Portrait of attractive young woman with red lipstick and  short

Something More: The Three Graces Book Three

by Nia Farrell

Length 21,973 words. Newly expanded second edition release date July 15, 2018.

99¢ Special Intro Price – FREE with KU

Amazon e-book          Amazon US e-book 

Goodreads 1st edition          Goodreads 2nd edition 


Loving a biker and his adult film star brother came at a terrible price. Taken by a rival gang, beaten beyond recognition and sexually assaulted, Rachel Givens saw a chance to survive by claiming the identity of the other girl who was taken and killed. She spent months recovering from her physical injuries but still struggles with PTSD. Add her three-year-old autistic daughter to the equation, and Rachel (now Rae Simmons) has her hands more than full as she makes a new life for them in a quiet little town.

When her former loves walk into the restaurant where she works, it’s clear that the Colson brothers have come for more than the plate lunch special. Once Rachel gladly submitted to their domination, but she hasn’t been with a man since her ordeal. She has triggers and issues and a daughter whose needs come first. Cord and Cam don’t care whether or not Hannah is theirs. As far as they’re concerned, Hannah is Rachel’s and Rachel is theirs.  They’ll do whatever it takes to convince Rachel that they belong together.

This newly expanded edition of a 2016 Golden Flogger Finalist is a BDSM MFM ménage erotic romance with adult situations and potential triggers. Written for Ages 18+.



Cam scoots his chair around.  When I step between his feet, I’m facing him and, across the table, Cord.  I lean forward, nuzzling Cam’s ear, watching his brother, remembering what it was like to have them both inside me.  The plus-size dildo they bought to use while Cam was gone was a poor substitute for the real thing.

I catch his earlobe with my lips, caging it with my teeth and gently tugging.  My mouth slides down, following the line of his jaw to the center of his chin.  He was clean-shaven this morning, but Cam’s beard grows so quickly, he usually shaves twice a day.  Right now, there’s sandpaper abrading my skin, making my lips ultrasensitive.

I glance at Cord, who’s watching us with the intensity of a hawk in a fresh-cut field, who knows that patience is a virtue well-rewarded.  I just don’t know how prison has affected his control.  Telling myself that I’d better not test it, I give my full attention to his older brother.

Cam smells like I remember him, ocean breeze and woodsy musk.  I suck on his lower lip, hear the telling intake of breath, and know his body’s response.  I’ve seen it too many times on screen and in person.  He can go from flaccid to fully hard in seconds flat and can maintain an erection pretty much all night.

The memory jolts me, and I realize there is a tiny, tiny chance that my daughter is his.  He usually took my mouth or my ass, but in a marathon session the night before the last time he left, he had all of me, every way that he could take me, with and without Cord, who was still there, watching, when he wasn’t joining in.

I wonder what he thought when I said that he couldn’t be Hannah’s father.  Was he hurt, thinking that I could so easily forget?  Or did he realize the horrors that followed mere days later messed with my mind?

“I remember,” I whisper against his mouth.  “This.  Us.  I remember….”  It’s why he needed tested, too.  Oh, God.

I kiss him.  Open mouth, tongue thrusting, hands fisting in his hair, bent on ruining his hundred dollar cut.  Forgive me.  Punish me.  Take me.  Don’t hurt me.  My mind is a maelstrom, but my body is on fire.

The bag of peas falls to the floor.  Rather than fisting my hair and pulling it like he used to during kink, Cam winnows his fingers in my pixie cut.  If he rubs my scalp, he’ll feel the scar from the surgery, done to relieve the pressure on my brain.

My pussy throbs, outer lips engorged, inner folds getting wetter by the second.  I feel a terrible emptiness in my womb.  My breasts ache, hurting almost as much as they did when my sick baby Hannah slept through her feeding time.  I long for what once was.  For the three of us together, sharing my childhood home. 

I wonder what Cord did with it.  Except for the thousand dollars I left to my parent’s church, he inherited everything I had, everything my parents left me.  The checking and savings accounts.  Stocks and bonds.  Daddy’s 401K and the insurance money divided into multiple CDs.  The house I was forced to abandon, the day I officially died.

I pull back, breathing hard.  Focusing on Cam, I look into eyes filled with pain, and hunger, and questions that I can’t begin to answer.  “I’m sorry.”  I touch my forehead to his, hoping he won’t press me to expound or to explain.

“You okay?” Cam asks, his voice hoarse with longing.

“I think so.  And you?”

“I think so.”  He quirks his trademark grin.  “Give me two minutes in the bathroom and I’ll feel better.”

Excerpt 2:

I shiver, remembering our first time together, the three of us.  Cruz had told me that his brother was coming to visit from California, where he worked in the film industry.  He said he had a DVD and asked me to watch it with him.  It was an adult film, XXX with a thin plot and subpar acting, but Cam… sweet baby Jesus, he was smoking hot and hung like a horse.

In a pivotal scene, a female hostage was riding another woman who wore a strap-on dildo when the rescuing hero—Cam—burst into the room.  Quickly assessing the situation, he lubed himself, fingered the hostage’s backdoor, then sank his length inside her.  All twelve inches of it.  It was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen.

Double penetration.

