My name is Raisa Greywood. I write contemporary romance. I waver back and forth between dark and comedy, but hey, life is too short to pick just one! I also write paranormal romance under the pen name Minette Moreau.🐉

A question I’m often asked is, “How/why did you start writing?”

I don’t think I’m unique—every author has been asked this at some point in their careers, and probably more than once. The answers are as individual as the authors.

The how is easy—and incredibly difficult at the same time. One simply parks their backside in a chair and…

Wait! You mean there are grammar rules? What the heck is past perfect and why do I need it? Character development? Plot? Story structure?

Aaaah!

Here’s a Raisa fun fact. Until I was somewhere around fifty years old, I thought the past perfect verb tense was a joke created by my middle school English teacher to torment me.

The why is a bit more muddled. I was teaching high school math at the time, after a long career using numbers in another field. My last formal English class was sometime during the Regan administration. I’ve always been an avid reader though. Romance, fantasy, science fiction, horror… If it was printed between two pieces of card stock, I’d likely read it.

Yep, I was the kid who read cereal boxes.

I remember being delighted beyond words when my father brought home a whole set of very cheaply printed Nancy Drew mysteries from one of his business trips. Those books went from Maryland, to Germany, to Hawaii, and finally to Ohio. Unfortunately, after so much time and so many moves, I’ve lost track of them.

As I got older, my tastes changed, and it became harder to find books that truly resonated with me. When I first started writing, I was a year away from being an empty-nester, and I had my very own happy-ever-after with my amazing husband. More on him later.

Let’s face it. I wasn’t a twenty-something virgin. Heck, I wasn’t that woman when I got married. Even then, I was separated from that archetypal heroine by a decade of experience, relationships, and a career. This isn’t to say those heroines aren’t great, but they weren’t me.

Where was the mature bisexual woman who chose a geeky engineer for her knight in shining… coveralls?

I wanted realistic characters. People of color. LGBTQ+ people. People with scars, damage, histories, and rich backstory. I remember hearing someone say something along the lines of, “Only straight white people get a happy ending.”

Calling bullshit, honey.

I finally decided something along the lines of, “If nobody is writing the books I want to read, what’s stopping me from doing it myself?”

Cue the rabbit hole.

So… I wrote. My first attempts (note the plural there) were abysmal. One was a three-hundred-thousand-word behemoth that shall never see the light of day again. My second attempt is still one of my biggest regrets.

It was a Regency romance with an older heroine, and of course, a handsome duke. The heroine’s name was Miranda. She was wrongly convicted of theft, transported to Australia, and became quite a brilliant pirate before she found her true love. I adored her!

It was a wonderful story, but I lacked the skill to do it justice. I still think about dusting it off sometimes.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh, yes. Attempts. Plural. Every author has a collection of early work. We all look back on them with a mixture of fondness and horror, yet that is how we learn. We practice.

One of my dearest friends from high school convinced me to keep writing, telling me I was good. I, of course, didn’t believe her a bit.

But I kept at it.

And I got better.

I embraced the learning curve. Any skill worth doing is worth doing well.

Then I got good.

Someone commented on one of my books that she’d never laughed so much while reading a dark romance.

THAT is what I want. I want all the dark humor and scorching chemistry. It was as if my skills had finally gotten good enough to communicate my vision.

I’m a USA Today bestseller now. Remember my husband? My knight in shining coveralls? Well, he’s supported me at every step. When his parents threw me shade, he backed me up.

When they said, “It’s a phase,” he said, “Buy a fucking USA Today. My wife is in it.”

I love that man so hard. He’s the reason I do enemies-to-lovers so well. We hated each other in college. I’d like to say I fell in love with him because he’s got romance novel equipment in tight boxer briefs, but it’s really because he’s truly amazing. He’s the man who shovels snow for an elderly neighbor and won’t take money for it and spends twenty years helping with a Cub Scout pack—even though we don’t have boys.

In fact, my first published work was a joke, written for him. He loves space opera, so I wrote him one. He was impatient though and was forever bugging me for just one more chapter.

