Independence Day

ID-0 Independence Day 5x8 sm

 

 

INDEPENDENCE DAY

by Nia Farrell

Length 22,753 words.

Single-title release July 4, 2020.  FREE with KU.

*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.”

ENEMY MINE

ENEMY MINE

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?”

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.

Bondage.

Discipline.

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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Replay Book 12: CAGED

 

Replay Book 12: CAGED

by Nia Farrell

Length 22,689 words. Release date June 20, 2020.

Free with Kindle Unlimited

Amazon buy link      Amazon US     BookBub reviews     Goodreads TBR 

 

Kitten gets a Daddy Dom for Father’s Day!

The pandemic has struck and play weekends are canceled at Replay BDSM theme resort after one of the owner’s wife’s patients tests positive. The few patrons still there agree to self-quarantine with a two-week all-inclusive stay. While Sir Piers remains home with his family, it’s left to his executive assistant Kitten and his administrative assistant Samael to see that things run smoothly at the resort.

One of their guests is triple-platinum recording artist Thaddeus Rhodes, a tattooed, bearded Daddy Dom who’s into steampunk cosplay. Thaddeus thinks it’s a shame that Kitten takes care of everyone else and no one takes care of this little.

Faced with two weeks of lockdown, Kitten comes up with a list of things to help to pass the time. What starts out as a game of ways to please this Daddy quickly evolves into something much, much more.

This story includes consensual power exchange, DD/lg ageplay, partner sharing, domestic discipline, and bisexual ménage scenes. If any of this offends you, please don’t buy this book. Written for Ages 18+.

Author’s Note: Kitten has been a secondary character in the first eleven Replay books. It was wonderful to finally meet her. I love that Kitten finds her perfect Daddy Dom just in time for Father’s Day!

EXCERPT (PG13):

He was a Dominant without a permanent submissive and Kitten was a little who needed a Daddy. Before today, he’d only known her professionally as Sir Piers’s executive assistant and an integral part of what made Replay BDSM theme resort successful. He would never have encroached on Sir Piers’s territory, would never have offered to be her Dominant, but the circumstances they found themselves had him doing things that were, in short, extraordinary.

They’d both been potentially exposed to a deadly virus. In two weeks, they’d know if their self-quarantine was a necessary precaution. Meanwhile, he had music weaving itself in his head and a little whose ass needed reddened for working through her lunchtime.

Not good.

Not good at all.

She eyed the ornate cage in the corner with a mix of anticipation and trepidation—and who could blame her? He’d told her what he intended to do. He was going to spank her bottom, tuck her inside, and keep her there until she was truly repentant. What he hadn’t told her was what would happen next. When she was full of remorse and riddled with angst about what she could do to please him, he planned to bind her arms to the bars and take her where she stood…

EXCERPT (NSFW):

Crawling to the door of her cage, she sat back on her heels in a Gorean pose and waited for him to notice. He made her wait a minute more while he finished whatever he was typing on his tablet before hitting send and closing it.

“Well, little miss. Are you going to share what’s in that busy mind of yours? Have you thought of ways to please me?”

She knew men. He’d be expecting the usual. A blow job. Vaginal sex. Anal sex. A lap dance. A strip routine. Things men typically envisioned for immediate gratification.

“I think so, Daddy. I hope so. First, I’d like to dress like Bindi in Iron Domination and play hide-and-seek with you aboard the Nebula.”

If he’d read the books (and judging by the beard-shadowed curl of his lips, he had), he’d know exactly where to find her.

“I like the way you think, little girl. Go on.”

“When you’ve found me, I’ll give you a bath like Bindi does Adams…, rub your feet and massage your neck before bed.”

“That’s two.”

Only two, and he was already hard for her.

“In the morning, I’ll cook you breakfast and serve it to you on a tray wearing nothing but a smile.”

He liked the sound of that, too.

“Three,” he counted.

“After dinner that night, we can play a game of chess. The winner gets to pick what porn to watch and act out.”

“That’s four,” he hummed. “One more.”

“I could give Daddy a massage,” she offered.

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re already giving me one after my bath.”

“But this is different,” she swore. “Special. It’s internal massage. A prostate massage.”

“Five,” he rumbled, reaching for the door.

“And then,” she breathed, “I’ll polish your knob—” she left it hanging, letting his imagination run wild “—on your walking stick. The silver-gripped one. It’s too heavy to use for impact play, but I can help you find another cane to use. Or you can make me cut a switch.”

