SOMETHING SPECIAL (The Three Graces Book Six)

Close up picture of an handsome young man in tuxedo ajusting his

Fashion latin man looking at camera with confidence

SOMETHING SPECIAL (THE THREE GRACES BOOK SIX) by Nia Farrell.  In a sequel to SOMETHING ELSE, Grace, J.T., and Nico honeymoon at a special BDSM resort.  Grace will finally experience her capture fantasy…except the warrior taking her won’t be Nico. 105 5×8 pages, 21,578 words.

Amazon buy link

ISBN-10: 0-9853145-0-8 Kindle

ISBN-13: 978-0-9853145-0-7 Kindle

Scheduled release date May 5, 2016


Grace Murphy, Anna James, and Rachel Givens aka Rae Simmons live in the fictional town of Posey, Minnesota.  They call themselves the Three Graces, because their first names mean just that.

Grace Murphy is the local psychic medium who saved herself for her soul mates, bisexual American Indian musician Nico White and Latino veteran J.T. Santiago.  Grace is submissive, Nico is a switch, and J.T. is the dominant in their MMF BDSM ménage.

Before they met, J.T. had never been with a man.  He’d never been serious enough about a woman to consider marriage.  But Grace and Nico came as a package deal, and he’s fallen in love with them both.  When morning sickness hits the house, the two men bend their knees and plans are made for a very special honeymoon.  They’re giving Grace the capture fantasy of her dreams at Replay, a BDSM theme resort where patrons come to play in the past….



Something Special is the continuation of Something Else (The Three Graces Book One) by Nia Farrell, released August 25, 2015, by Dark Hollows Press.  In Something Else, psychic medium Grace Murphy has been saving herself for the men of her dreams: Nicolas White, a bisexual American Indian musician, and J. T. Santiago, a Latino veteran with PTSD.  Something Special begins six weeks after Grace and Nico meet J.T.

Chapter One

I hear Grace retching through the closed bathroom door and rap a knuckle in warning.  “I’m coming in,” I growl, as sick of this shit as Nico, who’s gone on an emergency run for more crackers and clear soda.  We both agree, she needs to see a fucking doctor.

Our woman is on her knees by the commode, one hand fisting the length of her ginger hair, the other desperately clutching to the seat while she dry heaves over the edge.  Damn it, I hate to see her like this.  She’s had stomach issues off and on for the past three days.  She’s already lost weight and she’s too fucking pale.  The girl needs meat, not saltines and ginger ale, which is about all she’s able to keep down these days.

She spits into the bowl and starts to push herself up.  I grab her arms and help her stand.  I may tower more than a foot over her five feet two inches, but I feel helpless as fuck.  Surely there’s something they can do.  People die of food poisoning, influenza, and God knows what else that she may or may not have.  My brother Esteban was a medic in the service.  He says we should find out what the hell’s going on before Grace gets dehydrated and ends up in the hospital, hooked up to an IV.

“Chica,” I croon in her ear when I feel her tensing up, like she’s just waiting for me to scold her.  Of course, she is.  She’s goddamn psychic.  It’s nothing for her to slip inside my head and listen to my thoughts, although I’ve found ways to work that to my advantage.  I like rough sex in the bedroom and the playroom.  Most of the time Grace knows exactly what I want without even being asked.  She’ll take as much as I can give her and when she senses I need more, she lets Nico handle the rest.  The past couple of days, it’s been the two of us rather than three.

“Sorry,” she croaks, her throat raw from vomiting.  There are dark circles under her brilliant green eyes, and her faint freckles stand out more than normal from that pale Irish skin of hers.

“Hey, this isn’t about that,” I tell her, holding onto her with one hand and flipping a tap with the other.  Wetting a washcloth, I chuck a finger beneath her chin and lift her face for cleaning.  “It’s about you not getting any better.  If anything, you’re worse.  I don’t care what you say, we’re taking you to the doctor tomorrow.  No more excuses.”

