MIDNIGHT RAIDERS MC SERIES

The Midnight Raiders MC Series by Claire Marta and Nia Farrell debuts 12 April 2022 in the Twisted Steel: Third Edition. The anthology is up for pre-order, specially priced at 99¢. We hit the USA TODAY list with the second edition and hope the next one will be even more successful.

The book Claire and I are writing for it is MM, but we expect the second book in the series to be MMF. This new series is a unique take on a popular genre. We hope readers will enjoy it as much as we love writing it.

The series is set in Edwardsville, Illinois, home of a Route 66 festival where our Book 1 main characters meet. To research, I made a trip to this year’s festival, took lots of pictures, and wrote from first-hand observation. The century-old Sears and Roebuck house, local businesses, and clubhouse in the series are pure invention but fun to write. We can’t wait to show them to you!

TWISTED STEEL 3 AMAZON PRE-ORDER HERE

The Dead of Night

THE DEAD OF NIGHT

by Claire Marta & Nia Farrell

Originally appearing in Vampirielle Four anthology (out 25 December 2020, delisted).

Now part of THE POISONED GARDEN COLLECTION, free to Claire Marta and Nia Farrell’s newsletter subscribers here.

Back in Paris, heartbroken and alone on Christmas Eve, Etienne de Foix decides to share his beloved music with the souls of the dead. When someone else is drawn to the cemetery, he finds himself tempted by his new admirer.

The young man who steps from the shadows has stars in his eyes and an innocent air that stirs Etienne’s hunger. Intent on sating his lust for blood and sex, he’s surprised when something more emerges from their tryst.

The Poisoned Garden Series stories follow Etienne de Foix, the vampire villain of Guarded Hearts Season One. Set in 1791, this historical paranormal erotic romance contains MM scenes. Written for Ages 18+.

EXCERPT:

He let his music transport him, carrying him as close to heaven as he would ever be. A creature of the night, eventually he’d be dust and would rot in hell for all eternity. There was no forgiveness for his sins. No penance or absolution. His only solace came from the bow in his hand and the strings beneath his fingers, weaving songs as they formed. He grew so lost in the new one, it was a while before he sensed he was no longer alone.

Opening his eyes, his gaze traveled through the shadows opposite him, settling on a man. A handsome young man with honey brown hair and hazel eyes. He stood so perfectly still Etienne had almost missed him.

Pausing, Etienne surveyed him cautiously. Was he a hunter looking for prey?

“Don’t stop,” the stranger pleaded when he stilled his bow. “Play.”

“My music was not for you,” Etienne told him, enchanted by his voice. “I perform for the souls that lie here.”

He wasn’t in church. Maybe he was a prostitute. Paris was full of them. Easy pickings for a vampire like himself.

Disappointment crossed the young man’s face. “What brings you here in the dead of night on Christmas Eve?”

“I come to play,” he told him. “What is your name and what is your price, hmm?” 

“Gael,” the young man spoke softly. “And I have no price.”

“Nonsense,” Etienne scoffed. “Everyone has a price. It’s only a matter of finding it.”

Follow the Poisoned Garden Series here

DARK HARVEST—A POISONED GARDEN SHORT STORY

DARK HARVEST

A POISONED GARDEN SHORT STORY

by Claire Marta and Nia Farrell

Originally part of the Vampirielle Anthologies: Volume 1 (delisted).

Now part of THE POISONED GARDEN COLLECTION, free to Claire Marta and Nia Farrell’s newsletter subscribers here.

BLURB:

An invitation to the royal hunt at Château de Fontainebleau is an offer Etienne de Foix cannot refuse. Falling for the charm of Kristoff Vasilyvich, a Russian prince, yields a second one he’s delighted to accept. The third—to find pleasure in a threesome with Odette d’Évreux—flings him into a world of darkness. Lurking beneath the château are creatures he never knew existed. One dark kiss, one night of insatiable lust, and Etienne finds himself one of the damned, reaped in the dark harvest.

The Poisoned Garden Series stories follow Etienne de Foix, the vampire villain of Guarded Hearts Season One. Set in 1538, this historical paranormal erotic romance contains MM and MFM scenes. Written for Ages 18+.

EXCERPT:

To Etienne’s good fortune, the Russian prince shared his nature, preferring men to women but indulging in both. Last night, he’d been delighted to discover the Russian was big all over, not just in stature. He’d had trouble sitting all day. A price well worth paying for the memories they’d made. Typically, he was the one who plucked the black rose, but he’d found Kristoff too charismatic to say no. They’d left the dance early and fucked half the night.

His cock stirred, ready for another round.

Kristoff chuckled. “Settle,” he murmured. “Do not let her see your interest.”

Etienne grimaced. “‘Tis you she wants.”

He bent to whisper in his ear. “As do you. I think I should fuck you both. Shall we see how badly she wants it? I am willing to beg off from joining the hunt. Let the others go forth in the cold and damp whilst we stay warm in bed.”

Jesu. Etienne was hard now. The bastard knew well how to incite his passions. He wouldn’t mind sharing Odette with Kristoff. The man was a satyr. He’d handle them both and his servants, too, given the chance.