“Six,” he rasped, curling his fingers around his erection and rubbing himself through his fly.

“One more,” she added, licking her lips for effect. “I want to give Daddy head while massaging his prostate. I want you to come down my throat and make me swallow every drop.”

The heat in his eyes was incendiary.

“My turn,” he growled. “I want to tie you to the sides of the cage. Clamp your nipples. Suck your clit. Get you wet and fuck you through the bars with my fingers digging into your hips so hard, you’ll be wearing my bruises tomorrow and feeling my dick for days. In your pussy. In your ass. What’s your safeword, pet? One to slow and one to stop.”

She could get creative later. Right now, she needed fucked. “Yellow and red, Daddy. Yellow to slow and red to stop. Please…,” she begged, eyes widening when he unbuttoned his fly and she saw the size of his erection. He was huge. Massive. Nine inches long and nearly as thick as her wrist.

There was no way he was going to fit.

Daddy smirked. “I like it when you beg,” he rumbled. “I want to make you squeal. Put your back against the bars, elbows out, arms bent, hands up. I’ll tie you with enough give to let you move a bit. It’s more fun that way.”

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NEW SERIES LAUNCHING ON BLACK FLAG FRIDAY!

PLUNDERED BY PIRATES SERIES

from Claire Marta and Nia Farrell

While writing our Guarded Hearts Series, we had to create a library of stories for our reader-heroines and Plundered by Pirates was born! Our new series launches on Black Flag Friday (Nov 27, 2020) with Bound by the Pirate King, a Caribbean swashbuckler set in the early 1800s and inspired by real-life pirates operating in the area at the time.  The next three titles are a sci-fi trilogy: Stolen by the Sirian Smuggler, Sold by the Sirian Smuggler, and Saved by the Sirian Smuggler, where a porn star abducted from Earth survives a series of misadventures and ends up with an intergalactic reverse harem.  Ravaged by the Wasteland Warlord (Plundered by Pirates Book 5) will be a post-apocalyptic dark romance.

This series will have it all, with pirates whose weapons range from cutlasses to computers.  There’ll be a little something for everyone—historical, futuristic, sci-fi, dystopian, contemporary, and speculative fiction written with a twist of dark humor and a whole lot of heat.  Think The Princess Bride meets Captain Blood, Guardians of the Galaxy, and Mad Max and you’ll see where we’re headed with this.

So… batten down the hatches and mark your calendars.  Pirates are headed your way!

LOOKING FOR YOUR NEXT BOOK BOYFRIEND?

Check out these deliciously decadent reads, FREE from April 17th – April 21st!

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RAVEN (GUARDED HEARTS BOOK 3)

GH3 Raven cover reveal

RAVEN

(GUARDED HEARTS BOOK 3)

by Claire Marta and Nia Farrell

 

Cover Design by Crystal Visions

Cover Reveal August 8, 2020

Release Date September 22, 2020

 

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Unseen enemies threaten the newest fated mate and her child.

 

Nurse practitioner and midwife Raven O’Malley has no idea what she’ll be getting into when she takes on her newest client, who lives at the Citadel with not one but two handsome men. The other cadre members are equally attractive but it’s Cayden McPherson and Killian O’Connell who set their sights on her.

Raven has enough to deal with. A daughter, a puppy, a demanding job, and a mobster ex-husband. Now a blackmailer wants her to spy on the Citadel or she risks her daughter’s life.

The cadre members know there are forces of darkness to battle and evil exists in both worlds. Can Cayden and Killian protect the woman they love or will they lose her to enemies seen and unseen?

Shifters with a sci-fi twist, the Guarded Hearts series follows members of the Order of the Phoenix. While interconnected, each title can be read as a stand-alone. MFM ménage erotic romance written for Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt (NSFW):

Cayden was just leaving the kitchen when she caught up to him.

“We need to talk,” she snapped. Catching his hand, she dragged him down the hall and into the infirmary. “What the feck is going on?” she demanded.

Cayden frowned. “What?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“They know,” she grated. “Casey. Morgan. The others. They know about us. What did you tell them? What did you say?”

The medic rubbed a hand over his face and blew out a breath. “Ye’re nae gang tae like it,” he warned. “We’ve been holding off, telling ye because of it, but there’s no help for it now, is there? Yer scent is enough tae make it clear that we’ve done the deed,” he told her. “Our kind can smell when a woman goes through the flux and her body is transformed. Ye need to talk to Morgan and Casey about what they went through, but Casey’s experience is like tae be closer. Morgan’s change was put off when she ingested vampire blood—”

“Vampires?” Raven stared at him, incredulous. “You’re telling me that there are vampires? That they’re real.”

