by Katie Ashley
To fail means death for their assignments, and to fall in love ensures a fall from grace. No one ever said high school was easy
Nets and Lies: Coming January 31st, 2013
Always awkward in her 5’10 frame, Melanie Reeves finds her saving grace through basketball. Not only is she the varsity team captain, she’s the pride of Coach Thompson, who holds the keys to a college scholarship. Melanie has also found 'courtly' love with Will, Coach T's handsome, ball-playing son. When Melanie is on the court, everything is perfect....until she is forced to face an opponent who doesn't play by the rules.
Jordan Solano's power lies in her beauty and sex appeal. Never afraid of breaking the rules, she engages in a scandalous flirtation with the school's married basketball coach. But the flirtation quickly turns into accusation, and Coach T's job and reputation are placed in jeopardy after Jordan charges him with rape. Jordan's own reputation has the school administration unwilling to believe her. That is, until she makes a startling claim - she's not the only victim.
Suddenly, all eyes are on Melanie, and it isn't for her amazing free-throws. A man's job, a girl's reputation, and her boyfriend's entire world now rest in Melanie's hands. She has to decide: keep her secrets and protect her future, or put an end to the lies...and lose everything
Don’t Hate the Player…Hate the Game: Coming March 1, 2013
For Noah Fitzpatrick being the best friend to a douchebag and player like Jake Slater has never been easy. It's been a rocky road since kindergarten when Jake duct taped Noah to his chair before recess. With just six weeks to high school graduation, Jake accidentally blows his drunken ass up on his grandfather's tractor, and Noah finds himself immersed not only in a whirlwind of grief, but on a quest to find a mystery girl from Jake's past.
While cleaning out Jake's room, Noah and Jake's dad make a startling discovery. Instead of the obligatory porn collection or pot stash, they find a ring, but not just any ring. Its half a carat of commitment in a platinum setting-proving even man whores have taste. After Jake's mom pleads with Noah to find the girl who meant so much to Jake, Noah begins a modern day Grail quest to track the girl down.
Since Jake was a notorious player with a legendary collection of trophy panties, Noah finds himself in over his head. There are the usual suspects like Avery, the Ice Princess Jake dated for appearances, or Presley, the school mattress Jake dated for convenience. But the trail begins to point to the most unlikely of suspects: Maddie, the Valedictorian and choir girl who was trying to help the unmotivated jock graduate--the girl who also has surprisingly caught Noah's eye and meddled with his heart.
Hanging out with Maddie shows Noah a different side of Jake--one that was deeply human and surprisingly douche-free. And the more he tries to solve the mystery of the ring and of Jake, the more Noah starts to discover about himself and of love.
Sneak Peek of Kelli Maine’s Dolls and Dom’s Novella
Guys & Dolls
Behind the sheer, red curtain, Black Betty adjusted her leather corset, rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath. The chatter of male voices in the club came at her in waves, low, deep, and laughing. Ice cubes clinked in rocks glasses filled with double malt scotch.
She’d been at Dolls & Doms for so long she was certain she knew every man in the room. Being a private, membership-by-invitation-only men’s club a few scant miles from the Vegas strip, the roster filled with rich, famous and politically-elected males wasn’t difficult to keep up with.
Tonight’s event was just another bachelor party. Another bare ass to smack.
Her signature song, Ram Jam’s Black Betty, began and blared loudly over the club’s obscenely expensive sound system. She took a deep breath and flung her long, blonde hair back over her shoulders.
Pushing through the curtain with one spiked, black boot, she sauntered across the stage and down three stairs to the main floor where she shoved away two men on either side of her. Cheers rang out as she strutted through the crowd and flicked her long, black whip. It cracked on the marble floor in front of a cocky looking twenty-something dressed in an expensive gray suit, sitting in a leather club chair smoking a cigar—Alistair Ingram, hottest leading man on the big screen and the groom to be.
Betty had seen the front page engagement shot over the summer on one of the lurid entertainment magazines while she was in line at the supermarket. She’d picked it up and flipped through, noting the way Alistair preened in front of the camera, never once posing with his fiancé who stood five yards behind him carrying a big, heavy-looking box. Betty gave the marriage a year on the generous side—if his bride-to-be got smart and dumped his pretentious butt.
Circling her hips, she went into auto-pilot. Her routine was like driving a car by now. She’d say it was like riding a bike, but she’d never learned to ride one. Every best-man who booked a party wanted a Dom. She supposed they figured being spanked was permissible by the bride-to-be, whereas performing erotic torture on a Doll—the club’s cutesy name for subs that Betty despised—would fall into the cheating category.
She straddled his lap, leaned forward and pushed her breasts together, inches from Alistair’s face. When he reached out to touch, she stepped back and cracked the handle of her whip against his knuckles.
A wicked grin spread across his lips. He shook his hand and sucked the knuckle of his index finger, his melted chocolate eyes blazing. Jesus, he was hot. But he knew it all too well. Betty couldn’t wait to get him alone and wipe that shit-eating-grin off his face.