There was no hiding my arousal.  My pussy was sopping wet and my nipples were hard as diamonds.  We stretched out on the sofa and locked in a full-body kiss.  Cruz palmed my bottom, then slipped a finger down the seam of my ass and pushed against my pucker.  It was so taboo, so dirty, so tempting.  I found myself pressing against him, wanting more.

“Fuck, angel,” Cruz whispered, wetting his thumb then inserting it into my most private place.  “Cam is gonna love you.”


Cruz felt me tense and worked his magic with his hands, mouth, and fingers.  I was clay in a master potter’s hands, ready to let him mold and shape me and bend me to his will.  He didn’t stop, not even when his brother let himself in the house and found us in the living room.

Cam dropped his overnight bag on the floor by his feet, his gaze locked on us.  On me.  He was as gorgeous as he was on the screen, adjusting himself, stroking his growing erection.

“Wait until you feel us both inside you,” Cruz said, fucking me with his fingers, two in my vagina, one in my ass.  “You’ll never want to do it any other way.”

He made me come so hard, I passed out.  When I came to, the three of us were in bed together.  Cam was stroking my back, palming my bottom.  I moaned, and he licked my ear, catching the lobe between his teeth.

“You sure she’s up for this?” he asked Cruz.

“Fuck, yeah.  Angel, tell him.  Tell Cam you want him in your virgin ass.”

Cam bit down, his breath hissing in my ear.  “Nobody’s tapped this yet, sweetheart?” he asked.  “From what I saw in the living room, I think you’re going to love it, but I’m not going to touch you until you ask for it.  You might not be jailbait, but this needs to be consensual, and not just because it’s what Cord and I like.  This is what we both want, but you’ve got to want it, too.”

They made me want it.  I never stood a chance.

Excerpt 3:

Their kisses pull me back to awareness.  I’m lying on my back.  My hands are still cuffed, but the sock is gone.  Cord’s mouth is on mine; his fingers caress my face, my hair.  Cam’s head is between my thighs.  He rubs his lips over my tattoos and traces each name with his tongue.  Cordell trails down my left side; Cameron scrolls up my right.  The last letter of his name brings his face close to my crotch.  He blows out softly, teasing me with his breath.

“I remember how you taste,” Cam murmurs against my mismatched nether curls.  “As sweet as wine.  As creamy as the finest chardonnay.  Let’s see if you’ve gotten better with age.”

The man has a tongue that could benchpress weights.  Long, strong, determined, relentless.  He tastes as far as he can reach, as deep as he can go, taking as much as I can give him and then demanding more.  He fucks me with his tongue, hooking my knees over his shoulders to claim my pussy, then my ass.  After he’s given me the most thorough of rimjobs, he kisses my thighs, my vulva, my fleece.  Poised above my clit, he presses it with his tongue like he’s squeezing cider and drinks the juices that flow.

Cord’s mouth and hand are lavishing my breasts, kissing away the hurt, adoring me despite my scars.  He opens wide and inhales a nipple at the same time Cam puts his mouth over my clitoris and seals us together with sweet, searing suction.  The bolt from Cord’s mouth strikes my core; tension builds in my body, desperately clawing, begging for release.  Handcuffed to the headboard, I am helpless, at their mercy.  I mewl, twisting in their arms, needing the surcease that I know they can provide.

It comes without warning when Cord pinches my nipple, pulling hard enough, my body arches off the bed.  Cam slides his arm beneath me, anchoring me to him.  His mouth is fastened on me but now he sucks hard enough to swallow me whole.  My body convulses as I climax, one mouth laving my breast, the other lapping my juices as my orgasm goes on and on.

“Angel,” Cord whispers.  “Our beautiful angel.”

Cam kisses my pussy and strokes his name on my thigh.  “God, you are so perfect.”

I know I’m not, but they make me want to believe it anyway.

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A young woman with funky hair on a black background.


by Nia Farrell

Length 20,190 words.  Expanded second edition release date July 8, 2018.

Amazon e-book      FREE with KU     Amazon US e-book/KU

Goodreads first edition 2015          Goodreads second edition 2018

Singer/songwriter Anna James is getting desperate.  Even with a day job, money’s tight, and she’s wound tighter yet, having sworn off sex to reconcile with her mother who’s in chemo and her father who disowned her for her wild, wicked ways.  No sooner than her psychic best friend predicts an end to Anna’s self-imposed drought, rock stars Jackson and Jacob Thomason come to town, with the dream of an indie album co-written with local American Indian flutist Nico White and his songwriting partner AJ McPherson. 

The triple-platinum artists are attracted to Anna, who gives as good as she gets.  Learning that Anna’s alter ego AJ puts the “twist” in Nico’s “tribal” music only makes them want her more.  The part-Comanche Thomason twins need an album’s worth of songs.  That means spending night after night, working closely, getting to know each other, learning how to co-create. 

Anna’s never written music with anyone but Nico.  Their collaborations are so natural, so organic.  They’re comfortable with each other.  The Thomason twins, who perform as No Mercy, make her anything but.  What’s a fangirl to do, when submitting to her rock star idols means exploring the darker side of passion?

A BDSM MFM ménage erotic rock star romance, written for Ages 18+.  Contains advanced BDSM and may contain triggers.

