Mike Hartner on How Not All Characters Can Be Heard at Once @MHartnerAuthor #AmWriting #HistFic

Inside the Mind of An Author

In the Darkness brought on by a closed room and narrow stairs, I slowly ascend to the top and push the attic floorboard to the side. This stairwell, conveniently hidden in a second floor wall, has been very dusty and full of cobwebs. I’m really not sure what to expect when I go into the attic. I have, however, heard strange noises.

Climbing up into the attic, into the mind of this author, I look around. The walls are cluttered with post it notes, and most of them had small symbols and some writing. There were papers that had fallen to the floor, and the whole area looked like an old bomb shelter.

I’m immediately dodging the many different children who are running around. The voices that each one uses to taunt the others are all different.

I stop one of them. His name is James.

“Are there any others around?”

“Oh, there are plenty.”

“Where are they?”

“Sitting in a corner of the filing room in the back. They’re waiting for their opportunity to come join the fun.”

“What are they waiting for?”

“Why, everyone knows that they’re waiting to be heard. Not all of us characters can be heard at the same time. Sometimes, he listens to three or four of us for a short time, and sometimes he listens to one of us for a long time. But, we’re all here. Waiting for our chance to be heard.”

“So why are you three out here running around?”

“We’ve already been heard. He’s concentrating on us right now, and it’s our chance to play and rest while he figures out what he wants us to do next.”

“How many are in the back room?”

“The last I checked, the room was crammed, and the waiting list was endless. Lots of voices like us want to be heard. We want to tell our stories.”

James escaped from my vision and went back to running around.

When I saw them return, I also saw them carrying long sticks, using them as play swords. I beat a hasty retreat from the mind of this author.

James Crofter was ripped from his family at age 11. 
Within a year the prince was a pauper in a foreign land. 
Is nature stronger than nurture? And even if it is, can James find the happiness he so richly desires? 

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Genre - Historical Fiction, Romance

Rating – PG

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Kirsten Mortensen on Bridget Jones, When Libby Met the Fairies & POV @KirstenWriter #AmWriting

First, Second, or Third Voice: The Power of POV
By Kirsten Mortensen

Like a lot of authors, I’ve experimented with voice. I’ve written in the first person. I’ve written in the third person. And I’ve even toyed with the second person—breaking the 20th Century rule of “no authorial intrusion.” Because hey, I’m a rebel. Rules are made to be broken!

So I thought I’d share a bit about what I’ve learned about voice.

Some of my insights are similar to what you’ve probably read elsewhere, or know from experimenting with voice yourself. Certain genres lend themselves naturally to first person POV, for example. I can’t imagine classic chick lit (think Bridget Jones's Diary) in anything other than first person. Ditto for hard-boiled crime fiction, like Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe novels.

As a writer, first person voice can be a kick as a literary device. There’s the fun of the Unreliable Narrator, for example. The person telling the story inevitably filters events through her assumptions or prejudices. She may even lie outright to protect someone else, or to show herself in a positive light.

A person narrating a story is also on a journey. He or she is discovering things, assembling puzzle pieces. Who committed the murder? Is the handsome boss an unreliable flirt or a modern day prince? With first person, we readers get to ride along as the narrator solves these kinds of questions.

First person POV can also help make a reader’s experience more sympathetic. I learned this the hard way. When I first drafted one of my novels (When Libby Met the Fairies), I wrote it in the first person. But later, I second-guessed myself and re-wrote the book in third person voice. It was a newbie mistake: I should have trusted my original impulse, but I didn’t. Then, when I published the novel, I discovered (to my horror) that scenarios I thought were humorous came across, to readers, as humiliating.

You know the final scene in Brigit Jones, where she runs out into the street in her tights to chase down Mark Darcy? Imagine if that scene were done in such a way that, instead of cheering her on, you got angry at Brigit for debasing herself. Chasing after a man that way! Doesn’t she have any self-respect?

That’s what I managed to do with Libby! So perhaps, one of these days, I’ll revise that novel again and let Libby tell the story with her voice. But even if I don’t, it’s still a lesson that I learned, the hard way, about the power of POV.

Writing in the third person gives a writer a completely different set of tools. My latest novel, Dark Chemistry, is written in the third person. That let me shift points of view among several characters, including two bad guys, a heroine, a hero, and the hero’s friend and co-worker. I found that this let me add a lot of richness and depth to the story. One of my bad guys is very very creepy—telling part of the story from his point of view let me bring that out. Using third person also let me show how my heroine, Haley Dubose, evolved and matured during the course of the novel. She starts out spoiled and shallow, but learns to value relationships, love, and commitment more than clubbing and designer clothes. I had a lot of fun with that, and decided to use third person in my next novel as well.