This was one man who needed to be taught a lesson.
Betty knew her punishment mentality was against every rule in the book. Everything she did to him was to be consensual and done for pleasure—pleasure through pain. But she couldn’t help her desire to punish the ones who were deserving. The ones like her first husband. The ones who thought they were above respecting women.
She slipped a blindfold out of one of her thigh-high, black boots and secured it over his eyes. “Stand, Doll,” she commanded, snapping her whip at his feet. “For the next hour, you’re mine to play with.”
His friends shouted and jeered as he stood. Betty glanced around and caught the familiar faces of other movie and T.V. actors, a few musicians, a director, and a producer who she’d brought to his knees on multiple occasions.
She unclipped a spiked collar from her garter and buckled it around Alistair’s neck. “Quite the charmed life you live, Doll. Time to get a little dirty.”
That fucking grin still sat stiff on his lips, and he ran a hand through his dark-blond hair, leaving it sexy and tousled. There was no help for her, she wasn’t going to play Miss Nice Dom tonight.
Betty winked at the tall man standing next to the groom’s chair. “You’re the best man, I presume?”
He shot her a star-studded smile. “I am.” He played a lawyer on T.V. She’d seen a couple episodes of his show on her nights off.
“Go get me the leash on the bar,” she commanded, twirling her whip so it wrapped around the best-man’s legs.
He placed his hands on his hips in mock irritation. “Don’t I get a please?”
“Baby doll, you only paid me to make one person beg tonight, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be me.”
Best-man tossed his head back laughing, and strolled to the bar to fetch her leash.
“What are you going to do to me, Black Betty?” Alistair asked, rocking his hips and shoulders back and forth, the smoke from his cigar spiraling in the air.
She grabbed his hair and jerked his head down, placing her lips beside his ear. “I’m going to make you wish you were tucked in bed nice and snug next to your pretty little fiancé, Doll.”
He chuckled and rubbed his hands together.
Best-man was back with the leash. She yanked it out of his hands and clipped it on Alistair’s collar. “Walk,” she commanded, tugging on the leash and leading him through his friends.
The music transitioned into Submission by Delphic, and Betty cringed internally as the
club’s Dolls stepped timidly through doorways, dropped to all fours and crawled across the marble floor. “Entertainment’s here!” Best-man shouted.
Betty knew for the most part it was all an act. The Dolls worked there because it meant a damn good paycheck—same reason she was still there. This was a job, not a lifestyle like it was for the members of real BDSM clubs. This was vanilla, and after the last ten rocky-road-years of her life, she fucking adored vanilla.
No, this place wasn’t hardcore. She’d gone head first into that lifestyle and gotten tossed right down on her back. She still had the scars to prove it thanks to husband number two, who’d never been one for safe words. Hence the reason she’d never be a Doll. She’d never find herself on her back again.
But a few of the Dolls, like Red Mary, let themselves believe this was some kind of glamorous lifestyle. That letting these rich assholes do whatever they pleased to her was going to make one of them fall hopelessly in love with her. She was here to be saved, to find the fairytale. She probably even let them fuck her.
She’d figure out soon enough that there was no fairytale. Nobody knew that better than Black Betty.
“Through here.” Betty flung open a door and led Alistair down a hallway paneled in rich mahogany. “Give me this.” She grabbed the half-smoked stogie out of his fingers, dropped it on the marble floor and swiveled the ball of her foot on top of it.
“That cigar was two hundred bucks. Probably more than you make in an entire week.” The side of Alistair’s lip hitched in a snide smirk.
Betty grabbed his cheeks and squeezed. Hard. “No speaking unless you’re asked a direct question. You answer me by saying yes mistress. Do you understand me Alistair Ingram?”
He let out a contemptuous snort of laughter. “Oh, I got it.”
She shoved him against the wall, kicked her leg up and pinned him with her spiked heel against his chest. “Do. You. Understand. Me?”
Alistair’s face went blank. She wished she could see his eyes under the blindfold. He held his hands up at shoulder level, surrendering. “I understand.”
Betty pressed her heel into his chest harder. She knew it was her imagination, but she swore she could feel his heart pounding under her foot. The thought ignited a smoldering heat between her legs. She leaned in, her lips mere centimeters from his. “I understand, what?” she said, her voice a harsh whisper.
“I understand, Mistress Betty.”
“Just mistress.” She lowered her foot to the floor and yanked his leash. “Your fiancé will make me her maid-of-honor when I’m through breaking you, Superstar.”
She couldn’t miss how his breath came quicker. All the dumbasses who were members got off on the idea of being cock teased. She’d wind him up so tight, he’d blow with the slightest touch of her feather tickler.
Reaching a black door, Betty put a hand on Alistair’s cheek and turned the cut crystal doorknob. “Welcome to my lair, Doll.”