“All right,” Etienne agreed, striving to not seem too eager. “How do you wish to do this?”

Kristoff stroked his beard, considering. “I could just ask her. Or I can entice her. Lure her away with an offer to see the gardens by moonlight and carry her off like a Viking conquest to my bed. She’ll expect nothing less from the House of Rurik. Once we get started, you can come and join us.”

Etienne nodded. Locked in the throes of passion, she’d be much more likely to agree to take two lovers—especially if it meant losing the one.

He watched Kristoff stalk across the floor to the beauty who was watching them. She was a captivating creature with dark hair, expressive brown eyes, and soft, generous lips that contrasted with her smooth, fair complexion.

It took nothing for his lover to coax her onto the dance floor. Sipping his wine, Etienne watched Kristoff flirt, reeling Odette in with his rough charm and devilish smile. A touch of his hand here, a whisper in her ear, and he’d soon persuaded her to join him in an evening far more satisfying than a dance.

They’d already agreed the hunting party would leave at dawn without them. Whether there were two or three bodies in Kristoff’s bed remained to be seen.

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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REPLAY BOOK 11: WANTED

Facebook banned the original cover (below). Evidently, navels are too hot for them!

R11 Wanted SM

Replay Book 11: Wanted by Nia Farrell

Length 25,502 words.  Release date September 1, 2018.

Free with Kindle Unlimited

Amazon Universal link https://mybook.to/RB11

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FXJ7395

Goodreads http://bit.ly/WantedGR or https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40952027-replay-book-11

 

Jeremy Randall is a graphic novelist whose Iron Domination Series inspired The Steamroom addition at Replay BDSM theme resort.  While he’s written BDSM, he’s only researched it, never experienced it.  His first visit to Replay coincides with Wild West weekend, where he’ll portray a gunslinger.  He hopes to be dominating subs before the weekend is through.

Jeremy signs a contract agreeing to train as submissive, but he’s in for a shock when Courtney Reynolds isn’t the latex-clad Domme that he envisioned.  The Dominant assigned to guide him through the weekend is eight years older, experienced, and gay.

Cast in the role of Sheriff Reynolds, Court seems Jeremy’s opposite but he takes the role of training him seriously.  Court believes that Jeremy is naturally submissive, and he agrees with the resort psychiatrist that Jeremy might be bisexual.  Court falls hard and fast for the beautiful, talented, conflicted young man.  He has one weekend to free Jeremy from a lifetime of misperceptions and help him discover his true nature.  When Sunday comes, will he be able to let him go?

This book is a first time MM BDSM erotic romance.  If kink and a sexual relationship between an older man and a younger man offend you, please keep looking for your next read.  Written for Aged 18+.

Excerpt 1:

By the time they returned to Jericho, Jeremy’s shirt was soaked through with sweat and he knew that he’d never done justice when describing the aches of a horseback rider.

“Saddle-sore?”  The sheriff eyed him closely.

“A bit, Sir,” Jeremy said tightly, grimacing when he swung his right leg down and cleared his left boot from the stirrup.

Sheriff Reynolds rubbed his face in his hands.  “Okay.  Then we’re headed to the bathhouse.  We need to get that soreness worked out if you’re going to be much good tonight.”

Tonight.  Jesus, he didn’t want to think about tonight.

Working out the soreness, though…

That, he could handle.

Jeremy followed Sir Courtney out of the livery and fell into step behind him, keeping his eyes on the broad shoulders and the muscled width of his back.  He was grateful that the Dom kept his pace to a lazy amble.  Despite his soreness, he managed to keep up with him, at least.

A scantily clad attendant greeted them when they stepped inside the bathhouse.  “How can I help you, Sir?”

The sheriff sliced a quick glance at him.  “The boy needs a bath and a rubdown.  Is there a private room available?  First time here,” he explained.

First time anywhere, Jeremy silently corrected him, grateful to be spared a public display.  The Dom and the concierge spoke longer, keeping their voices low and their conversation between the two of them.  When they finished, she showed them to a room upstairs and opened the door for them to step inside.

Two old-fashioned tubs were filled with steaming water, just like in the movies.  A table between them held small bars of soap, washcloths, and towels.  Pitchers of clear rinse water sat within reach on the board floor.

Sheriff Reynolds hung his hat on the wall rack.  Jeremy stood with his feet rooted in place, feeling as fidgety as a freshman athlete in the varsity shower room.

The Dom gave him a longsuffering look and nodded at the tubs.  “Strip and get in,” he ordered.  Pulling off his tie and shrugging off his sack coat, he hung them on the wall hooks and reached for the buttons of his vest.

The sheriff was stripping.

The gay sheriff was getting naked.

There were two tubs, Jeremy told himself.  Nothing was going to happen—especially nothing without consent, and he hadn’t agreed to anything yet.

Except for what was in the contract.

Submission.

Bondage.

Impact play.

Anal play.

Sex toys.

Possible fisting.

God, he was so fucked.

