by Nia Farrell


Length 11,681 words

Originally part of With Love from New Orleans anthology (May 2019).

Single Title Release Date June 6, 2020


Amazon Universal Link     Amazon US     Goodreads TBR     BookBub reviews


It’s been a horrible day for Ophelia Delacroix in Union-occupied New Orleans. Orphaned, destitute, and responsible for a younger sister and their servant, she’s just been offered a job at an upscale bordello that requires wearing a wig and being called “Pearl.” Accosted as she leaves her interview, she is saved by Federal Cavalry officer Henry Sharp, who offers to escort her safely home.

Ophelia does not correct the second lieutenant’s belief that she is already a high-class prostitute working for Madame Beauvais. That will be true enough tomorrow. Tonight, though, she has a choice and agrees to let Henry buy her—plus extras—for the night. She has no idea what the dominant officer will ask of her.

They’ll learn each other’s secrets soon enough.

War makes strange bedfellows. Henry’s not complaining. This officer is about to discover that his very ungentlemanly offer has bought him much more than he bargained for.

Enemy Mine is the past life of the ghost in Slow Burn by Nia Farrell (http://mybook.to/SlowBurn). An erotic historical BDSM romance written for Ages 18+.


Excerpt from Enemy Mine by Nia Farrell:

Ophelia unlocked her front door and opened it wide. Sally had lit a betty lamp and left it in the foyer. The smell of burning pot liquor reminded her that she couldn’t afford candles or kerosene. Poverty served to steel her resolve.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

“Come in,” she said blithely. Stepping inside with his coat still around her shoulders, she gave him no choice but to follow. She breathed a little easier when he took off his hat and hung it on the hall tree by the entrance. Surely he wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t intending to stay. “May I offer you something to drink? Water? Whiskey? Wine?”

They had nothing as fancy as fresh lemonade, but she was willing to break out her late father’s last bottle of anything if that’s what Henry wanted.

He smiled softly. “No, thank you.” His gaze fell on her father’s portrait. Taken in his uniform, it was draped in the black crepe of mourning.

Henry looked at his hat, probably questioning the wisdom of entering a Confederate household. “I should get going,” he murmured. “I need to write a full report on tonight. Once again, I apologize for the indignities that you suffered.”

Ophelia wrapped her arms around herself and breathed deeply, immersing herself in Henry’s scent. Reluctantly, she shrugged off his frock coat. Gripping it by the back of the collar, she held it out in silent offering.

He looked at it for a long, telling moment.

When he reached for it, she was slow in letting go.

“Stay,” she whispered.

He sliced a concerned glance at the stairs.

“They’re asleep,” she assured him. “My sister and our maid. We’re all that’s left.”

She felt her throat grow tight with tears and swallowed her grief for everyone that she’d loved and lost. Her parents. Her brothers.

Her fiancé.

Henry pulled on his coat, a long, slow tug that made her lean so far into him, it felt like she was falling.

“I’m not like him,” he murmured.

No, he was night-and-day different from Jefferson. Her fiancé had been a college-educated scholar and an armchair historian. He taught rhetoric and believed in the right of states to choose their destiny. He’d supported secession and had answered the call to arms.

He’d died of cholera without ever seeing a battle.

Henry had fought his way here. Fort Donaldson. Shiloh.  Vicksburg. Raymond. When Farragut’s fleet had slipped past New Orleans and the Confederate troops had withdrawn, there was nothing left to stop the Federal advance but women, children, and men who were too rich, ill, or old to fight.

New Orleans had fallen without a shot.

“How much for the night?”

His question was another reminder of how very different Henry was from Jefferson. Her fiancé had finally kissed her cheek when he’d bid her adieu and boarded the train with his men.

Henry would do more than kiss her.

His question was another reminder of how very different Henry was from Jefferson. Her fiancé had finally kissed her cheek when he’d bid her adieu and boarded the train with his men.

Henry would do more than kiss her.

Ophelia felt her face grow flush. “Five dollars,” she guessed. Madame Beauvais’s elite clientele paid two dollars for a tryst, double the going rate. Surely five dollars for an entire night was not too much to ask.

He looked at the primitive lamp that they were forced to use. With no coin to spare for candles, they were reduced to burning grease saved from cooking and fish oil when they could get it. The foyer currently smelled of bacon and ham. It was pleasant, at least, compared to some of the drippings they used.

“Five dollars,” he nodded slowly.

Well, that was easy enough.

She released the breath that she’d been unconsciously holding.

Just when she considered their bargain struck, Henry upped his game, asking, “And what if I want more?”


Anything was possible, she supposed.

“Then we’ll talk,” she said. If tonight went well, hopefully, he would want more. If he wanted much more… if they could come to an understanding and agree to exclusivity, she might not have to prostitute herself with other men.

The thought gave her hope.

Henry took his coat and nodded. “Lead the way.” His voice had grown deeper, hoarser. His whole body seemed to vibrate, pulsing with desire.

Picking up the betty lamp, she lifted the front of her skirt and preceded him up the stairs.

Sally slept in the servants’ quarters behind the kitchen. Juliette’s door was closed when they passed it. Ophelia’s room was at the far end of the hall. The other rooms housed only the ghosts of those who’d gone before.

Henry looked around her comfortably furnished space and nodded his approval. She liked order and kept things tidy, allowing herself two books at a time from the library, otherwise, she would be drowning in them. Before the war, she had considered becoming a governess, teaching needlework, watercolors, and literature to young, impressionable minds. Juliette was all that was left to her. Whatever she did now, she did for her.

She would see that her little sister kept her innocence, whatever the cost.

Ophelia shut the door behind them and turned the key.

She left it in place. Her guest would need it, should he wish to let himself out.

Henry spread his frockcoat on the back of a chair. Removing his embroidered leather gloves, he laid them on the seat. His nimble fingers untied his cravat. Reaching for the buttons of his waistcoat, he slipped them through the linen-bound holes. When the two sides fell free, he shrugged it off. Removing his pocket watch and setting it on the bedside table, he added his vest to his spindled valet.

Unbuckling his leathers, he hung his gun and sword off the chair back, draping one belt over each corner. She watched with rapt attention when he unwound the red officer’s sash and unbuttoned the placket of his shirt.

Her mouth went dry at the tantalizing glimpse of his manly chest. She licked her lips, feeling suddenly very thirsty.

“Are you certain that you don’t want some water?” she croaked, wondering how he could be so calm when something so momentous was about to happen. But his seamless motions were like the smooth surface of a lake where danger lurked in the deep. She glimpsed it first when he pinned her with his gaze, unfastened the belt that held his pants, doubled it, and weighed it in his hand.

“What do I get for my money?” he asked. Fishing a five-dollar piece from his pocket, he laid it on her washstand.

His query caught her off-guard. She didn’t know how to answer him except with another question. “What is it that you want?”

Henry chuffed and angled his head. There was an intensity about his face that was arresting. Mesmerizing. When he spoke, his words seemed tinged with regret.

“Probably more than you’re willing to give.”

Ophelia searched his gaze, wondering what he meant by that singularly cryptic remark. She appreciated that he was being forthright, but his frankness was disturbing because of the questions it raised.

She was rattled to think just how little she knew about this man.

Determined to not show her unease, she lifted her chin with false bravado. “Technically speaking, I’m not giving you anything, not if you’ve paid.”

“But paid for what?” Musing over the question he posed, he came to where she stood, shaking in her shoes and wondering if she’d made a terrible error in judgment. He reached for her throat and closed his fingers lightly around it in a show of possession. “What if I want the French treatment and have you suck me?” he murmured. “What if I want to fuck your mouth, screw your pussy, and bugger your ass?”

Having her mouth and her womanhood used was expected. Madame Beauvais had been very clear on that point. But sodomy…?

The idea of something so taboo sent waves of gooseflesh rippling over her skin.

Henry smiled darkly at her reaction. “You’re a dirty girl,” he said. “A naughty girl. I should spank your bottom for the risk you took tonight. You could have been beaten. Raped. Killed,” he growled. “I want to tie you to your bed and keep you there… at my mercy. All. Night. Long. I’d like to take your every orifice and mark you with my seed. How much?”

