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Guest Blogger: Mae Hancock

tourbutton_enticinghartOccasionally all of us come across situations, which potentially threaten to end our lives, and this is a theme picked up in Enticing Hart, part of my Wyoming Lovers series. Sometimes these are just moments where we almost had a car accident or a piano almost falls on us! But there are more serious times that are prolonged owing to illness, or recovery from an injury. Hart, the hero in Enticing Hart, experiences just this situation and for some time he does what many of us do—reflect back on his life and think about the things he’s done wrong, or the things he will put right if his life is spared.

For a moment there Hart really considers his own mortality and what will happen to the people he loves if he’s not there to look after them. I quite liked exploring this part of his personality and thinking about what might happen to this person if we put him under extreme pressure. I think sometimes, dangerous situations can make us excel to get us to safety in whatever way we can; we realize that we can do things we never thought possible before.

The biggest thing about Hart’s imprisonment is that he has hope, and that’s what keeps the human spirit alive. It is ultimately his hope and love for Oak that gives him the strength to get to freedom.

Similarly, Steve’s mother Maggie faces the same danger every day with her continuing illness although the danger she is in isn’t sudden it’s been a long illness, and is set to get slowly worse over a number of years but she too is able to overcome a number of factors to continue her life. In many ways she reflects on the past and thinks of times where she was the career and not the one being cared for. Both characters draw on their own reflections of life, memories of the ones they care about to get them through very difficult circumstances and I really enjoyed working on this aspect of characterization.

 

Enticing HartBlurb

Hart Emile is tired of cruising for guys, living a soulless existence. He needs a change; so when an acquaintance gives him the number of the gay friendly Red Fox Ranch that’s hiring for staff, he heads south.

Oak Redman is eighteen years old and desperate to explore his awakening sexuality. The moment Hart lays eyes on the handsome young rancher he’s smitten. Not only is Oak hot, spirited and very persistent, he is also the ranch boss’s son and strictly off limits. Hart tries to fight his feelings and to respect his boss and the family who quickly become dear to him, but after Oak’s grandma suggests he gets with Oak he can’t deny himself the most exciting and enticing man he has ever met.

Hart’s not the only man to have noticed how sweet and charming Oak Redman is. A family friend, Steve, is also anxious to have the affections of the young rancher. Can Hart work out Steve’s dark secrets before it’s too late and keep his job, his lover and his life?

 

Published by Loose Id.

 

Excerpt

The distinctive chirps of crickets grew louder as Hart strolled away from the lakeside. Another meaningless encounter had come to an end. He’d told himself he wouldn’t do it again, and yet now he had. At least the guy had been attractive and around his own age. God, I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel. Has my life come to this? Cruising around parks and restrooms, no comfort, no intimacy, no love.

Climbing into his truck, Hart remembered the ranch name the guy had given him. He checked it out on the Internet, and then, when a much older guy approached, Hart realized he’d been reading the website too long. Oh, no, not another one. He turned the key in the ignition and started the engine. He reversed in the small gravel parking lot, then sped away.

On the borders of Wyoming’s Yellowstone Park, guys were using this beautiful location to cruise. Narrow paths and hidden patches between trees at the edge of the water proved an ideal location to get it on with someone. As the sunset dipped through water reeds, it could be an ideal romantic spot, but instead the brief rendezvous were impersonal and void of emotion.

After traveling around doing casual work for five years, he needed steady employment, a home, and a life. According to the guy at the lake, the people at the Red Fox Ranch were gay-friendly and hiring. He’d always been quite private about his sexuality, but what the hell? It’d be a change not to hide who I am all the time. Could even be a novelty. Might even be…nice?

* * * *

Hart pulled up to the front of the big, traditional ranch house, and the midday heat hit him as he stepped out of the air-conditioned truck. A line of tall fir trees stood behind the wooden building where a new job might be waiting, and a lake nestled at the foot of nearby mountains. He tapped at the door and glanced down at his clothing, tugging at the corner of his shirt to straighten it. The sound of the knocker echoed. A young woman, about seventeen, answered. God, am I in the right place? He pulled his Stetson off.

“Hello, you must be Hart? My dad told us to expect you.” The mellow warmth of her baby-blue eyes made him feel at ease. “Come in.” She opened the door wide, and he stepped inside.

