Spotlight on In Love and War by @TaraMills16

In Love and War

by Tara Mills

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Suspense

Length: 256 pages, estimated

Published April 14th, 2014

Sometimes love really is worth fighting for, but picking your battles isn't so easy—especially when lives are at stake

Personal tragedy and the loss of both parents at a young age made Ariela Perrine cross self-sacrificing hero types off her datable list. But Ariela is literally swept off her feet when an accident brings her face to face with an unforgettable pair of blue eyes, a playful smile, and an overly affectionate dog.

Oh yes, journalist Dylan Bond makes her sizzle, but dare she risk it?  After all, he's just returned from covering conflicts around the globe. With his assurance he'll be handling domestic stories from now on, Ariela's weak resistance crumbles and their relationship intensifies at a dizzying speed. Then an unexpected phone call lures Dylan back to Iraq and he falls off the radar. His disappearance will test them both in ways neither expected. Will it bring them closer or destroy their fragile peace forever?



“Please, come in.” Ariela grabbed her sweater off the hook on the wall and slipped it on, feeling a little underdressed in her pajamas.

What on earth was he doing here, and how had he found her? Not that she was complaining. Oh no, far from it. He’d made a startling impression on her earlier today. When he’d smiled at her, she could have sworn his brilliant blue eyes were dancing like fairies at a midsummer frolic. Odder still, when he spoke she’d imagined butterflies circling her head. She’d heard tinkling bells. At the time, she hoped it was because of the knock on her head. Now she wasn’t so sure. Just looking at him again was doing crazy things to her mental and physical circuitry.

The guy entered the apartment and gaped at the furniture right out of the sixties. Very familiar with this reaction, Ariela laughed.

“Yeah, I get it. The Jetsons meet Beetlejuice, right? Probably not the d├ęcor you’d expect two interior designers to have.”

He shook his head, still blinking as he took it all in.

Overlapping the edges of her unbuttoned sweater, she hugged herself, painfully aware she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Well, there’s a simple explanation. When you’re cash poor and starting a business with next to nothing, you can’t exactly go wild in your own apartment right off the bat. We’re still living with the furniture we had during college, courtesy of Uncle Henry and Aunt Rose—with a few freebies thrown in to make it really eclectic.”

She gestured to their space-age teal sofa. “Please, have a seat. Appearances aside, it’s actually quite comfortable. Can I get you something to drink—juice, tea, coffee maybe?”

 Anything, anything at all?

Turning, he flashed a little dimple. “No thanks. I’m fine.”

He’d get no argument from her.

They sat down and he looked pained when she settled into the bright tangerine-colored armchair. Understandable. It did clash jarringly with her pajamas—pastel balloons floating across a soft pink background. The poor guy blinked several times, seemingly trying to handle the color overload. Biting her lip so she didn’t break out laughing, Ariela tucked her feet up and gave him a slow, curious smile.

He sat up straight, recognizing his cue. “Right. Sorry. I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“It crossed my mind,” she admitted.

“I didn’t get a chance to give you that business card before they carted you away.”

“Oh, and you brought it to me? That’s so nice of you. Thanks.”

He peered at her intently, more serious now. “How are you?”

Even though she didn’t know him, there was something in his expression that made her believe he could be trusted, and more importantly, he wouldn’t have asked about her if he didn’t honestly want to know. The naked concern radiating out of his deep blue eyes transformed his handsome face into something miles beyond devastating.

“I have a mild concussion.” Why was she blushing?

The corner of his mouth curled up a smidgen. “Headache?”

She felt her warm cheeks flare hotter. What was wrong with her? “Not anymore.”

“Good.” He broke into a full-blown smile and settled back on the sofa, apparently satisfied.

Still reeling from the power of his smile, Ariela shifted uneasily in her chair. “I have a confession— I can’t remember your name. It’s really bugging me.”

His head dropped back and he laughed. “Dylan Bond.”

She brightened. “Like in Bond, Dylan Bond?” She’d remember it now.

His eyebrows flicked up in amusement. “Something like that.”

“Dabbles in international intrigue?” She was toying with him, but it was fun.

He flashed a sexy-assed smile. How many kinds did the guy have? “I’m comfortable being in the middle of the action, but I’m back to working domestically again.”

Say what? Ariela’s eyebrows rose so high she felt her hairline shift. “I think I need a translation. What is it you do?”