He nodded, his green eyes as serious as she’d ever seen them. “They are that,” he told her. “One targeted Morgan. We killed it, but another one kidnapped her. We got her back and cleaned out the nest. We think we got them all now.”

“You think. You think? Jaysus, Joseph, and Mary! You should have told me!” she yelled at him. “Bloody hell! You and your mate could have told me any time, but you didn’t say a damn word, just lured me upstairs and had your way with me. You’ve changed my body without my consent. Now I’ve put my daughter in danger after thinking I was bringing her to a sanctuary. My ex kept things from me. I’m warning you right now, I expect full disclosure in the future or there’s going to be hell to pay. Do you hear me?”

She poked him in the chest to make her point.

Cayden released the breath he’d been holding. “Let me call Killian, then. Get him down here. If we’re gang tae hae a heart-tae-heart, it needs tae be the three of us.

Zana was with Willow and Prince. Free to come, Killian joined them as soon as he could make his way downstairs. “What’s up?” he asked, picking up the tension in the air.

“She knows,” Cayden told him. “Or knows the start of it, anyway. She’s demanded full disclosure. It’s better tae hear it from the both of us than tae hear it from one and again from the other.”

Killian nodded. “Ye’re the medic. I’ll let ye explain the way of things.”

“We’ve told ye what we are, that these robes of flesh have four strands of DNA. When a fated mate is found, the introduction of sperm starts the transformation process to change her body, making it compatible, able to conceive and bear children.”

“I don’t understand,” Raven clipped. “I can’t have children. I told you that. It shouldn’t have affected me.”

“But it did,” Killian assured her. “We don’t understand it either, but we knew from the first that you were the one for us, the woman to complete us. The males of our kind experience what we call the quickening. It’s a physical response to a fated mate. Lets us know that she’s the one. We felt it with ye. We will not question God’s will. Ye were chosen for us. Transformed by us. But there are other things…”

Raven was seething at their disregard for her. “And you thought it was just fine to go and do it because it’s all in the plan?” she grated. “You gave no thought to what I wanted or the fact it’s not just me. Do you know how selfish that is? How arrogant?” She buried her face in her hands. “I really can’t deal with this right now. I should get Willow and Prince and pack up the damn car and get the hell out while I can.”

“Ye need tae listen,” Cayden told her, lowering his voice in a way that did strange things to her insides. Grasping her biceps, he pulled her easily to him. She wanted to grind against him. Use him like they’d used her. How dare they!

Raven struggled to break free, clawing at his arms deep enough to leave bloody scratches when he refused to let her go.

She went still when she saw the gouges healing before her eyes.

“Full disclosure,” Cayden growled in that voice of his. “This is a hint of my true voice. It has power… affects people in different ways. Mine will make ye wish to obey. Doctor’s orders.” He said it half-jokingly, but the man was deadly serious. “Iosefa’s will put someone tae sleep. The new mothers are sure tae keep him on call when the bairns get here and they need some rest. These bodies hae regenerative powers. Accelerated healing. Lack of scarring. But the thing ye need most tae understand is that ye’ll live as long as us.”

Raven’s solar plexus chakra closed tight enough to cause a cramp. “And how long is that?” she said, afraid to ask.

“Three hundred years, give or take,” Cayden told her.

“Three…?” She stared at him, caught in a nightmare that had just gotten worse. “You’re saying I’ll live three hundred years? And what about Willow? What about my daughter? You bastards! You bloody bastards! And don’t go using that voice on me,” she warned them. “I will never forgive you for this. Never!”

“Raven,” Killian crooned, trying to make peace. “We love you. We’d never do anything to put you in harm’s way or come between you and your child. We want Willow to be our daughter, too, the child that we wished for but will never have. Tobias said there’s a chance that she’s a fated mate for one of our kind, but Theo thinks her destiny lies elsewhere, with a fae princeling who’s waiting fer her to grow up.”

“You love me,” she scoffed. “You don’t know what love is. We had sex. We scratched an itch. Satisfied a physical need. I didn’t know you enough for it to be more. I still don’t.”

“Please,” Killian begged her. “We’re asking fer the chance to prove ourselves to ye.”

