Love Letters Volume 1: Obeying Desire
By Ginny Glass, Christina Thacher, Emily Cale and Maggie Wells
Love Letters Volume 1 contains four hot novellas that will tempt you to submit to desire:
A Is for Assignment by Ginny Glass
Lane Heywood is the last person Cameron Isley wanted as his partner in an undercover investigation at a sex club. But with the sexy psychiatrist masquerading as his Domme, he’ll have to submit to her erotic torment—and try to control his all-too-real lust.
B Is for Bondage by Christina Thacher
When Rachel Cooper begins BDSM lessons, she soon starts fantasizing about her instructor, Marc Thibaud. They’re not supposed to have sex—until one lesson crosses the line…
C Is for Curious by Emily Cale
Mistress Rebecca Greer has had her eye on The Black Rose BDSM club’s shy receptionist, so when Hilary “accidentally” interrupts one of her sessions, Rebecca decides to give her a taste to satisfy her curiosity.
D Is for Detained by Maggie Wells
He was the preacher’s son; her parents owned the local sex shop. Sherry Adams and Tyler Prescott’s attraction was forbidden when they were teenagers, but years later Deputy Tyler takes out his trusty handcuffs to show her just how good they could be together.
37,000 words
Dear Reader,
April is when the romance conference season really starts to get busy for me. Every spring, I attend the RT Book Reviews convention, a gathering of about 500 authors, readers and publishing professionals who come together to celebrate their love of both romance and genre fiction. Each year, I come away from that conference, and the many others I attend that are focused on the love of books (like the Lori Foster Reader Get Together in Ohio), with a renewed enthusiasm for diving back into my to-be-read pile. As well as a long list of authors and books to add to that to-be-read pile! But because it’s a busy travel time of year for me, that also means more time on the plane and in airports for reading.
Maybe you’re like me—traveling to conferences and in need of some plane reading. Or maybe you just need one more book to add to your to-be-read pile. Possibly you’ve got a newborn baby who keeps you up at night and gets you up early in the morning, and you need something you can read on the ereader in one hand while the baby is in the other. Or perhaps you’re just in search of a good book. You’re in luck; our April books can fill all those needs!
The first book in our newest genre addition, New Adult, releases this month. If you love contemporary romance, sports romance, a (mostly) Jewish, spunky heroine and a hero who will make your heart melt, you’ll want to read Rush Me by debut author Allison Parr.
This month, I’m pleased to introduce the first book in a six-book series written by four authors. Ginny Glass, Christina Thacher, Emily Cale and Maggie Wells kick off a series of contemporary romance short story collections with Love Letters Volume 1: Obeying Desire. Each volume will center around a different seriously sexy theme. I’ll bet you can’t guess what the theme of the first volume is, with a title like Obeying Desire! Look for the second volume, Love Letters Volume 2: Duty to Please, releasing in May 2013.
Fans of contemporary romance will enjoy Saved by the Bride, the first book in a new trilogy by RITA® Award-winning author Fiona Lowe. Who knew that being a klutz and combining it with a distrust of wedding bouquets could lead to a black eye?
Joining Fiona and Allison in the contemporary romance category is Kate Davies, with Cutest Couple, book two in Kate’s high-school reunion trilogy, Girls Most Likely to… Look for the conclusion of the trilogy, Life of the Party, in May 2013.
Co-authors Anna Leigh Keaton and Madison Layle deliver another scorching Puma Nights story with Falke’s Renegade, while Jodie Griffin joins them in heating up your ereader with her third erotic BDSM Bondage & Breakfast book, Forbidden Fires.
On the paranormal and science fiction front, we have a number of titles for fans. Veteran author Kate Pearce begins a new series with Soul Sucker, in which Moonlighting meets The X Files in San Francisco Bay and two worlds collide. Kat Cantrell, winner of Harlequin’s 2011 So You Think You Can Write contest, joins Carina Press with her first science fiction romance, Mindlink, while returning author Eleri Stone gives us another jaguar shifter in Lost City Shifters: Rebellion, book three in this compelling series.
Clockwork Mafia by Seleste deLaney brings us back to the Western steampunk world of Badlands. Inventor Henrietta Mason is retiring from airships and adventuring to return home to Philadelphia. Determined to erase all trails leading to her late father’s duplicity, she dismantles his lab and removes all records of the Badlands gold. And last but certainly not least in the paranormal category, Night of the Dark Horse by Janni Nell continues the adventures of Allegra Fairweather, paranormal investigator.
This month, Bronwyn Stuart follows up her fantastic debut historical romance, Scandal’s Mistress, with her unique regency romance, Behind the Courtesan, featuring—you guessed it—a courtesan heroine.
On the non-romance side, Jean Harrington brings us the third Murders by Design cozy mystery installment, Killer Kitchens.
And joining Carina Press with an epic fantasy trilogy, Angela Highland tells the story of a half-elven healer with no control over her magic. Faanshi has always been a pawn of the powerful, but after healing two mysterious and very different men, she faces a choice that may decide the fate of a whole kingdom. If you love fantasy, pick up Valor of the Healer, book one in the Rebels of Adalonia trilogy.