He had a great laugh. “I’m a journalist. I just finished a stint in Iraq, but I’m back now. It’s nice not having to deal with body armor and helmets.”

Looking skeptically back at him, she assumed he was putting her on. “Is that right?”

“Actually, yes.” He shifted onto one butt cheek and pulled out his wallet. A second later, he handed her a press pass from a recent event. “I’m working out of my house now—mostly covering the political side of the war.”

She read the pass, her doubts dissolving. “You actually live around here?” She handed the card back and he put it away.

“Sure, why not?”

Shrugging, she said, “Well, Lewiston isn't exactly Washington DC.”

“With the internet and a telephone, you can stay connected from pretty much anywhere. Still, I do plenty of traveling and Washington is only a two hour drive. I can be there and back before Max even notices I'm gone.”


His blue eyes were dancing again. Hello tinkling bells. “My retriever.”

“Ah yes, I remember him now.”

Dylan grinned. “He’s probably the reason you woke up wanting a wet wipe.”

She laughed and his smile deepened. That dimple of his was growing on her.

“Listen,” he said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “How about going out with me sometime? We can do something gentle—bumper cars maybe?”

She waited for her retreat mechanism to kick in. It was strangely silent. “Here I was, hoping you’d suggest hang gliding or bungee jumping.”

“Anything you want. I’m flexible.”

Another perfect smile flashed at her and Ariela’s heartbeat spiked. “Sure, why not?”

“Good.” He stood and pulled the business card out of his front pocket. “Here, before I forget.”

Ariela unfolded her legs and reached for the floor with her bare feet. When she rose he was right there with the card. Taking it, she noticed he was taller than she’d initially thought. She supposed that made sense. How well can you judge anyone’s height when you’re on your back?

She walked him to the door. Opening it before she could, he turned and asked, “When?”

“When what?” She watched his eyes move as he took an unabashed tour of her face.

“When can I take you out?”

The birds in her stomach were back, fluttering away. Good thing they were keeping the noise down. “Whenever?”

Dylan gave her a meaningful look, full of promise. “Expect a call.”

Ariela closed the door behind him and fell against it. If she hadn’t locked her knees, she would have been a puddle of melting woman on the floor. As Dylan’s footfalls faded out and the back door shut, she pressed a hand to her excited heart. Something told Ariela that she was in for a wild ride with this one. Hell, just sitting in a quiet room with Dylan was exhilarating. Now she knew it wasn’t just the concussion. There was far more at play here. Scary.

She was about to find out whether Dylan’s hands were capable and steady on the wheel, because he was already in her driver’s seat. She knew it, and judging by the look he gave her on the way out, he knew it too. Suddenly the Beatles were singing Drive My Car in her head.

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About the Author

I’m a pampered wife, mother to three fantastic sons, one super daughter-in-law, and proud nana.

I write the stories I like to read. Life is difficult. Love makes it bearable.


Please visit my website Tara Mills Romance  for more great reads and my quirky blog. I’m also on Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter.
Spotlight on Embracing The Tease by Ella Grey

The Black Rose, 3

They both need to blow off some steam...

Lilith Yee is Madame Tease, except she hasn't been doing much teasing lately. Alex has left her in charge, which means there isn't time for fun. On top of paperwork and making sure Twisted Rope is still performing on Friday, she's bored. 

Joseph Hall is the lead singer of the Twisted Rope. On the last leg of their tour, he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He's kept a secret from his bandmates, one that is slowly killing him inside. He's more than willing to put the decisions in someone's hand. 

One night. No promises. Could it end up being the perfect beginning?



“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.” The soft sound of her footsteps coming closer stopped him from disappearing through the door. Her hand pressed lightly on his shoulder, and he turned around. She wasn’t that much taller than he was, so he gazed into her eyes. They searched his. As he took a step away from her, she raised her hand. The move reminded him of someone trying to approach a wounded animal. “You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders. I can help you with that. All you have to do is let me.”

“What do you mean?”

The smile she gave him hit him like a physical punch to the pit of his stomach. “Maybe it’s time you put that well-worn control into someone else’s hands. Come to my office after your set. I mean if you’re interested.” This time when she stepped toward him, he stayed rooted to the spot. He still found it difficult to look in her eyes. Damn, the tour had really worn him down along with everything else he’d had to deal with. “Look at me, Joseph.” As if her words were magic ones granting him permission, they were all he needed to shift his eyes to hers. He stayed still as she ran a nail along the line of his jaw. Dropping his gaze slightly, he studied the curve of her lips. The simple move made him rock hard as he glanced back into her eyes, and she gave him a look that could only be described as searching. “Come to me tonight after your set.”