 

Excerpt 2:

Jeremy snatched up the bath towel and began drying himself off, turning his back to them so that his front was out of view.  Did the boy not know that the sight of his virgin ass was almost as hot as his seven-inch cock?

Court managed to not roll his eyes.  Ignoring his own rod for the moment, he wrapped the towel around his hips and sat in an empty spindle-back chair.  If he’d had time and toys, he would have bound Jeremy to it for a session of sensory play.

Later, he promised himself.

His priority right now was getting Jeremy to open up, to finally experience the feelings that he was used to suppressing and allow things to unfold naturally.

Jeremy wrapped the towel around his trim waist.  Inhaling deeply, he squared his shoulders with a grudging acceptance, marched across the floor, and got on the massage table.  Reaching beneath his stomach, he adjusted himself, put his arms at his sides, and settled in for his session.

He had a beautiful body.  His fair skin was even lovelier, glistening with oil, his supple flesh yielding to Quentin’s talented hands.  When the masseuse had worked the aches and knots from his backside, he told Jeremy to turn over.

The boy was still hard.

Good.

Very good.

Court waited until Quentin was nearly done to rise from his chair and go stand at the table near Jeremy’s head.

“What are your safewords?”

Jeremy craned his neck.  His alarmed hazel gaze clashed with Court’s.  Seeing the heat in his eyes, he whispered, “Oh, God.”

Court shook his head.  “Not oh God.  Safewords need to be things that you would never say during a session.  If you can’t think of anything, we’ll use the stoplight system.  Green to go, yellow to slow, red to stop.  Now, one more time.  What are your safewords?”

“Shit,” he murmured.

Court grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the table.  “Safewords,” he rumbled.  “You won’t like what happens if I have to ask for them again.”

“All right!  Sir!” he bleated, remembering to address him as his Dominant for the weekend.  “Yellow to slow and red to stop.”

Court gave a slight nod of approval.  The boy was nervous to the point of panic, judging from his pulse and the rapid rise and fall of his chest.  “It’s alright, son.  One more time.  Give us your safewords.”

“Yellow to slow and red to stop, Sir.”

“Good boy.  Now, do you remember the story I told you?  Do you remember what happened on my eighteenth birthday?  I’d been wearing blinders.  I didn’t see it coming.  It was a complete surprise because I hadn’t opened myself to the possibilities.  It took my coach and a kiss and a mindfucking blowjob to break free.  All I needed was someone who could guide me.  It would have happened eventually.  I’ll always be grateful that it was Paul and not some predator bent on taking and not giving.  I’d like to be that person for you.  Let me show you what you’ve been missing.  I’ll give you permission to let go.  Allow you to break free.  I want you to let Quentin finish you.  Just his hands, his fingers, stroking your cock.  You’re so hard, it hurts, I can tell.  Just a few strokes, and he’ll pull you right over the edge and ease that terrible ache.  You have your safeword to use if you absolutely need it, but you won’t.  Not for this.”

He hoped like fuck not.  There was nothing in his background that indicated triggers.  The boy wasn’t fighting his hold on his wrists.

Jeremy’s breath hissed when Quentin pulled down the sheet, exposing his genitals.  Wrapping an oil-slick hand around his shaft, Quentin started pumping his arm, slowly at first, gradually building in speed and intensity as he jacked him off.

“That’s it,” Court crooned.  “Feels good, doesn’t it?  Having someone else’s fingers on you, touching you, stroking you, milking your cock?”

Jeremy bit his lip and moaned.

Court growled at the sight of it.  “So fucking sexy.  I want that lip,” he grated.  “Those teeth.  That tongue.  That mouth.  I want to lick the pre-cum from your slit, suck your balls, and tongue your ass.  When you’re more than wet enough to take me, I’m going to fist your hair and sink my length inside of you.  Inch.  By.  Fucking.  Inch.”

“Fuck!”  Jeremy bucked, spewing thick ropes of cum that landed like lifelines on his chest.  Court kept his wrists pinned until Quentin had cleaned him off with the washcloth that he’d used in his bath.

The moment he let go, Jeremy jackknifed up and tried to scramble off the table.

Court caught his arm and held it.  “Slow down, son.  Safety first.  I want you healthy enough to play.”

“To fuck, you mean,” he grumbled.

“You’d best be careful, boy.  You’re only adding to the count when you disrespect me.”

Breaking eye contact, Jeremy bit his lip and swallowed what he really wanted to say.  “Sir,” he said tightly.  “You want me healthy enough to fuck, Sir.”

Court dropped his hand and crossed his arms.  Lowering his chin, he flailed him with a cutting look.  “Don’t ever put words in my mouth, boy,” he said, keeping his voice calm and even.  “I meant what I said.  I want you healthy enough to play.  You’ll have to earn my cock, and so far, that hasn’t happened.”

Jeremy eyed him warily.  Court had yet to win his trust, and nothing much was going to happen without it.

“Get dressed,” he said.  Ripping off his towel, he let Jeremy see just how much self-control he had.  His cock was so hard, he was sorely tempted to have Quentin finish him, too.  “I’m taking you home.”

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