She stared at him, speechless. No man had ever said such things to her. No one had ever wanted what he did.

Unnatural lusts.

She’d heard whispers but not details. Nothing that could have prepared her for this intimate glimpse into Henry’s baser appetites.

And if I want more? he had asked her.

Now she knew. Knew what he wanted. What would please him. What he found exciting. Arousing.



Ultimate possession.

Claiming her in every way that he could.

She would not leave this room the same.

“Twenty,” he grated. “Five plus fifteen for the extras.”

Holy Mother of Pearl.

Henry wanted to tie her up and have his way with her. He was willing to pay good money to do it. Twenty Federal dollars that had value, not worthless Confederate scrip.

She could buy food and firewood and a candle for Juliette’s birthday cake.

Ophelia was nothing if not practical.

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by Nia Farrell


Part of Little Black Dress anthology from Perfectly Poisoned Anthologies.

Anthology release date November 20, 2020.

Links to be added

A naturally submissive American woman is paired with a Dominant prince at a fantasy resort’s grand opening.

Club Paradiso is a fantasy resort owned by the Paradiso Luxury Resort in partnership with Replay resort in the States.  Located on a privately owned island in the Caribbean, Club Paradiso caters to the rich and decadent.  Its invitation-only grand opening has drawn royalty, nobility, heads of state, and pop culture personalities from around the world.  At the top of the guest list is Estefan Gianopoulos, crown prince of the Kingdom of Varra and the world’s richest bachelor, thanks to a gemstone unique to his tiny Balkan country.

The security to the event is being provided by an elite force of trained agents, former soldiers, and bodyguards, some in uniform and some dressed to blend in with the A-list crowd.  Estefan is planning his own undercover operation as soon as his “date” gets here.  He intends to flex his Dominant muscles with a sex professional versed in BDSM protocol who’ll arrive in a little black dress.

The trouble is, nearly every woman at the party is wearing a fashion classic and none of them looks like the red-headed woman he hired.

He isn’t happy when his escort for the evening turns out to be a brunette in need of an attitude adjustment.

Kira Reese Conners cares nothing for wealth or rank. In a borrowed dress and lethal heels, she feels a bit like Cinderella when she’s reluctantly paired with the Crown Prince of Varra at the Club Paradiso opening gala. She’s sworn to keep the Dominant prince’s BDSM lifestyle a secret, but who’ll keep her inner submissive safe if she agrees to a kinky play date with him?

#Cinderella #fairytale #BDSM #royalty #kneelfortheDominantnotfortheprince


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Excerpt 1 (179 words, PG13):

“Kira,” he murmured.  “An unusual name.  Family?”  Her father was a famous Hollywood stuntman.  Her mother taught yoga, which explained that body of hers.

“N-no,” she croaked, watching in rapt fascination as he adjusted himself.

A ten-inch missile was coming her way as soon as he could figure how to do it without causing an international incident.

“My parents were anime and sci-fi fans,” she explained.  “They named me after Akira and Kyle Reese from The Terminator.

He arched a brow and silently applauded their tastes.  No cookie-cutter name for an Olympic-level shootist who’d trained in multiple martial arts and provided personal protection for rock stars, actors, billionaires, and dignitaries.


He knew basic self-defense and was an expert fencer but given all the black belts she had to go with that deliciously sinful black dress of hers, he realized that she’d let him disarm her.  Had let him take her purse.  She had willingly surrendered her power, knowing she could stop things at any time.

Exactly what a submissive would do.

Suddenly, the evening looked promising once more. 

Excerpt 2 (429 words)

“I’m going to remove your holster.  It’s tearing up your skin.”

She rolled her eyes.  “And where am I supposed to put my gun?”

“Your clutch,” he said, “after I’ve taken care of this.”

Unbuckling the holster, he pulled it free of her body and laid it aside.  Tearing open the foil pack, he pulled out the alcohol pad and turned back to see that her knees were shut as tight as a miser’s purse.

He looked pointedly at her reddened thigh.  “Legs apart, pet.  I’m going to swab you down, then doctor you up.  I need room to work and you’re not giving me any.”

“Damn straight,” she murmured, glaring at him, daring him to force the issue.

Two could play that game.

He gave her his best Dom look.  It had worked before.  It worked again.  The minx grit her teeth and growled at him before grudgingly moving one leg far enough to afford access to the entire site.

Estefan nodded his approval.  “Good girl,” he hummed.  Leaning over her, he swabbed the reddened patch of skin with alcohol.  Breath hissed between her teeth at the sting.  He dipped his head and blew on her thigh.

Kira Reese Connors stopped breathing.

He did it again, as an experiment, to see what she would do.  She shivered and tightened her hands into white-knuckled fists, denying the urge to push him away—

Or pull him closer?  The scent of feminine musk was mistakable.

“Once more,” he rasped, wishing like hell that third times actually were charms.  To have this woman submit to him would be his greatest triumph.

She bit back a moan and spread her legs wider.

“There now,” he crooned, pleased with her response.  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?  Where your skin is broken, I can’t use arnica cream to promote healing.  I’m going to blend petroleum jelly and triple antibiotic cream to use.  Plain petroleum jelly will keep it from scabbing and scarring, but I don’t want it to get infected.  Are you allergic to anything?  Are those going to be safe to use on you?”

“Yes, Sir.  Sire!”

She rushed to correct her slip but it was too late.  He’d heard it and she knew it.

“They’re fine,” she whispered hoarsely, disturbed that she’d shown her hand instead of keeping her cards close to her cleavage.  She wanted him to think that she was unaffected, but her body had betrayed her.  Her jade eyes had grown smoky and languid, her cheeks were flushed, and the scent of her arousal was thick enough to bottle.



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TWISTED STEEL MC anthology from Knox Publishing

Includes Book (Lost Creek MC Book 1) by Nia Farrell

Length 19,322 words.  Anthology release date April 18, 2020.

In the year 2055, you still don’t mess with Texas…

The Lost Creek MC is comprised of part-Native members adept at living off the land.  Their Vice President Book is a shaman.  A pure telepath, his psychic gifts have allowed them to survive The Fall of 2045 and flourish despite it in the new American Federation of States.

Hard times have led to harsh laws.  In the Flint Hills District of The Great State of Kansas, theft is punishable by death.  Book’s dystopian world is turned upside down when he goes after a water thief and meets the one woman on the planet he can’t read.

Twenty-five-year-old Adrienne James is the daughter of rock star Jackson Thomason, now President of The New Republic of Texas, his twin Jacob, and their wife Anna James. After her radiator hose breaks in Kansas, she’s assessed an exorbitant tap fee that must be paid before she’s allowed to leave. The First Daughter of Texas will be a “guest” of the Lost Creek MC until couriers from Austin make it through Oklahoma unscathed and arrive with the money.

Twelve years younger than Book, Adrienne is unabashedly sensual and totally off-limits.  Yet his Dominant side wants nothing more than to bring her to her knees.  Unfortunately, he’s not the only one who wants her.  The First Daughter is a prime political target, and danger is headed their way.

Book introduces the Lost Creek MC Series and is part of the Twisted Steel MC anthology from Knox Publishing, out April 18, 2020. Written for Ages 18+.

Excerpt 1 (527 words):

“Problems?” he asked.

She forced her shoulders down and swiveled her head to meet his gaze.  Looking into her amethyst eyes was like taking a sucker punch to his gut.

Just who the hell was she?

She gave him a quick once-over before breaking off and slicing her gaze back to her radiator.  “You could say that,” she drawled.

There was a hint of the South in her voice.  Oklahoma?  Southern Missouri, maybe.  She wasn’t native to Washington, that was for certain.

“I blew a hose.  I’m hoping like hell the duct tape will get me to a garage.  You don’t happen to know where I can find one, do you?”

Book eyed the drone and looked at the woman, searching her purple eyes for answers to the questions spiraling in his head.  Who was she?  What was she?  Where had he known her before?  She felt too familiar for this to be the first lifetime their paths had crossed.

For all that she was trying to look tough and act self-sufficient, the truth was, she was as vulnerable as any woman stranded in the middle of nowhere.  It was asking for trouble, but he was determined to not throw her to the wolves or let the hyenas have her.