Excerpt 1:

There are six feet three inches of male heat on my back when I grab one of the reusable glass bottles and close the refrigerator door. He bends down to murmur in my right ear; his nose nudges the row of hoops that rim it as his breath dances over my skin. “I don’t know where you went,” he says, “but I sure as hell hope you go there again–and take us the fuck with you next time.”

I catch myself leaning toward him like I’m drawn by a goddamn magnet. There’s no denying I want them. I’d just like an idea of how this needs to go down. Before I give myself a chance to chicken out, I flat out ask him, “Do you two do everything together?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” He lifts his hand–the one that has L O V E tattooed on his fingers–and strokes my arm, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. “If you know our music, you know us. It won’t be gentle, and it won’t be quick, but I can fucking guarantee we’ll give you the best sex of your life….”

If anyone else called me kitten, I might take offense.  But the Spanish rolling off his tongue has an oddly erotic appeal.

Now I’m curious.  “Kitten?  You want to tell me where that came from?”

“Ever try to catch a feral cat?” he asks me, sliding his hand up to my shoulder and flexing his fingers around it.  “Even a kitten will shred you to ribbons.  But you’ve got the spice to go with the claws, don’t you, gatita?”

Shit.  The temperature in here just raised ten degrees.  Needing to chill, I twist off the lid, slam back a mouthful of cold spring water, and nearly die of brain freeze.  “Fuck fuck fuck!”

Jackson chuckles.  “That’s the plan.”

“Since when?”  I stop rubbing my forehead long enough to throw a look over my shoulder.  I flick my eyelashes at him, daring him to flirt some more.  We kind of skipped that part when we went straight from heated looks to promises of three-way kink.

“The diner,” he says.  “You gave as good as you got.  You sounded like you could handle us.”

“Mmmm.  My hooker voice.  And how did I look?”

I’m fishing.  He knows it.  I know it.  We’re both aware it’s not a deal breaker, but his answer could put a whole new spin on things.

“Like you’d dare anything.  Risk anything.  You were…hot,” he rumbles.  “So fucking hot.  I wanted to drag you into the back and bend you over a sink and—”

“Spank me?”

“Is that what you want, brat?”  He underscores the last word with a slap on my bottom, his tone full of menace.

I shiver, and not from the chilled bottle that I’m holding against my chest.

“Ah,” he says, sounding pleased.  “Then here’s a word of warning.  A little sass gives us an excuse to get creative.  Disrespect us, or anyone else, and we’ll keep you on the edge so long, you’ll be begging us to put you out of your misery.  No Mercy,” he whispers, turning me to face him.

Up close, his tats are even more amazing.  I’ve never wanted ink, but I’ll gladly give his some serious consideration.

“If you’ve wondered about the band’s name, there it is.  From a former groupie when we were still performing as The Thomason Twins.  She had a sweet little pussy, but she wouldn’t watch her mouth.  When she figured out we’d never let her come, she moved on.  The bitch lasted four weeks.  It was the longest fucking month of my life.”

I can’t help it.  Lifting my free hand, I palm his chest to feel his piercing and his nipple peaks against it.  I drop my gaze and see a distinct tenting of his jeans.


“Yep, I feel your pain.”  Slanting him a look, I wonder if they were thinking music and hoping for more when they bought me an excused absence.

If he’d known, would Kirk have given me time off work for bad behavior?

Not that it matters.  I’m theirs, or will be.

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knitted winter clothes



by Nia Farrell

Length 18,646 words.  Expanded second edition release date July 1, 2018.

Amazon e-book     

Goodreads (first edition) reviews          Goodreads (second edition) reviews  

Grace Murphy is the local psychic medium who dreams of her soulmates—Nico White, a bisexual American Indian musician, and J.T. Santiago, an ex-Navy SEAL and former cage fighter with PTSD on top of the guilt that he’s still carrying from other lifetimes that they’ve shared.  J.T. is a Dominant, but he’s never had a male submissive and Grace and Nico are a package deal.  It’s a learning curve for all of them, with J.T.’s initiation into MMF and MM relations and Grace’s introduction to BDSM.  With Grace’s yin, J.T’s yang, and Nico’s center balance, the three of them come together as far as J.T.’s PTSD will allow.  But forging a future will mean healing the past, however painful it might be.

An interracial paranormal MMF ménage BDSM erotic romance, this book is written as a standalone, but the epilogue ends with a teaser for the second book in the series.  Contains explicit sexual content, written for mature readers.  Ages 18+.

Reviewers: “It’s part paranormal, part BDSM, part love story, but all good….” “Imaginative and sexy” “A likable, strong heroine and two very hot heroes” “I am a strong believer in psychic abilities so for me this book was a HOME RUN! I loved the storyline and the sex – WOW – talk about HOT!!!” “Jam-packed with just about everything a reader can imagine (and fantasize about)!…Nico is…hotter than hot! …J.T. is a total alpha and literally makes the pages (and your panties) sizzle.

Excerpt:  SOMETHING ELSE by Nia Farrell

J.T. notices my submissive traits.  I keep my eyes down and let the two men lead the conversation, listening more than talking.  And I notice his Dominant traits.  He pays attention to my needs, making certain Cherry finally brings the glass of water that I ordered when we first got here and asking if my burger is cooked the way I like it.  He compliments my hair, my flowing New Age dress, and asks me the standard getting-to-know-you questions.

