The Dom Project

by Heloise Belleau

  The Dom Project

  By Heloise Belleau and Solace Ames

  By day, Robin Lessing has a successful career as a university archivist. By night, she blogs about her less-than-successful search for Mr. Tall, Dark and Dominant. Living up to her handle “The Picky Submissive,” she’s on the verge of giving up and settling for vanilla with a side of fuzzy handcuffs when she discovers her best friend and colleague has a kinky side, too.

  Sexy, tattooed techie John Sun is an experienced Dom who never lacks for playmates, male or female. If he can’t satisfy Robin’s cravings, maybe no one can—after all, he knows her better than anyone. So he offers to help her master the art of submission for one month.

  Robin eagerly agrees to John’s terms, even the pesky little rule forbidding any friendship-ruining sex. But rules are made to be broken, and once they begin their stimulating sessions, it’s not long before she’s ready to beg him for more—much more...

  60,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  It’s unbelievable to me that the holiday season is here already. I feel as though I was just stuffing myself full of holiday cookies, spiced wine and all of the wonderful chocolates sent to me during the holidays. But here we are again in what some call the season of joy, while others call it “the season where I avoid all shopping malls for at least two months.” If you’re one of those avoiding all of the seemingly endless holiday tasks, preparations and shopping, let us help you procrastinate with another fantastic lineup of books. If you’re one who revels in the season of joy, not to worry, these books will only add to your enjoyment of the season.

  This month, we have so many returning authors who are fan favorites, I’m not sure where to start. So instead, I’ll start with those who are new, either to readers, to Carina Press, or both. Beginning with debut author Michele Mannon, whose book first came to my attention two years ago during a cold-reads session at a meeting of New Jersey Romance Writers. During that session, I gave Michele some suggestions for strengthening her opening and she worked on it for several months before going on to win a few contests and eventually pitching it to me, at which point I acquired it with great enthusiasm. I hope you’ll check out her fantastic love story of a former ballerina turned ring girl and a brooding, sexy fighter in Knock Out, book one of the Worth the Fight trilogy. And don’t mind me while I claim partial credit for the opening line...

  Joining Michele with a debut book is Timothy S. Johnston and his science-fiction thriller. It’s Agatha Christie meets Michael Crichton in The Furnace as homicide investigator Kyle Tanner travels to a remote space station to solve a mysterious death that may have enormous consequences for the human race.

  Our third debut author makes her appearance in one of my annual holiday collections. These have become a tradition at Carina Press, and one that I love, since I get a chance to work with a new variety of authors every year. This year, we have four collections. Last month saw the release of two of them: Gift of Honor, a military holiday collection, and Season of Seduction, an erotic holiday collection.

  This month we release the two contemporary holiday collections, and it’s in For My Own that Shari Mikels makes her writing debut with her novella Christmas Curveball. Joining her in this contemporary romance collection are new-to-Carina author Kinley Cade with her novella Kissing Her Scrooge, and fan-favorite Alison Packard with A Christmas for Carrie.

  In the second contemporary romance holiday collection, returning authors Christi Barth, Brighton Walsh and Kat Latham join together to offer some holiday love and forgiveness in All I’m Asking For with their novellas Tinsel My Heart, Season of Second Chances and Mine Under the Mistletoe.

  Also new to Carina Press this month are authors Keri Ford, Ann DeFee, T.C. Mill and Daryl Anderson, each offering up something different for reader entertainment. Keri Ford brings us a fun contemporary romance in Never Stopped Loving You, in which the heroine has to remind herself: don’t date your friends—and definitely don’t ever date your friend’s brother. Ann DeFee’s Beyond Texas is a fast-paced contemporary romance of mystical lights that dance across the desert as the hero and heroine, Cole Claiborne and Twinkie Sue Carmichael, discover love while thwarting an evil cult, giving new meaning to the old saying “Don’t Mess with a Texan.”

  In T.C. Mill’s male/male fantasy novella, Gardens Where No One Will See, Nemaran’s gentle attentions inspire Renad to go beyond the boundaries he’s set for himself for so long—but can they help him break free of even crueler bondage?

  And last in the new-to-Carina category, Daryl Anderson is on the scene in Murder in Mystic Cove. In this new mystery, a former Baltimore homicide detective thought she’d put murder cases behind her—until she discovered a resident in her father’s retirement community shot dead in his golf cart.

  Returning to Carina Press with contemporary romance Love Me Not, Reese Ryan introduces us to struggling artist Jamie Charles, who finds refuge from the painful secrets of her past in her art and prefers living on the edge—without the complications of love—until she encounters charming ad exec Miles Copeland, who is harboring his own dark past and is determined to have her heart.

  Fantasy romance author Shawna Thomas has the third installment in her Triune Stones series, Journey of Wisdom. It’s not too late to catch up before the series wraps up with the last book, Journey of the Wanderer, in February 2014.