As you can see, April is full of books to distract you wherever you are, whatever you’re supposed to be doing, and even if you have a baby in your arms. I hope you enjoy these titles as much as we’ve enjoyed working on them.
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
www.twitter.com/carinapress
www.facebook.com/carinapress
Contents
A Is for Assignment
B Is for Bondage
C Is for Curious
D Is for Detained
About the Authors
Copyright
A Is for Assignment
By Ginny Glass
He refused to make any noise. She wanted him to cry out, though he was mystified as to how she’d be able to separate any sound he could make from the humming music of the club around them. He’d been at her mercy for too long, and he would take any win, no matter how small, in their ongoing war.
She was too off-limits. Having a woman he was so opposed to this close and dressed for sex worked at cross-purposes to his rebellion. He wanted her out of his sight, but only if that meant they were going at it with the lights off. He tried to control his arousal, but the evidence of how she affected him was painfully obvious in the constriction of his fly. His cock ached, throbbed with the depth of his racing heartbeat.
His arm muscles ached slightly—his restraints held his arms above his head. The leather around his wrists was loose enough that he could let his cuffs fall around his fo
rearms if he stood on tiptoe. This let him wrap his fingers around the tethers they connected to, to brace for what was next. Holding out on responding gave him a measure of control, but gained him another crack of the crop. The pain was sharp, but he’d suffered worse.
“I asked you a question.”
Cameron gritted his teeth and tensed when she came so close behind him that he could feel the press of her corseted breasts into his bare back. A nice side benefit of having to drag her along on this case was that their sessions gave him the most vivid sexual dreams he’d ever suffered through. Damn, it was hot in here.
He didn’t feel like the woman brandishing a riding crop at him was his superior. The crop came up and over, settled against his throat. “There are people watching us.” Her voice was so soft that he had trouble hearing her, but it still made him wince when she broke cover out in the open. He nodded, tamped down on the rebellion raring up inside him—he needed this cover to remain a solid one, and they’d spent weeks establishing it. Tonight was their first time on one of Club Limit’s three center platform stages, all lit for show, 360-degree round for maximum viewing pleasure.
So he dropped his head, fell back onto his heels and committed to the job. He breathed deep, let his arms go slack, widened his legs and pushed his hips outward to emphasize the effect she was having on him. Because he was a good cop. Not because she looked so damned good in the corset. Not because he was protecting a green partner. Not because every nerve in his body was screaming for the friction of her fingers, her mouth, her slick, hot pussy.
A trickle of sweat ran down his temple, rolled from his jaw and dispersed into the fine sheen that already coated his bare chest. She skated a hand up over his damp stomach and undid the button of his jeans.
Because he was a good cop.
Yeah. Right.
*
Lane knew that his reticence shouldn’t bother her, knew from their sessions that Detective Cameron Isley was stubborn to a fault. She’d never been undercover, but she wasn’t going to back down when she saw the challenge in Cameron’s stare—the glint of triumph that she could only assume meant he was expecting her to chicken out.
Looking at him now, tethered by both wrists to an unseen anchor far up in the darkened ceiling, she had to swallow past the dryness in her mouth to conjure any of the contempt she usually felt for the man. Shirtless, clad in only tight dark-wash jeans and leather wrist cuffs, the erotic picture of the tall, lean man in front of her didn’t belong to the cold, street-savvy cop she’d been deconstructing for the past two months. It made her feel a little crazy, a little out of control.
No one controlled Cameron. Not even Cameron. He was his own worst enemy, his own biggest liability. Right now, at least, she was in charge. No stonewalling when she asked questions that were too personal. No cold deadpan looks out of the fathomless depths of his blue eyes. Tonight he’d listen when she talked.
His skin was warm when she dropped the crop from his throat to trace a hand along the underside of his raised arm. Up, down, up. She felt him shiver slightly, his muscles bunching, and she breathed into his neck from behind. He smelled fantastic, something woodsy and sharp. His dark hair, going salt and pepper at the temples, was mussed.
“I want you to count every blow out loud. Do you understand?”
He nodded but stayed silent. Bad, bad Detective Isley. Lane threaded her fingers through his hair and yanked back. She could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yes, Mistress.” There was the Isley she knew, gritted teeth and all. They had to look convincing as a Domme and her sub if they wanted any chance to bust the drug ring operating out of the club. She stepped back, aware of the eyes on them, aware that their display would be the make or break. She drew back and aimed for his ribs. He didn’t flinch.
“One, Mistress.”
Half a dozen people gathered to watch them. None of them were who Cam or Lane wanted to take notice. She drew back and landed a quick succession of blows upward along his spine.
“Two, three, four,” he gasped, actually rising on his toes again before regaining composure and finishing, “five, six, Mistress.”
She walked around the front of him, taking in the sudden flush in his face. Those arctic eyes were blazing, and Lane felt a frisson of the same gut-deep lust she’d felt from the moment he’d slapped the confirmation form down on her desk after their first meeting.