So, I gave him one.

Our house is two stories with a finished basement. When he got to the end of what I’d written, in which the heroine had faked her own death, I could hear him yell from the upper floor. He now mutters darkly about never reading another living author again.

In any case, my mother-in-law now introduces me to people. “This is my daughter-in-law, Raisa. She writes dirty books.”

I thought her caregiver was going to lose her shit.

Meanwhile, my dear friend—the one who has encouraged me all along—is still writing but is struggling. She received crushing critique from someone who isn’t her audience and doesn’t read her genre.

It’s my turn to encourage her now because I absolutely refuse to let her give up.

So many people have helped me, and the authors I once fangirled over are some of my dearest friends. In fact, Delilah Devlin—the host of this blog—is one of them.

Well, she’s one of the authors I fangirl over. Considering I just got up the nerve to send her a Facebook friend request, I’m not about to be cheeky enough to call her a friend. She’s definitely a colleague though, which is totally cool by itself.

Give me time. Delilah doesn’t know about my seriously epic bar or my selection of yummy snacks yet. I’ll have her in my clutches soon!

Yes, authors are easily bribed with food and booze.

Anyway, I digress. Quite a lot actually.

I digress so much, I had to create a second pen name because I’m constitutionally incapable of being just Raisa.

Raisa writes steamy contemporary BDSM. Minette Moreau writes steamy paranormal. But you know what? No matter who is writing the story, you can guarantee the characters are going to be snarky, sexy, and will love as deeply and as powerfully as they fight.

I’m busy with a literal crapton of projects, but if you want to catch up with me at all the usual places, find your favorite at this convenient Linktree: https://linktr.ee/RaisaGreywood.

Thanks to Delilah for inviting me to her blog, and especially special thanks to everyone who reads.

Happy New Year to you all from Melbourne, Australia, and thanks to Delilah Devlin for hosting my blog.

What’s your favourite time of year? Is it Christmas? Your birthday?

For me, it’s the beginning of a new year. It starts with the magical build-up to midnight that will farewell the old and greet the new. My lovely husband and I get together with my cousin’s family for a night full of excitement and noise. Our lively conversation during dinner centers around the year that has been and what we hope is to come. It transitions into a games night and our competitive spirits come out to play. The husbands get a little merry, the volume increases and there’s always a side-splitting moment that will become folklore for the years ahead.

Somewhere between ten and eleven, a lull settles over the room. There are yawns and regular clock checking. Then a welcomed snack and refreshment interlude revives us for what is left of the countdown.

During those dozen or so precious minutes, as the celebrations peak, we head outside for the festive, 360-degree fireworks, and it’s then that my reflection time begins. I relish the good that has evolved during the year and let go of the bad. I shed a tear for those I’m leaving behind and feel that glorious tingle for the possibilities that lay ahead.

After the cheers fade and the hugs are distributed, our short drive home is consumed by Christmas lights and a call to more family for New Year’s greetings.

At a more reasonable hour on the first of January, the organized Libran in me gets to work. I pull out the latest purchase that’s going to take control of my world and keep me balanced. It’s amazing to think how much stock we put into the idea of an inanimate object changing our life. What is yours?

Barista hubby would tell you that for him, it’s the coffee machine I gave him as an early Christmas present. After keeping me caffeinated all year, he deserved an upgrade.

But for me, it’s all about my new, glossy day planner. Who doesn’t love a brand-new piece of stationery? With meticulous thought, I write my goals, the steps I need to take and the words of motivation that will keep me focused throughout the year. I fill it with tasks for that all important first month that will set the tone for the year. And I’ve got big plans for 2022.

In 2021 I published my first hot contemporary romance novel on Amazon Kindle. The Cop was mostly written during Melbourne’s sixth lockdown (Yes, that’s right! The most locked down city in the world. Bah!)