“Tate’s Auto Repair is about fifteen miles,” he said, registering the flare of disappointment and hint of panic that flashed in her eyes, “but my club—Lost Creek—has a garage for our bikes and cages.  Mack can fix anything and he’ll cut you a deal on labor.  Putting on a hose shouldn’t be too much.”

His unspoken question was received loud and clear.  She bit her lip at the mention of expense, then confessed, “I can pay, or I can get more if I need to.  It’s not safe to travel with too much cash.”

So…she had some money.  Hopefully, she had enough to pay for the water.  Ideally, she had enough to cover it all in AFS dollars.  The legal tender printed by the American Federation of States was the western version of the Euro, available in denominations from one to a thousand.  But there were other forms of trade.  Other means of payment, especially for someone as young and pretty as she was.

And the world was full of men who’d have demanded it.

She was taking a chance that he wasn’t one of them.  But she wasn’t put off by the sight of his cut.  He took that as a good sign.

“True enough,” he agreed smoothly.  “I’ll need you to follow me.  If your van won’t make it, we’ll get Mack to tow it in.”

“Jesus Christ,” she groaned, a soft sound of forced capitulation.  “I hope the fuck not.  My dads are gonna shit a brick if I have to call them.”

He arched a brow at her comment but said nothing.  Two dads were becoming more common these days.  So were ménages.  Hell, the President of the New Republic of Texas shared his wife with his twin brother.

Times, they are a changing.  At least some good things had come along with the bad after the world fell apart.

Excerpt 2 (311 words):

She turned to the club’s Vice President, tilting her head so that she could meet his sapphire gaze.  For a moment, she let herself get lost in them.  “Thank you for stopping to check on me,” she said when she managed to speak again.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t get your name.”

He cleared his throat, the muscles of his neck making his Adam’s apple do an appealing slide.  When he spoke, his voice was rougher than it had been when it was just the two of them.

“David Reynolds,” he rasped.  “Better known as Book.”


She blinked, wondering if she’d heard him right.

“Book,” he repeated, like he was reading her goddamn mind.  “That’s my road name.  What they call me in the club.”

“Road name.  Yeah, I know,” she quipped, wondering what the hell was her godmother up to.

God bless it, Grace.

She’d told her there was a book in Kansas that she needed to find.  She didn’t say a goddamn word about it being a man.

Those beautiful sapphire eyes went hooded and his body stiffened at the sharpness of her tone.  The look that he gave her was pure Dom and full of censure.

“Sorry, Sir,” she apologized, cringing at how harsh she’d sounded and taking heart in the way that he responded to the honorific.  The man was a Dom.  He had to be.

Please let him be a Dom.

“I was just thinking about my uncle,” she lied.  “He was in a club back in the day.  The Midnight Raiders in Mt. Sterling, Minnesota.”

Scanning the garage, she saw that most of these men rode Hogs.  The younger Colson brother had taught her to ride a Harley.  Aunt Grace’s two husbands had taught her to ride horses.  With all the testosterone in the room, chances were good that she’d be riding a biker tonight.

Excerpt 3 (381 words, NSFW):

“I still don’t know why I can’t read you or why I don’t hear other voices when you’re close by.  It’s like a mute button’s been pushed in my brain.  This morning, when you stepped outside to make your call, all of a sudden I was hearing Deacon just fine.  Usually, I have to listen to the radio or TV or music to drown out the voices enough to sleep.  Tonight will be interesting.”

It would be if she had anything to say about it.

Adrienne pounced on the opportunity he’d presented.  “Aunt Grace says our guards go down while we sleep.  You told me I could pick, but I think we should share the bed.  Keep me close.  See if it works.  Tomorrow night, I can take the couch and you’ll have something to compare it with.  You may hear things with me at night that you won’t when we’re awake.  Sharing a bed will give you a basis of comparison, something to measure against.”

She looked forward to making her own comparisons.  Length and girth.  Skill and duration…

Her eyes must have betrayed her, because he leveled another Dom look at her and slowly shook his head.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice quiet, his Zen-master appearance perfectly calm.

In command of her and in control of himself.

If she didn’t have a lady boner before, she had one now.  Soft-spoken Doms were the best.  They’d watch you misbehave and whisper darkly in your ear, promising to make you regret it.

“Nothing is happening here,” he warned.  “You’re the First Daughter of Texas.  No one in our lodge is gonna touch you, including me… unless it’s to spank that ass and make you behave.”

Yes, please.

“Settle,” he growled.

God damn, she liked the sound of that.  She liked it a lot.  “Are you sure you can’t hear my thoughts?” she wondered.  He certainly wasn’t having any trouble reading her.

His mouth lifted slightly, lips canting upward.  “Your body language is enough.  And you’re not masking your face.  It’s pretty clear where your thoughts are headed, even if I can’t hear them.”

“Well, damn.”  She huffed a breath, unhappy with his refusal to budge when he could be bending her over his knee.

Or his bed.

Or both…

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Read about Adrienne’s rock star parents in

The Three Graces Duet 2: Something Different, Something Awesome

Duet out January 2020 at Amazon.

Also available as single titles Something Different and Something Awesome.


Follow the Lost Creek MC Series here at WordPress.




(Voyages of the Heart Volume 5)

        by Alyssa Drake, Amy Allen, Annalise Alexis, Ashlee Shades, Autumn Sand,         Bella Emy, Brian Miller, Carrie Humphrey, Jade Royal, Jas T. Ward, Lilly Black, Katherine LE White, Maggie Adams, Maria Vickers, Natalie-Nicole Bates, Nia Farrell, Patricia D. Eddy, Roux Cantrell, Sandra R. Neeley, and Tamsen Schultz.

Release Date December 5, 2019.

Universal Link     Amazon Universal Link     Amazon US

Goodreads TBR     BookBub reviews

Cities around the world have their own charming allure which pulls you in, allowing you to enjoy their secrets. They offer love, passion, laughter, healing, and even heartbreak. The authors have penned these emotions and more into their stories one page at a time. Pack your luggage to join us on our voyage of the heart. Our next destination: Venice: Christmas!

There is so much to discover in Venice. The quaint houses, lovely cafes, and popular attractions needed more than just one visit. We’ve decided to cruise the waters one more time to see the magic that can be brought alive for Christmas. This time, the brilliant city of Venice will be cultivated by bright lights, festive decor, and holiday romance. Welcome back to “The Floating City”.


With Love from Venice: Christmas includes

The Exception to His Rules

by Nia Farrell



Cinema god Sterling Foster has it all. Fame. Wealth. Adoration. Every woman wants the “Sterling Silver Fox” except his temporary personal assistant Valerie Worthington. A natural submissive, her indifference to the English Dominant is a mystery that he’s determined to unravel.

Ree has nothing against her new boss beyond the company he keeps.  One of a half-dozen film-industry Brits known as the Six Pack, the world’s most eligible bachelor is proving a distraction she can’t afford and a temptation she can’t resist.  She wonders, if they spend Christmas in Venice together, can she walk away unscathed?

The Exception to His Rules by Nia Farrell is an agegap BDSM erotic romance written for Ages 18+.

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December in Venice was cold enough without Valerie’s icy disdain.

She was careful to not show it around others, proving that she was every bit the actor that her brother was.  Early on, the flaxen-haired twins had done a film together.  Only Val had stuck with it, moving on to bigger and better roles.  With two supporting actor nominations under his belt, the rising star was hopeful that his role in Vermilion would solidify him as leading man material and garner his first best actor nominations and wins.

Knuckles rapped on the door exactly at five AM.  Sterling opened the door to find his perfectly put-together, perfectly dour assistant standing in the hall.  She was dressed for the day in a white silk blouse, gray slacks, and sensible flats.  She carried her purse and coat over her arms.

Her long, blonde hair was scraped back in a ponytail that was perfect for fisting.  From behind the oversized lenses perched on her nose, resentment shone from the depths of her aquamarine eyes.  Her sinfully plump lips were pressed tightly together, making her look so sour, she could have been sucking on a lemon.

Be kind.

“Good morning to you, too,” he said blithely, taking small satisfaction in the slight roll of her eyes.  He was keeping track.  If he ever had the chance to spank that perfect arse of hers, he intended to make her pay for every slight that she’d ever given him.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice so devoid of emotion, she could have been a robot.  The glint of combat in her eye and a quick verbal jab told him otherwise.  “I’m certain that Captain De Luca is waiting.”