The sound of his boots carried across the oak floor as he followed her to a study at the back of the house. The smell of freshly baked scones wafted on the warm air, making its way into his nostrils, and there were family photographs dotting the walls. He passed the living room where three big sofas cried out comfort in shades of cream, coffee, and chocolate. Everything was settled precisely in its place in the study, and the paperwork stacked in rows stood to attention; files were arranged flush on the shelves. This house was tidy, lived-in, loved—this was a home.

She gestured for him to take a seat in front of the desk. He perched uneasily for a moment and then shuffled back, his shoulders sinking down with light relief.

“My dad’ll be with you in a minute. Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, please, miss.”

“I’m Kristen.” Smiling, she offered her small hand, and he took it.

“Pleased to meet you, Kristen.” He nodded as she scooted around the corner of the door into the hallway.

She paused at the foot of the stairs, flicking her long fair hair over one shoulder. “Dad, Mr. Emile is here,” she screeched loudly, the opposite of the ladylike girl he’d shaken hands with moments earlier, the contrast making him snort.

“I’m coming. Kristen, are you fixin’ him a drink?” A man’s deep, rough tone responded from the second floor.

“Yes!” She faced Hart again and politely smiled. He was unsure what to expect from the owner of the voice.

Heavy footsteps thudded down the stairs, but still no one appeared. Peering around the door a little more, he caught a glimpse of a man going backward and forward on the bottom step. What the fuck?

The man came into the study and smiled as he put his hand out. “You must be Hart.”

“Yes, sir,” Hart replied, accepting the firm handshake.

“I’m Bay. We spoke on the phone. Welcome to the Red Fox.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Hart replied.

Bay was about six-three, with dark hairy arms and chest. His inky-black hair and the long stubble on his rugged jaw gave him a masculine aura.

What’s with the performance on the steps?

“Thanks.” Hart sucked in a bewildered breath as Bay sank down behind the desk in front of him. Kristen appeared at his side with two coffees. Bay’s broad hand dwarfed the mug she gave him, and he pulled a coaster from the drawer, placing it in position on the desk. Then he rotated the leather square a little, moved it again, this time to the other side of the desk. There were more rotations until he positioned it precisely before placing the coffee down. Kristen’s cheeks pinked slightly as she glanced at her dad’s performance with the coaster, and she swiftly disappeared.

“Thanks for coming.” Bay rested his elbows on the arms of the office chair. He steepled his fingers, moving back into the creaking leather. “I’m looking for a permanent ranch hand, and you’d be on a three-month trial initially. I sure could use a carpenter and a mechanic around here. Your skills are pretty impressive.” Bay stopped midflow and stared toward the door. Hart followed his gaze to see an elderly lady in the doorway.

“Have you seen my slippers, Bay?”

“Grandma, no, I haven’t. Can you give us a minute?” A big crease came to the middle of the man’s brow.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there, young man.” She peered around the side of the door at Hart, and then she fiddled with a long gold necklace, which had a charm at the end. Snow-white hair curled around her cheeks. She had mischief in those twinkling blue eyes.

“Hart, this is my grandma, Mrs. Redman. Hart’s come to work with us—well, maybe—if he likes us.” Bay inclined his head, prompting Hart.

“Oh, yes. Howdy, ma’am.” What an unusual interview.

Her tiny hand met his, her fingers soft but her grip steely.

“Grandma, I haven’t seen your slippers. Has Skip taken them again? I told you not to leave them out, didn’t I?” Bay’s paternal tone checked her.

“Oh, yes, but I didn’t realize Skip was around.” She put wrinkled fingers to her lips.

“Skip’s our new shepherd-mix pup, Hart. I’ll take you to meet him shortly. Grandma, can you give us a minute?” Bay’s gaze beseeched her.

“Oh, yes, sorry. I’ll get back to my baking. Did you get Hart some coffee?”

“Kristen did.” Bay gestured to the mug on the edge of the desk next to Hart.

“Okay, I’ll say good day to you, then.” She wandered off down the corridor.

God, is this the right place? Even if it’s not, I’m not going to say anything. There’s something a bit…different. I like it here.

“Now, where was I?” Bay pulled the coffee from the coaster again, fiddling with it some more.

“The ranch—” Hart said expectantly.