Raven felt anger, rage, but there was also lust. It was so fierce, she found herself responding before she was aware of it. Grabbing the back of Killian’s head, she forced his lips down on hers. There was no control. Just overwhelming attraction merging with her turbulent emotions. She wanted to make them pay for what they’d done. Show them that their desire was meaningless. Not if they didn’t have her heart. That wouldn’t happen now. Not after such a betrayal. How could she trust them?

Killian didn’t resist but responded by thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Reaching with her free hand, she fisted a handful of Cayden’s shirt and drew him to her. Two mouths fought to claim her lips. Their bodies crowded hers until her hips hit the examination table.

Fueled by anger, driven by revenge, she grabbed Killian’s collar and pushed him into one of the two armless stack chairs against the wall. Reaching down, she judged his hardness and took him out.

“I want you ready for me,” she told him. Ignoring Cayden, she stripped off her clothes and knelt between Killian’s feet, giving him a blow job he didn’t deserve but that her body needed to handle him. When he was wet enough, she stood up and straddled him like a stripper about to give him the lap dance of his dreams. Taking his erection in hand, she stroked her slit with his glans, parted her folds, and sank down on his shaft, working it like a dildo, a tool for her particular pleasure.

It wasn’t long, she grew greedy for more. “You,” she snapped at Cayden. “Pants off. Cock lubed. On the stool and over here.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

Cayden dropped his drawers and slickened himself up. Sitting on the wheeled examination stool, he did as ordered and rolled it between Killian’s feet. It was just low enough, he was shy of reaching her. Grasping her hips, he rose from the stool and found her star.

“No! Not there,” she snapped. “I want you both in my pussy. Bang my box like it’s never been banged. Think you can handle that?”

Cayden growled and showed her that he was up to the challenge. She rose partway up and held herself still while Cayden pressed his cock against Killian’s and worked his way inside, sinking his length into her, inch by inch until both men were ball’s deep inside her.

She lifted herself up and rammed herself back down. Killian groaned. Cayden’s stool went flying. She sank down on their cocks again and again, using them like they’d used her, coming once, twice, three times before the men shuddered to a finish inside her. Cayden eased out of her and grabbed some paper towels, handing them to her to stuff between her legs. She dismounted, tossing one of the towels at Killian to use. Finding her clothes, she started dressing, wordless, lecturing herself that she had no reason to feel guilty for using them as fecktoys. It was no more than they deserved after what they’d done to her.

“Raven,” Cayden crooned.

“No voice!” she snarled, shoving her feet into her shoes. “Not a word. From either of you! This was sex. Sex! Lust, not love. Now you know the difference. Don’t ever confuse them again.”

She left them without a backward glance and headed upstairs, blinking the sting of tears from her eyes, refusing to feel anything beyond the physical releases that she’d had. By the time she reached the fourth-floor guest suite, she’d sworn off all men.

“Out,” she warned Zana, giving him a look that told him she meant what she said.

The Persian was confused but obeyed, shutting the door behind him.

“How’s Prince doing?” she asked her daughter, memorizing the picture the two of them made. She’d be the one consoling Willow when she watched her puppy grow old and die. Who the feck was going to console her when she lost her child?

Damn them.

Thanks to Cayden and Killian, she was doomed to outlive her daughter. They could take their tall tales of vampires and fairy princes and shove them up their arses. If they knew what was good for them, they’d leave them the bloody hell alone.

She was here for Casey and Morgan, but Willow was her world.

They’d be wise to remember that.

 

REPLAY REUNION 3: NAUGHTY CARNEVALE

Venetian mask. Beautiful woman in vintage dress and a mask on hi

 

REPLAY REUNION 3: NAUGHTY CARNEVALE

by Nia Farrell

Release Date February 29, 2020

Length 6,975 words

Amazon Universal ebook     Amazon US     Goodreads TBR

 

A photojournalist caught trying to enter Replay under an alias learns her lesson under a Dominant congressman.

It’s Carnevale in Replay’s newest edition to the BDSM theme resort where patrons roleplay in the past. Renaissance Venice will be brought to life in the Doge’s Palace.  Masked attendees include celebrities, billionaires, politicians, business tycoons, Replay Dominants and their submissives, and one very nervous photojournalist.  Hopefully, no one will recognize Mikaela in her elaborate wig and mask.

The Dominant assigned to Mikaela Roberts knows exactly who she is, but Congressman Devon O’Rourke has no idea why she’s here. After years of investigative reporting, Mikaela has come to learn the truth about herself. But first, she’ll have to prove herself to her temporary Dom, and that may prove as hard as resisting her growing attraction to a man who wishes that she was anywhere but here.