Roberto De Luca was responsible for getting them to work each day.  The rest of the cast and crew were on the mainland, closer to the warehouse in Porto Marghera that had been converted into a sound stage.  Sterling stayed where he always did, across the lagoon at the Hotel Danieli in Venice.  Valerie was next door in Natalie’s old room and she hated it.  Not the elegant hotel or the beautiful room but the fact that she had no choice.  He’d made her move and she resented it.  She didn’t want to be here at all, let alone in a room adjoining his with only one set of doors between them that they both kept tightly bolted.

Sterling blessed her with a smile that had sold millions of movie tickets in a career spanning thirty-eight years.  “I’m certain that he is,” he agreed.  Pulling on his coat, he picked up his briefcase and locked the door behind him.  “After you.”

The walk to the elevator was blessedly silent….  The ride down was filled with fantasies featuring Valerie on her knees… or flattened against the elevator wall….  But like Goldilocks, she wanted nothing to do with him.  She only wanted what he could provide—catered meals, a canvas chair, and a bed where she could nap if she needed.  With the long days that they put in, she’d been crashing at her brother’s trailer instead of using the empty bed in his.

Not that he could blame her.  People were quick to gossip.  One picture by the paparazzi and tabloids had paired them together.  There had been dozens of photos since then, published under headlines like “Sterling Silver Fox and His Goldilocks” with articles speculating on how soon they’d tie the knot.

As.  If.




London     New Orleans     Dublin     Venice book 1


Facebook Page     Reader Group     Instagram


#0 Kinky cover



(BDSM anthology)

by Skye Callahan, Nia Farrell, Deanndra Hall, Simone Leigh, Christina Mandara, Laci Paige, Adaline Raine, Claire Thompson, Shannon Youngblood, and Michele Zurlo.

Release Date: December 1, 2019. Offered FREE for a limited time

Universal Buy Link ebook     Amazon US e-book

Eden Books mobi ebook

Goodreads TBR     BookBub reviews

Ten stories of masterful Dominance and submission – first books in BDSM series by Skye Callahan, Nia Farrell, Deanndra Hall, Simone Leigh, Christina Mandara, Laci Paige, Adaline Raine, Claire Thompson, Shannon Youngblood, and Michele Zurlo.

These sinful novels are full of heat, suspense, and seduction. Guaranteed to make the tops of your toes and fingers tingle (and everything else in between)!




Entrust (A Club Obsidian Novel) by Skye Callahan

Find Her (Avenging Angels MC Book 1) by Nia Farrell

Adventurous Me (The Bliss Series Book 1) by Deanndra Hall

Mastering the Virgin (Box Set 1) by Simone Leigh 

Sparks by C.P. Mandara

The Silken Edge by Laci Paige

Daddy’s Sassy Little Supermodel by Adelaine Raine

The Compound (The Compound Trilogy) by Claire Thompson

Just a Man (The Porter Trilogy) by Shannon Youngblood

Drawing on Love (Mercenary Hearts Trilogy) by Michele Zurlo







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AVENGING ANGELS MC SEASON ONE: Keeper—The Avenging Angels MC Introduction, Find Her, Keeper, Loser, Reaper by Nia Farrell. Updated length: 200,362 words. Release date November 29, 2019. Follow me at Amazon and BookBub for release alerts.

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What happens when MC meets erotic romance? Find out when you enter the world created by award-winning author Nia Farrell. The Season One box set includes the updated introductory short story and books 1-4. Written for ages 18+. Includes:




Expanded length: 2,834 words. Originally published June 1, 2017.

Teasers and Excerpt: http://bit.ly/AAMCintroWP


Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan and Isabella Castellari have a history. Kind of. He’s a member of the Avenging Angels MC and one of four brothers whom she thinks slept with her sister. Or did they? Nothing is as it seems. Isabella’s world is turned upside down when lies are exposed, truths revealed, and the man she’s been fantasizing about for three long years makes her an offer that she should refuse but can’t.



Length 40,669 words. Originally published date June 8, 2017.

~A 2018 Golden Flogger Finalist for Best BDSM Book of the Year~

Teasers & Excerpt http://bit.ly/AAMC1WP


Rose McLanahan is the princess of the Avenging Angels MC, daughter of its president and sister to four of its members, including Vice President Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan. But Rose has a secret. She wants out of the clubhouse—and getting her CPA is her chance to have the normal life that she dreams about.

Michael O’Flaherty is a computer whiz, security systems expert, and an associate of the Avenging Angels MC. He’s Mad Dog’s best friend, as well as his brother in arms. Their days in Marine RECON are put to use when Michael is called in to find the niece of the local mob boss. Krissy Castellari has been kidnapped by a rival club, the Blackwater Demons MC. Michael discovers where she’s being held, but she’s not alone. The Demons have Rose McLanahan, too.

Mad Dog and Michael join forces to extract the girls, but Rose is still in danger, having been promised to the son of the Demon’s president Reaper. Mad Dog is tasked with returning Krissy to her family, and Michael agrees to take Rose away until it’s safe for her to return. War has been declared. Blood will be spilled. Alone in the Angels’ safehouse, the Dominant Michael and submissive Rose will finally discover each other.




Updated length 42,626 words. Originally published September 8, 2017.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.ly/AAMC2WP

When Avenging Angels MC Vice-President Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan Mad Dog recognizes Isabella Castellari stranded on a rural country road, remembering her toxic sister, he almost doesn’t stop. Seeing her as an end to a means, he brings her back to the Avenging Angels MC clubhouse and quickly learns that she’s different—very different—than what he expected. She’s a curious innocent, and willing to submit to his domination. But there are complications. A mob boss uncle, protective parents, a traitorous friend, and secrets that have been kept for far too long. Secrets that will either bind them together or tear them apart.




Updated length 44,898 words. Originally published May 8, 2018.

Teasers and Excerpts http://bit.ly/AAMC3WP


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 chance at 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?




Updated length 69,335 words. Originally published January 18, 2019.

Teasers and excerpts http://bit.ly/AAMC4WP


This dark, gripping Season One finale is loaded with triggers. Consider yourself warned.

Maureen “Mama Mare” McLanahan is the mother of five grown children and married to Patrick “Papa Bear” McLanahan, President of the Avenging Angels MC. For twenty-eight years, she has kept secrets that could shatter her marriage and ruin their lives. When their daughter Rose is kidnapped by their rival Blackwater Demons MC, Mare’s history with the Demons’ President Reaper returns to haunt her.

Rose emerges unscathed, but Mare is taken and brutally used before she’s rescued. Between the Visconti crime family and the Avenging Angels MC, the Blackwater Demons are destroyed—all save one. Reaper escapes. Mare spends the next three years fearing for her daughter and struggling with PTSD from her ordeal.

Reaper eventually resurfaces with a vengeance, taking and using two more women before he’s through. His heinous acts demand justice, but whose hand will wield the sword?



Isabella bit her lip, wondering what God was thinking when her car broke down miles from nowhere and she’d prayed for help. Surely He wouldn’t send Luke McLanahan. But there was no one else in sight. The next man who stopped might just pull her from her car or force his way inside.

The devil she knew seemed the better of the two.

“Can you give me a ride home?” she asked, cringing when she saw his grin flatten.

“You think that’s wise?” He put his arm on the roof and hooked a thumb into his belt loop, drawing her gaze downward to the front of his jeans.

No wonder her sister had crushed on him.


He sighed heavily. “I said, that didn’t work out so well last time.”

Yes, but Krissy had come back half-naked in someone else’s clothes, clinging to Mad Dog’s back, while his three brothers rode shotgun to make sure nothing happened with her dad. They’d heard the rumors. She’d lived with them all her life.

“My folks are gone. If you don’t want the neighbors to see, then drop me off at the gas station by the highway,” she said. “I’ll call my friend Anna to come get me.”

Mad Dog gave her an odd look, then nodded his head. “Get your stuff, close your windows, and lock up. I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

It wasn’t the gas station. He buzzed right by the turn-off and kept going, not stopping until he’d pulled into the Avenging Angels’ gated parking lot, lined with bikes and flanked with vehicles. “Get off and stay close,” he ordered, not bothering to see if she did.