I tell him where I was born, where I went to school, where I work, where we live.

“You need to come out,” I tell him.  Please, please, please.  “It’s too cold for swimming, but on warm days, the fish still jump.  Or we could kayak.”  We have two, but a neighbor has several that he rents to campers, fishermen, and the occasional waterfowl hunter looking for a better way to retrieve downed birds.

Nico seconds the notion.  “Sure,” he says, lifting his beer in a toast.  “Bring your stuff.  Spend the weekend.  You can have my room.  I’ll take the couch.”  His choice of words reminds J.T. that, so far, we are only friends.

Hopefully, that’s about to change.

The warmth in Nico’s eyes makes me wonder if he’d rather share his room—his bed—with J.T. alone.  It would let the two men bond before adding me to the mix.  The trouble is, I can’t get a handle on J.T.  What’s he up for?

I need J.T. to want us.  Both of us.  I want what I’ve seen.  What I’ve dreamed about.  The three of us sharing a bed together, sometimes with me between, sometimes with Nico.  When we looked at properties, a master suite large enough for a California king was at the top of our list.  So far Nico’s been sleeping there alone, just him and those big, talented hands of his, fisting himself into oblivion.

But I can almost hear J.T.’s doubting Thomas.  The man doesn’t trust himself.  I sense the same darkness he does, the part of him that makes him afraid he’ll cross a line and hurt someone.

 Wounded spirit.  And not just in this life.

 Nothing that simple.

 Nothing that easy.

 Not that healing PTSD is ever easy.

Suddenly, I see him, struggling, hurting, lost.  Crippled with “soldier’s heart” in an alternate-reality past life that we shared, he’s also suffered shell shock in wars that he fought without us.  With the vision comes the knowledge of why we are here this time.  To help him mend.  To help him heal.  He’s been trying to dispel the darkness when he needs to embrace it.  Harness it.  Learn to live with his shadow self.

I can almost feel his collar on my neck and see the ink on Nico’s.

I exhale softly and commit.  “Or my room,” I offer, looking up when Nico stiffens.  It’s all he can do to remain silent and passive, but he’ll do it because he’s the beta male here.  Two alphas and me?  We’d end up tearing each other apart.

J.T. locks his gaze on mine and cocks his head, considering.  “You sure you’re ready for me?” he asks as he slides his hand beneath my skirt like a heat-seeking missile.  He has his answer when he finds my panties soaked.  “What about Nico?”

“I…We…”  Words are lost when he slides a finger between my pussy’s swollen lips and his thumb finds my clit.

“J.T.”  Nico makes sure he has his attention before dropping my bomb.  “She hasn’t been with one man, let alone two.  Not yet.  But it’s what she wants if you’re interested.”

Wow.  He didn’t just say that, did he?  My temperature raises two degrees thanks to the fucking full body blush I’ve got going on.

“Seriously?”  J.T. stops his finger where it’s at, gripped to the first joint by my exceptional tightness.  He looks at me, skeptical, his black eyes revealing nothing but the roiling heat of a man on the edge of conflagration.  He lets out the thinning leash that he’s struggling to hold onto and pushes into me until he’s knuckle-deep.  Pulling free, he brings his finger to my lips and inhales sharply when I suck my juices off him, knowing what he wants and giving it to him without one word being spoken.

“Fuck, yeah.”  He pulls out his wallet and tosses enough bills on the table to cover the three meals and tip.  “Let’s go.”


Look for SOMETHING DIFFERENT July 8, 2018 

and SOMETHING MORE July 15, 2018

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R10 Patriot Games


by Nia Farrell

Length 22,729 words. Release date June 1, 2018.

99¢ Special Intro Price – FREE with KU

Amazon e-book          Goodreads reviews



Will the third time be the charm?  Replay Dominant Richard Benjamin Franklin lost Gini Shelton to Marcus Vos and Jannet MacDonald to Ian McGregor.  Now it’s Revolutionary War weekend, and he’s been assigned a new submissive—and not just anyone.  Victoria St. Leger is the Replay owner’s sister and an heiress in her own right.  Earning her submission will be the ultimate prize.

This weekend they’ll play Patriot and Loyalist, Whig and Tory.  However, this Tory’s surrender isn’t guaranteed despite the electricity that sizzles between them.  Rich might have her, but can he hold her, when her life is in England and he’s stuck here?  And will he want her, once he learns Tory’s secret?

She’s not just descended from a witch.  She is one.

This paranormal BDSM erotic romance has adult content, hints of reincarnation, and elements of magick.  Written for ages 18+.

Excerpt 1:

“Are you all right?” she asked softly, regretting her initial conclusion.  He wasn’t rude.  He was hurting, at least a little.  “Can I get you anything?  Water?  Or something stronger?”

“No, thanks,” he said, his voice still strained.  “I was headed into Replay One to make a massage appointment when Eleanor brought out Piers to show him the cake.  I knew it was more than she should handle and offered to bring it in for her.  If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back.”

He forced a smile, just enough to make dimples dent his cheeks.  His teeth were wide, white, and strong.  His jaw was slightly square and shadowed by a dark scruff of beard that matched his thick locks of hair.

