meh, what the hell.” I roll toward him and whisper, “Snow is falling on cedars.”

He sighs, “Nope.”

I’m not going to lie, I was kind of surprised. Honey rarely ever says no to this. “No? Why not?”

He’s back to growling. “Because there’s no wood in the forest.”

And there’s me lying there laughing my ass off. Ah, life. You gotta love it!

Riley

There’s talk of submissive partners, dominant and alpha males, fear of porn, magical vagina’s, hypnosis, word association with pleasure, hot erotica, cavemen and conflict! Oh my!!!!!

Click on picture to read…

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