“Who are you?” He wanted to touch her, his fingers practically burned with the urge—the need.

A moment of indecision flashed in her eyes before she suddenly seemed taller as she stood on her tip toes with the pose of a dancer. Joseph immediately wished that he had his notepad with him. She stopped a fraction from his lips, never looking away. “My name is Madame Tease.” The barest touch of her lips danced across his. “Have a good show tonight.”


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Spotlight on The Beta's Beloved by Rebecca Brochu - @AuthorRBrochu

The Beta's Beloved by Rebecca Brochu
Release Date: April 16th, 2014
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Genre: Paranormal, Erotic, Romance, GLBT
Length: 126 pages, estimated

Blurb: A year after Declan Adair crashed into Carson territory and into the alpha Law’s heart things have finally settled down.  Except for the fact that Trace Carson, Law’s brother and right hand wolf, is head over heels for the fiery but skittish Lachlan, Declan’s identical twin brother.  The entire pack, including both of their brothers, knows how Trace feels about Lachlan.  The only problem is that Lachlan seems completely oblivious to Trace’s interest.

Trace, in a final attempt to woo the elusive Lachlan, whisks him away to the northern reaches of the territory and a remote cabin deep in the heart of the forest.  Trace hopes that he can convince Lachlan to give him the chance he needs to prove himself before someone else swoops in and takes his beloved away.  Trace will do anything to prove to Lachlan that he can be the man and the wolf for him. 

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Picking The Face For Your Baby
It's an odd title, I know, but trust me, it fits.

One of the things I was most excited for when I decided to take the huge step to self-publish the rest of The Russian Guns series was cover art.

Mmhmm. So excited.

Because you see, with publishers, it's pretty simple. If you're lucky, you get a cover sheet. You fill it out. It's your opinion on what you'd like to see on your cover. A tiny space where you get to insert some vision of what the cover for your "baby" should look like.

The face, if you will.

Of course, authors don't really know what that cover is going to look like, or for that matter, what that vision--or parts of that vision--is going to make it into the cover until it slides into their inbox. You kind of have to just cross your fingers and hope the art department can make sense of your ramblings, hope to God they've carefully read the blurb and whatever other little info about your book they've been given and again, HOPE, they come back with something good.

Why, you ask?

Well, most contracts have a pretty simple end all statement. "Publisher has final say on..." Yada, yada, and more so and keep it on going.

We all get the point, right?

Don't let me get ahead of myself, because not all publisher's are the same. Some will work with an author, especially when they email back with a big no. Others, even when it's obvious...say the title font is the same color as the model's skin and the letter's blend in so you can't read them...won't even change something as simple as the font color. For the whole thirty seconds it would take to go into the art file and change that. Yeah, I have a pretty decent knowledge of Photoshop. Not that it matters.

Tough tits, I guess.

That's publishing.

I sound a little bitter, right?

I'm not, not really. You read and sign the contract, so you know what to expect.

But covers are important. They are the face of the novel. One of the very first things the reader sees. Something that is, in part and as a whole, supposed to reflect the words behind that picture. Important isn't a good enough word, in my opinion.

As a reader, I will pass on a bad cover. Don't judge a book and all that, sure. It's also the digital age, so what we get is exactly what we get. We don't get much beyond a small excerpt or the chance to "look inside". Sometimes that's just not enough.

So, for me to say I'm excited to work on my cover for The Life hands on, exactly as I want it to appear, may be a bit of an understatement. This is the face I wanted. I likely would not have gotten this "face" with a publisher. I have the files for it ready, and now it's just the slow coming design of the rest.

And I cannot wait to share!

Spotlight: Lip Service by @NikkaMichaels

Lip Service

By Nikka Michaels

Genre: Erotic Romance, M/M

Length: Short Story, sequel to Room Service

Release Date: April 15, 2014

Publisher: Cobblestone Press

What is Cobblestone Press’ Blue Line?

The Blue short story line is erotica. For us, erotica is about the fulfillment of a sexual fantasy.  These stories are sexy, very graphic, and are by no means a “traditional romance”.