Unable to do anything for the pain etched on his face, she stood there, feeling awkward and foolish.  “Well, thank you for helping Eleanor.  It was very kind of you….”  Drawing out the last word, she made it a blank for him to fill.

“Rich,” he said.  “Rich Franklin.”

“Franklin.  Any relation to Benjamin?” she teased.

“Actually, yes.  My full name is Richard Benjamin Franklin. No relation to the actor, though.”

“Really?  How fascinating!  Well, Richard Benjamin Franklin, I must say, it was nice meeting you.”

She extended her right hand.  When he took it, she felt the current run from her palm into his.  He felt it, too.  His dark eyes widened.

“What was that?”  Free of icy disdain, his voice was low and mellifluous.

This close, she had to lift her chin and arch her neck to meet his gaze.  The man had to be at least six feet, three inches tall, shorter than Piers but still inches taller than she was.  His dark eyes were stunning, almost black and full of questions.

“The sparks?” she ventured.  “I’ve been told that it’s something in the blood, passed down from a Scottish ancestress who was said to be a witch.  It seems more Tesla to me than that, but I can’t explain it any more than I can command it at will.  If you’d like to venture a guess, please, feel free to do so…, Sir, is it?  I assume that you are called Sir here.”

That earned her a genuine grin.  “At Replay, you would call me Sir, and I would call you trouble.”


He tightened his grip when she tried to take back her hand.

She arched a brow at his impertinence.  “And why is that?”

“Because I strained my back this week and I’m under doctor’s order to take it easy.  There’s nothing easy about you.”

She couldn’t tell if he meant that as flattery or not.  “You never know.  I might surprise you.”

He looked at her, considering.  “I don’t doubt it.  I don’t doubt it one bit.”

When he finally released her hand, she curled her fingers into a fist, as if she could capture and keep the feel of him.  She’d felt the sparks before, but never as strongly as just now.  Then again, she’d never met a man quite like Richard Benjamin Franklin.



Tory took him in her mouth, licking his length and sucking his cock until his skin gleamed with her saliva.  She kissed the tip and crawled up his body.  Reaching between them, she grasped his erection and held it.  Parting her folds with his crown, she found her opening and slid down onto his shaft.

He was too much for her, but she was greedy for his possession.  She remembered how totally he’d filled her.  How he’d claimed her mouth, her pussy, her arse.  How he’d taken his time, being careful to not hurt her with that massive erection of his.  She’d never handled a man his size.  She hadn’t been certain that she could.

Somehow, they managed to fit.

What a sensation that was, being filled completely by a man who was focused on her and committed to meeting her needs.  It just kept getting better.  He more than filled her, but her body delighted in accommodating him, stretching to allow his possession.  He played with her breasts, squeezing her mounds, catching the tips between his fingers, pinching, tugging, and twisting them, sending a searing bolt of sexual energy to her root and belly chakras.

She did the same, twisting the hard peaks of his nipples and feeling his cock swell inside her.  Leaning down, she took a pebbled tip in her mouth, teasing it with her teeth, flicking it with her tongue, closing her lips and sucking on his sensitive flesh.

“Yes,” he grated, fisting her hair and pressing her face to his chest.  “God damn, that’s good.  Suck it, duchess.  Suck me and fuck me.”

She slid a hand between them to finger her clit, rubbing circles over her sensitive button of flesh.  The pressure built.  Her body stiffened, poised on the edge of release.

“Please, Sir,” she begged him.  “I need…I need…”

His fist pulled on her hair, turning her face up to meet his dark gaze.  The expression on his face was fierce, with nostrils flared, his jaw clamped, and breath hissing between his teeth.  Beneath her, she felt his testes tighten, signaling his own eminent release.

“Come for me,” he ordered.

She came with a cry, shattering around him and over him, needing his touch to keep her anchored, his fingers to pick up the pieces and put them back into place.


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LOSER: Avenging Angels MC Book 3

handsome young bodybuilder


by Nia Farrell

Length 44,170 words. Release date May 8, 2018.

Amazon e-book (FREE on KU)    Goodreads reviews

They’ve both lost something…

For kindergarten teacher and kidnapping victim Sara Davies, it was a baby.  For tattoo artist and Avenging Angels MC member Flynn McGee, it was his belief in a happily ever after.  Bullied as a dyslexic teen, the product of a broken home, he struggles daily with self-worth.  Sara battles PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, and night terrors that require medication if she has any hope of getting some sleep.

Flynn believes that BDSM would help Sara in her healing process but she’s only done vanilla.  She thinks that Flynn needs to share his original artwork with the world.  Each of them pushes the other, but the conflict that comes from being outside their comfort zones only fuels their passion.

Their fledgling relationship is put to the test when Sara becomes the target of a dangerous stalker.  Can Flynn and the Avenging Angels keep her safe, or will Sara become Reaper’s next victim?

This book has adult content and may contain triggers. Written for ages 18+.


“What do we do?”

They’d come to another crossroads in their conversation.  He could either hedge or go for broke.  If he didn’t scare her off, things could get interesting.

“Kink,” Flynn said simply.  “BDSM.”  He watched her face as she took it in.  She didn’t look shocked like he was expecting.  Either she’d talked to Isabella or had heard enough that it didn’t surprise her.  Sara schooled her features, but her eyes revealed curiosity and maybe something more.  Was it possible that the idea of kink turned her on?  If she had PTSD, giving up control was a huge step in learning to trust again.