Done, I drape the washcloth on the edge of the sink and run a glass of tap water.  “Rinse,” I order, making sure she swishes at least twice.  Stomach acids are hard on teeth enamel.

“Good girl.”

Those two words are ones she’s learned to crave.  She gives me that look, the one that says she’s willing to please.  Willing to play.  But I’m her Dominant.  Her needs come before mine.  Get her clean.  Make her comfortable.  Find her something she can hopefully keep down.  Maybe later she’ll feel well enough, Nico and I can rock her to sleep.

“Yes, Master.”

Swear to God, her voice just dropped an octave.  The low note hits below the belt and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, not with Grace, anyhow.

“There is,” she says, eavesdropping again.  “You can mark me.”

I must admit, there are times when I love being wrong.

“You sure?”  Looking into those green glass eyes of hers, I see love shining in their depths.  Her mouth curves upward, soft and sweet perfection.

“Yes, Master.  I’m sure.  Fuck, I’ve got to change clothes anyway, otherwise I’m going to make the whole house smell skanky.”

Grace looks like a soap princess and swears like a sailor.  We’ve known each other six weeks, and she still manages to shock me.

“Potty mouth.”  I temper my scold with a grin.

“Blame Anna.  I never swore until I met her.”

So I’ve heard.  Anna is Grace’s best friend and Nico’s songwriting partner.  Anna’s been mopey as all shit since the Thomason twins left to finish their Caged tour.  The four of them – Anna, Nico, Jackson, and Jacob – are working on an album.  Tonight was their weekly Wednesday music writing night.  Nico says that Anna was in tears by the time the guys got done Skyping with her in the playroom.  She told Nico that she’ll be turning in her notice at work tomorrow.  Two more weeks, and she’s out of here – at least until Jackson and Jacob are done touring.

We had a bet how long it would be before she hit the road and joined them.  I’m so looking forward to that blow job.  Nico’s mouth, and that deep throat of his.  He’s done a great job, helping Grace learn and hone her technique, but when it comes to giving head, I’ll be honest.  A man knows how to please another man.

Grace pauses for the briefest, telling moment, with her hands poised at my leather belt.

Fuck.  I don’t want her to think she sucks.

Still tuned into me, she hears a double entendre and giggles.  “I do suck,” she quips, a sultry smile in that husky voice of hers.  “Maybe not as good as Nico, but I don’t think you mind my smaller mouth.  I think you like it tight.  Like the scrape of my teeth.  Like coating my tonsils with spunk.  Like painting my tits.  Please, J.T.?  Make us both feel better and pour your love on these tender boobies of mine.”

“Ah, chica.  I love you, baby girl.”

Grace gets back to business, unfastening my buckle and pulling until the two ends come apart.  Hooking a finger in my waistband, she works the button free, fishes for the zipper pull, and slides it down, metal teeth snicking as she opens my jeans.  My half-hard cock bulges the front of my boxers.  Rather than pull it through the opening, she grabs the elastic top of my underwear and tugs until it’s below my balls, pushing them up as it presses on my taint.  Not exactly a cock ring, but it still feels pretty damn good.

“Grace,” I murmur, taking over.  As much as I love the feel of her touch, she needs rest, which means this needs to be quick and she’s still off her game.  I fondle my sac and stroke my length, with a twist and a pull on the end of each upward motion, while I watch Grace watching me.  So hot, so pretty, even in her illness.  She stares at me, squeezing her sensitive breast with one hand while she slides the other lower and buries it in her crotch.  I pick up the pace.  She bites back a moan and rubs her clit harder, panting through parted lips.  The sight of her pink tongue sneaking a swipe to moisten them is enough to tip me over the edge.

“Now, chica.”  She climaxes almost on command.  I grunt as I shoot my load on her chest, spraying ropes of cum across her breasts and hand.

“Fuck.”  I give one more jerk and wipe my fingers and dick on the hem of Grace’s shirt before helping her out of it.  I’m careful – or lucky – enough to avoid making too much of a mess.  A quick wipe down with the washcloth, and she’s good for the go.