Left with no choice, she shouldered her bag and followed him into the clubhouse.

The air was heavy with more than tobacco smoke and rife with the smell of sex. In what seemed to be the club’s communal room, every piece of furniture was occupied by bikers getting blow jobs, eating pussy, or banging one of the club sluts. In a far corner, she saw Luke’s brother Richie sprawled in a chair, thighs spread wide, while a familiar head bobbed up and down between them.

Isabella’s stomach dropped, and she turned away.

There’d be no help from Anna tonight.

Mad Dog grabbed her wrist and pulled her after him. She went, helpless to do anything else. In here, she needed his protection… even if it came at a price.

He opened a door and dragged her inside what looked to be his bedroom. A small flat-screen TV sat on a scarred maple chest of drawers. The desk beside it held a printer and a laptop computer, its screen as black as Mad Dog’s soul.

Two interior doors led to what was likely a closet and what she hoped was a bathroom. “Is there somewhere I can wash up?”

They both knew she was stalling for time. He humored her anyway. “On the left,” he said, smirking. “Don’t get lost.”

As if she could. It was the tiniest bathroom that she’d ever seen. The stool and sink were opposite each other, so close, she could nearly use them both. The shower was better, spanning the other wall, roomy enough for a man Mad Dog’s size and likely big enough to share.

She used two squares of tissue to lower the seat so she could go, then did a surgical scrub on her hands. Pulling up her knit top, she covered her fingers and twisted the doorknob.

Mad Dog was looking at her e-reader.


He grinned like the very devil. “Seems little sister has a thing for MC’s. Who’d have guessed?”

“They’re just books,” she snapped, plucking the reader from his hand and sticking it back in her bag. “Fiction. Just because I read it doesn’t mean I want it in real life.”

“Krissy did,” he drawled. “She wanted gang banged. Trouble is, she hooked up with the wrong club. She’s lucky we came along when we did. You might not have seen her again.”

Isabella felt her legs start to buckle. Mad Dog caught her and pulled her to sit beside him on the bed.

She stared up at him, remembering, wondering how she could have gotten it so wrong.

Krissy. Prissy Krissy. Too proud to admit where she’d been, she’d said nothing, just let them think she’d spent the night with Mad Dog and his brothers.

And now her best friend was banging one of them.

Isabella hoped it was only one.

“What about Anna?”

He tsked. “Don’t give me that look. I’m not my brother’s keeper. Richie’s been seeing her for two months or so now. They seem… fond of each other.”

“Fond?” She barked a laugh. “Is that what you call it?”

He angled his head. “You don’t have to be fond of someone to give them a blow job. You don’t even have to like them.” He fastened his gaze on her mouth. “You just have to be willing… and understand the rules. Only one of us gets to bite, and it’s not you, Isabella.”

He reached for her breast, then, and she let him. Three years of forbidden fantasies were suddenly within her grasp. His was hard enough to bruise.

“My rules. My way,” he growled, pinching her nipple and making her moan. “I like it rough, little girl. You have no idea. I doubt that you can handle me, but if you want to try….”

Did she?

Isabella’s mouth went dry, and she wet her lips. “How rough?”

Mad Dog caught her chin and pushed his thumb into her mouth. “Rough,” he rumbled, his blue eyes darkening when she started sucking and teasing it with her tongue. “Spanking. Bondage. My belt, if you beg me for it. I like oral, and I like anal. Say the word, and I’ll take you home. If you stay, you’re gonna get ridden hard and put away wet.”

He pulled his thumb from her mouth and fisted her hair. “Go or stay?” Tugging downward and lifting her chin, he forced her face up to meet his heated gaze.



A CURVY HOLIDAY charity anthology


by Lulu M. Sylvian, Barb Shuler, Sarah L. Roth, R. S. James, Lindsey Taylor, Ree L. Diehl, Nia Farrell, Sandra Daniels, Courtney Lynn Rose, Alexis R Craig, and Nicole Garcia

Release Date December 3, 2019

Brought to you by: CMBS Charitable Collaborations

Cover Designed by: T.E. Black Designs

Photography: JW Photography | Model: Joshua Burdick

Photography: CW3 Designs & Photography/Claudia Bost | Model: Courtney Lynn Rose

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Not all scars are visible.

A Curvy Christmas is a compilation of eleven stories brought to you by eleven amazing authors. The characters in these stories aren’t your typical heroes and heroines. These characters are sexy, curvaceous women and men and the people that love them!

Come join us for wildly fun, sexy, and inspirational holiday stories!

Royalties from this anthology will be donated to The National Council on Child Abuse and Family Violence. To find out more about the charity, visit their website > https://www.nccafv.org


~~ Meet the Authors ~~


Lulu M Sylvian

Bio-engineered to be the only redhead in a generation of blonds, Lulu feels that “aliens” may actually be the best answer for a lifetime of being asked, “Where did you get that red hair from?”

She did not come into writing from years of scribbling words on paper. Her background is rooted in visual arts and making pictures. Encouraged to make those pictures out of words Lulu began writing just to see what would happen. What happened was two full-length manuscripts in three months.

Lulu cannot ride a horse, a motorcycle, spin a hula hoop, or play roller derby. Yes, she has attempted all of those, even if it has been decades since she’s been on a horse or a motorcycle. She embraces the crazy that comes with that one little genetic mutation and attempts to live up to the reputation that proceeds her. Lulu would like to apologize for her contribution to the hole in the ozone layer from her use of hairspray in the 1980s.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lmsylvian/

Instagram: www.instagram.com/lmsylvian

Twitter: www.twitter.com/lulumsylvian

Barb Shuler

Barb is a Carolina Girl by right and a Texan by birth. By day she’s a desk jockey for a rural transportation company and a book lover – reading through as many books as she can. At night, though, she turns into her alter ego, a writer. Cape, optional, depending on her mood.

Her stories are a mix of real-life events, her own personal experiences, the crazy workings of her imagination, and the imaginations of her best friends. And with their imaginations together, it can get a bit nutty at times. Barb writes in multiple genres, encounters new adventures, creates new worlds and has a fantastic time breathing life into new stories. Creating something she hopes inspires anyone who reads them to fall in love with them as much as she has.

Barb lives by one little rule, tomorrow is never guaranteed so make sure you live each day to its fullest.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author.Barb.Shuler/  

Instagram: https://instagram.com/hercountrygirl

Twitter: https://twitter.com/hercountrygirl


Just a Long Island girl living in a Southern world…..

20 years ago, a Jew moved from the comfort of her Long Island home for parts unknown of South Carolina. She had to learn and adapt to the ways of the South, real quick like. For years, she was on a quest for Northern goodies in a Southern town. The journey for the proper bagel and the perfect NYC pizza always eluded her. The ever-loving theater geek, she craved the bright lights of the big city and planned to return someday. All her plans changed when she attempted to settle down. The “Experiments” came exactly five years apart (one boy and one girl) and both are every bit as eclectic as she. Boy Experiment sings The Beastie Boys and Taylor Swift on demand, while Girl Experiment shouts “Where is Thumpkin” with gusto of a head-banging Metal God.

Once adapted, she made a life with her B.A. in Theatre Performance in hand, and continued to find balance between Faith and the delights of slower Southern living. Now fluent in “Bless your hearts” and understanding the importance of pearl-clutching, she visits the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple, but loves coming home to her children. Her family humors her and the kids enjoy her antics. 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorsarahlroth

Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/sarahlr802

Twitter: http://twitter.com/sarahlr802


An up and coming contemporary romance author and avid reader. A mother of two active kids who keep this sports mom hopping from one event to the next and practice in there also! A wife to a hunter and fisherman who enjoys spending time with our family and friends. I’m a big believer in family and I love being a sister, aunt, daughter, mother. I love to sit on the porch while talking with my friends. The voices of my characters demanded that their stories come to life so here I am letting you in on the going ins and outside of my mind.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author-RS-James-181793069253274/ 

Instagram: https://instagram.com/R.S.James_



Being a mother of two, wife and full-time employee, Lindsey still manages to find time to write. She is passionate about all genres of writing, earning her BA in Journalism and MFA in Creative writing and English. She has been published in many newspapers and magazines nationwide, as well as blogs and online mediums. Lindsey has also been published with Pulse Publishing for her debut fiction novel, The Novel Within. She has also been a part of two anthologies.  Lindsey is currently working on her second fiction manuscript, a poetry memoir, and another anthology.

