GUARDED HEARTS BOOK 1: MORGAN

 

A new shifter series from Claire Marta and Nia Farrell

Coming 19 October 2019

Goodreads reviews http://bit.ly/MorganGR

 

Tag line: Two shifters must keep their fated mate safe when darkness threatens.

Blurb: When grad student Morgan Leviss chose sexual surrogacy for her thesis, she never expected to become one. Now she’s tasked with turning two reclusive men into social creatures. Zac Blackstone and Aiden Goldman are nothing like what she expects. Handsome and charming, they’re a puzzle she finds intriguing.

Zac and Aiden have known each other for over two hundred years.  Part of a cadre of shifters, they’re on a mission to mate and procreate. Powerful warriors for centuries, they lack the social skills and sexual experience needed to attract a partner. When a beautiful redhead comes into their life to teach them, they discover new hope.

Bound by secrecy, the men can’t tell her who they really are. What they are. Increasingly drawn to Morgan, they begin to recognize her as their fated female.  Convincing her that she’s theirs may be as hard as keeping her alive when danger appears from the shadows.

Morgan is the first in the Guarded Hearts Series of standalone Erotic Paranormal Romance Ménage deftly penned as subtle Romantic Comedy with a heat level that’s off the charts. Written for Ages 18+.

Genres: Paranormal Romance / Romantic Comedy / Sci-Fi Fantasy / Erotic Romance / Ménage

(Heat Level Five)

First in the Guarded Hearts series of standalones (no previous reading required)

Cover Reveal September 1, 2019

Release Date October 19, 2019

 

EXCERPT (731 words):

Morgan was speechless.  When scholarly, bespectacled Emmett had escorted her upstairs tonight, she never expected to be met at the door by two very naked and extremely well-endowed men.

Holy.  Shit.

Tonight’s session was supposed to be about discovery. Shedding clothes, honestly evaluating your body, discovering hidden strengths, discussing doubts, and finding ways to work through them.

These guys seemed to be doing just fine.

She picked her jaw up from the floor and forced her feet to move forward from where she’d been frozen in place, stunned by the sight of them.  Zac might be older, but dear Lord, he was perfection, from the manscaped hair on his chest to the Adonis belt pointing the way to the promised land.  Aiden could be a cover model, with his chest shaved and lightly oiled muscles gleaming in the glow of dozens of lit candles that were scattered around the room.

Jesus, take me now.

“Good evening, Morgan,” Aiden greeted her, his voice slightly roughened. “We have prepared ourselves for this evening as required for this session.”

They were both staring at her expectantly.

Leaving her coat and bag on her normal chair, she ran her palms nervously down her sides. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I can see that.”

They moved to stand beside the sofa.  She sank into the recliner facing them.  They looked so at ease with their nudity. As if it didn’t bother either of them that they were buck naked in front of each other. Morgan was having a hard time keeping her mind on track. An insidious little whisper in her head kept telling her to skip sessions. It was accompanied by images of sweating, thrusting bodies.

“Is something wrong?” Zac inquired when the silence stretched. “You seem… uncomfortable.”

Morgan blinked. “No. No. It’s just not how I planned it.  I thought that we would talk first before you stripped. I wanted to discuss how you feel about your bodies and what you think are your individual strengths and weaknesses.”

“I don’t like my toes,” Zac said, squinting down at them.  “They seem too…, I don’t know.  Gnarly?  Other than that, I am pleased with this vessel.  It is that of a well-made, mature man who can handle whatever life brings him.  Aiden tried to talk me into shaving my chest, but I read that some women find the tactile sensation of chest hair to be pleasing. What do you think about furbabies?”

Morgan forgot to breathe for a second. Furbabies? Was this leading into some Furries kink where everyone dressed up as cute animals? She couldn’t imagine either man dressed up in a bunny suit but she didn’t yet know their sexual tastes. After the spanking incident, anything was possible.

“I… um, like men with chest hair,” she admitted. “And you’re right.  Some women do enjoy the sensation, especially against sensitive parts of their bodies.  Your scruff…”

Zac arched a questioning brow.

Morgan felt her cheeks warm ten degrees.  “Yes,” she croaked, wondering how in the hell she was going to talk herself out of this one.  She’d been imagining how it would feel against her skin while she rode his mouth.  “A soft beard can be very stimulating.  An abrasive, prickly beard can hurt to the point of turning someone off, whether it’s kissing or oral stimulation.”