Naughty Carnevale is a BDSM erotic romance with adult themes and consensual power exchange, written for Ages 18+.  The Replay Reunions are companion short stories to the Replay series, which includes two Golden Flogger Finalists for Best BDSM Book of the Year.

 

EXCERPT:

Sir Declan led her to the shaped metal cage suspended in the corner over a drain grate.

She had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

He opened the door and made a point of looking inside it. “Mask on. Clothes off,” he said smoothly. “An hour in here, then it’s twenty strokes with a crop.”

“But—”

“Thirty,” he said, daring her to say something more.

Public humiliation followed by corporal punishment. She was never so grateful for her mask. If she was lucky, no one witnessing her shame would recognize her. No one but the congressman from Utah would realize how turned on she was right now, knowing that he’d have to help her undress, that he’d be watching every inch of skin that she exposed. That he could touch her anywhere, anytime he wanted with his large, strong, capable hands.

“Armand!” he called, motioning to one of the wardrobe assistants who’d been watching the rock star get flogged. “She’s ready.”

Adding to her indignities, the congressman delegated the task of helping her disrobe to a man who had no interest in women. Armand undressed her, removing layer after layer until the only things left were her wig and her mask while Sir Declan watched, his expression inscrutable.

She stood, blushing furiously beneath her mask while Sir Declan inspected her, front and back. Just when she thought her humiliation couldn’t be worse, he pulled a green glass anal plug from his pocket.

“Come,” he said, sounding too damned pleased with himself.  “Bend over the spanking bench.  Good.  Now stay while I fetch some oil.”

She closed her eyes, jumping when she felt his hand on her bottom.  Spreading her cheeks, he drizzled oil down her crack then pressed the plug into place, working it in and out as if testing her ability to take it up the ass.

She’d marked vaginal, oral, and anal as things she was willing to do.  She wasn’t adventurous enough to consider double penetration but she’d put down fisting as something she’d consider.  She wished she knew what he liked or was likely to try.  She’d rather have an idea what to expect next than to get blindsided by something she hadn’t seen coming.

Like being plugged and put on display for everyone to see.  It was a far sight better than being gibbeted or put in an iron maiden.

He pushed the plug firmly into place and tapped the end.  Her greedy pussy wanted more.  Hot, swollen, her vulva throbbed and her vagina clenched, squeezing out juices that trickled down her thigh.

Naked as she was, there was no hiding her arousal.  The air was thick with her musk and her nipples felt hard enough to cut diamonds.  He stood over her, watching her, gauging her reactions.  Satisfied, he ordered her to follow him back to the cage in the corner.

The stone floor was surprisingly warm beneath her feet.  Mikaela realized that Sir Piers had built it with radiant heat beneath it so submissives were less apt to get chilled.  The room was warm enough for nudity, which might explain why some of the Dominants were stripped to the waist while they did scenes with their subs.

“In you go,” Sir Declan ordered, holding the cage still for her to step inside.

Mikaela felt a twinge of panic, realizing that she’d just drunk water and shed her clothes.  There’s no way that she could last an hour in a basement cage without making a mess of things.

She tried to warn him.  “Sir, I need to visit the ladies’ room.”

“Forty,” he rumbled, showing neither mercy nor patience with her when he pointed to the floor drain and she realized why it was there.

Prophetic or not, forty minutes later, her humiliation was complete.

She kept her feet as far apart as she could, braced against the curve of the walls, the tide of emotions swelling inside her.  Embarrassment.  Resentment.  Anger.  Lust.  The plug in her rectum only made it worse.  She wasn’t the only one suffering.  Sir Declan was hard and huge, his reaction clearly visible beneath his tights.  Whether it was strictly for her or a response to everything taking place in the dungeon, she didn’t know, but they were both in need of release.

If only he would set aside his personal prejudice toward her as a journalist and see her as a woman who’d come here to learn how to be a submissive.  She realized that she’d have to act the part and continue to do so.  Only by following BDSM protocol would she prove herself worthy of his Domination.

If she was lucky, by the time Carnevale ended, she would win his trust and earn his cock.

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PLAY DATE (CLUB PARADISO BOOK 1)

PLAY DATE

(CLUB PARADISO BOOK 1)

by Nia Farrell

Part of Little Black Dress anthology from Perfectly Poisoned Anthologies.

Anthology release date May 28, 2021.

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.

Fuck.

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.