I kiss her forehead and keep my face to hers, noses touching, holding her still when she tries to wriggle free and keep me from smelling the sourness of her breath.  “Sit tight, baby girl.  I’ll bring clothes.”  Smoothing her hair, I kiss the top of her head and fetch her a full change, her favorite pajama bottoms and the mismatched cotton T-shirt she pairs with them.  Thank fuck Grace has her own fashion sense.  Whimsical in private, New Age ethereal when she’s reading at psychic fairs, and hot damn she’s ours when Nico and I take her out on the town.

The master bedroom’s en-suite still smells like puke and sex when Nico makes it back.  Stopping by the bed where I sit with Grace, he tests the air but says nothing.  Son of a bitch looks every inch the stereotypically stoic American Indian male, from his copper skin and black silk hair to the impassive features schooled on his handsome face.  I cock an eyebrow to remind him of the pecking order in the bedroom and playroom.   I top Nico.  Nico tops Grace.  I’m Master.  He’s Sir.  Grace is our lovely, psychically gifted, and very sick submissive.

Frowning, Nico hands over the crackers and a room-temp can of clear, carbonated beverage.

I set down the box and pour the pop in the glass tumbler on the bedside table.  “Think you can drink, Grace?”

“I’ll try,” she promises, taking the glass from my hand and sipping carefully.  When a tiny swallow doesn’t send her stomach reeling, she dares to take another.  “Sgood,” she says.  “Thanks, guys.  Sorry to be such a bother.”

“It’s our job to take care of you,” I remind her, fingering the collar we just placed around her neck.  The custom BDSM piece is a modern take on the traditional Claddagh design, a heart, typically crowned, held between two hands.  In this case, the heart is a padlock with a keyhole.  The engraving on the back names her OURS.

Like we did with her first green leather play collar, Nico and I both have keys.

“Nico, I’m going to leave a voice mail at the clinic, see how soon we can get her in tomorrow.  I think they normally start taking patients at nine, but we won’t know how they’re booked until someone gets there in the morning.”

Grace starts to open her mouth.  She looks at me and thinks better of it.

Yep, some days, having my thoughts heard pays in spades.

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The Three Graces Trilogy



THE THREE GRACES TRILOGY: scheduled for reissue January 2019

Three women.  Six men.  Things are about to get interesting.

The Three Graces Series by Nia Farrell – BDSM erotic romances from Dark Hollows Press.  SOMETHING ELSE, SOMETHING DIFFERENT, and SOMETHING MORE (nominated for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, 2016 Golden Flogger Awards).

Reviewers on The Three Graces series by Nia Farrell:  “As a reader who enjoys the complexities of ménage-fueled romances I’m thrilled to have discovered the Three Graces series and the erotic and intense storylines found within the pages….. add all of them to your bookshelf for hours of steamy fun!”  “Each book gets better and better.”

Reviewers on SOMETHING ELSE (MMF soulmates ménage): “It’s part paranormal, part BDSM, part love story, but all good….” “Imaginative and sexy” “A likeable, 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.  Rated FIVE STARS at Barnes & Noble, 4.9 at Amazon.

Reviewers on SOMETHING DIFFERENT (MFM rock stars ménage): “Sexy and sultry”  “Fun and hot…This ménage à trois, featuring two sexy rock star brothers and a talented musician, will leave you breathless and wanting for more.” “Nia Farrell did not disappoint. Although Something Different is a heavier BDSM read than its predecessor, it was well written and flowed well. I cannot wait for more in this series.”  Rated FIVE STARS at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Goodreads.

Reviewers on SOMETHING MORE (MFM waitress/biker/porn star ménage + secret baby):  “The WARNING for this book should be STEAMY HOT & Panty Melting….”  “Anyone can write a story that has great sex scenes but give me a story along with the sex and you’ve got yourself a HUGE fan!  Rachel Givens and her daughter Hannah stole my heart immediately….Cam and Cord swooped in and not only filled Rachel’s heart with love and forgiveness but they also reached Hannah’s – which is a difficult task in itself. Just an amazing story!”  Rated FIVE STARS at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Goodreads.  Nominated for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, 2016 Golden Flogger Awards.