Facebook: https://Facebook.com/author.lindsey.taylor

Instagram: https://instagram.com/lindseyjo107

Twitter: https://twitter.com/lindseyjo107


Ree L. Diehl was born on a misty morning in the mind of a multi-genre author who wanted to pen erotica but put her own stamp on it.  The result was the Unbillable Hours Series, serving up erotica with a dash of romantic comedy.  The She-Wolf on the Twentieth Floor is the first in a series of standalone erotic stories where the best things happen off the clock.  Reviewer: Ree L. Diehl mixes the perfect combo of sizzle, plot & a touch of humor to make the reader want more!

Ree’s story in A Curvy Holiday anthology is Lassie, Come Home, inspired by her Scots-Irish lineage and love of all things Celtic. Description, teasers, and excerpt are here.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ReeLDiehl 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/My3Pens 



Nia Farrell is the award-winning author of one of The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016, a four-times Golden Flogger Finalist, and a founding member of the Wicked Pens.  She writes hot sex and happy endings in multiple genres and subgenres, including BDSM, ménage (MFM and MMF), paranormal, MC (motorcycle club), and Mafia.  Regardless of genre, ultimately, her books are about the healing power of love.

Nia writes erotic romance as Nia Farrell, historical romance as Erinn Ellender Quinn (the Ellender is a family name), and erotica/romantic comedy as Ree L. Diehl.  Her three pen names share a webpage at https://niafarrell.wordpress.com, where you can view slideshows of tantalizing teasers and read steamy excerpts.  As one reviewer put it, “If you love sensual, emotional and powerful romance with a definite D/s dynamic, you should be reading Author Nia Farrell.”

Nia’s story in A Curvy Holiday anthology is By George, inspired by the holiday classic film It’s a Wonderful Life. Description, teasers, and excerpt are here.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/NiaFarrellAuthor/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorniafarrell/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthrNiaFarrell



Sandra Daniels is a small business owner, mother of three grown sons, and the wife of a Sheriff’s Deputy. She also just so happens to lead a double life as a writer of the books she loves to read—stories with relatable characters, humor, angst, hot sex, and just enough mayhem thrown in to make things interesting. And she manages to do it all with just a touch of southern flair.

When she’s not writing, she loves reading, watching SEC football, lunching with friends, and spending time with her family—that is when she’s not chasing after the family’s chocolate lab, Rosco, who generally has one of her shoes.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SandraDanielsRomanceBooksYouWillLove/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sandra_daniels_author/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/SDanielsAuthor



Courtney grew up in Baltimore and is pretty sure she threw her ability to give a f**k into the Inner Harbor long before high school. Like almost every writer on the planet, she started writing at a very young age. Her “way with words” led to her being the go-to person for writing funeral speeches for a long time. She tried poetry during that typical teenage phase when, like most, she thought it was her sole purpose to contemplate the existence of life and love and all the other things she thought she knew about.

For fourteen years she left the writing world behind and worked full-time as a paranormal investigator and demonologist until retiring in 2014. During that time, she had three children, earned degrees in Abnormal Psychology, Criminal Justice, and English Literature, and eventually got back to writing. While all things paranormal will always be Courtney’s heart and soul, closing the door on that career opened up a plethora of ways to use that knowledge and experience to scare the hell out of people through her writing and public talks.

Today, she lives in East Tennessee with her children and spends a majority of her time writing things that make people smile while cutting their emotions deep, and running her own professional editing company— Full Bloom Editorial. Courtney is also proud to be the Acquisitions Editor for the small press publisher, Knox Publishing, LLC.

Her novels pull from life and bring to light the things she holds fiercely in her DNA— abuse and addiction survival, domestic violence, and above all, the notion and belief that love, loyalty, and friendship are the bonds which hold every relationship together. Courtney also dabbles in the world of cover modeling and is honored and humbled by every cover she’s asked to be on for her fellow authors.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/clynnrose87

Instagram: www.instagram.com/clynnrose87

Twitter: www.twitter.com/clynnrose87



Author Alexis Craig resides on 10 acres of wooded wonderland in rural North Carolina with her soulmate, who understands her little quirks.  She enjoys reading, hiking, coffee shops, and spending time with her husband. She writes all forms of romance… from sweet to super steamy.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheAlexisCraig

Instagram: https://instagram.com/TheAlexisCraig

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheAlexisCraig



N.Y. Times Bestselling author Nicole Garcia has a degree in Nursing but has been a stay at home mom for the past 10 years. Her passion is reading and decided to make a career out of sharing her love for books. Nicole started writing poetry when she was just a little girl and had always loved the feeling it gave her. She now writes full-time. Currently, she writes steamy Contemporary and Paranormal Romance but plans to write other genres in the future. Hope you will join her in all the fun ahead.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorNicoleGarciafanpage/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authornicolegarcia/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorNGarcia


Tour Sponsored By: Paging Through The Days Promotions

(https://pagingthroughthedays.blogspot.com /https://facebook.com/pagingthroughthedays)



ID-0 Independence Day 5x8 sm



by Nia Farrell


Length 22,753 words.

Single-title release July 4, 2020

Originally appeared in the Stand Your Ground anti-bullying/antiviolence anthology (Goodreads http://bit.ly/StandYourGroundGR)

Amazon Universal Link      Amazon US    

Goodreads TBR      BookBub reviews      Teasers and Excerpts webpage 


To protect her son, boarding house owner Becca West agrees to a marriage of convenience with the town’s new sheriff.

Fearing for her life, Becca West escaped her abusive husband and has been living under an assumed name.  When the new sheriff comes to town, he knows that she’s not really Molly Malone.  Truly widowed, Becca vows to never again be at a man’s mercy.  Sheriff Donovan insists that marrying him is her best—possibly her only—chance of keeping custody of her boy when Billy’s rich, ruthless grandfather discovers where they are.  What will a mother do to protect her son?

Independence Day is an erotic romance set in 1868 California.  The heroine was inspired by the gut-wrenching true-life story of Anna Glud, who served as a drummer boy under General Grant.  The fictional story includes post-rape PTSD and adult themes and may contain triggers.  Written for Ages 18+.


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Excerpt 1:

As apprehensive as Molly had been when Sheriff Donovan first arrived, she was soon thanking her stars that he had come to Walnut Creek.  He was firm but fair, enforcing statutes that the last sheriff had been lax on and making improvements to their community.  Billy adored him.  The sheriff had quickly, disturbingly grown on her as well.

So far, she had done her best to ignore it.

At night was the hardest.  When her father was dying and insisted on seeing her safely settled before he met his end, she had honored his wishes and wed the man he picked for her.  At fifteen years of age, she felt that she had no choice.

Grayson was kind in the beginning.  Her wedding night was more than she could have hoped for, given his true nature, with a gentle deflowering and hours of passionate lovemaking.  Despite the brutality that Grayson had descended into once her father was gone, she could remember when their marital bed harbored more than forced entries and sleepless nights.

Her body yearned for that again.

She ached for Matthew Donovan.

She could not let him know how he affected her.  She longed to touch the shadow of his beard-stippled face at the end of the day and sooth the tension from his brow.  The worst was remembering what he looked like naked.  Two weeks after he came, he’d failed to lock the bathing room door.  She had gone in to clean it…only to find him climbing out of the tub, water clinging to the mat of crisp curls that spanned his chest, thinned below it, and narrowed to a tempting trail that led to his manhood.

His body had stirred at the sight of her, while she watched, mesmerized.  He had snatched the towel and covered himself, breaking the spell and sending her flying out the door, her cheeks as red as chili peppers and the heart of her womanhood pulsing with new awareness.  It was as if a fire had been sparked inside her.  Unable to extinguish it, she now struggled to keep it banked.  If she allowed it to flare to life, she feared that it would consume her.