THE THREE GRACES DUET 3: SOMETHING MORE, SOMETHING PRECIOUS

 

THE THREE GRACES DUET 3:

SOMETHING MORE, SOMETHING PRECIOUS

by Nia Farrell

(Books Three and Seven in the series are available as single titles.)

Something More was a 2016 Golden Heart Finalist for Best BDSM Book of the Year

Duet release date January 4, 2020

Free with Kindle Unlimited

Amazon Universal     Amazon US

Goodreads TBR     BookBub reviews 

 

Welcome to fictional Posey, Minnesota, the per capita ménage capital of the USA. Three women live here whose names all mean Grace. Grace Murphy, Anna James, and Rachel Givens share their stories in books 1-3 of the series before the men take over and tell their side of things in books 4-7.

The individual novellas in The Three Graces Series are available as single titles but six of them are now paired as the duets they were meant to be. This is the last of the three duets—she said/he said written from Rachel Givens and Cord Colson’s points of view.

 

Something More (The Three Graces Book Three)

is written in Rachel’s voice.

Teasers and Excerpts http://bit.ly/TGBook3WP

 

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

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Something Precious (The Three Graces Book Seven)

is written from Cord’s point of view.

Teasers and Excerpts http://bit.ly/TG7WP

 

Cordell “Cruz” Colson’s world ended when the woman he and his brother loved was kidnapped and killed by a rival MC.  After four years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Cord learns that Rachel is alive and living under an assumed name.  As soon as Cord walks out a free man, the former biker and his porn star brother Cameron head for the little town of Posey, Minnesota.  They’re determined to take Rachel home with them where she belongs.

Only Rachel isn’t alone.

Rachel Givens aka Rae Simmons has post-rape PTSD and a three-year-old autistic daughter, father unknown.  A blood test will hopefully answer the question of paternity.  Chances are, Hannah belongs to Cord.  Whatever the results, the Colson brothers won’t rest until Rachel remembers what it was like to submit to them, to be shared by them.  Two men love her, and they’ll do whatever it takes to win her back and be a family.

A New Age, New Adult MFM BDSM ménage, written for ages 18+.

 

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Excerpt 1:

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

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

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

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

 

Excerpt 2:

Rachel opens the door.  We follow her into the living room.  It’s an older home, probably built in the forties or fifties, with dated fixtures and painted over wallpaper.  Good bones, though.  A fixer-upper if you’re handy, and I am.  Her furnishings are worn but the space is clean, neat and tidy except for a pile of building blocks abandoned near a three-shelf bookcase that’s filled with children’s books and DVDs.

My heart seizes when I realize her child is old enough for blocks and books and animated films.  A sense of urgency grips me, and I look for her.  Rachel’s daughter.  There’s a little girl lying under the coffee table with her eyes closed.  Her hair is the color of mine and Cam’s—and now Rachel’s since she dyed it.

“Have a seat, guys.”  Rachel points to the sofa.  “Just watch your feet around Hannah.”

Thanks to Cam’s lack of communication, I have questions that won’t wait.  “How old is she?”

“She turned three on March twenty-second.”

God.

Oh, God.

My jaw tightens, and I rub the back of my neck beneath my ponytail.  She’s quiet now, stopping short of disclosure.  She’s going to make me say it, make me ask the question whose answer I may hate to hear.  Rachel was taken, held by men with no mercy and an agenda.  The timeframe is so close.

I swallow, hard.  My voice is rough with emotion when I ask, “Is she mine?”

My words are like the crack of a whip, reopening wounds that clearly haven’t healed.

Rachel can’t bear to look at me.

She glances at my brother and drops her gaze to her lap.  “Probably.”

Holy mother of all—

I’ve been so focused on the enemy without I never considered I might need to look closer to home.

“Fuck, Cam!”

His eyes flash, indignant.

Fucker.

I almost snort.  He knows as well as I do what happened that last time we were together.  It was fucking Fourth of July weekend.  Three days, spent mostly in bed.  I was preoccupied with club business, about to leave, heading out to set up the Lost Creek MC safehouse, getting ready for the war that we feared was coming with the Blackwater Demons MC.  Cam was only too happy to distract Rachel while I packed.

We’ll be having more than words later, I fucking guarantee it.  Son.  Of.  A.  Bitch.

Cam bristles, still rejecting the idea that he might be a baby daddy.  If he is, he’d better man the fuck up.

“Hey!”

“Enough!” she hisses.  “You will watch your language, or you will leave.  She’s not Cam’s.  We never… we didn’t… We were never together without you.”

