Fighting Attraction: A New Erotic Romance by Sarah Castille – Release Tour!

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Fighting Attraction is NOW LIVE!

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About Fighting Attraction

 

front cover, Fighting AttractionMy sweet, sexy Penny has a dark side. Just like me.

I will have her. And then I will lose her, and suffer a lifetime of regret.

Rampage. Everyone loves him. He is Redemption’s top heavyweight fighter and the biggest gossip in the gym. But he isn’t the teddy bear everyone thinks he is. He’s hiding a dark secret and he hates himself for it.

Twice a week, Rampage transforms into Master Jack, a notorious Dom only the most hard-core submissives will play with. How can he — a Southern gentleman, bred to respect and protect women — want to dominate them?

But Penny Worthington wants him. Beneath her pearls, kitten heels, and prim British exterior beats a tortured heart…Master Jack is the only one who can set her free.

An Excerpt from Fighting Attraction

Rampage tracks me with his gaze as I skirt around the people getting into position on the mat. He is breathtaking in his crisp, white gi, a worn black belt tied tight around his narrow waist. Some of the fighters wear T-shirts under their gis, but I am not so lucky. As I slow to a stop in front of him, I am forced to endure the visual feast of his truly magnificent chest.

Burn cheeks burn. “Um…hi.”

“Penny.” His voice is laced with amusement, thick with his Southern drawl.

“Blade Saw said you needed a partner.” I amaze myself at my ability to form a coherent sentence without collapsing in a puddle on the floor.

“So he sent me a white belt? Did I do something to piss him off?”

My cheeks heat, and I look up, only to fall into the warmth of his gaze. “No one else is free.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “I’m just messing with you, darlin’.”

My insides turn to mush, and I dip my head so he can’t see just how red my cheeks can get.

Rampage lies on his mat, propping himself up on his elbows in a semi-recline. His gaze sweeps over me as I get in position on my knees in front of him. He’s got guard, which means he has to make me submit, and I have the goal of passing guard to a dominant position and holding it for three seconds. The irony isn’t lost on me, but I don’t laugh because his eyes suddenly darken almost to black.

“You ready?”

Boy, am I ever. “Yes.” I try to play it cool, like I wasn’t shackled to the ceiling of his BDSM playroom in my bra and knickers last night, stroked into a frenzy, and ordered not to touch myself. Like that was going to happen.

“You understand the drill?” He licks his lips, like a predator about to feast. “When one of us succeeds in our goal, we stop, and the loser goes back to the end of the line. The winner stays out and takes guard on the next person in line.”

“You have to make me submit.” I toy with the ends of my very white belt. “Maybe I should just go to the end of the line now. You didn’t seem to have any trouble with that last night.”

“Come here and say that,” he murmurs, patting his belt. “I’ll give you the advantage of full mount.”

My mouth goes dry as I crawl up his body and seat myself over his belt, my knees spread uncomfortably wide on either side of his hips in a fully dominant position. Something hard and smooth presses against the juncture of my thighs, and I pray he is wearing a cup because the urge to rock against that delicious hardness is almost overwhelming.

Rampage’s corded neck tightens when he swallows. “Move up. Your knees should be under my arms.”

I shuffle up, and he grabs my hips and drags me forward until my knees are on either side of his chest and I can feel the heat of his breath on a place where heat should not be felt in the middle of a packed Brazilian jiu-jitsu class.

“I think maybe I’m too close.”

He heaves in a breath, his eyes glittering as he grips the inside edges of my gi. “Not close enough.” With a hard yank, he pulls me down until I am laying flat on his body, my breasts against his chest, my hips against his cup, my hands braced on either side of his head.

“Full mount is where you want to be when you’re grappling a bigger, stronger opponent.” His words whisper over me, his lips so close to mine I only have to drop a few inches to have a little taste.

“You can use the strength and power of your own body and the force of gravity to your advantage.” He pulls me right down, wraps his free hand around me, shifts his hips and rolls. Before I can catch my breath, I’m flat on my back and Rampage is on top of me.

“This is where you don’t want to be as a smaller grappler,” he says. “How are you going to get out of this?”

The question isn’t so much how am I going to get out of it but do I want to get out of it? And with Rampage’s hard, muscular body on top of me, his legs between my thighs, his hardness pressed tight against the juncture of my thighs, I’m not sure I do.