Dr. Seth Campbell and Carson Randall from ROOM SERVICE return in this short erotic sequel. Separated by their jobs on a daily basis, the partners have to make time for each other when they can. They combine their passion for each other in mini interludes to reconnect with each other and rekindle their connection.

When Seth finds Carson waiting for him in the hotel bar, their attraction and awareness smolders to life. When their already limited time together is interrupted by an important phone call, an impatient Seth takes matters into his own hands.


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Nikka Michaels lives in the often rainy Pacific Northwest where she spends her time cooking, laughing and crafting romantic tales to satisfy her craving for HEAs with heat. A voracious reader, novice knitter and music lover she’s been known to multitask without breaking a sweat. She loves to read and write M/M romance but believes everyone deserves a love story. She currently has four releases out, Chasing Matt, a M/M novella co-authored with Eileen Griffin, Christmas with Caden, a M/F romance novella from Cobblestone Press, “Waking up Wolf”, a M/M shifter romance in Evernight Publishing’s Alpha’s Claim: Manlove Edition anthology, and Room Service the M/M BDSM short story from Cobblestone Press’ Blue line. Lip Service, the sequel to Room Service is forthcoming from Cobblestone Press. Nikka is currently at work with her co-author on two M/M foodie romance novels, set to be released summer and fall 2014 from Carina Press.


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#FreeRead - Spotlight on Touch of Sin by Carlene Love Flores @cloveflores

Hi! Thank you to the lovely Bethany-Kris for hostessing Luke, Sarrie and myself so expertly today. I love being here and am happy to bring with me my latest release, Touch of Sin! This book is the fourth installment of the Sin Pointe Novel series and the first official Sin Pointe Free Read. I thought it was a great time to thank the series fans and welcome new ones when Luke and Sarrie popped into my brain and stole my heart. I hope they do the same for you. Have a great weekend everyone and Happy Reading! Love stories rock! Xoxo Carlene



Touch of Sin (A Sin Pointe Novel Free Read) Blurb:

Lonerby guitarist Luke Willoughby and his band are under tight scrutiny since a press conference was ruined by a band member’s sudden vomiting attack. They’ve been suspended from the Sin Pointe tour and Luke fears they’ve blown it for good. The last thing he expects is the cute management spy sent to observe him.

No-nonsense Sarrie Walker knows exactly what she’s there to do, and makes no secret of it. Luke is impressed—and powerfully attracted to Sarrie’s strong and sexy innocence. When they end up stuck together in close quarters, Sarrie becomes dangerously irresistible—and very much off-limits. Does she hold Luke’s second chance? And if he gives in to her powerful allure, what happens to his heart?




Sarrie stepped carefully and mostly on tip toes out of the tiny, grime grouted shower. She’d had to waste one of their two usable towels for a floor mat and made sure to land on it.

The good news was that she no longer teetered on what she’d tell Mr. Keller when they made it to D.C.

Noah was sick and while he’d managed himself at these smaller gigs, he didn’t belong on a massive, nationwide Sin Pointe tour. She tried to picture him night after night and the binge drinking sessions. It hurt her heart to think of it but worse than that was picturing the landslide of sleepless nights Luke would have to suffer through caring for him. Sure, they might all hate her as a consequence, but that’s why it was called tough love. The truth hurt at first. And sometimes for a very long time after. But at least the person would be alive.

            She grabbed for the towel she’d left on the toilet seat and found a loosely folded bunch of clothes. Not hers because they were too big and, she pulled the shirt to her nose, they smelled like Luke. “Mmmm.”

            Her eyes popped open so wide she felt her lashes touch her brow bone. Yes, she’d just sighed at a man’s smell. It was a first. Maybe it was because her decision no longer hung over her head, but she could get lost in the fact she held the shirt he’d played in. She inhaled and the smell brought back visions of him serving as master of his guitar and the beads of sweat that had dotted his forehead, the one that hung from his nose, and the slick mass that had wet his chest hairs showing through the top of his V neck shirt. He’d been so lost in the music that he hadn’t seen her staring or cared about the sweat. She’d noticed more than she realized and had to stop and breathe through what that meant.

            “So that’s it, Sarrie? You’re going there now?” she whispered to herself. “Unbelievable.”

            Why shouldn’t she?

            Because she’d never had these feelings for a man before? Because the two days she’d known Luke were clearly not long enough and she was here to study him, not fall into a foolish one-sided infatuation? Or was it that his life situation was too close a reminder of the one she’d finally saved herself and her father from? The heaviness of all those truths bowed her shoulders inward and down.