So now it’s your turn. If you’re a writer, what have you discovered by experimenting with voice and POV? As a reader, do you enjoy first person or third person more—and why?

A woman's worst nightmare

Drugged by something...that makes her think she's fallen in love.

All Haley Dubose has ever known is beaches and malls, clubs and cocktail dresses.

But now her father is dead.

And if she wants to inherit her father's fortune, she has to leave sunny Southern California
for a backwater little town near Syracuse, New York. She has to run RMB, the multimillion dollar
chemical company her father founded. And she has to run it well.

Keep RMB on track, and she'll be rich. Grow it, and she'll be even richer. But mess it up, and her inheritance will shrink away before she gets a chance to spend a dime.

Donavon Todde is her true love. But is it too late?

He's RMB's head of sales – and the more Donavon sees of Haley, the more he's smitten.
Sure, she comes across at first as naïve and superficial. But Donavon knew Haley's father. He can see the man's better qualities stirring to life in her eyes. And Donavon senses something else: Haley's father left her a legacy more important than money. He left her the chance to discover her true self.

Donavon has demons of his own.
 
He's reeling from a heartbreak that's taking far too long to heal. But he's captivated by this blond Californian, and not only because of her beauty. It's chemistry. They're right for each other. But has Donavon waited too long to woo this woman of his dreams? Because to his horror, his beautiful Haley falls under another spell. Gerad's spell.

A web of evil.

Gerad Picket was second-in-command at RMB when Haley's father was alive. And with Haley on the scene, he's in charge of her training. But there are things about RMB that Gerad doesn't want Haley to know.

And he must control her. Any way he can.

Romantic suspense for your Kindle

Will Haley realize that her feelings are not her TRUE feelings?
Does Donavon have the strength left to fight for the woman he loves?
Will the two of them uncover Gerad's plot to use RMB pheromones to enslave the world?
And even if they do – can they stop it?

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre – Romantic suspense

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://kirstenmortensen.com/

Sebastiana Randone on Writing & The House @sebasti29567440 #Romance #HistFic #TBR

What’s your weakest character trait?

Indecisive, self critical, and anxious

Why do you write?

I write to deal with an overactive imagination, and as a refuge away from the mundane and myself. As I always feel very relaxed after a writing session, I view this activity as therapy.

Have you always enjoyed writing?

Although I have dabbled with creative writing in the past, having penned poetry in my early twenties, I only started writing creatively a few years ago. As a professional dancer over many years, it necessitated that I compose programme notes for the many shows I created. I also wrote numerous grant applications. A form of writing I deplore, due to the style of language one requires to adopt in order to be comply with policy makers. This time consuming, and largely thankless task, actually acted as a deterrent to writing as a past time.  

What motivates you to write?

A desire to see how things will unfold in the story as the work progresses, the more familiar I become with my characters, the more I look forward to visiting their world.

What writing are you most proud of? 

There is a scene in The House, involving a fortune teller who is called upon in the hope that insight into the origins of, the all too mysterious time traveller, may be gained. I then created some scenes that came to the clairvoyant through her crystal ball, thereby adding another dimension to the plot. Speaking in the language of a fortune teller was most enjoyable as it gave me much licence to speak in metaphors and symbols, whilst presenting the reader with genuine clues.

What books did you love growing up?

My parents being Italian did not read to me, fortunately this did not deter me from finding a passion in reading from a very early age.  My early years were devoted to Enid Blyton, of whom I read absolutely everything. This was followed by Alice in Wonderland and by the time I was ten, I encountered C.S Lewis and read all the Narnia series voraciously, not dissimilar to the fervour the Harry Potter books generated in recent times. My primary school was equipped with a comprehensive library, so I was able to borrow each book in succession, with no wait, which was good, as I still recall quite vividly the impatience I felt awaiting the next instalment.  As a teenager I developed a taste for crime mysteries so I read everything the library had to offer, Agatha Christie, James Hadley Chase etc. Then it was off to the adult reads Harrold Robbins,Jacqueline Sussan, Mitchener, there are too many to mention as I can honestly say that since the age of 7, I have never been without a book. The classics began when I was about 18. The Brontes, Austen, Radcliffe, Dickens, Thackeray, Hardy, George Eliot,Wilkie Collins  the list goes on. By my mid 30’s I discovered the French – Balzac, Stendhal, Zola, Hugo, Maupausant. Then back to England, with Somerset Maughan, Huxley, D H Lawrence, then to Russia, with Turgeniev, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy. Then there was Shakespeare which led me to read Homer, Ovid and the Greek myths. There are so many more. Sadly I have not kept a running list of books I have read, but there have been thousands I am sure.