“Like cunnilingus?” Aiden asked.

“And fellatio,” she stated, her gaze caroming between the two of them.  “When two men have a relationship with each other.”

“We wouldn’t know,” Zac told her.  “We’ve never been with a woman to find out. Soon, though, we hope.  We have been watching threesomes in porn to see how these things work.”

They wanted a threesome?

Oh.  My.  God.

Morgan’s thighs clenched together, her body reacting to the thought of having both of them between her legs.  Christ.  It was hard to not be aroused.

She had two naked virgins, eager for their first sexual experiences.  This was supposed to be one on one when the time came, and they were already planning a threesome.  Could she handle both of them?  Should she even try?

Reality couldn’t be as good as the wet dreams she’d been having.  Most mornings, she woke up needy and desperate and grateful for her roommate’s foresight to buy batteries ahead.

Who needed BOB when she could have Loki and Thor?

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DARK MOONS RISING

Dark Moons Rising Cover 6x9 sm

DARK MOONS RISING

by Nia Farrell

A PNR shifter D/s MFM ménage otherworldly erotic novelette

Unleashed March 15, 2019.  99ȼ or FREE with KU

Amazon Univeral Link e-book     Amazon US e-book     Goodreads reviews

 

Deidra of Ravenhill is a daughter of light, a healer whose energy can be tapped by the one who marks her.  Mordred, the bastard son of Owain ap Coel, is determined to be that man.  He’s captured the castle, killed her family, and forced her to train as a comforter, preparing her for his ultimate possession.

While Mordred is gone, having the brand made to claim her, Deidra manages to escape the castle.  She nearly dies in the forest but is saved from falling into a poacher’s pit by Thorne, a dark lord, one of the race of giant shifters that she’s been taught to fear since childhood. 

With dark moons due to rise on the most dangerous night of the year, Thorne must become a centaur for them to escape the monsters that roam with the god of chaos.  He carries her to the safety of his brother’s hunting lodge, but is she truly out of danger?  From Mordred, perhaps, but there are two dark lords who want her—if she’s willing to share…

This story is out of this world—literally—with twin moons, magical healers, ruthless warlords, and a pair centaur shifters that will have you looking at horses in a whole new light.  Granted, intimacies only take place while they’re in human form.  If that’s a major disappointment, you might want to pass on this book.  The coming prequel is dark and dirty.  If you don’t want to miss it or the two planned sequels in the Dark Moons Saga, follow my Amazon author page at http://viewauthor.at/NiaFarrell.

Written for Terran readers Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt:

She could only hide her nature for so long.  If they wanted her, they would take her.  If they took her, they would know.

It did not make her decision any easier, but revealing herself sooner rather than later might work to her advantage.  Oddly, she could thank Mordred for the training that he had ordered her to undertake these past weeks while his custom mark was being made.  The lessons were meant to prepare her for his possession.  She never dreamed that she would use them to try to tempt a man, yet she now found herself preparing to seduce two.  And not just men.  They were another race altogether.  Dark lords.  Manbeasts.  Centaurs who would split her asunder if they chose to take her in that form.

The thought made her tremble, but she had to risk it.  She’d made her choice when she’d climbed on Thorne’s back and wrapped her arms around his waist, breathing in his heady male scent as he galloped through the forest at breakneck speed, carrying her to safety.

Casting a glance about the room, Deidra spied a ewer of water on a sideboard.  Untying the length of linen from her hair, she unpinned her knot and loosened her locks, finger-combing them into some semblance of order.  Thirstier than she’d been in her life, she could not resist stealing a few sips of water before wetting the cloth and scrubbing her face, neck, and hands.  She moistened it again, as needed, cleaning her fingernails, one by one, as best she could.  Helpless to do more without the proper tools, she turned her attention to her poor legs and was tending the worst of her scratches when the brothers came back.

Immediately she dropped to her knees, with head bowed and her hands locked behind her, presenting herself as she had been trained, except that she was still dressed.  One of them—Thorne, she thought—whistled softly. 

“Well, well,” he murmured.  “What have we here?  Speak, femina.”

“Sires, this girl was born Deidra of Ravenhill.  Her father Fallyn is—was—lord there, until Mordred, bastard of Owain ap Coel, captured it.  He plans to take what no man has had and mark this girl as his.  Please, my lords, this girl would rather die than suffer his touch.  No amount of training will change that.”

Expletives blistered the air as Ragan cursed her father’s murderer.  “We have heard of this Mordred.  I take it, you were being made ready for him?”