“Every member of the Avenging Angels is a Dominant.”

She looked at his cut.  “Then you’re a Dominant, too.”  She sounded like she didn’t know what to do with that.

“Yes,” he said.  “And unless I’m really reading you wrong, I’d say that you’re a natural submissive.  The idea of putting yourself in someone’s hands, surrendering control to someone you can trust to meet your needs, appeals to you on some level.  You know, the women at the clubhouse are submissives.  The clubhouse lounge is essentially a playroom.  A dungeon, if you will.  Play goes on every night of the week, not just party nights.”

“So if I take you there,” she said slowly, “and go inside, I can expect to see something?”

“I can’t imagine you not getting an eyeful with as many members, prospects, old ladies, mamas, and sweetbutts as we have.  I can see those questions swirling in your eyes.  You’re curious.  Maybe more than curious.  Say the word, and I’ll see that you get a first-hand look.  It’s the least I can do.”

Their waitress chose that moment to slip the guest check on the table.  Flynn snagged it before Sara had a chance to.  “I got this,” he told her.  “You’re driving.  I’m buying.  Energy exchange.”

He’d rather be making a power exchange with her, but that would have to wait.  He wanted to see how she reacted to the clubhouse lounge.  What caught her attention.  What made her cringe.  What made her breath catch and her panties get wet.

Fuck, yeah.

Excerpt 2:

“I don’t think that skirt meets the school dress code, Sara.”

She felt her cheeks grow flush.  “No, I wore this for you.  It shows my thigh.”

He arched a brow.  “It shows a helluva lot more than that.  Did you wear those red panties for me, too?  Don’t bother tugging on the skirt, Sara.  It’s too late for that.”

She froze with her fingers on the hem.

“Well?” he said.  “Did you?”

She snapped her spine straight, and looked past his shoulder, refusing to give him the satisfaction.  “No.  I wore them for me.”

“Liar.”  He pinned her with his gaze.  “Look me in the eye and tell me again.  Did you wear those panties for me?”

His hazel eyes were this beautiful mix of colors that seemed to shift with his emotions.  Right now, they were as dark as she’d ever seen them.

“Maybe,” she hedged.

He crossed his tattooed arms and gave her a look that demanded the truth.

“Yes,” she admitted, feeling the blush that colored her cheeks and spilled down to her chest.

“That’s what I thought.  And why would you do that, Sara?  Wear red panties and flash me?  Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”


“Did you want me to notice?”

“Yes,” she croaked.

“You know, some men would think that you were asking for something you might not be willing to give.  What were you hoping for, Sara?  What did you see happening here tonight?”

“I don’t know,” she keened, at once ashamed and aroused.  “After I got out of the hospital, I created this image that people wanted to see.  Someone who has it together.  Someone who’s happy.  But no one bothers to look past the mask.  No one wants to see the darkness or the grief, the guilt or the regrets.  They want to see the old Sara, and she’s not there anymore.”

Flynn listened.  Nodded.  “You’re trying to find yourself.  Redefine yourself.  I get that.  I’ve had to do it, too.  More than once.  It just takes time.”

“Time?”  She shook her head.  “It’s been three years since I’ve felt anything and now I don’t know what to do.  How to act.  What to think when you get flirty with me.  I don’t know.  Maybe you’re that way with everyone.  I mean, look at me.  I’m nothing like those girls in your club.”

“No,” he said.  “You’re not.  And thank fuck for it.  Sweetbutts are a dime a dozen.  Sleeping with them is meaningless sex.  Scratching an itch, nothing more.  A woman like you…you have no idea how rare you are.  I look at you, and I see someone who’s stronger than she thinks, wiser than she knows, and better than I deserve.  There’s a kindness in you that’s survived despite everything that you’ve been through.  The way you stayed with me, I have to wonder if you’d have done it for anyone else.  Would you have been brave enough to go to the clubhouse, say, with Iceman if you’d seen him go down?  What I’m saying is, I know it took guts to go in there with me and you didn’t really know me from shit.  Hell, you took a bigger chance going to my room.  If you had any idea what was going through my mind, you’d have dropped me at the door and gone straight home.”

Sara pressed her thighs together but it did nothing to ease the throbbing between her legs.  “You said you were a Dominant.  A true Dominant wouldn’t force himself on me.  Nothing would have happened without my consent.”

“And it won’t tonight, either.  But I’m too old for games, Sara.  If you want something, tell me.  Don’t play coy.  You say that you want to discover who you are.  Well, I want that, too.  After we eat, I’ll show you something that may help.  Doing it will be your choice.  I’m hoping that you’ll trust me to guide you through it.”



“Those nipple clamps need to come off.  When the blood rushes back in, it’s going to hurt.  I can make it feel better if you trust me to do it.”

“Okay.”  She didn’t sound sure but she was brave enough to take a chance.

He started with the clamp closest to him.  “Here goes.”  He took it off.  She gasped at the pain.  Seeking to ease it, he bent his head and fastened his mouth over her nipple, sucking on it until her gasp turned into a moan.

Flynn raised his gaze to meet hers.  Sara was watching him with a lambency in her eyes that he couldn’t fail to recognize.