Who is your favorite author?

This is a very difficult one to answer as there are many I simply adore and respect. But I think for now I will say George Eliot.  Next time it could very well be Balzac.  There are too many in reality, as they wrote extremely fine books back then.

What book genre of books do you adore?

Classical literature – gothic, romance, political, historical fiction.

What book should everybody read at least once?

Les Miserable by Victor Hugo

Is there any books you really don’t enjoy?

Books that use economical simplified language.

How did you develop your writing?

I write daily. I let it flow, in an improvised manner,(even though the narrative is still the driver)I started this way and am continuing to adopt this method. When I am lacking inspiration, I let my left brain take over and deal with the text pragmatically, through cleaning up the grammar, inconsistencies etc.   

The House is an adult fairy tale rich in mystery and intrigue.

Here is a tale of a woman so absorbed with historical novels that her own reality ceases to offer any hope of romance and beauty.

Until one day this dreamy idealist finds herself in a mysterious forest. How she arrived there is unknown. Soon she encounters a dilapidated house, within whose ancient walls magical rooms that transport to parallel worlds lie in wait.  There she is transmigrated to 18th century England, where our heroine interacts with an odd mix of characters whose dysfunctional lives become immediately apparent.

Her first tribulation involves a nefarious lord, an archetype of the monstrous characters one encounters in fairy tales. The ramification from this confrontation sets the tone for the narrative.

A magic portal finally enables escape from the austere Georgian dwelling. She is then spirited back to the enigmatic house, and a journey to Regency London follows, where a large cast of eccentric identities present themselves.

Late one night, following a long stay in Florence, a young, heart-broken poet arrives. His introduction to the beautiful time traveller offers promise of restoration and love. But there are several more obstacles ahead before her destiny in this curious adventure is made apparent.

In the end an unexpected twist is revealed. But like all good fairy tales, this surprising conclusion is pleasing, even though the means of getting there are dark, and at times sinister.

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Genre - Historical, Fantasy, Romance

Rating - PG-16

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Belinda Garcia's Thoughts on #Writing as a Journey of Exploration @MagicProse #Romance #TBR

Writing for me is always a journey of exploration. As I’m creating the story, I’m waiting with baited breath to see what happens next so writing adds excitement to my life. Laughter is good therapy, and I often laugh at the antics of my characters and some of the doozies that come out of their mouths. I sometimes cry as I’m writing an emotional scene. A good cry now and then is therapeutic and cleanses the emotions. Writing to me is fun and entertaining. I always learn something during my research.

I usually develop a love story in my books to give the novel a heartbeat, and because I am a closet romantic. I confess that I often fall in love with some of my characters, especially the male leads. It was particularly fun to create the love story of Mandy Balboa and the flawed Christopher Michaels in I Will Always Love You.

I often visit Manhattan to see family and love the city. Like everyone else around the country, I was devastated when the terrorists destroyed the World Trade Center. Writing I Will Always Love You a few months after the 9/11 attacks helped me to deal with the tragedy and my feelings. Everything was still fresh in my mind. However, I chose not to publish the book until recently.

I Will Always Love You centers on the love story between the characters. It takes place two weeks after September 11, 2001. Manhattan and the tragedy is merely the setting, a place for two lost souls to come together. The book was a way for me to cope with my feelings, and to honor the victims and Manhattan.

I come from a dysfunctional family. My father was a bigamist and abandoned my family when I was 11. My mother died when I was 16. I found that writing The Bigamist & The Womanizer, Memoirs of My Father provided therapy. As I get time, I am working on a memoir entitled A House of Sticks.

Words come from the heart. Writing about a certain matter helps me deal with a situation. People who visit a therapist talk about issues to help in understanding and dealing with life. Writing can, also, help get bugs out of a person’s system; perhaps not in one take, maybe not forever, but writing can be like a good cry. You feel better about it.

Reading can help accomplish the same thing. Even fiction can be a self-help book.

The last thing Miranda ever expected was to see her brother's ghost at the fallen Twin Towers.