Rampage stills, and his eyes widen.

Bugger. Did I say that out loud?

“I’m not sure I want you to either.” His breath is warm against my ear. “But if you don’t move, we’ll both get kicked out of class. So, what are you going to do?”

“Um…overhook an arm, bridge and roll, then get on top into the closed guard?”

Rampage drops his weight, stealing my breath. “Won’t work against a larger opponent. You need to blast through my hips and use a bit of strength to overturn me. Strength you don’t have. Your best bet is to escape back to half guard.”

“Okay.” I wiggle just the tiniest bit against him, seeking more of that delicious pressure against my clit. With my vibrator on high, I was able to take the edge off this morning, but with Rampage on top of me, I’m wound up all over again.

A low growl rumbles in his throat. “You’d better be wiggling ’cause you’re moving into half guard,” he warns. “Now straighten up and make your transition.”

“This is as straight as I get,” I mutter. “I’m a woman. Women have curves. I happen to have a curve in my back, and it wants to stay that way.”

“I can feel your curves, darlin’. Every one of them. And it’s making it fucking hard to concentrate. Make your move ’cause if you don’t do it soon, I’ll have to go out and get a cup.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “You aren’t wearing a cup?”

“No.”

Don’t move. Don’t move.

I can’t help it. I move. Or, more accurately, I grind.

Wham. Rampage transitions into half guard and flips me onto my front. While I try to get my knees under me, he straddles me and grabs my hips in his huge hands. Heat surges through my body, and I groan quietly in my throat. “What are we doing?”

“Hips up,” he barks. “Ass down.”

“They’re connected,” I point out. “Where the hips go, the ass follows.”

Shilla snorts a laugh and drops to the floor beside me. “Like this.” She stretches her body out into a perfectly smooth, flat, plank position, holding it with one hand. On her knuckles. Then she rolls to show me what Rampage wants me to do.

“If my body was one solid sheet of muscle, I could do that.” I tense my muscles, try to force myself into a position my body is not meant to go. “However, I have a weakness for chocolate biscuits, lazy Sundays on a blanket in the park, scones with clotted cream, and chicken tikka with thick, white naan bread slathered in butter. Unfortunately, it lowers my middle center of gravity.”

Rampage’s hands slide over my stomach, his touch firm, arousing my whole body with the promise of what those fingers could do if they drifted just a little lower. My mind goes hazy with desire and I can’t tell if I’m flying or if my hands and feet are still on the floor. I don’t care about jiu Jitsu transitions. I don’t care that Shilla is watching us with curious eyes or that we’re supposed to be doing a group drill. I don’t care if the whole class is watching us. All I care about is feeling connected to Rampage and wanting this moment to last forever.

He lifts me right off the floor, as if I weighed nothing, and pulls me against his broad chest, my ass against his hips, feet barely touching the mat, his hands firm around my body. My stomach clenches. My heart pounds. He leans down until his mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel the heat of his breath.

“I told you not to touch yourself last night,” he whispers.

A flush of adrenaline tingles through my body, followed by a thrill of fear. “What are you going to do about it?”

About the Author

Sarah Castille is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Redemption Series, Ruin & Revenge Series, Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club series, Legal Heat series and the Club Excelsior series. A recovering lawyer with a fondness for dirty-talking alpha males, she now is a full-time writer, who lives on Vancouver Island.

 Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

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Release Day! The Deep End (Honey Series #1), a new Erotic Romance by Kristen Ashley

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✮✮✮A delicious world of erotica, BDSM with alpha-subs and their Dommes, and a gripping love story…Welcome to The Bee’s Honey! The first book in New York Times bestselling author Kristen Ashley’s Honey Series, THE DEEP END is a seductive and rich love story now available! ✮✮✮

Fall into THE DEEP END and grab your copy today!

 

THE-DEEP-END-cover

About THE DEEP END 

Enter a decadent sensual world where gorgeous alpha males are committed to fulfilling a woman’s every desire…

Olivier isn’t sure what he’s gotten himself into when he joins the Honey Club, only that a dark part of him hungers for the lifestyle offered by this exclusive club. Here, no boundary will be left untested…and one’s deepest fantasies will become an exquisite reality.