The Cop focuses on the chemistry between a sexy as sin cop, Kane Browne and Jess, a woman who is battling self-confidence issues due to an illness. Kane’s selfless nature is put to the test when a possible promotion to Sergeant would see him moving to a rural town, three hours away. There’s also the issue of the three younger brothers, Kane and his next in line sibling had to raise due to the passing of their parents. Just as Kane has everything under control, the unthinkable happens which has him questioning everything he knew about himself.

This novel is not only about love, delicious sex scenes and a happily ever after. It’s also about resilience, overcoming adversities and the importance of family. And for Kane, it’s about the ultimate test of selfless versus selfish.

It is the first in a series featuring the Browne brothers and I‘ve already begun work on the second novel. Although I am prepared for the battle between working twenty-five hours a week at an office job (dealing mostly with figures), writing and maintaining housework and a husband (wink).

Publishing a novel was a dream that was a long time in the making, mostly from a lack of hard work and dedication. Over the past decade, I’d started and stopped so many times, it’s embarrassing. But being open and honest about failures is part and parcel of life. It’s how you grow or so I’ve been led to believe.

So, what changed, I hear you ask. The blunt answer is the passing of my father.

My Dad, Kevin was diagnosed with Leukemia at the start of 2019, after previously beating lymphoma a year or so earlier. As you can imagine, writing was an outlet for expressing my feelings and it served as a distraction from his fight. I told myself that if he’s strong enough for his battle than surely, I could match him with dedication and finally finish something I’d wanted to achieve for the majority of my life. Although, it should be noted the novel I was working on at the time, isn’t quite finished yet. The characters need a little more development. But I’ve promised them they won’t be left on the shelf for too long.

Unfortunately, Dad lost his battle in August 2020, but it fueled my desire and need to write more than ever before. I came up with the idea for The Cop in the middle of 2021, got to work and never looked back. Three beta readers gave me both good and constructive feedback. I tweaked and re-wrote some scenes until here I am, a smile of accomplishment on my face and a self-published novel to show for my efforts.

I like to think my father’s battle and his subsequent passing weren’t in vain. I like to think he gave me the desire. That sink or swim moment I needed to pursue and conquer the dream I’ve had since I was a naive fifteen-year-old who thought writing would be all about the glory and less about the hard work and dedication it requires.

So, now what’s going to drive me? My characters, of course. They’re all in my head, ready to burst out onto a fresh, white blank computer screen. The plotline for the next Browne brother’s chance at love has my fingers itching to hit the keyboard. I’m ready for the challenge of completing a second novel. And then a third. The prospect is exciting.

Whatever it is you’re planning for 2022, I wish you joy, health and happiness. I wish you nothing but success. And I’d love to hear about your plans, your life changing inanimate object or anything else you’d like to share.

The Cop

Kane Browne is a sexy as sin cop who is used to accommodating everyone else’s needs before his own.

Cue Jess Frost, the gorgeous woman with a sharp tongue and eyes like the ocean.

From their first roadside interaction, sparks fly but an illness has robbed Jess of her self-confidence and Kane needs to convince her he’s worth taking a chance on.

This sexy, contemporary romance is a little sweet, a little naughty and comes with a side of handcuffs and a HEA (happily ever after). First book in a series, featuring five very different brothers.

The Cop is now available in paperback and e-book formats on Amazon.

Get your copy here!

Follow Deb Robinson on her official Facebook page
Follow on Twitter @DRobinsonbooks
Follow on Instagram debrobinsonbooks

So, have you heard about KISS? I have three of my Entangled books in the app now: Five Ways ‘Til Sunday, Burning Up Memphis, and the latest release, Hotter with a Pole.

Don’t know what KISS is? Here’s the pitch!

KISS is a new and exciting way to experience Romance stories of all genres. Enjoy serialized quality content from NYT and USA Today bestselling authors, available right from your phone.

KISS has hundreds of titles and authors to choose from, including new and exclusive content from some of your favorite voices!

Best of all, you can choose just how much to read with our pay-as-you-go format!

Where can I download it? 