It's bad enough survivor Christopher Michaels scares her with claims that if one dies violently, his ghost will haunt the place that holds his name. And to top it all, one of those thousands of ghosts follows Miranda to her hotel. The only certainty is the ghost grabbing her under the covers is not Jake.

Their parents' deaths separated Miranda from Jake when they were kids. Michaels insists Jake brought them together and it's no coincidence that of thousands mourning at Ground Zero, it's his best friend she bumps into. Some best friend. Michaels is more like a moocher. The cheapskate never has money, just a blood-stained wallet he broods over. Miranda has no choice but to hang out with the weird Michaels in order to unravel her brother's past.

As Miranda spends time with Michaels, she begins to wonder who he really is. Against her better judgment, Miranda becomes emotionally entangled with Michaels, a bitter alcoholic with a secret linked to her brother and that blood-stained wallet.

I Will Always Love You is part mystery, suspense and romance, a novel that will keep the reader turning the pages!

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Genre – Suspense, Mystery, Romance

Rating – PG

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Connect with Belinda Vasquez Garcia on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://belindavasquezgarcia.com/

King Riders Series #Fantasy #Romance #Excerpt by C.A. Szarek @caszarek

Cera laughed as she circled Ansley, her sword high.  “What do you mean, it’s not fair?”

“It’s magic.” Ansley gripped the hilt of her weapon tighter. The sword was familiar in her hands. Felt good.

Her father had told her many a time she’d been born with a sword in her hands, her weapon of choice. She’d always been the best of the female Riders.

Too bad the duchess had almost equal skills.

“I’m starting to regret Tristan healing you completely,” she muttered.

Cera laughed again and rushed her, but Ansley twisted her body away and avoided contact.

Men clapped, and someone whistled.

Ansley tried to pretend most of the guard and a good-sized group of men-at-arms didn’t line the fence of the fighting yard.

Why did I agree to spar?

The duchess had declared she needed some air. She’d left little Fallon with her lady’s maid, Neomi, and challenged Ansley to a duel. Cera had guilted her, stating—whining about—how long she’d been cooped up in the castle.

When she’d reminded Ansley of beating her in a match at Spring Training a few turns back—in front of new Rider recruits no less—Ansley couldn’t say no.

No one beat her with a sword.

Much like Cera’s skills with the bow.

Now she regretted her pride, even though the male eyes were filled with admiration. She didn’t like being the center of attention. Never had.

The clash of metal on metal jolted her, and Ansley locked her arms so Cera wouldn’t knock her over.

“Concentrate, Ans. Or are you rusty?”

Ansley growled and pushed the duchess off, stalking and circling her.

Ali echoed her growl from the tree line, and she hushed her mentally. Her bond knew Cera wouldn’t hurt her, had seen them spar and train more times than she could count. She was just being antsy because Ansley was distracted, not focused on the fight.

“I’m not rusty; you are.” She pushed Cera away from her, thrusting her sword.

Her friend widened her stance and met her strike, hitting Ansley’s sword away from her body. “All right, you got me there. That could have been a cut.”

“One point for Ansley, love. C’mon, you can do better than that!” Jorrin shouted.

Cera growled. “I’ll get her.”

“Don’t let her talk to you like that, Ansley,” Leargan shouted.

When Ansley swung her body back around, she noticed Jorrin and Leargan bumping shoulders and grinning. Like they were vying to get closer as they cheered her and Cera on.

Her heart flipped and she chided herself to concentrate. Ansley flashed a feral grin. “Dare you.” She dashed forward.

Cera raised her magic sword and the glow around the weapon brightened, as magic surged forward. It bled out, surrounding her body too, like an aura.

“That is cheating.”

The duchess flashed a grin, saying nothing.

Ansley didn’t let the magic stop her, though she had to squint against the radiance. She crashed her sword into the duchess’s and Cera stumbled back. She made two long slices in front of her friend’s torso. If they’d been fighting for their lives, Ansley’s strikes would’ve killed.

Her instinct was to stop the duchess from toppling over, but she didn’t. A sparring match was a sparring match, after all.

Cera tumbled to the ground and winced as her rear end hit. Dirt puffed into the air around her breech-clad legs.

Men gasped then clapped. Some chuckled, but when she glanced over her shoulder, all Ansley could see was rapt attention.

Leargan beamed and hit Jorrin’s shoulder. When his eyes found hers, he pumped his fist.

Grinning, Ansley turned back to Cera and tapped the crown of her head with the tip of her weapon. “That’s what you get for cheating, my lady. Dead dead dead.”