            He’s gonna be dealing with Noah’s addiction for a long time to come, especially if he can’t stand to see his baby brother suffer. That’s what enablers did. She knew because she’d watched her mom tiptoe around her dad until the day Mom just didn’t come home.

            Plopping down on the toilet seat, she bundled Luke’s jeans together with his shirt and hugged them. A sock fell from the pile. She found its match and could have cried at his selflessness. He was a good guy and he had a ton of hurt coming his way. For a second, she forgot where she was and nearly let her head fall back against the dingy bathroom wall.

            Cold air leaking through the thin motel walls made her shiver. So did the thought of wearing Luke’s clothes. But after she made sure to dry off with the one towel, she pulled on her old panties and bra and then his jeans, which nearly fell right back down, and then slipped his V neck shirt over her head. The baggy look reminded her of the girls from TLC, but not one single day in her life had she ever felt crazy, sexy or cool. Well, maybe she could identify with the crazy part. Completely foreign to her was the thought of what Luke would think. And then she had an altogether more shocking thought. If his clothes were in here, what was he wearing?

            Hot gusts of air puffed out from her lungs until she managed to calm them down. But all she could really think about were bare, strong shoulders and more than just the tiny glimpses she’d gotten of his chest in the V cut shirt she currently wore. She needed a drink of water. Badly. She wiggled her toes in his giant socks.


A Bit About Carlene:

Carlene Love Flores is a big fan of the stars (especially Orion), honest music (especially Depeche Mode), and her traveling family (no favorites there-she loves them all). These things inspire her intimate style of romance writing. She feels honored to be a member of Washington DC Romance Writers (WRWDC). Carlene currently lives in the D.C. area where she can often be found listening to live music and looking up at the sky on clear nights.  If she could touch someone’s heart with her writing the way others have done for her, she’d say truly there never lived a luckier girl.  


Find Carlene Here:


Find Touch of Sin (A Sin Pointe Free Read) Here:

What I #amreading this week ...
Easter break has offered me lots of time to catch up on some reading. I've just finished The Murder of King Tut by James Patterson. A novel that the hubby picked up for me a couple of years ago and sat in my bookshelf for the entire time. Don't ask me what took so long to pick it up, but I should have picked it up sooner.

For romance? Well. the very lovely Jewel Quinlan has two new books in my TBR pile this week. Both short stories, and I do so love short stories. Her Surrender Sweet Succubus and Extreme Heat look pretty awesome--and hot--so I can't wait to dive in.

And hopefully, if I have any time, I'll fit in some writing.


Happy coming Easter!

Book Tour: A Dom's Decision by Raven McAllan - Guest Post

Dom's Decision
Series: Dommissimma, #2
Erotica, GLBT, Romance

The origin of Athol


Athol was one of those secondary characters in a book that grabbed me, and it seems my readers. He was funny, compassionate and, oh my, an out and out Dom.

When he first appeared in Master, book one of Dommisimma, he immediately grabbed mine, and lots of other people’s attention. Funny, compassionate and oh my, a Dom all

right. Someone who could make fun about himself, and admit he'd screwed up, but still more than capable of helping others. The one thing we didn’t find out was that had gone wrong. I don’t think I was the only one who wondered.


Athol’s one true love is as stubborn and individual as Athol.

Edan Murdoch, misses Athol like you miss a part of yourself, but he was as bad as Athol in not being willing to give an inch.


Seriously I wanted to bang their heads together more than once .I started their story, and left it more than once when the stubborn so-and-sos refused to help me out and cooperate.


Eventually I pieced their story together, and oh my, it was well worth waiting for.


I can only hope I’ve done it justice.


When is a Dom not a Dom? When it stops him from being with the man he loves…

Athol Donaldson lost many people in his life, his lover, his family, his twin. The latter loss seems hardly worth morning over. Affric caused nothing but trouble when alive, and now, he seems intent on causing trouble from beyond the grave.

It forces Athol to seek out the one man he's never forgotten. Eden Murdoch has no intention of letting Athol slip through his fingers again. He's
lost him once, and as they're forced to pull together to unravel the mystery surrounding the parentage of a teenage girl, their love for each other blossoms.

Surely, being Doms doesn't mean they can't compromise? Will they be able to work out their differences, and find lasting happiness, or will this blast from the past prove to be their final undoing?