When Amélie invites Olivier to surrender, she gives the alpha submissive what he craves. Soon they both find themselves falling harder than they ever anticipated—but as their connection deepens, the truth about Olivier’s past could destroy everything…

Gripping and seductive, The Deep End is the first book in a sensational new series from bestselling author Kristen Ashley.

Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | iBooks

Google Play | Kobo | IndieBound | BAM

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An Excerpt from The Deep End

As he slowly closed the door behind him and moved his eyes to look through the room, taking it in, she watched them get wide.

They dropped to her and his amusement was clear. Not only radiating from his gaze but twitching his lips.

Another unusual—and unacceptable—reaction.

He thought this was funny.

She hoped like fuck she had the opportunity to prove him wrong.

She crossed her arms on her chest and slightly put out a foot, like she was about to start tapping her toe. In the wrap dress she wore, she knew this opened the overlap, not exposing anything, but the promise for him was impossible to resist.

His attention dropped to her legs.

“In the playrooms,” she began with a snap, and his gaze cut to hers, “I want eye contact. Unless otherwise instructed, you should not only feel free to look me directly in the eyes, if I’m in your line of sight or I’m not giving you something that your body’s natural reaction would make it difficult to meet my gaze, I require it.”

She stood there staring as he did nothing but dip his chin in acknowledgment.

Cheeky.

Exceptionally cheeky.

Fabulous.

“Unless I’ve asked for their silence or for them to ask for leave to speak, I also require my toys to respond when they’re spoken to. Even if it’s only a ‘yes, Mistress,’ or ‘no, Mistress.’”

His stance relaxed, like he was settling in at the beginning of a show he found vaguely intriguing, and his deep rumble of a voice bounced like boulders through the room. “Yes, Mistress.”

Christ, even his voice declared his challenge.

“Excellent,” she allowed. “Your name?”

“Olivier,” he answered.

French.

Also unusual, at least in this country. And interesting.

She liked it a great deal.

She studied him.

He let her, holding her eyes.

“I’m Mistress Amélie,” she eventually informed him.

“I know. You got a lotta fans out there…Mistress.”

The hesitation over him saying “Mistress” gave less of the impression he was testing her and more of the strange impression the word was unpracticed when, with any experienced sub, it would slip right off their tongue.

She made no comment to that.

“There are things we should go over,” she remarked.

“Right,” he stated, his big body adjusting again, now like he was settling in further, intent on giving her the same attention he would a flight attendant who gave the safety address.

That being no more than a courtesy.

She fought the shiver his actions created but allowed the irritation.

“Your safe word is kitten,” she stated.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You’re open to any kind of play,” she went on.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“It’s important and now’s the time to share should there be anything you wish me to shy away from, Olivier. Especially as this is the first time I’ve played with you.”

Something in his eyes flashed. Blue eyes that were the color of nothing and everything. Not sky. Not sea. Not midnight. A pure blue that only existed in the unchartable depths of a rainbow.

She felt that flash snake up between her thighs, taking residence in her womb.

He wanted this conversation done so she would play with him. He wanted the preliminaries over so they’d get to the good stuff.

He wanted her.

She stared into those blue eyes and for a moment felt mesmerized.

For God’s sake, Leigh, she berated herself in an effort to pull it together. Rainbow?

“Olivier,” she prompted.

“I’m open to anything,” he confirmed.

 

Kristin Ashley - headshotAbout Kristen Ashley:

Kristen Ashley was born in Gary, Indiana, USA and nearly killed her mother and herself making it into the world, seeing as she had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck (already attempting to accessorise and she hadn’t taken her first breath!). Her mother said they took Kristen away, put her Mom back in her room, her mother looked out the window, and Gary was on fire (Dr. King had been assassinated four days before). Kristen’s Mom remembered thinking it was the end of the world. Quite the dramatic beginning.

Nothing’s changed.

Kristen grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana and has lived in Denver, Colorado and the West Country of England. Thus, she’s blessed to have friends and family around the globe. Her family was (is) loopy (to say the least) but loopy is good when you want to write. They all lived together on a very small farm in a small farm town in the heartland. She grew up with Glenn Miller, The Everly Brothers, REO Speedwagon and Whitesnake (and the wardrobes that matched).