I say nothing but inside, I’m feeling this weird mix of relief and hope and trepidation.  Cam’s tastes run toward mouth and ass.  I don’t remember him dipping his wick in Rachel’s pussy more than once or twice if that.  But there are others.  The ones who kidnapped her.  Who brutalized her.

Who raped her.

Monsters, they took what was ours.

Rachel draws a deep breath.  And another.  She looks at her hands.

They’re shaking.

Fuck.

“You two need to go.”

We can’t.  Not yet.  I’ve spent four years mourning her loss and I’m not walking out of here without some answers.  She might not know who fathered Hannah, but she sure as hell can tell us why she let us think that she was dead.

I motion Cam to stay right where he is.  “Talk to me, Rachel.  Tell me why… this.”

The pain in her voice cuts me like a knife.  “You don’t want to know.  You won’t want to hear it.”

“Fuck, Rach—”

She throws up her hand, putting any conversation on hold.  Loading a DVD in the player, she glances at Hannah and motions for us to follow her into the kitchen.  She starts the exhaust fan over the stove before turning to face us.

Christ, the look on her face.  The innocent girl we knew is gone.  This is a woman who has clearly been through hell and back.

“They.  Took.  Me.”  She spits the words, full of bile, at me.  “They stole me from my house, and then they took me.  Do… you… understand?  For two nights and three days.  At least one of them had your coloring.”  She looks at the coffee table, where her daughter is hiding.  “Is she yours?  Who knows, really?”

Shit shit shit.

Her words strike me like brass knuckles, landing hard enough to strip away any pretense, beating me down and leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable.  The harsh truth is, she didn’t say anything that I haven’t thought to myself.

Still, hearing it from her lips is wrenching.

I feel the color drain from my face.

“Sorry if I didn’t write you,” she snips, “but then, I’m supposed to be dead.”

Jesus, I don’t know how she can sound so cavalier, watching the blood pour from the holes her words have ripped in me.  She’s right.  I don’t want to listen, but hearing this is part of my fucking penance, punishment for not protecting her.

 

The Three Graces Duet 1: Something Else, Something Amazing

http://mybook.to/TGD3

Something Special (The Three Graces Book Six,

the honeymoon book for the Duet 1 threesome)

http://mybook.to/TG6

 

The Three Graces Duet 2: Something Different, Something Awesome

http://mybook.to/TGD2

 

The Three Graces Duet 3: Something More, Something Precious

http://mybook.to/TGD3

 

 

Each book is written as a standalone, but the timeline starts in Something Else (Book 1).

Series reading order:

 

Something Else

Something Different

Something More

Something Amazing

Something Awesome

Something Special

Something Precious

 

THE THREE GRACES DUET 2: SOMETHING DIFFERENT, SOMETHING AWESOME

The Three Graces Duet 2:

Something Different, Something Awesome

by Nia Farrell

*Books Two and Five in the series are available as single titles.

Duet release date January 3, 2020

Free with Kindle Unlimited

Amazon Universal e-book     Amazon US e-book 

Goodreads TBR     BookBub reviews

 

Welcome to fictional Posey, Minnesota, the per capita ménage capital of the USA. Three women live here whose names all mean Grace. Grace Murphy, Anna James, and Rachel Givens share their stories in books 1-3 of the series before the men take over and tell their side of things in books 4-7.

The individual novellas in The Three Graces Series are available as single titles but six of them are now paired as the duets they were meant to be. This is the second of the three duets—she said/he said written from Anna James and Jackson Thomason’s points of view.

 

Something Different (The Three Graces Book Two) is written from Anna’s point of view.  Teasers and excerpts http://bit.ly/3Graces2WP

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 potential triggers.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Something Awesome (The Three Graces Book Five) is written from Jackson’s point of view. Teasers and Excerpts http://bit.ly/TGB5WP

Jackson Thomason is a triple-platinum recording artist who performs with his twin brother Jacob as No Mercy.  Unhappy with their current contract and hungry for something better, they dream of an independent project that speaks to their part-Comanche blood.  They contact Native American composer and flutist Nico White about collaborating, but it’s his writing partner Anna James who’s responsible for putting the twist in his tribal music.  The songwriting sessions heat up, and the purple-eyed goth-haired gamer girl goes down on her knees, submitting to the darker side of passion in a rock star interracial MFM ménage BDSM romance.

Written for Ages 18+.