Edan Murdoch moved back from the keyboard and stretched his arms high above his head to untangle the kinks in his shoulders.
He pulled the thin strip of leather from his ponytail and wondered for the umpteenth time if he should grow up and cut his hair. Left loose, it fell over his shoulders in a waterfall of black curls, and got him more than enough sly comments and references to dark-haired cherubs and dodgy rock stars. But then if he kept it short, it became a tight mass of twists and knots. It was the thought of how long it took to detangle that made his mind up––he'd leave it as it was, with the odd trim by his friendly neighborhood barber. At last kept longer, he could get a brush through it. Edan rolled his shoulders and put the thong in his desk drawer for the following morning.

It had been a long day, a long week even, and all he wanted was to go home, pour a glass of Merlot and chill. Well, not all, he amended silently, he'd prefer a hot bod--one specific hot bod, even—beside him, but that was likely as a midge-free summer on the West Coast.

One more report and he'd leave. As it was, Absinthe the cat would give him the cold shoulder. Edan chuckled to himself. How stereotypical was he? Gay, on his own, and with a cat for a companion. And anyone who said cats were self-contained and no trouble had never met Absinthe. That cat could make her thoughts and needs known with one meow and a glare.

The knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He jumped and pressed keys, making an 'sssssssss' row across the report, and swore. Who on earth would be around at—he glanced at his watch—shit, nearly nine o'clock at night. Where had the time gone?

"Yeah?" He pushed up his glasses, and rubbed his face. God, he was tired. "Come in."

The door opened and Athol walked in. Edan’s  tiredness dropped away like an old washcloth.

"Fuck me."

The newcomer nodded. "Yes please, here or do you have somewhere else in mind?"

Edan laughed. "Well, that's the rub, isn't it? You ready for a little subbing yet?"

"In your dreams, mate. I'm the Dom."

Edan nodded. That was the sticking point and always had been.
"Yeah, and so am I. So there we have it. Or don't, as the case may be. Why are you here? I'm sure it's not just to tell me you're not prepared to negotiate."

Athol shrugged. "You know it's not. But we have a problem. Or rather, I think I do. You're just a not so innocent bystander."

His words made Edan grin. "Innocent never was comparable with you or me, mate. Ah, Athol. Bloody hell, I've missed you."
He walked around the desk and grabbed Athol and pulled him into a big hug. It was returned with fervor, and he was damned sure he got a swift kiss on the neck as well. "Not just in bed." He stopped talking, scared he'd said too much
Athol didn't answer. He looked unhappy, and Edan wished he could retract his words
"Dammit, in other things as well. Someone to laugh with, to share the ups and downs, and someone to high-five when everything works out."

Athol grimaced. Edan realized more than ever this wasn't just a social call. Here was one of the two people in the world he truly loved, one whom he hadn't seen for over five years, and his feelings were as strong as ever. And, typical, it seemed nothing had changed. For years they'd met up, chatted, argued, and gone their separate ways. The last few years they hadn't even done that. He had never told Athol where he lived, what he was doing, or how miserable he'd been. Just sat and agonized through those few hours they'd spared for each other. Why the hell couldn't he give in, just a little bit? If Athol were prepared to switch, Edan would do so gladly. But he wasn't going to be the only one, not any more.

"Maybe one day," Athol said slowly. "Once we've sorted this crap out. Life as a lonely Dom ain't all it's cracked up to be. Not when everyone around you is loved up and pairing up. Well, nearly everyone," he said. "I can think of a few who need help. I had a blast from the past at the club last night."

"Club? I thought you were a psychologist."

"God almighty, have you forgotten all our late-night sessions, not the sex ones but the angst ones? Psychiatrist, Edan, watch my lips." He repeated the word.

Edan couldn't help it. He punched his friend's shoulder and grinned. "Works every time, sucker. Okay, chill. What club and why?"

"Dommissima, because I want to."

Edan whistled. He'd heard about that. One of the premier and exclusive BDSM clubs in the country. "Playing with the big boys, eh?"

"Oh, hon, you better believe it." Athol dropped his wrist, rolled his eyes and snorted. "And get it right, I am one of the big boys, almost. Ah, Edan, I've fucking missed you. Why did we cock it up?" 

Raven lives in
Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown
the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings
in her books.

She is used to
sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to
say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.

Her very
understanding, and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the
dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned
offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types