Needless to say, growing up in a house full of music, clothes and love was a good way to grow up.

And as she keeps growing, it keeps getting better. 

WEBSITE * FACEBOOK * TWITTER * NEWSLETTER * GOODREADS * PINTEREST * INSTAGRAM

 

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Excerpt Reveal: The Deep End (Honey Series, #1) by Kristen Ashley

THE DEEP END - header banner

✮✮✮ A delicious world of erotica, BDSM with alpha-subs and their Dommes, and a gripping love story…Welcome to The Bee’s Honey! The first book in New York Times bestselling author Kristen Ashley’s Honey Series, THE DEEP END is a seductive and rich love story releasing March 7, 2017! And check out the tantalizing excerpt below! ✮✮✮ 

Fall into THE DEEP END and preorder your copy today!

 

THE-DEEP-END-cover

About THE DEEP END

(Erotic Romance Releasing March 7, 2017):

Enter a decadent sensual world where gorgeous alpha males are committed to fulfilling a woman’s every desire…

Olivier isn’t sure what he’s gotten himself into when he joins the Honey Club, only that a dark part of him hungers for the lifestyle offered by this exclusive club. Here, no boundary will be left untested…and one’s deepest fantasies will become an exquisite reality.

When Amélie invites Olivier to surrender, she gives the alpha submissive what he craves. Soon they both find themselves falling harder than they ever anticipated—but as their connection deepens, the truth about Olivier’s past could destroy everything…

Gripping and seductive, The Deep End is the first book in a sensational new series from bestselling author Kristen Ashley.

Pre-Order The Deep End 

Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | iBooks

GooglePlay | Kobo | IndieBound | BAM 

 

THE DEEP END - Excerpt Reveal Teaser

Excerpt

She turned back to him. “You seem to have a good deal of stamina.”

“Amelie…Mistress, I don’t think you’re getting that I seriously find you not hard on the eyes.”

She bent closer, as intended for this part of their session, some of her fair falling on his chest in another caress. She did this letting her amusement show, if not all of the emotion she felt at his compliment.

“I wonder, monchou, if you think you can butter me up with compliments.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Though not sure why I’d bother since I didn’t give you one and you just made me shoot a huge-ass load the like that have never come from my cock.”

“And he gives another compliment,” she said through a smile.

“You earn it, I’ll say it, he replied, his lips twitching. “That is, if I’m physically capable of speech.”

She was still smiling when she reached out a hand and delicately traced circles around his nipple.

His eyes darkened.

Her good humor increased.

“You’re of course aware I should do something about you being so audaciously cheeky.”

Another darkness crossed his face. “What?”

“I shouldn’t allow you to be cheeky with me.”

“Cheeky?”

“Impudent,” she explained.

The look fled. “You mean, in uppity, hot-chick speak, a wise-ass.”

Amelie couldn’t help it, she laughed softly.

“She’s got a pretty laugh, too, to go with that pretty accent,” he murmured and she saw his eyes on her lips.

I could get lost in this one, she thought. Lost and never found.

About Kristin Ashley

Kristin Ashley - headshotKristen Ashley was born in Gary, Indiana, USA and nearly killed her mother and herself making it into the world, seeing as she had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck (already attempting to accessorise and she hadn’t taken her first breath!). Her mother said they took Kristen away, put her Mom back in her room, her mother looked out the window, and Gary was on fire (Dr. King had been assassinated four days before). Kristen’s Mom remembered thinking it was the end of the world. Quite the dramatic beginning.

Nothing’s changed.

Kristen grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana and has lived in Denver, Colorado and the West Country of England. Thus, she’s blessed to have friends and family around the globe. Her family was (is) loopy (to say the least) but loopy is good when you want to write. They all lived together on a very small farm in a small farm town in the heartland. She grew up with Glenn Miller, The Everly Brothers, REO Speedwagon and Whitesnake (and the wardrobes that matched).

Needless to say, growing up in a house full of music, clothes and love was a good way to grow up.

And as she keeps growing, it keeps getting better. 

WEBSITE * FACEBOOK * TWITTER * NEWSLETTER * GOODREADS * PINTEREST * INSTAGRAM

 

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