THE THREE GRACES TRILOGY – one book, three stories. Coming in e-book and paperback.


Something Else



The Three Graces Book One


Grace Murphy is the local psychic medium who dreams of her soulmates – the two men she reincarnates with time and again.  While reading at an Irish festival, she meets Nicolas White, a bisexual American Indian musician.  A shaman with visions of his own, Nico recognizes Grace from his last sweat lodge as the red-haired woman in the south.  Now that they’ve found each other, surely the third one will come soon.

Six months later they meet J.T. Santiago, an ex-Navy SEAL and former cage fighter who owns a gym and teaches mixed martial arts.  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 means healing the past, however painful it might be.

Scheduled for reissue July 2018.




Something Different

The Three Graces Book Two

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.

Jackson and Jacob 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. 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?

Scheduled for reissue July 2018






Something More

The Three Graces Book Three



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

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


Scheduled for reissue July 2018


It’s two hours before I normally pick up Hannah. Two and a half hours before I start getting charged by the minute. Rules are rules, and there are penalties to be paid. As I drive to the motel, I think of all that’s gone on, of what each of us owes the others, and wonder how it’s going to play out. My question is answered when Cord opens the door. The warmth of the room hits me first, then the sight of both men, shirtless and barefoot, dressed in their Dom leather pants.

Cam stands beside the turned-down, king-sized bed, dangling handcuffs and holding a deerskin flogger.

“Clothes off,” Cord tells me. “Then kneel.”

They want my submission as much as I need to give it. This is different than being at the mercy of men who have none. Cam and Cord take only the power that I allow them to have. They can restrain me, spank me, flog me, cane me, and I will let them, trusting that, if I tell them to stop anything, at any time, they will. Kink doesn’t preclude sex, but I know they’ll want it. It’s possible that we may have it. But that remains to be seen.

I take off my clothes, freeing myself as I do, revealing the web of white veins etched on a once-gravid belly, the faint marks on my wrists made by zip ties, the scars on my chest and back from knife blades, brass knuckles, and lit cigarettes. The back of one shoulder bears two opposing half-circles, made by one man’s teeth. He was the worst. The thing that he said he wanted to do–

It turned off the others so much, they made him wait. He would have been the last one to use me. He would have maimed me, then killed me.


I don’t feel the least bit guilty, hoping he died a horrible death.

Naked, I assume the position they taught me, kneeling on the floor with legs apart and my hands behind my head, breasts thrust out like a naughty forties pinup, wearing only their names in flowery script, inked on the inside of each thigh: Cameron and Cordell. I’d insisted on their real names, not titanic Jamie or biker Cruz but who they always were. Who they always will be. Mine.

 Cord strokes my cheek, his callused fingers gently rasping my skin. “Angel,” he murmurs, his voice thick, his eyes suspiciously moist. “I’ve missed you. We both have.”

I don’t want to think of where I was or where he’s been, but a question looms as large as an elephant in the room. “May I speak, Sir?”

Cord lifts his hand, takes it away, and drops it to his side. “Yes.”

The loss of his touch leaves me achingly bereft. I struggle with how I should phrase what needs to be said. The tests for STDs while I recovered in the hospital and while I was pregnant all came back good, and I haven’t been with anyone since. There’s no way they’ve both been celibate. Maybe Cord.


Even prison life gets lonely.

“I’m not on birth control. If this goes beyond discipline, protection will be worn from the beginning. No putting it on midstream. Not until we’ve been tested and cleared and I’m protected. And no blindfold. I need to see you. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Moving like a big cat, Cam crosses the room to where I am kneeling. I know from the hitch in his gait when he’s close enough to see my scars.

“Fuck. Fuck.” He closes his eyes and inhales sharply, gathering himself. When he can bring himself to look at me again, tears shimmer in his eyes. “Come here, sweetheart. Let’s get you on the bed.”