“Aye, milord.  For him, and, he threatened, for his friends.  Becoming a comforter requires much preparation.  Advanced training allows one girl to satisfy multiple partners,” she added meaningfully.  She’d only just begun that phase when she managed to escape, thanks to the floral bouquet she’d been allowed to pick for her room.  The natural sedative from one plant had rendered her guard unconscious, long enough for her to access the hidden passage.

She had never seen such motion in stillness, yet both men remained exactly where they were.

“He will come,” Thorne grated, clenching his fists, his chest heaving with each hot breath.  “He will want her.”

“Perhaps not,” she whispered.  “Mordred wants what no man has had.  If that changes…”

The words remained unspoken, hovering in the air between them, the silence thickening with each passing second.  Now or never, she told herself.  Inhaling, she drew her thoughts inward, tapped into her core, and focused on her heart center, drawing the energy there first, then feeling the luminescence spread throughout her body until her skin glowed softly and her fingertips were limned in light.  “Please.”  Breaking protocol, rejecting the objectification of this girl and reclaiming the birthright of her true self, she boldly met their gazes and pleaded, “Help me, Thorne, Ragan!  I beg you!”

When they did not punish or correct her, she exhaled softly.  As the tension drained from her body, she glowed even brighter.

Thorne hooked a bent finger under her chin and lifted her radiant face, his gaze locking with hers, truly seeing her for the first time, from her amethyst eyes to the thick, shining waves of white-gold hair.  With her head tilted back, it pooled in her clasped hands and spilled over to brush her hips.

His thumb traced her lower lip.  She looked at his mouth.  So very serious.  And his blue eyes.  Deep and mysterious, indeed.  With his humor hidden for the moment, the look on his face was riveting.

Thorne blew out softly.  “Deidra, do you know what you are asking?  You know what we are.”

“Aye,” she said.  “But I also know that Mordred would rob me of light.  Eventually, he would drain me.  He cares nothing for my needs.  He lusts for power and covets mine.  He was waiting to mark me, hoping that, with training, I would be more open to him.  If I shielded myself when he set his seal upon me, he would never draw more, at any other time, than at that moment.”

Deidra looked from Thorne to Ragan.  “I do not know what stories you have heard, but the words I speak are the truth, I swear by the goddess.  I am a child of Sola, a daughter of light.  It is our nature to help and to heal, but what we give must be renewed, by bathing in the rays of Sola or by drinking spring water charged with her light.  Marking,” she said, “is best done over the heart center, when a willing woman, radiant with Sola’s lifeforce, is at the peak of power and of passion.  My light has waned with the stress of the day, but I swear, I will give it freely, to you and your brother, if you will safekeep me from all others.”

Ragan studied her, considering.  “You would share your light?  And our bed?”

Deidra nodded.  Better their slave than Mordred’s.T 

 

EXCERPT 2:

Ragan left them briefly, returning with a jar of ointment.  He treated the scratches on her legs, then dipped two fingers into the jar and pulled out a generous portion.  Part went between her legs, adding to the moisture already pooling.  The rest, he spread on the tip of his erection.  Getting her first real look at it, she understood why.

Thorne was huge, but Ragan was gigantic, easily ten inches long with a girth to match.  If not for her training, she was certain she would have swooned.

Deidra bit her lower lip and watched his preparations.  “Hands above your head,” Ragan ordered.  She thought Thorne might bind them, but he caught her wrists instead and held them firmly in his grasp.

“Relax as best you can, love,” Thorne murmured, kissing her forehead.  “Just close your eyes and think of me.”

Ragan growled and cast a black look at his brother.  “Shut the fuck up, Thorne.  Don’t listen to him, Deidra—except for the relaxing part.”

She smiled, struggling not to giggle.  Here she was, pinned by one man to a bed of another she’d met not three hours past, who was about to take her virginity, and he and his brother were bickering like schoolboys.  She caught her lower lip between her teeth, looked at Ragan, and promptly burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted.  “But you two…”

“Yes.  Quite a pair, are we not?”  Rather than be offended, Ragan seemed glad to see her so at ease with them.  “For better or worse, we are yours, little dove.  Now relax. That’s it.  That’s right.  Perfect.  Just breathe.  Breathe.  And keep your eyes on me, dove.  Once we get past the pain, I swear to you, I shall make you fly.”