Bay’s cell rang.

“Excuse me.” Bay eased it out of his jeans pocket. “Hello? He’s what?” His eyebrows knitted. “Yes, okay. I’m coming.” He buried the phone back in his pocket and stood.

“I’m sorry about this, but Skip’s got one of the chickens again. I’m going to have to go get him. Come with me if you want. Bring your coffee. There’s always some crisis happening here. There isn’t much normal about this ranch, I’m afraid.”

Hart followed Bay across the wooden floors of the house, their steps echoing. At the chicken coop, Kristen held a struggling black-and-brown puppy by his collar.

“What in the hell was he doing in there?” A muscle twitched in Bay’s neck as he opened the coop.

“I don’t know, but he’s mauled another one of the hens.” Kristen barely hid her concern as a hen lay on its side with a wing flapping a little. Feathers were scattered across the ground.

“For God’s sake, you’re supposed to be watching him. We can’t have him running wild all over the ranch.” Pushing the gate shut from inside, he glanced at Hart. “If it’s not foxes or coyotes or wolves…it’s this damned untrained puppy.”

“Can I help?” Hart asked.

“Go with Kristen. I’ll be back in a minute when I’ve sorted this mess out.”

Hart strolled back to the porch, where Kristen took his coffee mug. She passed him the wriggling puppy, which licked his face uncontrollably.

“Wait here. I’ll get the leash.” She disappeared into the house and returned to hook the clip onto the dog’s collar. He jumped from Hart’s arms.

“I’ll bring you a cup of fresh coffee. Yours’ll be cold by now. I’m sorry about this. I’d like to say it’s not usually like this, but it kind of is.”

He chuckled, and she slipped through the door again, taking Skip with her. Hart leaned on the porch railing and watched Bay leave the chicken run, holding the now dead bird and hooking the gate closed behind him. He rounded the corner of a shed and moved out of sight.

Kristen appeared at Hart’s side, still holding Skip on the leash, and handed him a steaming mug. “Please take a seat.” She settled into one of the chairs.

“Thanks.” He perched uneasily on the wooden chair.

“We have seven ranch hands living here in the bunkhouse. Are you going to stay there too?” she asked.

“If you’ve got the room.” He shuffled back, trying to relax, and tossed his Stetson in his hands idly.

“I think so. My dad’ll know.”

The house phone rang; Skip followed her inside as she went to answer it. While Hart waited, a wind chime tinkled in the breeze. From down near the barns, a cowboy headed toward the porch, his tall figure backlit by the sun. Broad shoulders tapered to a small waist. The man couldn’t be older than nineteen. The hairs on Hart’s arms stood on end. The young cowboy mounted the steps and glanced at Hart, lifting his lush, delicate features into a sweet smile.

It was enough to make Hart melt.

“Hi. I’m Oak, like the tree.” His voice held a vibrant, acquiescent note, and he reached out, taking Hart’s hand. A good, firm handshake corresponded with big, honest baby-blue eyes. High cheekbones filled with a flush of pink flattered his brown skin. Lust roared through Hart as a faint scent of cinnamon made its way to his senses. Those full, deep-pink lips needed kissing. A well-crafted bicep showed off a tribal tattoo peeping from under the sleeve of Oak’s T-shirt. The muscle beneath twitched intermittently.

Hart shifted in the dry air on the porch, and a bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, making him shudder. “I’m Hart,” he replied, unable to get another word out.

Kristen opened the porch door and smirked at Oak. Immediate embarrassment rushed heat to Hart’s cheeks. Had she noticed his jaw dropping in awe of the rancher’s son?

“Oh, right, my dad told me you were coming,” Oak said, ignoring Kristen.

Dad? Oh, no. Could Oak be the boss’s son?

“Dad, there’s a call for you!” she shouted as Bay approached the porch.

“Kristen, honey, can you deal with it? I’m showing Hart around.” Bay stopped and rested his foot on the bottom step. “I’m sorry about the interruptions, Hart. I see you’ve met my boy, Oak.”

“Yes.” Of course, the most beautiful man he’d ever seen would be the boss’s son.

“Come tour the ranch now.” Bay gestured for Hart to follow. “So, how many years’ experience did you say you have?”