Look, I don’t want to be here, Doc, and you don’t want me here, so just sign off on all these headshrinker hours and you’ll never have to see me again.
His tone had been low, derisive and harsh when he’d referred to his mandated therapy. She hadn’t appreciated the attitude, but the tone had sent delicious shivers up her spine. She’d noticed his cologne then, too, had breathed inappropriately deep.
She’d signed for one hour. He had not been pleased. He wasn’t pleased now.
“Say ‘thank you,’” she ordered.
His eyes raked over her. Her outfit for the evening, provided embarrassingly by the department, was a black leather corset, a short black skirt and red heels that were impressively high. He took his time looking, ignoring her request again. She crossed her arms impatiently. His gaze settled, heavy, to her breasts.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
She raised the crop and slapped him across the cheek.
*
Anger welled in him. The crop hadn’t hit with much force, just enough to make a respectable sound for the onlookers. Still, he roared on the inside. Her smug smile as he pulled at his restraints was more humiliating than any of her too-nosy questions at work.
What did you feel when you pulled that trigger, Detective? What was your state of mind? Did you worry you might be mistaken about the weapon in his hand?
Never mind that every session was erotic torture, that Lane was curvy in all the right places, with enormous dark-lashed eyes and a mouth he grudgingly fantasized about. He wasn’t going to waste time lusting after her, not while she had the power to chain him to a desk.
“Thank you, Mistress.” He didn’t wait for her to ask again. The crowd around them had grown. A defiant sub always did that, he supposed, drew a crowd. He did a quick survey of the new arrivals and met Lane’s eyes.
“Are you ready to behave?” Code for Oh, it’s on.
He nodded and gave her back the confirmation she was looking for. Their much—anticipated guest was standing just over her left shoulder, back in the throng of onlookers.
“I am always ready, Mistress.”
As Lane dropped the riding crop and picked up a short, plaited whip, Cameron wondered where she was hiding her gun. Then, the only thing he could think about was the shock of burning pain that ripped up his side and wrapped around the lower half of his shoulder. The air was momentarily halted in his lungs, and his knees gave slightly, his fingers slipping off of the tethers, their tensile snap a relief and a support as he struggled for a moment to regain his footing.
“You don’t need to count these. I do want you to apologize once for every blow.”
“Yes, Mis—” Snap. Falling in perfect precision across his ass, the second time was just as unexpected. He still managed to stay on his feet.
“I’m sorry, Mistress.” The words felt odd and thick on his tongue, and he could feel endorphins warming his limbs, cushioning him from the pain. Cameron saw their target move, press closer to the inside edge of the crowd.
Crack. Damn, she was good with that thing. If good meant…oddly skilled at making it hurt just enough. He was alarmed to feel the next apology tumbling out in a breathless, eager tone that he didn’t recognize. After a few more flicks of her wrist and a few more husky apologies from him, he stopped noticing the sting so much. His vision went a little fuzzy, and he swallowed thickly, trying to dampen the suddenly dry cavern of his mouth.
He was desperate for something beyond the touch of the whip. He yanked at his restraints, but they held. His hips t
wisted of their own volition, his breath choppy and harsh.
“What do you want?”
More. More. More.
His back was on fire, but now it was a keen, hot sensitivity, pain that lapsed seamlessly into pleasure, making all his nerve ending hyperelectric, making him harder than he could ever remember being. That was not part of the case. He looked through heavy lids as she came into his line of sight. She lifted his face, her fingers tight against his chin.
God, she was beautiful. Made sense. The devil was always appealing, though, right?
His eyes searched hers. He expected Lane to look away, given the obvious state of his arousal, but she simply leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the edge of his mouth. She dropped her hand from his face, her fingers trailing his fly. He heard the low, animalistic growl, but it took a moment to realize it had come from him. The skin of her cheek was hot against his. Cameron looked dazedly out at the crowd. Their subject was at the edge of the platform now, elbows on the painted plywood.
“What do you want?”
“Touch me.”
Her laugh was low. “I have been touching you.”
He shook another bead of sweat from his eyes. “Make me come.”
The near-command garnered him a raised eyebrow and the retreat of her slender fingers. No!
“Please, let me come.”
She didn’t hesitate. She slid her fingertips over his stomach. Cameron leaned into her touch. Yes, yes, yes. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman. That was all this was. Dear God. Her fingers nudged past the waistband of his boxers and curled around his cock.
What did you feel when you pulled that trigger, Detective? What was your state of mind?
Cameron had been terrified. He’d never told that to the woman who was currently running a silky hand up and down the length of his cock, but he’d been terrified. In all his time on the force, the dozens of times he’d had to pull his gun, he’d never had to pull the trigger. He’d hated the man who’d taken the bullet, hated feeling so out of control, when he always directed the situation, always came out the winner, never got forced into…
Extreme circumstances. Like Lane Heywood’s magic devil mouth skimming his jaw, murmuring things that were not regulation into his ear while he pushed his hips desperately at her, while she gave him a hell of a handjob in front of a crowded room full of people. All under the pretense of establishing a cover.
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