 

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SOMETHING AMAZING: THE THREE GRACES BOOK FOUR

Bodybuilder

SOMETHING AMAZING: THE THREE GRACES BOOK FOUR

by Nia Farrell

Length 20,831 words.  Release date August 1, 2018.

Amazon Universal/KU http://mybook.to/TG4 

Amazon US  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07F2QHJ5R

Goodreads http://bit.ly/TG4GR 

 

Nico White is a bisexual American Indian musician and a shaman who has visions of his soulmates.  In his dreams, there are always three of them—two men and one woman who reincarnate together again and again.  He meets psychic medium Grace Murphy first, but it’s six months more before they meet 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.  It soon becomes clear that the reason they’re together again is to help J.T. heal.

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 healing the present means remembering the past, however painful it might be.

An interracial paranormal MMF ménage BDSM erotic romance.  The book shares some scenes with Something Else (The Three Graces Book One) told from Nico’s point of view and includes additional scenes.  Contains explicit sexual content, written for mature readers.  Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt:

The Pumphouse is hopping.  The line’s out the door, and the temperature is dropping now that the sun is behind City Hall.  When Grace shivers, I take her shawl, wrap it and my arms around her, and pull her back against me.  The top of her head fits under my chin.  Inhaling deeply, I smell the light fragrance of her shampoo and honeysuckle on her skin.

“Mmm,” she breathes, relaxing against me like we’ve known each other forever, not just eight hours or so.  “I’m going to have to apologize to Anna.  She tried to get us together before this, but the timing never worked out.  Between fairs on weekends, readings in the evenings, and my job at THE Bookstore, I haven’t had much time for myself.  Have I told you that I’m glad you came?”

“You can tell me again,” I assure her.  “I’m glad that you’re here, too, Grace.  At long fucking last,” I add pointedly, whispering in her ear.

Just when I think she can’t get any cuter, she giggles.

She turns her head to whisper back, “I thought you were going to say, ‘But I haven’t come.  Yet…’”  She falls silent, all traces of humor gone, the instant she feels me swelling against her back.  “Nico?”

I fight the urge to grind my hips into hers.  If she had any idea of how badly I want her, and how roughly I’d like to take her, she’d be freaking right now.

“Grace.  Sweetheart.  Don’t.  Move.  Otherwise, they’re going to get dinner and a show.”

We’ve already attracted attention as the only a male/female couple in line.  I see at least one former sexual partner in the queue, but David’s not interested in a mixed-gender ménage.  An all-male review is more his style, and the more, the merrier.

“Sorry.  Sir.”  The first word tells me that she understands.  The second lets me know what her psychic radar’s already picked up on me.  I’ve never discussed BDSM with Anna.  We keep things platonic between us and pour our passion into our music.

Good girl,” I tell Grace.  “I can see we’re going to get along just fine, but you do know we’re missing one, right?  If your dreams match mine, you know there are three of us.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispers.  This time, when she trembles, it’s not from the cold.

“Have you met him?”

“No.”

“Me, neither.  Soon, though.  Don’t you think?  Now that we’ve met, surely he’s close.”

“I hope the hell so,” she breathes.  “I was starting to think I missed you guys, that I’ve been saving myself for nothing.”  She goes quiet for a moment.  “I don’t have any experience.  Will that bother you?”

“Ah, Grace.”  I bury my nose in her hair and nuzzle the top of her head.  “Once he gets here, we’ll give what you can take, and take what you can give.”

She’s shaking now.  I can smell her arousal.  If I slip my hand between us and cup her sex, I’m certain that she’s sopping wet, the crotch of her leggings soaked with her juices, imagining what it will be like to be taken by two men.

Or one man, while he takes me.

 

SEXCERPT:

I lean down to kiss her, claiming the lips that I’ve only dreamed about.  She melts into me, tasting, feeling, smelling the musk of our arousal.  Reaching up, she weaves the fingers of one hand in my hair and touches me with the other, learning, exploring, discovering what I have to offer.

She’s shy enough, she keeps things above my waist.  I slide a hand around to her low back, pull her tight against me, and let her feel just how much I want her.

J.T. strips, climbs on the bed, and sits against the center of the headboard.  The engorged length of his meaty nine-inch cock rises like a Shiva lingam stone, ready to be worshipped and adored.

He motions for Grace to join him and has her lie with her head between his spread knees and her arms raised.  He manacles her slim wrists with his large, callused hands.  His cock dips toward her face, pre-cum glistening in the slit.