He could smell her arousal.  If he slid his fingers between her legs, he was certain that he’d find her panties wet with her juices.

Lifting his head, he covered her breast with his hand and gave it a squeeze.  “We good?” he asked.  She nodded.  “One more time, then.”

Leaning over her, he took off the second clamp and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking it to ease the hurt and making her moan with desire.  She clasped his head and arched her back, pressing her breast more fully into his mouth.  He caught the nipple between his teeth and teased it with his tongue, licking and flicking it while his fingers claimed her other breast.

“Flynn,” she breathed.  “Fuck me.”

He knew what this was.  She had just revisited the scene where she’d nearly died.  She was seeking a life-affirming action, but what sex the best answer?

“Are you sure, babe?”  As her Dominant, it was his responsibility to put her needs before his own, even though he was rock hard for her.

She covered his fly with her hand and squeezed his erection through his jeans.  “Yes,” she breathed.  “Please, Flynn.  Don’t make me beg.”

Framing her face in his hands, he bent down and brushed her lips with his.  She put her palms on his shoulders and spread her fingers wide, sweeping them over his chest, seeking and finding the barbells in his nipples.  She teased them with her palms.  He bit her lower lip.  When she gasped, he slammed his mouth over hers and thrust his tongue inside to mate with hers, an erotic duel that left them both panting with need.

He shoved a hand down the front of her panties and fingered her clit.  Coaxing it from its hood, he dove deeper, stroking her swollen folds.  She thrust her hips against him, humping his hand.  She was soaking wet.  He traced her seam and parted it with his middle finger.  Pushing up, he found her opening with practiced ease and worked his way into her tight, wet channel, feeling her walls resist, then yield to his invasion, not stopping until he was knuckle-deep.  Curling his finger, he found her G-spot and brought her to a shattering climax.

Her pussy milked his finger, her walls spasming, rippling along its length.  He wished it had been his dick, but this was about her, not him.

He fucked her with his finger, letting her ride his hand, adding a second finger once he’d stretched her out a bit.  Pulling out, he grabbed the sides of her panties and yanked them down.  He stood to finish pulling them off her feet and tossed them aside.

His boots went next.  He felt her gaze when his fingers went to the waist of his jeans, found the button, and pushed it free.  His erection strained the zipper.  He opened it slowly, taking care to not catch anything on the way down.  Hooking his fingers in his waistband, he shoved his jeans over his hips and down his legs, freeing one, then the other, until he was as naked as a Michael Stokes model.

The way she looked at him, he felt like one.  The woman liked ink, no doubt about it.  Her gaze drifted south to his cock.  He stroked himself, working pre-cum from the tip.

“Bend your knees up,” he told her.  “Put your heels by your ass and make room for me, sugar.”  The chair wasn’t nearly as wide as a bed.  You could fuck on it, but positions were limited.

Letting go of his dick, he crawled between her legs, not stopping until the head of his cock was nudging her crotch.  Planting his palm by her head, he took hold of himself with the other hand and stroked her folds, wetting himself with her juices.

She palmed his pecs, spread her fingers, and squeezed, feeling the contours of his muscles.  He flexed his hips, demanding entrance and achieving it in one, meaty thrust that took her breath away.  She bucked and writhed beneath him, struggling to accommodate his length and girth.  The truth was, he more than filled her.  He had to work for every inch, but eventually, he was balls-deep in her sweet, welcoming warmth.

He started really fucking her, then, building in speed and intensity until he was pounding into her.  She climaxed twice more while he was screwing her.  Her juices coated his cock and gave the lubrication he needed to keep from fucking her raw.

When he felt himself nearing the end, he had three choices: finish in her mouth, mark her front, or finish in her ass.  “I need to come,” he grated.  His balls tightened, getting ready to unload.

“My mouth,” she panted.  “I want you in my mouth.”

Good enough.

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Replay Set 3: Wing Men, The Dark Side, Naughty New Year, Gladiator

RSet3 box

Replay Set 3: Wing Men, The Dark Side, Naughty New Year, Gladiator

by Nia Farrell

Length: 75,405 words. Release Date April 1, 2018.

Amazon e-book         FREE WITH KU          Goodreads reviews


Welcome to Replay, the BDSM theme resort where patrons roleplay in the past.  Replay Set 3 contains Replay Book 7-9 and Replay Reunion 1.

Replay Book 7: WING MEN. During World War I weekend, a singer comes under the sights of two rival fighter pilots. If they want her, they’ll have to learn to share. Released August 1, 2017. Length 20,081 words.  Teasers and Excerpt

Replay Book 8: THE DARK SIDE.  It’s Cinema Classics weekend at Replay BDSM theme resort.  When 1930s Hollywood vamp meets vampire on the dark side of the resort, the chemistry is off the charts.  But can a relationship survive the light of day, when a doctor requires anonymity and his submissive is a celebrity?  Release date November 1, 2018.  Length 25,313 words.  Teasers and Excerpt

Replay Reunion 1: NAUGHTY NEW YEAR.  Replay BDSM theme resort hosts its third New Year’s Eve party in the newest addition, The Steamroom, built for Iron Domination Steampunk play.  Release date January 1, 2018.  Length 6,218 words.  Teasers and excerpt

Replay Book 9: GLADIATOR.  Replay BDSM theme resort has four new Doms, an international team of gladiators who live and train together at the resort’s Roman villa.  Replay’s wardrobe assistant Leda Giannopoulis hopes to be the tie that will bind them, but her kidnapping fantasy will threaten to tear them apart.  MMFMM interracial multicultural bisexual reverse harem ménage a cinco.  Release date February 1, 2018.  Length 23,793 words.  Teasers and Excerpt

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A Package for Paige (Unbillable Hours #2)

A Package for Paige (Unbillable Hours 2)

by Ree L. Diehl

Length 9,402 words. Release date April 15, 2018.