Pushing up from the wicker chair on the porch and barely able to distract himself from lean, athletic Oak, Hart followed Bay. “Nice to meet you, Oak,” he called over his shoulder, hoping to catch another of Oak’s sweet smiles. He probably has a great ass too.

He took an extra step to catch up. “I worked on ranches my whole life, sir.”

His new boss had arrived in the nick of time, because he sure as hell didn’t know what to say to Oak. Especially as Hart needed to keep his mind on the job, and not on Oak. Hart suspected Bay wouldn’t be best pleased to know Hart had one eye on his son. He should take the job seriously anyway. Crazy place—but somehow he liked it.
Copyright © Mae Hancock

 

 

Buy Links

All Romance eBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-enticinghart-1724320-340.html?referrer=6bdb1f9160564c0525b41f36e51861a0

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1B7Ivj9

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1BTmpCL

 

Author Bio

I’ve always written stories and enjoy reading all types of literature from thrillers to romance. I’m interested in people who experience social marginalization and these are often themes that appear in my stories. I’ve written erotic literature for pleasure for a long time, but it’s only recently I’ve put romance and erotica together and found I enjoy writing about the exciting journey we all go on when falling in love. My interests include cultural history, particularly in the Greek and Roman worlds.

Author site: http://www.maehancock.com

 

Liz Coldwell Shares Hotel Secrets

Liz Coldwell hotel britannique romantic bed

There’s something deeply romantic about staying in a hotel. If you have the money, it’s a chance to surround yourself in

five-star luxury, with beautifully decorated rooms, access to gyms and spa facilities, 24-hour room service and staff on hand to attend to your every need. TripAdvisor hands out ‘Most Romantic Hotel’ Awards each year, with the winners offering such things as champagne and chocolates to guests on arrival as part of the package, and providing a cosy little bolthole from the stresses of everyday life. Even if your budget runs to nothing more exciting than a travel lodge just off the M4, you’ll still get a break from chores like cooking breakfast and making your own bed – and for some that’s the definition of romance.

For many people, though, a hotel stay offers the chance to live out any number of romantic and sexual fantasies. Towns like Brighton built their reputation on being a destination for ‘dirty weekends’, where couples could get away from their families, friends or even their spouse and indulge in all manner of naughtiness. One piece of advice often given to those wanting to spice up their sex lives is to book into a hotel under false names, or even to pretend to pick each other up in the bar before going upstairs for some hot between-the-sheets action. It appeals to the concept of hotels as places where everything is transient, full of people you’ll never see again and who have no idea of what you might be getting up to behind closed doors. And with reports of guest accidentally leaving saucy underwear and exotic sex toys behind when they check out, it’s a fair bet the couple in the next room to yours are letting their desires run wild. (The moral here, of course, is to check under the bed and behind the radiators before you hand your keys back…)

When I started plotting His Secret Boss, I was looking to set the book in Wales. I needed a business that was failing and the idea came to me to use a hotel as the backdrop, because if you’re part of the management so much rides on giving guests the best possible experience. Like the rest of the United Kingdom, Wales has some spectacular coastal scenery and beautiful seaside towns. Aberpentre, the fictional location where hotel chain CEO Claudia Anthony pitches up, isn’t one of those towns, with a high street that mostly consists of charity shops and a general air of neglect. The Anthony Hotel is equally rundown, with a lift that’s in desperate need of an overhaul, as Claudia and the hotel’s manager, Rhodri, discover to their cost in this extract:

 

His Secret Boss Extract: 

The lift arrived. We got in, and Rhodri pressed the button for the top floor. For two and a half floors, we ascended Liz ColdwellHis Secret Boss6smoothly, then there was the sound of metal grinding against metal, and the car juddered to a halt.

‘What the …?’ Rhodri jabbed at buttons on the panel by the door, but nothing happened. He waited a moment, then tried again, with the same result. ‘Shit! It looks like we’re stuck.’ He sighed. ‘And I got the maintenance crew to look this thing over today as well.’

‘So what do we do now?’

Rhodri pressed another button, which bore the image of a bell. ‘That’s the alarm. It should let the company that monitors the lift know there’s a problem. Unfortunately, this thing’s so old, it doesn’t have any form of communication system built into it, so I can’t speak to them directly.’

‘Hopefully Bayo and Dean will realise something’s wrong when the lift doesn’t arrive at the top floor. They might be able to do something.