Talk about sin on a stick.

I tear off the rest of my clothes.

“Fuck, girl,” he growls.  “Nico, look at her, man.  She’s fucking perfect.  I can’t believe you didn’t tap this already.  Six months, you held back.  Are you some kind of fucking saint?”

Grace’s eyes meet mine.  I’m standing, nude, at the foot of the bed, fisting myself, lusting at the sight of her being held by J.T.  Remembering the bondage on her browser history, I could easily get off just seeing her restrained and at his mercy.

I make a mental note to buy ropes.

Lots of ropes.

“Legs wide, baby girl.”  J.T. twists her nipple.  Grace gasps so hard, it wouldn’t surprise me if she had an orgasm.  She blushes and turns her head.

“No.”  J.T. orders her to look at me.  “You don’t take your eyes off him, understood?  Now spread those legs.  Nico, get in here.  Get between those white thighs of hers.  Can’t you see?  She’s ready for you, man.”

Grace watches me with parted lips and bedroom eyes, expectant, willing, hopeful.  I let mine drift south, past the creamy swell of her breasts, the dent of her navel, the jut of her hip bones, to the glistening folds below her mons.  Knowing that I’ll be the first man inside her makes me as hard as I’ve ever been.

I tap her clit with my cock and slide it lower, wetting the head with her juices.  Parting her swollen folds, I lock my gaze on hers and push my crown inside.

Her labored pants and the fear in her eyes tell me that she’s fighting panic.  Shallow breaths hiss between her clenched teeth and mine.  I dare to go deeper, dredging into her, tearing her tender flesh.

She grimaces and bites her lips.

I flex my hips and push deeper.

Her face contorts with pain.  “Dear.  God.  Bless it.”

At her words, I freeze, holding myself suspended above her on trembling arms.  Damn it, I hate that I’m hurting her when she feels so fucking perfect to me.  I want to make this good for both of us.

“You’re doing fine, baby girl.”  Shifting, J.T. keeps her wrists secured in one hand and reaches for her breasts with the other.  “Love these tits,” he growls.  “Fuck.  I could bite and suck these all night long.  Sometime soon, we’re going to put on a movie or find a game on T.V.   We’ll lay you out on the coffee table and munch on you for hours, me and Nico.  Neck, breasts, nipples, toes, pussy… until there’s not an inch of you we haven’t tasted.”

“Fuck.”  Grace looks like she’s on the verge of coming, turned on by J.T.’s dirty talk.

I let her have her moment, then pull her from whatever fantasy she’s entertaining.  “Grace.  Sweetheart, I need to move.”

Grace looks at me.  Emotions play across her face.  Discomfort.  Arousal.  Puzzlement.  Impatience.  Confusion.  Displeasure.

“Fuck me.  Fuck.  Me!” she orders, then bites my chest.

What the hell, Grace?

 “Christ!” I snap at her.  The little shit.  Doesn’t she know better than to bait me?

 Of course she does.  But we can’t have her topping from the bottom, can we?

I give her my best Dom look, the one that says, What the hell do you think you’re doing?  How dare you fuck with me?

J.T. chuckles when he sees it.  Grace goes still.  Holding her breath, she braces herself for what’s coming.  I lunge forward, pushing as deep as her body will let me.  She whimpers.  I ignore it.  Gathering myself, I slam into her until I’m seated to the root and my balls slap her taint.  I hold her tight against me, grinding my groin against hers, pressing her clit until pleasure begins to take the edge off the pain.

She’s.  So.  Fucking.  Tight.

I start to move.  I pump my hips, increasing the depth and strength of each stroke until I’m driving my full length in and out of her, and she’s moving with me, rising up to meet my thrusts.

J.T. watches us.  His hungry gaze is locked on where our bodies are joined.  His ears are strained, listening to my dark red flesh slap against her pale white skin.  Inhaling the scent of sex that fills the air, he moans and bites his lip.  He looks and sounds like a starving man who’s dying for more.

“On your knees,” he growls when he can’t stand it anymore.

I take hold of Grace’s hips, lift, and start pounding into her.  The change in angle lets me hit her G-spot and the first orgasm tears through her.  God, I love the feel of her tight pussy, milking my length.