IOS: https://apps.apple.com/us/app/kiss-read-write-romance/id1508942129

Android: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.stardust.kissreader&hl=en_US&gl=US

So basically, it’s a phone/tablet app you can use to download stories.  It’s easy and so addictive to use! And to help you on your way to your new addiction, I’m offering 20 coins to four readers!  Let me know below whether KISS is something you’ve already tried or are going to try right now for a chance to win those coins! There will be 4 winners!

Open Contests

Be sure to enter these contests while you’re here!

1. Thanksgiving Leftovers (Puzzle-Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
2. Elizabeth Andrews: Holiday Favorites (Contest) — Win a FREE book!
3. What have you binged lately? (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!

Anyone familiar with my work knows I write a lot of stories exploring the world of BDSM. But I try not to write just about BDSM. I want my stories to be about something more than just the power exchange and how that plays out between any two random people or a couple meeting at a club. Because it’s a somewhat extraordinary and delicate kind of relationship that makes different demands of each of the participants than a normal vanilla sexual encounter.

I like to explore how different characters create and interact within a BDSM relationship, to see how two ordinary people can work out a version that suits them (as in most of the books in the Suburban Dominants series). How do they even come together and recognize each other’s needs? Using the club scene makes a convenient way to get around that problem, but I’d rather tackle it head-on.

In fact, I’ve tried a number of different ways for one person to realize the other’s needs are similar or complementary. My favorite was in Judith’s Challenge, where the heroine works for the hero and is intrigued by the catalogs he gets in the mail. Later he catches her spying on one of the private parties he hosts.

Judith’s Challenge also tackles some fairly sensitive issues and explores how BDSM can be healing in some contexts. I put a trigger warning in the book because the heroine’s history includes a rape (off-screen and not by the hero!) and now she has a problem with being touched by anyone, particularly men. The hero has his own issues. He’s scarred and somewhat maimed as a result of injuries suffered while he was in the military.

I’ve tried to be careful of the problems these people have suffered and respectful of their trauma while showing how their growing trust in each other helps each of them heal.

Judith’s Challenge

Contemporary Romance with BDSM elements
ebook: $3.99

Money can’t buy back the parts of himself Drew Robertson left on a middle-east battlefield, but his new assistant, Judith Delaney, can show him he’s still a whole man without them—if he can help her heal from her own traumatic history.

Wounded Middle East war vet Drew Robertson made some fortunate investments and ended up wealthier than he ever expected to be. It’s some compensation for the injuries, visible and hidden, he believes would repel any woman were it not for his money.

Enter Judith Delaney. Drew’s new assistant brings compassion, intelligence, competence, and her own traumatic past to the job. She also secretly shares his interest in kinky sex.

They might be able to help each other heal, if they can let go the fear and doubts that imprison them. But threats from someone with a grudge against Drew complicate the situation, threats that escalate into something far more dangerous.

Order ebook from: Amazon   B&N   Kobo   Apple Books   Other formats

About Katherine Kingston

Katherine Kingston has written somewhere around two dozen erotic novels, novellas, and short stories.  Most of her novels and novellas are currently published by Ellora’s Cave, but she has one novella with Whispers Publishing and has had stories in a number of print publications. Her stories cover a range of genres from historical to paranormal to science fiction and contemporary. Most of them include hot, kinky sex, particularly BDSM.  Learn more about Katherine and her books at her website: https://www.katherinekingston.com .

I miss men. I miss the rich baritone of their voices, the sturdy brace of their chest and shoulders, the subtle salt of their skin. Men with their sardonic grins and cocked eyebrows, men with their wide smiles and bristled cheeks, their amused expressions. Their innocence in need they can’t quite acknowledge and yet it is there, written on their faces like the eager gleam in a boy’s eyes as he surveys a display of candy.

I miss the strength of men, their physical power to lift heavy slabs of firewood or slam a splitting maul into a length of oak. Men have an energy that warms me as they stride across the ground, as they wrestle an unruly tire onto the axle. Men can do things with their bodies that I cannot, and the difference thrills me.