Mock-glaring, her friend couldn’t quite hold back her grin. “Yeah, yeah, I guess so. But you never said no magic.”

Ansley shook her head and sheathed her sword, then offered her hand to the duchess. “I thought it was inferred.”

Cera grinned as Ansley helped her gain her feet. “Sorry.”

Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t bite back another grin. “You’re so sincere.”

The duchess bowed and sheathed her magic sword. Then she thrust out her hand. “Thank you for the sparring match. I defer to your greatness with the sword.”

Ansley ignored Cera’s teasing tone and grabbed her hand, beaming. “That just made it worth it. Thanks.”

Jorrin whistled long and slow from the fence. “We’d better call Gamel to write that on parchment. Cera used the word defer and greatness in the same sentence.”

Ansley giggled when the duchess glared at her husband.

Leargan threw his arm around Ansley’s shoulders when they reached the men and a tremor slid down her spine. The heat of his side against hers seeped through her jerkin.

Them entwined in her bed and that morning flashed into her mind, and she swallowed hard as her body warmed.

“That was great fun, love.” Jorrin pressed a kiss to Cera’s cheek and she grinned.

“I agree. Ansley and I need to spar more often.”

“You only want to so you can learn to beat me, Ceralda Aldern.” Ansley giggled.

“Not,” Cera said, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

“You were fantastic, love,” Leargan whispered into Ansley’s ear.

She shivered as his warm breath tickled. “Thank you. I bet I could defeat you, too.” Ansley doubted it, though. He was stronger, larger, and fantastic with a sword.

Leargan arched a dark eyebrow, but the carefree grin he wore made her heart stutter.

Jorrin whistled. “You going to let her challenge you like that, Captain?”

“Oh, I’ll get her later.” Leargan winked.

Jorrin and Cera laughed.

Ansley’s limbs warmed and her cheeks seared.

Blessed Spirit, I hope so.

Book one in the Fantasy Romance series, The King's Riders!

For generations, the Ryhans, ruling family of the Province of Greenwald, have been keepers of a sword rumored to possess enough magic to defeat kings. Lord Varthan, a former archduke and betrayer of the king, covets the sword and invades Greenwald.

Lady Ceralda Ryhan, daughter of the murdered duke, gains the sword and flees, trusting only her white wolf, Trikser-magically bonded to her. Cera needs nothing more to aid in her fight.

Jorrin Aldern, half elfin and half human, left his home in the mountains of Aramour to find his human father who disappeared twenty turns before, but finds Cera with Varthan and his shades on her tail instead.

His dual heritage and empathic magic will tempt Cera in ways she never thought she'd desire. But can he convince her trust and love can pave the path to redemption-or will the epic battle end in tragedy, and evil conquer them all?

Buy Now @ Amazon

Leargan Tegran, Captain of Greenwald’s personal guard, is an honorable knight. When his king commands him to wed Senior King’s Rider Ansley Fraser, he intends to follow orders; even as he knows nothing of the girl. Not to mention her blasted wolf bondmate, Ali, who barely lets him near her.

Ansley has been in love with Leargan for turns, but marrying him out of duty doesn’t sit well with her. She’ll fight the match tooth and nail—no matter how much she craves to be in his arms and in his bed.

The sudden appearance of Avril, a mysterious girl on the run, creates suspicions of powerful magic and evil lurking on the horizon. Dangers lead to a fight Leargan’s not prepared for.

With the Province threatened, will duty interfere with Leargan’s orders or entwine him and Ansley regardless of their desires?

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Fantasy Romance

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with C.A. Szarek on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://caszarekwriter.blogspot.com/

Forty 2 Days (The Billionaire Banker) by @GeorgiaLeCarre #Romance #Excerpt #BookClub

‘‘You taste and smell the same, let’s see if you feel the same,’ he says, and, lifting me slightly off the ground, grasps my thighs and spreads them wide apart.  My shoes fall off with a dull thud.  He returns my bare feet to the ground soundlessly.  His large hands grab my hips and tilt my lower body so it is perfectly aligned with his cockhead.  For a second I feel him tease me by running it along my clit and then he drives into me.

The impact makes me shudder and my breath catch in my throat.  My mouth opens in a soundless cry.  I draw a breath quickly.  Prepare myself for the next swift thrust of pleasure.  It comes before I am ready.  This time I cannot help it, I utter a strange cry, but my muscles are already clenching him and sucking him even deeper into my body.