  If you’re looking to spice up your holidays with a BDSM erotic romance, The Dom Project by Heloise Belleau and Solace Ames will keep you warm, even when it’s cold outside. When buttoned-up university archivist Robin Lessing agrees to spend one month submitting to a sexy, tattooed colleague, she presents her new Dom with a firm set of rules. But once they begin their stimulating sessions, it’s not long before she’s ready to beg him for more—much more.

  Also this month, we have three powerhouse fan favorites with new books. Shannon Stacey returns to the Kowalskis with the much-anticipated Love a Little Sideways. When Drew Miller had a casual rebound fling with his best friend’s sister, he thought she’d go back to New Mexico and stay there, but now Liz Kowalski has come home to stay, and Drew’s feelings for her might not be as casual as he thought.

  After a two-year wait, Lauren Dane is back with Blade to the Keep, the follow-up to Goddess with a Blade. Rowan Summerwaite is no ordinary woman. With the power of an ancient goddess in her belly, she’s the perfect candidate to re-negotiate the fragile Treaty keeping the peace between the Vampire Nation and the last line of defense for humanity, The Hunter Corporation. And she’s got to do it as she attempts to manage a politically awkward romance during a trip back to a place she escaped nearly fifteen years before. No pressure.

  Wrapping up this month is The Principle of Desire, the final book in the Science of Temptation trilogy from Delphine Dryden. 1 Sexy Switch + 1 Nerdy Newbie = A Master Class in Seduction.

  Last, no matter what your religion, or what you celebrate, books are a common bond, so from all of us at Carina Press, we wish you a wonderful season of reading. May there be incredible books, stories and characters on your ereaders all year long!

  We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to generalinquiries@carinapress.com. 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

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter
Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Robin’s best friend John was always getting on her case about being an obsessive blogger. Today, she finally accepted he might have a point.

  Three o’clock on a work day, and she should be writing a fundraising email. An important fundraising email. The kind of fundraising email that might mean an exciting new acquisition or the salary of a new staff member—or just the continued existence of her department. But instead, she typed the email blind, hands flying over the keys while her eyes stared at the next tab open in her browser window, the one that read The Picky Submissive.

  God, she really shouldn’t be doing this at work, but the frustration was unbearable. She was already taking some of it out by digging her heels into the floor. She couldn’t concentrate. She needed to get it out of her system, that was all, before she turned the expensive library floor into wood chips.

  With all the relief of someone lighting their first cigarette after an eighteen-hour flight, she hit Compose Post. Best to get straight to the point. No time for chitchat.

  Look, I don’t have unreasonable standards. I don’t expect perfect punctuation. But if you want to control my “oargasms,” I can’t take you seriously. Unless you’re some kind of kinky skipper, maybe start by controlling your spell-check first. If you can’t find your way to the edit menu, you’d better keep on rowing.

  Love,

  The Picky Submissive

  She sighed with relief. Normally bad spelling didn’t aggravate her so much, but bad spelling combined with a guy who was convinced he needed to micromanage her masturbation, even though she’d specified she wasn’t looking for any kind of Total Power Exchange in her KinkLife.com account? What was even the point of writing a thorough and accurate profile about her wants, needs and limits if every guy with a username like Darth_Dominous121 was going to ignore the damn thing anyway?

  She finished the post just in time for Julio to poke his head in her door. “I approved your letter,” she told him, and smiled. “It looks great. I think we’ll get lots of interest in donations for the new library annex.” Flipping the switch to work mode? No problem.

  “Thanks,” said Julio. “Um, what do you know about fetish porn?”

  “What?” She flicked her eyes to her screen to check for incriminating evidence. Julio wasn’t close enough to read the written content of her blog, but some of the ads down the sidebar were pretty risqué and definitely visible from a distance. But no, her monitor just showed the university log-in page.

  “I don’t know anything about fetish porn,” Julio said plaintively. He was an older man and had worked in special collections much longer than her, although his terminal shyness meant he couldn’t do her job as Head. “Postwar burlesque up to 1970s, I could maybe handle. But this? No. It’s big. Oh God, it’s big.” He was breathing rapidly, holding on to the door as if he’d collapse.

  “All right, all right. Calm down there, big fella.” She swept a hand through her hair. “How big? What kind of big?”

  “It’s an Irina Mareau collection appraised at seven thousand, but there’s no way it’s worth that little.”

  The name sounded familiar. She rushed to pull up search tabs on archival collections and history sites. She lived for this. The adrenaline rush was as good as sex. Or maybe that was just something she told herself to feel better about—no. Focus. “So...she was modeling in the 1930s for racy photographs. Wow. Like Bettie Page, but earlier, and she never got really famous.”

  “Racy’s an understatement, yes. It was thought all of her original photographs were destroyed in the 1950s by her and her husband at the height of the antiobscenity movement, leaving only a couple of incredibly poor-quality reproductions. Now it’s come to light after she passed that her nephew inherited a box of her letters and photographs. Stuff that has never seen the light of day.” Julio had slipped into his Antiques Roadshow announcer voice, and there was a gleam in his eyes that people outside of their field would probably call unholy.