I miss the force of their sexuality, their straightforward desire to sink into the wet depths of a woman’s body, their unbridled pleasure in fucking. I miss the heat of their soft skin, the roughness of their hands, the smoothness of muscle bunched at their shoulders and across their chests.

At 73, I don’t expect ever again to luxuriate in a man’s bed. I am bereft of the joy of lovemaking, grief-stricken that the wondrous beauty of his private anatomy will no longer be mine to admire or touch or lick. I miss the lovely sight of male buttocks, tight and round, flexing as he walks.

I miss those extended moments of mindless bliss that only a man can give me.

Men in general exert a calming influence on me, steady and solid, a familiar and reliable part of my life. Only lately have I noticed how many of those men are no longer here for me – two husbands, the plumber and electrician I counted on for years, the repairman. Even in cultivating working relationships with a new electrician, a new repairman, I miss the foundational presence of those who came before.

Much as I have sought independence and self-reliance through the years of my life, I have always recognized that men can do things I can’t. I treasure the skill and experience of men who know their trades, how to cut in a straight line with a paintbrush, how to change a light fixture, how to replace a broken pipe. I appreciate men seated in their heavy equipment, a backhoe leveling ground at my barn door, a bulldozer carving a new pond, a bucket truck where, lifted high above the ground, he cuts through massive trees limbs like butter and safely lowers them to the ground.

I miss the other half of my existence.

House of Rae

After sharing those personal thoughts with you, I will explain that this is why I read and write romance. For a time, immersed in a story, I am with a man. This is also why I conceived of a place and future time when women can go to a place and be with a man. That’s what the House of Rae series is all about.

Set in the mid-21st century when climate change has pushed world societies to unexpected extremes, the Houses of Rae stand as islands of refuge, peaceful centers of women’s pleasure. Now franchised around the world, the House becomes a staging ground for the fight between overweening patriarchy and women’s freedom, but also between progressive and reactionary forces amid food shortages, endless fire, and the joy and enlightenment gained through sexual adventuring. These four novels reveal the intimate stories of people willing to break the rules and put them back together in a style more suitable for a new age.

Come meet the men at the House of Rae.

Click on the covers to learn more about the stories!

UPDATE: The winners are…Katherine Horvath and Peggy Fowler!
*~*~*

I like dancers. Those beautiful movements, the expressions, the costumes, the emotion, and yes, the bodies, too. Like any art form, dance is a way of communicating. A story is told, and I love stories. I wrote three fantasy novels about three dancing half-sisters and how they lived in a city full of scoundrels, wizards, and monsters.

There was a time, about fifteen years back, when I went to dance performances, mainly belly dancing. That habit bled to death for various reasons (time, a relationship, et cetera). Usually, I went to a festival in which various acts performed. I learned that there are also male belly dancers. And apparently, I have the belly for it!

Once there was a single female performance in the Regentes Theatre in the Dutch city of Den Haag (I’m a Dutchie for those who didn’t know). The theatre is located in an old swimming pool, and it still has a lot of the original 1920s Art Deco elements.

Most people think that belly dancing is a bit of shaking with the belly, pelvis, breasts, and butt, and yes, those elements are there for sure, but of course, it is much more. Belly dancing consists of all kinds of movements and traditions, from various cultures. There is also room for modern dance types from jazz ballet to house. I once saw a Russian dancer do her belly dance to house music, and it was totally worth it.

But back to the performance I witnessed… I sat in the front row, partly for room for my legs, partly to get a good look. There was no partition; the dance floor started immediately. For those of us in the front row, our feet rested on the dance floor.

Dark room, a single spot. A beautiful, tall dark-haired lady entered. Lebanese? Something like that. Melancholic music began, the dance began. Her performance stood for her life story, or the story of her family. After all these years, the details are getting a bit vague. Anyways, that night she combined belly dancing with modern experimental dance.

She was good. Love, marriage, children, quarrels, loneliness, hope, the threat of war and flight, passion…  She brought everything to life, caught in the spotlight that followed her. The audience was carried away, without words, without explanation, just by the enchantment of the music and her dance.