He sets up a rapid pace.  Every wild plunge into my depths has me jerking in response.  Slowly I am lifted higher and higher until I am standing uncomfortably on the tips of my toes, my hips tilting higher and higher, wanting more and more of the gloriously thick invasion.  My thighs and calf muscles are so tense they start to ache and my heart is beating so fast I feel it thudding like a drum inside my ribcage.  My sex becomes a greedy, hungry mouth sucking at him.

I force myself to hold my body in the same position while he hammers into me until, with one last painful thrust that I register at the base of my womb, he calls my name and finds his climax.  His cum is slick and hot inside me.  For a second his nose nuzzles in the crook of my neck and then he rouses himself and pushes away from me.

I don’t turn to face him, but slowly set my heels down to the ground and push myself away from the wall.  I will gather myself a tiny bit more before I turn again to face his condemnation.  I feel weak, raw, bruised, abused, vulnerable, but…satisfied.  I should have felt shame, but I don’t.  I love this man.

I turn around slowly.

He is dressing quickly.  While buttoning his shirt with his back to me, he says, ‘I will get Laura to send you a morning after pill.’

A stray thought.  A bit late for that, mate.  If he knew.  If he only knew.  I say nothing, suddenly feeling my nakedness.  Soon he will be dressed and I will be the only naked one in the room.  I begin to walk to the bathroom.

‘Wait,’ he orders. I long to cover myself, but I do not.  He cannot humiliate me.  I will not allow it.

When he is fully dressed he turns and looks at my exposed body. It is masked well, but it is still there, the hunger.  Still now.  When he has just been satiated.  So much remains that my eyes widen.  It is the same for me: I want him again.  I am just as helpless to the call of his body.

But he turns away from me.

I watch him go to the side cupboard and pull out a book.  It is covered in leather.  Looks like a journal.  He tosses it on the bed next to me.  ‘This is for you.  I want you to keep a record of everything I do to you.’

‘Why?’ I whisper.

‘For my reading pleasure?’

‘That’s just sick. I’m not doing it,’ I say.

As if I am a life-size doll he picks me up and tosses me on the bed.  I land on my back with a bounce, but I stare up at him defiantly.

He stands over me.  His face is hard and forbidding.  Very gently he touches the necklace.

‘You’re nothing but skin and bone,’ he says, almost to himself.  His hands reach for my ankles and lifting them up he opens my legs into a V.  Turning his head to one side he kisses my right ankle and runs his hot, velvety tongue along my calf.  My breathing quickens.  At my knee he stops and sucks the tender skin at the back of it, and then that cunning tongue licks on to my inner thigh.

‘How much do you want me to taste you?’ he whispers.

As an answer I moan and try to push my sticky legs further apart.

‘No, ask me nicely.’

‘Yes, please,’ I beg.

‘Please what?’ he asks enjoying his dominance and control.  His finger lightly circles my wet opening.

‘Oh God…please, please… Taste me,’ I beg shamelessly.

‘Will you write your journal?’

‘Yes, yes, I will.’

He straightens his arms and holding my trembling legs open wide he looks at my sex, swollen and drenched with both our juices, a glistening treasure.

‘Cunt,’ he dismisses, and letting go of my legs leaves the bedroom.

Beyond the seductive power of immense wealth lies... Dark Secrets

Devastatingly handsome billionaire, Blake Law Barrington was Lana Blooms first and only love. From the moment they touched his power was overwhelming. Their arrangement quickly developed into a passionate romance that captivated her heart and took her on an incredible sexual journey she never wanted to end.

The future together looked bright until Lana made a terrible mistake. So, she did the only thing she could... she ran.

Away from her incredible life, away from the man of her dreams, but she should have known a man such as Blake Law Barrington was impossible to escape. Now, he's back in her life and determined that she should taste the bitterness of his pain.

Shocked at how rough the sex has become and humiliated that she is actually participating so willingly in her punishment, she despairs if she will ever feel the warmth of his touch--the solidity of his trust again? And even if she can win his trust, loyalties are yet to be decided, and secrets to be revealed--secrets that will test them both to their limits.

Will Lana be able to tear down the walls that surround Blake's heart, and break him free of the brutal power of immense wealth?

Can Blake hold on to Lana's heart when she discovers the enormity of the dark secrets that inhabit the Barrington family?

Lana has always believed that love conquers all. She is about to test that belief...

Buy @ Amazon

Genre – Erotic Romance

Rating – PG-18

More details about the author

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