But there was no help for it.  Marriage would reduce her to the status of chattel.  She refused to put herself at a man’s mercy ever again, and no affair was worth the risk.  She would lose her reputation, her livelihood, her home, and possibly her son.  Should she be judged an unfit mother, the court would take Billy away.

She was doomed to live each day with the knowledge of what Matthew Donovan looked like naked, and a keen awareness that he shared that most intimate memory.

Things had been awkward between them ever since.


Excerpt 2:

His hazel eyes were as serious as she’d ever seen them.  “We can have a second ceremony in the Church when things settle, but we’re making it legal now.  As soon as supper’s done, we’re paying the justice of the peace a visit.  The only way to ensure that Francis West won’t get custody of Billy is for you to take a husband who can pass close inspection.  I’m not perfect, Becca, but my reputation is as good as any man’s and better than most.  Mr. West can look for dirt in Indiana or Kansas or California, but he won’t find anything on me.  I’ve kept my nose clean and chosen my friends well.  Being a lawman, you live a life of risk.  Under other circumstances, I’d give you plenty of time to think about that.  Once we’re married in the Church, that’s it for either of us.  There’ll be no backing out.  No divorce.  I’ll go off to work each day, and you’ll be here, not knowing if I’m coming home in my boots or in a box.”

She paled at his words and the bleak picture that he’d painted with them.

He shoved five fingers into his hair and sadly shook his head.  “Unfortunately, that will be our reality,” he said.  “I’ve always hesitated to saddle someone with it.  I wouldn’t now, but it can’t be helped.  It’s the only sure way to keep you and Billy safe.  But if we do this, I want us to be clear.  I plan to be your husband, in every way.”

She felt her cheeks warm.  A marriage had to be consummated to be legal.  If they married, they would share a bed.

His brow knit with worry when she said nothing.  “Some women who’ve survived what you did would rather die than be touched by a man.  I’m hoping that you’re not one of them.”

She remembered him naked and felt her whole body go flush.  “I don’t think so,” she whispered, blood thrumming in her veins to pool in her loins.  “How can I know?”

“Well,” he said, “why don’t we start with a kiss and see if you can stand me when it’s done?”

“All right,” she croaked, already wondering what he would taste like.

“Let’s get your chair turned.”  Taking hold of the seat from behind, he pulled her away from the table and turned her ninety degrees, so that she sat beside it.  He put an empty chair next to hers but in the opposite direction, forming a makeshift courting bench.  Folding his long body, he sat down, facing her, with their right hips nearly flush.

He inhaled deeply and exhaled, forcing himself to relax.  His hazel gaze snagged hers with the look of a man facing a challenge that he was hopeful he would win.

The sheriff grinned crookedly.  “It’s been a while for me, too,” he confessed, “but I think I remember how it’s done.”

Raising his right arm, he held her face in his hand, brushing her cheek with the pad of his thumb, letting her become accustomed to his touch.  After a long minute, he reached to cup her head.  Leaning forward, he gently pulled her to him.

They met in the middle.

He angled his head for perfect alignment and brushed his lips against hers.  His breath smelled of whiskey and lemon, from one of the hard candies that he bought at the mercantile and kept for a treat.  When she didn’t shy away, he grew bolder, pressing his lips fully to hers and holding them there, inhaling her breaths and letting her inhale his.

He pulled back his head and looked at her.  Keeping her hands clasped tightly against her waist, she met his gaze, unflinching.

“Whiskey eyes,” he murmured.  “I could drown in them, you know.”

Certain that they revealed the maelstrom that was wreaking havoc inside her, she was tempted to close them.  It was all she could do to sit, trembling at his touch, bathed in the fire of his breath that threatened immolation.

She wondered, would she burn or rise like a phoenix from the ashes?

“Becca,” he whispered hoarsely.  “I’m going to really kiss you now.”

Taking her head in both of his hands, he kissed her like a starving man.  He consumed her, covering her mouth with his and feasting on it.  His tongue came out, capricious at first, then deliberate, seeking her essence to claim for his own.  After thoroughly tasting her lips, he urged them apart and delved inside.

She moaned from the feel of it, of him.  Her curious fingers touched the faint shadow of his beard, delighting in their differences.  Hard and soft.  Masculine and feminine.  Leashed power and burgeoning passion.

Sensing it, he groaned and pulled away.  They stared at each other, motionless save for the rise and fall of their chests with each rapid breath.  When the sheriff spoke, his voice was a delicious baritone rumble that echoed in her core.

“Well?” he managed.  “What do you think?”

That she was mad to want him.  Mad to marry him.  She had vowed to never be at the mercy of a man.

She wished that he would kiss her again.


Excerpt 3:

“I’m afraid that you’ll have to tell me what to do.  Matthew, how do you want me?  Where do you want me?”

He swallowed hard, his throat muscles working.  Focused on him, she watched his Adam’s apple move above his cravat. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  Tearing his gaze away from her lips, he looked towards her bed.

“Stand up and take off your dress for me.”

He offered his large, strong hands to help her off the floor.  Staying close, she unbuttoned her cuffs and bodice, bent to catch the hem of her skirt, and pulled her dress over her head.  Turning it right side out, she shook it straight and hung it back in her wardrobe.

Acutely aware of his gaze on her, watching, she untied the waist of her hoops and dropped them.  They collapsed at her feet.  Her two petticoats and corset cover were next to go, leaving her standing in her corset, shift, pantaloons, stockings, and shoes.

“Sit on the bed,” he rumbled, pushing himself to a stand.  She watched, mesmerized, as he pulled off his frock coat and removed his vest.  He reached for his belt buckle.  She felt herself pale, remembering the bite of leather into her flesh.  Noting her reaction, he tossed it aside.  When he turned back, his lips were pressed tightly together and his brow was creased with concern.

“I’ll switch to suspenders,” he promised.  “I never thought—”

“No!” she whispered.  “Please.  I need to get used to it, is all.  I’ve managed with other things.  I can do it with your belt, too, but it takes time.  Just be patient with me, please.”

“You have my word, Becca.  I’m a patient man.  And in case you didn’t notice that day you came into the bathing room, I can control myself.  Otherwise, I’d have pinned you against the door and taken you then and there.”

The husky timbre of his voice echoed in her core, triggering a primal response that left her swollen, wet, and aching with an emptiness that he would soon fill.

“You wanted me?”

He nodded slowly, his expression earnest.  “I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you again.  Back in Jeffersonville, you were always a pretty thing, but you were young.  Way too young.  Next thing I knew, you were married.  All I could do was watch from a distance and hope for the best.  But when I walked into Harrell House and saw you again, all grown up…”

He pulled out his stickpin and untied his cravat.  “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.  I still do.”

She knew that she was passably pretty.  The way he looked at her almost made her believe that she was more than merely easy on the eyes.

His hands went to the front of his pants.  His nimble fingers worked the buttons to open his fly.  Beneath the fabric of his shirt and drawers, she could see the bulge of his erect manhood, rising straight against his belly.

She was no authority, but to her eyes, he seemed very well-endowed.  Very.  He was large enough, he would have to prepare her to receive him.

The prospect was both tantalizing and terrifying.

The sheriff’s very life depended on being observant.  Tonight, with all of his attention focused on her, he saw everything.  The rapid lift and fall of her chest with every corset-constrained breath.  The night breeze that lifted the curtain and sent gooseflesh rippling across her skin.  The uncertainty on her face when she wondered just how large he was and thought of his possession.

“I’ll go slow,” he said.  Dropping his gaze to her secrets, he looked determined to uncover them all.  “We’ll fit.  You’ll see.”



by Pam Ackerson, Debra Parmley, Teri Riggs, Maggie Adams, and Nia Farrell

Cover design by Crystal Visions

Length: 6,627 words

Wounded Heroes Anthology

Amazon Universal Link e-book      Amazon US e-book     Goodreads TBR

Release Date November 7, 2019.

99¢ Special Pre-Order Price!


Five Degrees of heartwarming to melting stories ─ Five stand-alone love stories with swoon-worthy heroes that will leave you breathless from award-winning International, USA Today, and Amazon bestselling authors Pamela Ackerson, Debra Parmley, Teri Riggs, Maggie Adams, and Nia Farrell. The collection includes:

* A Rosa for Russell by Pamela Ackerson ~ Who in their right mind falls in love with the enemy?