The light was now red in color, the music more challenging, her movements voluptuous. A scene in a nightclub from a strip show? Yes, something like that. Lust. Sex. She wiggled her butt, looked over her shoulders at her audience.

Swallow. Yes. Good art plays with your emotions. Art or pleasure, and she used both to play with us.

Big me, short hair, broad shoulders, a head like a rock. Knife scars running from my right ear to my chin. There I was, sitting in the front row, massive between the frail ladies and wiry gentlemen. Who go to dance performances? Mainly dancers, professional, hobby, former and whatever dancers. A dancing public. I was the very clear exception. I’m not a dancer. I’m a writer.

She looked at me. I looked back, appreciative.

She came over to me with swaying her hips.

Something snorted inside me. It came out like a grin. Nostrils open, muscles tense. Control is nice, but feeling the inner beast is fun, too.

At the last moment, less than half a step away, she turned and sat down.

Her butt on my lap, her legs over mine.

There, trapped together in the spot. Beauty and the Beast. Agility exposed on that massive hump of meat and bones.

She turned, squirmed, she danced while sitting.

I kept my hands at my sides. If it had been just the two of us, I would have grabbed and played with her. But there was an audience, so I didn’t, and she knew I would not. Damn, women aren’t crazy. She knew and enjoyed the power she had.

Me, too. Standing on the edge, just not letting go of the beast… That’s nice, too.

She jumped up again; the lap dance was over. She threw me a kiss, and I returned it with a grin. Like a twisting flame, she turned farther up the floor, on her way to the next part of her life story.

Jump after it! Stamp exaggerated, big gestures, big strides. A troll and a fairy. Do it! She would whirl around me, and I would chase her like a golem.

No, I didn’t. It was her performance. Not mine, I told myself. Besides, I wasn’t that brave. No. I didn’t dare, although deep in my heart I wished I had.

In the end, the performance was over.

I went home happy, melancholy, full of creative energy.

…

Once I went to dance performances.

One day, we’ll go again.

We? Yes. She and I. No, not her, not the dancing lady. Another special lady, but that’s another story.

Contest

Comment for a chance to win a copy of First Response! I’ll choose two winners!

About the Author

Inside First Response, read “Save Me Twice” by Jaap Boekestein – Playing with handcuffs leads to unexpected and sexy consequences for a timid office worker when she loses the key.

Jaap Boekestein is an award-winning Dutch writer of science fiction, fantasy, horror, thrillers, and whatever takes his fancy. He usually writes his stories in the coffeehouses of his native The Hague, the Netherlands. Over the years he has made his living as a bouncer, working for a detective agency, and the Justice Department.

Rawhide: Cut the Cards

It’s a card game like you’ve never played before!
Rawhide is back!

Have you been missing the trips to Rawhide, the ultra-exclusive BDSM club on the northwest side of San Antonio, Texas? Well, it’s time for another trip, and this one has a few twists. First of all, the club has a new Dungeon Master. His name is Reulas, and he runs a strict establishment. Nothing is barred as long as you follow the rules. Secondly, he has sanctioned the introduction of a new card game called “Cut the Cards.” Each card pictures some form of BDSM activity. The sub cuts the cards then draws a certain number. Any cards that picture acceptable activities are set to the side; those that are not are replaced in the deck. After the sub has made her/his choices, then the Mistress or Master makes their choices and…the game is on!

Rawhide: Ace in the Hole

Cut the Cards
Kelly LeBlanc was hot and aroused at being selected as part of a demonstration for Rawhide’s members and guests. A card game for sex? What fun! But then she meets the Dom, Tanner Sloat, and finds all her wildest fantasies are about to come true.

Blackjack
He was everything Nia March ever dreamed about in a Master. As he takes her to levels higher than she’s even been, touching something deep inside her, she wonders if she can protect her heart.

