Yeah, yeah. Blogs are so yesterday. Don’t care. Comment anyway. LOL!!!!
So up for grabs?
A free copy of my new book “Declaration To Submit”
A $10 Amazon GC that will be emailed to you at the email address of your choice.
So, two winners and it’s SO EASY. All you have to do is comment. Now, being me, I’d like you to answer a question for me.
In “Declaration to Submit”, Nell has a secret longing to be a submissive, but until she meets Mark, she doesn’t have the courage to step out there and do it.
Is there anything you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t yet because of fear?
As Sara Bareilles says I WANNA SEE YOU BE BRAVE!!!!
Comment and I’ll choose two winners by Friday October 18th at 4pm.
And just for the hell of it, how about an excerpt?
Nell rubbed her temples and pushed back the twisted sheets of the king-size bed. Okay. Time to take a little inventory. She drank too much. Check. She woke up naked. Check. She couldn’t remember most of the night before. Check. And she didn’t know where her two so-called friends had gone. Check.
Well, Nell Armstrong, you certainly covered all the bases. The only thing missing was—oh, wait. Nell glanced into the sitting room she had to pass through to escape. Right. There was the last item necessary for a fully fucked-up Vegas weekend—a naked man.
His arm covered his face, and one bare leg dangled over the edge of the couch, but it was pretty clear he was naked. It was also clear that Nell had to get out of that room pronto.
She suppressed a groan and did the frantic clothes search, finding her red fuck-me pumps under the bed and her bra dangling from one of the curtain rods. Her underwear was MIA. Her dress was crumpled up and tossed on the floor. What the hell had happened?
The last thing she remembered was the leather bar. Just for a second, she thought she could smell the intoxicating mixture of latex and lace. Look what that had gotten her. Gina had plied her with tequila shots, and Tori flirted with every alpha male in the room until Nell’s head spun. There had been one man with dark brown eyes and something dangerous about him. Talking to him was Nell’s last memory.
Shoes dangling from her fingers, without underwear, and clueless about what hotel she was in, Nell crept toward the exit and prayed she could escape and forget what she hadn’t already forgotten.
“Don’t you want these?” A very low, sexy voice halted her progress.
Fuck. She’d almost made it.
She blinked and turned toward the voice coming from the couch. Sure enough, the man held up a pretty little satin thong Nell had bought for the trip. It was supposed to make her feel sexy. She tried to ignore the blazing heat in her face.
Well, what now? Should she ask how she’d ended up here? Should she ask where the fuck she was? Nope. She was a coward and perfectly willing to admit it. At five foot nothing, she wasn’t going to intimidate anyone without her heels on, so the best thing to do was a strategic retreat.
For a moment, though, she enjoyed the view. Six feet of oh-my-God and those dark brown eyes were enough to make her wish she could remember the night before. But the red material hanging off his fingers made her glad she’d forgotten. She whipped around and walked faster toward the exit.
When his hand grabbed her arm and yanked her back, she yelped. “Let me go.” She hadn’t even heard him move. The man was fast on his feet.
“No.” His voice never changed, the one word spoken quietly, confidently.
Without another word, he hauled her against his naked, hard body and plundered her mouth with a familiarity that made her knees weak. She wanted to resist, to protest his manhandling, to state what an epically bad idea this had to be, but his tongue swept inside and robbed her of any coherent thought at all.
Nell had been kissed before, even passionately kissed, but this—this was a possession, a branding. For a few pounding heartbeats, she lost herself in his touch, allowed him to sweep away her objections.