‘True, but even if they open the outside door, we’re halfway between floors. I don’t think we’d be able to climb out, and I don’t want to risk trying it.’

‘So we’ve just got to wait until someone arrives to get us out? How long is that going to take?’ I’d never suffered from claustrophobia, but something about being trapped in this little metal box caused nausea to churn in my belly. Even Rhodri’s solid presence by my side didn’t seem to help. I shivered, and wiped suddenly clammy palms on my skirt.

‘Hey, Jane, it’s going to be OK.’ He put an arm around me and gave me a reassuring hug. Though his intention was clearly to try and soothe me, he only succeeded in making things worse. I hadn’t cried since the day of Dad’s funeral, and now all the tears I’d been bottling up came flooding out.

‘But it’s the middle of the night,’ I babbled into his shoulder, no longer sure what was really upsetting me. ‘Who’s going to come now?’

‘They have people on call 24 hours a day. If anything, they’ll be here quicker than they otherwise might. No traffic on

the roads, no other idiots making demands on their attention by deciding to use an unreliable, thousand-year-old lift at midnight …’

He held me tighter as my sobs turned into giggles at his exaggerated response to our predicament. At last, I pulled away from him and removed my glasses so I could wipe at my eyes. Rhodri dug into his pocket and found a handkerchief, which he passed to me.

‘There you go, Jane. I just hate to see a woman cry.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I clutched the hankie in my fist. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I’ve watched too many horror films where people get trapped in lifts and terrible things happen to them.’

‘So would now be the right time to tell you that we have a ghost here?’

‘Really?’ I thought I’d heard all the stories about the hotel, but this was news to me.

He shook his head. ‘No. But it’d be pretty cool if there was. Just imagine if the spirit of some old hotel porter walked the landings, shining his torch as he went. Or if the place was haunted by an Edwardian lady who threw herself from one of the balconies because she’d been jilted by the man she was about to marry …’ His voice had dropped to a whisper, and as I spoke, something touched the back of my neck.

I shrieked and jumped backwards. Then realised what I had felt were Rhodri’s fingers, moving in a spidery trail over my skin.

‘That wasn’t funny,’ I snapped, as Rhodri fought to stifle his laughter. ‘You have a morbid imagination, you know that?’ 

‘So you don’t want to swap ghost stories, then? Never mind, I’m sure we can find some other way of passing the time …’

In the dim glow of the emergency lighting, Rhodri’s eyes were dark with desire. An air of anticipation hung between us, just as it had last night, in the moment before he kissed me. What had I told myself about not getting involved with him? It would be too complicated, too fraught with danger. Yet, as he pulled me into his arms again, I made no effort to resist.

Our lips were inches apart. I closed my eyes in anticipation.

 

His Secret Boss Blurb:

‘You have to admit, Claudia, it’ll be wonderful publicity for you …’

Fans of The Untwisted series, 50 shades of Grey and Sylvia Day’s Crossfire series will love His Secret Boss.

Claudia Anthony, the overachieving owner of a successful hotel chain, is recruited to take part in the reality TV show Secret CEO. Disguised as Jane Ennis, she takes on a job at The Anthony in Aberpentre, a Welsh seaside town that has seen better days. She finds herself working under young, headstrong Rhodri Wynn-Jones, who has no clue of her real identity. Soon, passion flares and although Claudia knows there are lines she can’t cross, she just can’t keep away.

Rhodri is falling in love with Jane – but what will happen if he learns he’s actually having an affair with his boss?

 

His Secret Boss Buy links:

Amazon UK/

Amazon US/

Accent Press

 

Abouy Liz Coldwell:

Formerly the editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine, co-founder of the Guild of Erotic Writers and editor in chief at Xcite Books, Elizabeth Coldwell has been writing erotic fiction for over twenty years and her work has been widely published in the UK and US. She enjoys writing across the spectrum of erotica genres, from m/m space opera to girl/girl messy fun, vanilla to BDSM, paranormal to contemporary.

Find Elizabeth Coldwell at

The (Really) Naughty Corner

 

 

 

 

 

Sugar Daddies by Renee Rose (@ReneeRoseAuthor)

tourbutton_mobmistressThank you, KD, for having me here today!