Texas Hold ‘Em
Sage Drummond thought she’d never recover from the effects of a relationship filled with cruelty, but she craved the role of sub. When she tentatively dips her toe in the waters at Rawhide, the last thing she expects to find is a Master who will satisfy her needs as well as heal her heart. Can it last?

Dealer’s Choice
Cade Sullivan was one of the most in-demand Doms until a tragedy sent him hiding from the world and out of the D/s life. Working at Rawhide gives Fiona Wilder the urge to try the D/s life. Can she be the key to help Cade forget the past and build a life with a sub that is all his?

Two of a Kind
They each bring their baggage to a night at Rawhide that is supposed to be nothing but fun—a night of intense D/s play. Neither is prepared for the intense connection they make or how it will change their lives.

Get your copy of Rawhide: Ace in the Hole here!

And a snippet from Cut the Cards…

Tanner Sloat was everything subs imagined Doms to be, power flowing from his body. It was hard to ignore the bulge at his crotch, and it had cream flooding the tiny crotch of her thong at the sight of it. Her nipples hardened, poking into the soft material of her halter. At once, she imagined herself on her knees in front of him, his cock on her tongue, her hands squeezing his balls. Would he spank her if he thought her performance lacking?

Oh, yes! Please!

She was instantly even more wet and needy, and he hadn’t even said hello to her yet.

When she looked up at Tanner, a tiny knowing smile flirted with the corners of his mouth and sexual hunger flared in his eyes. He raked his gaze over her slowly, taking in every inch of her. Now she knew what the phrase “undressing someone with his eyes” meant, because that was exactly how she felt. At that moment, if he’d told her to strip naked, get down on her hands and knees, and let him fuck her ass, she’d have done it without a moment’s hesitation.

Holy shit!

She swallowed and curved her mouth in a smile. “Welcome to Rawhide.”

He dipped his head once. “I can see you’re everything Reulas said you were.”

And exactly what was that?

“Tanner is just back from a tour of duty as a member of a Delta Force team,” Reulas explained.

Ooo-kay. So that explained the ripped body. She wondered if he had any interesting scars. Without realizing it, Kelly licked her lips.

“I picked up a little game while I was in…a different country,” Tanner said. “When I mentioned it to Reulas, it interested him. He suggested giving a little presentation to the members.” His eyes looked her over again. “From everything he told me, I thought you would be an excellent choice for a game partner. You enjoy exhibitionism, right?”

Did a bank have money? Heat sizzled through her at the idea of performing before this crowd with this highly sexual man.

“I do,” she answered. “Can you tell me what the game is about?”

He held out a deck of cards. “Take a look at these. The idea is each partner goes through the deck and removes any position or activity that they absolutely will not do. Then they go through them one at a time.”

“Of course, no one expects to complete the entire selection in one session,” Reulas added. “So each partner picks his or her top three and then they begin.”

Kelly cocked an eyebrow at him. “Your email sounded intriguing, and everyone is always looking for something new. I’m sure that’s why there’s such a big crowd tonight.”

Reulas nodded. “If I’d told them you were going to be part of the performance, we’d have been so crowded the fire marshal might have shut us down.”

“Reulas tells me you are a particular favorite.” Tanner’s voice rolled over her nerves like the electric wand she loved so much, sending sparks along the surface of her skin.

“He’s very kind. But I do my best to please.”

“As a good sub should.” He gave her a penetrating look that pierced all the way to her pussy. Her inner walls clenched, and she had to resist the urge to squeeze her thighs together.

“Why don’t the two of you step into the little alcove over there?” Reulas pointed. “You can select your cards. When you’re ready, I’ll get everyone’s attention and announce the beginning of the performance.”

*~*~*

Where else can you find me:
www.facebook.com/desireeholtauthor
www.facebook.com/desiree01holt
Twitter @desireeholt
Follow me on
BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/search?search=Desiree+Holt
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Desiree- Holt/e/B003LD2Q3M/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1505488204&sr=1-2-ent

Signup for my newsletter and receive a free book:
https://desireeholt.com/newsletter/