 

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Excerpt from Something Awesome:

“We know your work,” my brother tells them.  “We like it.  A lot.  We’ve had a project in mind for a couple of years now, but our label won’t touch it.  It’s important enough to us, we’ve decided to tell them to fuck themselves and do it ourselves.  It’s a concept album with a tribal theme.  We want to return to our roots.  Not musically, but ethnically.  We may be only a sixteenth Comanche, but we’re related to Quanah Parker.  We cut our teeth on the stories of his life, his family, our people.  We want to express those stories in song, and we’d like your help to do it.”

Nico stays silent, considering.  When we approached him about working with us, he didn’t ask for details.  He knows that teaming with No Mercy will give him exposure that he might never achieve on his own.  And Anna?  She looks like she’s having a songwriter’s wet dream.

Fuck, yeah.

“And how does that work,” she asks, “doing a record while you’re still on tour?”

It’s a good question.  Fair enough.  We had wondered that ourselves.  Had worried about it until we figured out just how we could make it happen.

Thank fuck for hi-speed WiFi.

“We’ve got ten days before our next gig,” I tell her.  “After that, we can hook up over the internet.  Nico says his connection will let us Skype.”

She’s used to her weekly one-on-ones with Nico, sharing space, feeling the energy, tapping into the same creative flow, but to co-create over the internet?  She hugs her Fender to her heart, clearly skeptical.

Jacob keeps talking about his ideas for the album as a whole and for individual tracks.  While he uses his powers of persuasion, I let my hands speak for me.  I pick up my guitar, a Master Classic Pacific with curly maple sides and a Sitka spruce top, and touch the strings, exploring.  My fingers find chords, random at first, slowly gathering form.  Anna turns on a digital recorder when patterns start to emerge.

I hold back a smile when she lowers the neck of her guitar to playing position.  Her fingers move, her strings dueling with mine, until suddenly we’re in sync, creating melody and harmony.  Nico weaves his flute around us.  Jacob adds rhythm on the djembe.

By the time we’re through, we have the musical equivalent of a manuscript’s first draft.

Fucking.  Awesome.

“This…this…is why we’re here,” I tell them, pumped as hell.  I don’t say that we’ve memorized every fucking track that Nico’s ever recorded, and all the best ones were co-written with AJ McPherson.  We knew that we needed them both.  Being here, playing with her, makes me want Anna even more.

Jacob catches me staring at Anna and smiles.  He knows where my mind is, knows that my stirring cock wants to follow.  Anna throws ice water on it when she starts breaking down.  “Sorry, guys.  I need three hours of sleep or I’m toast at work.” 

What.  The.  Fuck?

The mantle clock reads four in the morning.  She’s fucking leaving, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.  Nico sees her off, then comes back into the living room.  I debate packing up, too.  He nods when he sees that our guitars are still out.

“Sorry, guys,” he says.  “I know you’ve had some surprises today.  I needed to see if Anna could handle this—could handle working with you.  She’s never written with anyone but me.”

I take a breath, think about what I don’t want to say, which is anything that will jeopardize our working relationship.  “You didn’t tell me she has a job.”

He shakes his head and crooks half a smile, like I should have known.  “Writing doesn’t pay her bills.  Not yet, anyway.  Little sister works at a gaming store in Charleston.  Castle Keepers.”

“Wait.  She’s a gamer?”  This, from Jacob, who plays rings around anyone else on our team, comprised of us and a few of our roadies.  Chances are, if we’re not writing music in our downtime, we’re playing games or watching porn.

“Big time,” Nico says.  “Whatever you play, you do not want to go against her.  She’ll only smile and kick your asses.”

Fuck that.  We’ll add her to the team.

“Wednesday is her one guaranteed day off work.  That’s why I had you guys come tonight.  I went behind her back and asked her boss if there was any way she could get off work, but chances are slim to none.”

Which means he didn’t totally diss it.

“Give me his name and number.  I’ll see what I can do,” I tell him.

“Yes, Sir.”  There’s a shit-eating grin on Nico’s face when he flicks on his laptop and finds the contact information for Anna’s work.  Such a switch.  But he’s smooth, he’s smart, and he clearly cares for the gamer girl he calls “little sister.”  With that scene he arranged in the diner, I suspect he wanted to see how well Anna can handle us on every level, beyond fame, beyond music, beyond words.  I’m guessing that he’s either researched us or his psychic significant other has picked up enough to know our tastes.  Jacob and I do our own version of tribal with a twist, and after the grueling first half of our concert tour, with the almost mindless, meaningless sex that happens on the road, I’m ready to bring something better into our mix.

Anna James, before we leave, you will be ours.