  “We could build a collection around it. The Subcultural Female Body Image? The Media Studies professors would jump on it.” She rose to her feet, too full of nervous energy to stay still. Her stiletto hidden platform heels—the taupe color made them just conservative enough for work—gave her four extra inches and meant she didn’t have to look up at Julio. “We’re going to get this.” She threw out her arm for a celebratory fist bump.

  The light in Julio’s eyes turned to panic. He staggered back a step, then pivoted and fled. “I’ll email you the appraisal!” he called over his shoulder.

  Robin sank back into her chair and rubbed her forehead. She really wanted to talk about this. But anyone she could talk to who’d understand the significance was a potential competitor, especially if they worked at one of the bigger universities like UCLA, or she’d have to swear them to uncomfortable secrecy, or...

  John. He liked to make fun of her boring job, but Irina Mareau? Definitely not boring. Those few blurry photographs bore witness to the gorgeous, sinuous way Irina curved when she kneeled. Robin took a slow breath and pressed her thighs together, imagining the strain, recreating it.

  Maybe John had heard of Irina Mareau.

  She picked up the phone.

  * * *

  “A/V department.” John pinned his phone to his shoulder with his ear as he swung the rickety cart into the elevator.

  “I can help,” shouted the new student assistant, and ran down the hall toward the elevator. John stabbed the close button while mouthing thanks and shaking his head.

  “John! Hi!” Robin’s voice on the other end of the line was sweet and breathy, which would be sexy as hell if it was anyone but her.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” He hit his floor button. “Please tell me you’re not calling me at work to tell me some nerdy little factoid that has nothing to do with me. Look, I’m sure this misprint science textbook from Texas that includes a Chapter on evolution is very—”

  “Irina Mareau,” Robin said.

  He whistled. When he was a teenager, he’d seen the classic image in an arty erotica book, and that very same night she’d figured prominently in his fantasies. Never mind that she was long dead—the aura of bygone glamour only added to the experience.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” asked Robin. “Or do you have one hand down your pants now? You can get fired for that.”

  “I have both hands down my pants. That’s the magic of Bluetooth. So you’ve got some kind of lead on an Irina Mareau collection?”

  “Can you meet me at lunch?” She sounded so eager, like she was a champagne bottle about to pop.

  “Sure.” He was supposed to be recording some visiting professor lecturing on doomsday planetary collision hysteria in five minutes, but he’d figure some way out. “Meet you at the shack.” He hung up.

  The elevator door creaked open. The new assistant—Carol? Kari?—stood there, breathing heavily. She must have run up the stairs. “I just wanted to see if you needed any help.”

  She was cute, but way too young. Even if she didn’t sort of work for him—he could get fired just for that, never mind the age difference—she’d be off-limits. But if it made her happy...

  “Actually, you could record a lecture for me.” So maybe I’m not getting fired, but I’m still going to hell.

  “Thank you! I mean, sure! I’ve never used the camera before! Oh my God! This is awesome!”

  “Okay, okay, okay. Just don’t break anything.”

  * * *

  This wasn’t her area, but Robin could still see that the comps in the appraisal were ridiculous. She scribbled corrections in the margins in between sips of her tea
.

  “It’s the A/V guy!”

  The students at the table next to her were poking each other and trying not to stare. People tended to remember John. There weren’t many built, six-foot-tall Asian men with full-sleeve tattoos and close-cropped hair ambling around campus in work shirts, black jeans and motorcycle boots.

  Not even Berkeley was colorful enough to have an army of Johns.

  “Hey, pixie.” He took a seat across from her.

  “Don’t call me that.” She hated that name. Hated any nickname or reference to her small stature, really. See also the “I Am Not Your Baby Doll” tag on her blog.

  Thirty-two years old and her body was much the same as it was at fifteen. She didn’t complain in public—oh no I’m too thin and slender and delicate sounded insufferable—and she had learned a few tricks. The hidden platform heels. Penciling depth to her eyebrows for a stronger, less ingenue look. They helped get her taken seriously at work, but the daddy-kink doms still swooped around her like moths to the flame, vultures to the roadkill, flies to the—damn, she was getting cynical.

  “Aw...” John’s brow crumpled. “Hey, don’t be like that. I’m sorry.”

  “I know you’re just—” She and John always teased each other, but now, for the first time, the problems with her sex life were spilling over into their friendship. “I’m on edge about something else.”

  “Is it the collection?” He leaned back in his seat and shifted his legs. The corner table had about as much room as an airplane seat, nowhere near John-sized, so she didn’t blame him for the invasion. She shifted her knees out of the way, her calf glancing across the leather of his outstretched boot before she tucked both feet underneath her chair, trying to ignore how uncomfortable the position was.

  “No. I’m excited about the collection. Apparently it’s her nephew, who inherited a case of letters and photographs and negatives. He’s not doing too well, healthwise—that’s the grim side of our field, we deal with a lot of dying and desperate people—and he called in an antiques dealer for an appraisal. This guy had no idea what he was doing, or else he’s a lowballing sleaze. One of the two. The nephew was so angry he threw the appraisal on the ground and walked away. This was at a public sale, and Julio happened to be there.”