Amazon e-book        Goodreads reviews


Bicycle messenger Ben Walker delivers his last package of the day and is confronted by one very disgruntled author.  When she manages to look past the box from her editor, her mood shifts at warp speed from sullen to sultry.

Paige Turner hates being interrupted when she’s writing, especially in the middle of a sex scene.  When her intercom’s summons leaves her as unsatisfied as her hero, she plans to answer the door, accept delivery, and get right back to it.  Plans change when she comes face to face with the bicycle messenger who inspired her latest hero. 

The erotic novelist insists on examining his package for hidden damage, but the warning label on her shirt makes him wonder if he can trust her with a knife.  Paige lures him into her apartment by promising to let him in her kitchen drawers.  Now if she can manage to get into his….

Welcome to the Unbillable Hours Series, where the best things happen off the clock. 

Romantic Comedy Erotica, written for ages 18+.



Paige Turner might write soft porn, but she blushed like a Disney princess.  Ben Walker hadn’t seen a woman’s face pink up like that since his senior year in high school when his best friend’s mother caught him licking cake batter off her spatula.

“Well, well,” he drawled, taking an insane amount of pleasure in watching her squirm.  “First, you lure me into your apartment with the promise of cutlery.  Then you tease me with a utility knife and the promise of more—a promise that you have yet to deliver on, I might add.”  He shook his head and tsked.  “You want to play games?  All right.  We’re gonna do a little Show and Tell.  You’re going to show me the good stuff, and you’re going to tell me about this.”  He held up her book cover.  “After that, we’ll see.”

Ben had been a little put off when Chloe insisted on a last-minute pickup and delivery to end his five-day workweek, but she’d been wrapping him around her finger as long as he’d known her.  She had used her wiles two months earlier, to get him to pose for the cover of a book that she was editing.  She hadn’t told him the author’s name or the title.  He was okay with the promise of a copy and being paid scale for posing.

The thing was, the photographer wanted more and had booked him for two more sessions since then.

Now, he had agents calling him, wanting to set him up with photo shoots and acting gigs.

Paige Turner had no idea what she’d started.

She bit her lip and turned her Bambi brown eyes to meet his.  He waggled the cover and laid it on the counter.

“I can explain,” she said.  The hint of pleading in her voice made him wonder how she would sound, on her hands and knees, begging for more.

“I’m listening.”

“Well,” she hedged.  “I saw you.  I mean, obviously, I saw you.  You were leaving Chloe’s office.  You walked right by me, but you were busy looking at your phone.  You didn’t notice me, but I saw you.  It was like your image was burned in my brain.  The only way to get it out was to write you into my next book.”

“So…, I’m in your book.  Want to tell me how I came to be on the cover?

“When Chloe read the partial of the manuscript, she guessed it was you.  I told her about the day that I’d seen you.  I didn’t think anything of it.  Hell, we’ve swapped sighting stories before.  Man candy is way better than Big Foot.  But I swear, I had no idea that she asked you to do the cover.  I’m sorry.  No…,” she said slowly.  “I’m not sorry.  You were perfect for my hero, and you’re perfect on the cover.  Now, might I interest you in some cutlery, Sir?”

Hearing the honorific, he went still.  She didn’t know.  She couldn’t know, right?

Only one way to find out.

Ben crossed his arms and gave her his Dom look—the one that he used when a subbie disappointed him.  “You lured me into your apartment with the promise of it, and you failed to deliver.  Do you know what happens to women who tease?”  He dropped his voice to a husky rumble.  “They get spanked, Paige.  Spanked until their ass is on fire, then fucked so hard, they can’t walk straight for days.”

She squeezed her thighs together and swallowed.  He didn’t know which turned her on more, the thought of being spanked or the idea of a good, hard fuck.

“Cutlery,” he said firmly.  “Open your drawers and show me what you’ve got.”

What she had was a chef’s dream kitchen, from the six-burner gas range to the double-wide drawer full of knives, everything from paring and rabbit knives to santoku blades, chef’s knives, and Chinese cleavers.

He pulled one knife from its slot and tested the flex of the blade.  He looked at her over the perfectly sharpened Swiss steel.  “Do you know what this one is, Paige?”

She did.  Of course, she did.  Her pussy was practically gushing.

“It’s a boner, Paige.  A very nice boner.  Take care of it, and it will perform for you every single time.  Get lax, and it will, too.  You know what I’m saying?  Tell me, Paige.  How do you take care of a boner?”

She swallowed hard.  “Tell me.  Please, Sir?”

“Oil,” he said, watching her eyes grow lambent with arousal.  “Lots of oil and long, smooth strokes.  Do you think you can handle that, Paige?  More importantly, do you want to?”

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