A second orgasm comes hard on the heels of the first.  J.T. releases her hands and shifts positions.  Easing to one side of Grace, he fists her hair and brings her face to where he wants it, with her mouth at his cock.  “Take it,” he orders, tightening his hold.  Grace runs her small pink tongue around the rim and opens wide.  J.T. rocks his hips and begins fucking her face.  Soon we’re thrusting to the same rhythm, above and below.  Grace’s moans vibrate her throat.  J.T. pinches her nipple, robbing her of breath.  So.  Damn.  Good.  Jesus, now that I have her, I can’t get enough.

J.T. sticks with the game plan.  Me, vaginal.  Him, oral.  He’s going to want to do more, but he’s patient enough to wait.  Not six months, thank fuck, but he’s an ex-Navy SEAL and a former MMA fighter.  He’s conditioned and disciplined.

And a little bit in denial.

I see the way he looks at me, watching my cock, admiring the sheen of sweat and the play of muscles as I make love to the woman between us.  J.T. may not be openly bi, but he didn’t say no when we talked about sex.  Seeing that huge cock of his stretching out Grace’s jaws makes me hotter than hell.  I imagine the taste and the feel of it in my mouth, against my tongue, coming down my throat.  I wonder what it will feel like, shoved up my ass, when he finally cuts loose on me.

 

What the hell, Grace?

 

“Christ!” I snap at her.  The little shit.  Doesn’t she know better than to bait me?

 

Of course she does.  But we can’t have her topping from the bottom, can we?

 

I give her my best Dom look, the one that says, What the hell do you think you’re doing?  How dare you fuck with me?

 

J.T. chuckles when he sees it.  Grace goes still.  Holding her breath, she braces herself for what’s coming.  I lunge forward, pushing as deep as her body will let me.  She whimpers.  I ignore it.  Gathering myself, I slam into her until I’m seated to the root and my balls slap her taint.  I hold her tight against me, grinding my groin against hers, pressing her clit until pleasure begins to take the edge off the pain.

 

She’s.  So.  Fucking.  Tight.

 

I start to move.  I pump my hips, increasing the depth and strength of each stroke until I’m driving my full length in and out of her, and she’s moving with me, rising up to meet my thrusts.

 

J.T. watches us.  His hungry gaze is locked on where our bodies are joined.  His ears are strained, listening to my dark red flesh slap against her pale white skin.  Inhaling the scent of sex that fills the air, he moans and bites his lip.  He looks and sounds like a starving man who’s dying for more.

 

“On your knees,” he growls when he can’t stand it anymore.

 

I take hold of Grace’s hips, lift, and start pounding into her.  The change in angle lets me hit her G-spot and the first orgasm tears through her.  God, I love the feel of her tight pussy, milking my length.

 

A second orgasm comes hard on the heels of the first.  J.T. releases her hands and shifts positions.  Easing to one side of Grace, he fists her hair and brings her face to where he wants it, with her mouth at his cock.  “Take it,” he orders, tightening his hold.  Grace runs her small pink tongue around the rim and opens wide.  J.T. rocks his hips and begins fucking her face.  Soon we’re thrusting to the same rhythm, above and below.  Grace’s moans vibrate her throat.  J.T. pinches her nipple, robbing her of breath.  So.  Damn.  Good.  Jesus, now that I have her, I can’t get enough.

 

J.T. sticks with the game plan.  Me, vaginal.  Him, oral.  He’s going to want to do more, but he’s patient enough to wait.  Not six months, thank fuck, but he’s an ex-Navy SEAL and a former MMA fighter.  He’s conditioned and disciplined.

 

And a little bit in denial.

 

I see the way he looks at me, watching my cock, admiring the sheen of sweat and the play of muscles as I make love to the woman between us.  J.T. may not be openly bi, but he didn’t say no when we talked about sex.  Seeing that huge cock of his stretching out Grace’s jaws makes me hotter than hell.  I imagine the taste and the feel of it in my mouth, against my tongue, coming down my throat.  I wonder what it will feel like, shoved up my ass, when he finally cuts loose on me.

 

SOMETHING DIFFERENT: THE THREE GRACES BOOK TWO

A young woman with funky hair on a black background.

SOMETHING DIFFERENT: THE THREE GRACES BOOK TWO

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.

 Impressive.

“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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SOMETHING ELSE: THE THREE GRACES BOOK ONE

knitted winter clothes

 

SOMETHING ELSE: THE THREE GRACES BOOK ONE

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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REPLAY BOOK 10: PATRIOT GAMES

R10 Patriot Games

REPLAY BOOK 10: 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.”

“Oh?”

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.

 

SEXCERPT:

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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