** Two Step, New Steps by Debra Parmley ~ Wounded cop Len Yardley doesn’t expect to find love while he’s healing from a gunshot wound but the Air Force veteran can’t help falling for perky Leanne Bobbin who brings out his protective instincts and makes him laugh.

*** Bringing Her Home by Teri Riggs ~ Can Thomas Raintree bring home the woman he loves, but had to leave behind?

**** As Time Goes By by Maggie Adams ~ Blake’s determined to find out who killed his best friend, and his widow holds the key…not only to the murder but also to Blake’s heart.

***** Fallen by Nia Farrell ~ An Army chaplain priest’s faith is tested when he falls for his PTSD therapist. See Fallen teasers and read an excerpt here.







Model Jenn R. Turnham Photographer Lori Stead Copyright 2019 Wet Silver LLC

Damage Control

by Ree L. Diehl

Length 18, 365 words.  A BBW/billionaire workplace romance (a contemporary novella with workplace bullying and body shaming) first appeared in Stand Your Ground antibullying anthology with Nia Farrell, Ree L. Diehl, Patient Lee, Jack Crosby, James Hartley, JA Lafrance, and Christine Monroe.

Amazon Universal Link ebook    Amazon US ebook    Goodreads reviews 

Damage Control blurb:

Curvy Isabella DeLorean knows what it’s like to be the butt of jokes but she has brains, talent, beauty, an irrepressible sense of humor, and a plus-size body that matches her big heart.  Tough as steel and built for comfort, this DeLorean would love nothing more than to take her new boss for a ride.

Nicholas Wentworth III is CEO of the Wentworth’s department store chain.  His newest sales clerk is so popular with customers, Bella wins Employee of the Month and all the perks that come with it—a sizeable bonus, a premium parking space, and dinner with CEO.  Bella’s hot Italian-American blood thinks that a boss with benefits might just be what she needs.  She’s already dealing with vicious coworkers, a shady manager, and office gossip.  Accepting the award from Nick puts an even bigger target on her back.  Someone’s aware of their mutual attraction.  Someone who’ll stop at nothing to keep her and Nick apart.  With Bella’s life in peril, can Nick find her stalker before it’s too late?

Damage Control is Ree L. Diehl’s first novella, her first BBW, and first romantic mystery. It’s a sizzling addition to the Stand Your Ground anti-bullying anthology. 



Bella put the credit card printout with the cash register receipt and handed them to Lola.

The bride-to-be tucked them in her billfold.  “I’ll give these to Vito when I get home.  Thanks for all your help, doll.  You’re the best.”

“Thank you, Lola.  I wish you and Vito every joy.”

Glancing over, Bella saw Maria carrying Justinian on her hip.  The way that he was gnawing on a finger, she wondered if a tooth was coming in.

She was so focused on her nephew that she didn’t see Ms. Cohen coming from the back with a spray bottle of perfume in her hand.  “There,” she said, misting away.  “Much better!”

For Ms. Cohen maybe, but not for Bella.  One whiff and she felt her throat start to close.  She stumbled to the chair just outside the lingerie display room, gasping for air.

“Someone get a doctor!” Maria yelled.  Justinian burst into tears, wailing like a banshee.  Lola called 911.  “Bella, can you hear me?  Do you have one of those shot things for allergies?”

Bella shook her head weakly.  She had an inhaler if she started to wheeze.  A runny nose and sinus headache were the norm.  She’d never had a reaction this bad, with a fat tongue and dangerously constricted airways.  Dear God, what if her throat swelled shut before help came?  Not being able to breathe was the most frightening thing she’d ever experienced.

She felt dizzy.  She couldn’t get enough air, and she was losing consciousness.  Her eyelids closed, too heavy to keep open any longer.

“Hang in there, sweetie.  Help is on the way.  Stay with me, Bella.  Stay with me.  Come on, sweetheart.  Stay with me.”

Strange, but Maria’s voice had changed to Mr. Wentworth’s.

Try as she might, she couldn’t force open her eyes.  Couldn’t see him and couldn’t stay with him, as much as she wanted to.  How ironic was it, to win a date with the man of her dreams and die before dinner?

“I agree.  It is ironic.”

Bella stopped breathing again, but this time it wasn’t a medical emergency.  She felt the sting of an IV in the back of her hand and heard the blip of monitors even before she opened her eyes and saw Nicholas Wentworth sitting by her hospital bed.

He looked exhausted.

She was pretty sure that she looked worse.

“Hi,” she croaked.  “What are you doing here?”

He conjured a tired smile.  “Checking on my Employee of the Month.  Your mother tells me that you’re a fighter.  She swears that you’ll be out of here in time for the presentation tomorrow night.”


Good lord.  She’d lost a day?  A day’s pay.  No, two days.  Yesterday and today and maybe tomorrow, depending on how soon they would let her go.

Bella burst into tears.  “I’m s-sorry,” she keened.  “It’s just—I can’t afford to miss work.”

“Workmen’s Comp,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.  “Everything’s covered.  Your pay.  Your stay.  This is a result of an incident while you were on the clock.  Trust me when I say that everything will be taken care of.  All you need to do is relax and recover.  Lingerie will be waiting for you when the doctor releases you.  Ms. Cohen, however, will not.”

“Wait.  What?”

Bracing his elbows on the arms of his chair, he clasped his hands and leaned toward her.  “After your review yesterday morning, I started checking, comparing department profits and sales commissions paid.  The figures showed a disturbing pattern.  When I called Ms. Cohen to discuss my findings, I was told that she was busy with a medical emergency.  Yours.”

He rubbed a hand across his face and smiled grimly.  “Miss Chin—Qua—found your phone on the counter, still recording.  She had me listen to it.  Ms. Cohen was ready to let your sales go through another register.  But what she did next was worse.  Ms. Cohen knew that you had fragrance allergies.  That’s why we put you in lingerie, in a part of the store farthest from the makeup and perfume counters.  Yet she deliberately sprayed perfume without your permission, without bothering to ask if you were allergic to that brand.  It was an unconscionable act, and I fired her.  The search is on for a new lingerie department manager.  HR recommends the one from our Charleston, South Carolina, location.  Ms. Jackson—Evalynne—has an excellent record but she’s not fond of hurricanes and is looking to relocate.”

“Same job, new boss.  I can handle it.”  Truthfully, she was relieved to have a job to come back to, especially if it meant that she could catch a glimpse of Nicholas Wentworth III from time to time.

He smiled softly.  “I’m certain you can.”

“I’m a DeLorean,” she quipped.  “Tough as steel and built for comfort.”

It was one of her standing jokes when someone pointed out her weight.  Bella groaned when she heard what had flown out of her mouth.  “Forget I said that.  Jesus, take me now.”

Mr. Wentworth chuckled.  “Sorry, he’ll have to wait until I’m done with you.  We have a presentation tomorrow night, and there’s still your Employee of the Month dinner with me.  Your mother is looking forward to the first, and I,” he said, “am looking forward to the second.”

She looked for the signs, but he wasn’t joking.

Holy schneiky.

She needed to make a major fashion statement.  In her mind, she saw a basic black mermaid wrap with an asymmetrical draped bodice, crossing to one side and fastening at her waist.

“Two weeks,” she said.  If they were going to do this, she wanted enough time to make the perfect dress.

“Good,” he said.  “Good.  You’ll be out of here and back to work.  Speaking of which, I’d better get going.  I have a conference call in an hour.  I’m glad to see that you’re doing better, Miss DeLorean.”

That sounded so formal when she was sitting here with her ass hanging out of a hospital gown.  “My family and friends call me Bella, Mr. Wentworth.”

Standing, he smoothed the creases from his suit pants and draped his matching jacket over his arm.  “And my family and friends call me Nick.  I’ll see you soon, Bella.  Get some rest.”

She didn’t want to rest.  She wanted to watch that fine specimen of manhood leave her hospital room and memorize how his bubble butt looked in motion.  She wanted to bite it.  Lick it.  She wanted to bend over the bed and let the CEO of Wentworth’s own her every orifice.

God, what she wouldn’t give to have her vibrator right now.