My husband told me recently that there’s a website in my hometown called Sugar Babies, where hot female students from the University offer their services as escorts (ostensibly with no sex involved because that would be illegal). I’ve always been fascinated by this sort of arrangement. I guess it fits right in with my adoration of a power exchange in which one person is boss and the other is there to, well, let’s just say please.

In my new book, Mob Mistress, Bobby Manghini, a dominant hero with ties to the mafia, feels the same way about that sort of arrangement.

With a mistress, there was an unspoken — or maybe even spoken — business arrangement. The woman received financial benefit in exchange for being available. And he loved holding power over his woman.

Here’s what happens when he’s introduced to Lexi, a hairstylist in financial crisis ( the meeting is in Lexi’s point of view):

“I told her you’d make a good sugar daddy,” Gina said with a smirk.

She felt her cheeks grow warm.  Good God, now he would think she was a money-grubbing, desperate floozy.

The statement only seemed to interest Bobby, though. He turned his attention to her. “Is that so?”

She opened her lips to deny it, but found herself caught in his heated gaze, the appreciative assessment obvious. Forcing herself to exhale, she said, “No, she was only kidding.”

Bobby reached over and grasped the seat of her chair, pulling it forward until her knees came between his.

She gasped at the sudden movement and gave a nervous giggle. “What are you —?”

He made a show of looking her up and down. “Yes, I would definitely say you are sugar baby material.”

Dean and Gina laughed, egging him on.

She looked skyward again. “I feel like a horse at auction. Look, I never said —”

Bobby grinned and took hold of her jaw. “Right! Let’s see those teeth, little pony,” he said, pulling her face toward him. Instead of looking in her mouth, he lowered his face, sweeping his lips lightly across hers. Softer than she expected, they tasted faintly of whiskey. Though she ought to be turned off by being so manhandled, the moment he pulled away, she missed his touch, wanting more.

Her heart rate quickened. Was this actually happening?

Bobby grinned and sat back, releasing her from his scrutiny.

Recovered from her fluster, she gave herself a quick pep talk. What did she have to lose, really? A sugar daddy would solve all her problems, if this was for real. She gave him a seductive look. “Are you in the market for a sugar baby?”

He threw his head back and laughed, a deep, rich rumbling sound that for no known reason made her tingle. “As a matter of fact, I am. But when I take a goomah, I expect her to be at my beck and call, available any time I please.”

She swallowed, her panties dampening at the idea of being his sexual servant. “And what exactly would you offer in return?”

Bobby placed both his hands on her thighs and made little circles around her knees. “Living expenses and spending cash. How does that sound?”

Gina and Dean made enthusiastic murmurings as their eyes locked. Heat pooled in her center core, traveling up until her face grew warm. Her breath rose and fell in a rapid rhythm.

He leaned closer and spoke in a low, rumbling voice, “But you should know, I would use you however I wanted, whenever I wanted. And I would demand fidelity. No other men.”

“What about women?” she asked.

“Only if I get to watch.”

 

Mob MistressMob Mistress blurb

When hair stylist Lexi Tyler finds herself evicted from her apartment, her best friend sets her up with the mobster Bobby Manghini, knowing he likes to play sugar daddy. He offers her a luxury apartment overlooking the city and spending cash every time he sees her, but one thing is clear: he is the bossman.

Lexi soon discovers Bobby backs up his rules with firm, over the knee discipline, but he also takes responsibility for all her problems, giving her more support than she ever dreamed of having from a man

Mobster Bobby Manghini likes to be the man in control, particularly with women, which is why he prefers a mistress for sex, even though he’s no longer married. When he strikes a deal with Lexi to be at his beck and call, he finds in her the full package — a hot, intelligent woman who is turned on by his dominance and willing to submit to his punishment. But when she finds out he doesn’t have a wife, she is hurt by the deception and severs all ties.

Can he prove to her their relationship meant more than a business arrangement? Or will he lose the one woman willing to give him everything he ever desired?

Buy Links

Amazon Amazon UK ARe Barnes & Noble

 

Renee Rose is a naughty author and kinkster who loves writing about hot alpha males, Dominance/submission and power exchanges. Named Eroticon USA’s Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, her books are all centered around kink, namely: spanking. She also writes BDSM under the name Darling Adams.

She can be found on:

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