Posted in Alpha Heroes, BDSM, Chapter Reveal, Contemporary Erotica, Domestic Discipline/Spanking, Knotty Girl Reviews, May/December, My Favorites, Romance

Mastering The FanGirl by Ava Sinclair

Fangirl

Book Blurb:

Emma Holland didn’t expect a reply after she sent an anonymous email to her favorite author letting him know how much his books have meant to her, but Alden Fisher surprised her. He didn’t just write back, he wanted to get to know her better.

Fearful that a handsome, successful man like Alden could never be interested in a geeky fangirl like her, Emma created a fake profile to impress him. But as their relationship grew into an intimate, passionate online romance, Emma’s guilt grew as well, and when her shame became too great she disappeared from social media.

But Emma is about to discover that Alden is not content to let her write the ending to this story. He is determined not only to show Emma that he fell in love with the woman behind the profile, but to give her the correction and dominance he knows she both needs and craves.

He tracks Emma down and soon she is lying over his knee for the intense, painful spanking she has needed for so long.

Though she is shocked by Alden’s sudden return to her life, his firm discipline and loving guidance give Emma confidence she has never had before, and being claimed properly by him at last is better than she ever dreamed. But when a secret from his past threatens to tarnish Alden’s reputation, will the ensuing scandal destroy the bond Emma has built with the man who changed her life first with his books and then with his belief in her?

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First off, let me just say if you are going to read this, you may want to have something to cool you down sitting nearby. However that may look for you. Because this book is quite steamy hot!

It starts with our heroine Emma engaging in an online relationship with author Alden Fisher. She craves his dominance, but when it starts to get too real for her, she disappears from his life. Lucky for her, he manages to track her down and surprise her. He wants to continue where they left off, and uses some underhanded means to get her to agree.

But a jealous co-worker and an ex of his manage to throw a wrench in the works that might just derail their relationship.

I loved this book a whole lot! The sex scenes were positively so smoking hot I needed to fan myself! I loved how Alden stood up for Emma and how he boosted her confidence, he’s what every man should be like, especially dominants. And both of them are broken in their own ways, especially Emma, but they manage to be each other’s support in such a wonderful way. This book is definitely a keeper!

5 Hot, Spanky, Stars

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Excerpt:

Prologue

May 2015

“Put your hands between your legs and spread the lips of your pussy.”

When there was no reply, his next question came quietly, but with the increased authority that made her tingle. “Are you doing it?”

She swallowed nervously. “Yes.”

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. “Move the forefingers of your other hand over your clit, but softly. Barely graze it. Move them lower, over the inner folds.” He paused. “Are you wet?”

“Y-yes.”

A sigh.

She’d been talking to him long enough to know his sighs as well as his words. This one indicated irritation.

“You aren’t doing it.” There was stern disappointment in his tone, and she wondered how he even knew, given there was an ocean between them.

She glanced over at the cell phone, her heart pounding as if the man behind the cool British accent might somehow jump out of the tiny speaker.

“No,” she admitted, hoping the speaker didn’t pick up her voice. But he’d heard her. Touching herself had never come easy for a woman who was raised to hate her own body. It had gotten easier, with him, and she loved it. But sometimes it was still difficult.

“When we are finally together next week, when we are more than just pictures to one another, I will punish you for this.” Another pause. “And for the other things on my list.”

She has no doubt that he meant it. Her pussy clenched with need, and she wondered if he’d give her permission to use the vibrator later. She glanced over at the computer on her desk, where his picture served as her background. It was a private picture—one he’d never made public on social media or used on the ‘About the Author’ section of his books. This was one he’d sent just to her. In it, he was standing against a stone wall, rolling hills of emerald green behind him. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. He looked thoughtful, intense. She liked this picture better than any other, not just because it was hers alone, but because whenever she looked at it, she was instantly drawn to the eyes. The gaze had always held her, and even now she fancied he was watching her as she obediently parted her labia with trembling fingers.

“Sir.” She breathed the word, then moaned a soft exhale of breath.

“Obeying now, are we? That’s my good girl.” Soft words of praise after the promise of discipline precipitated the shudder of her first small orgasm. She may not even need the vibrator; some nights she didn’t. Sometimes the memory of his words alone was enough to bring her off.

“I want you to spread those smooth lips of your pussy. Spread them wide. And I want you to shift your hips forward as you keep your legs apart. I want you to work your fingers up and down over your slick, wet inner labia. I want you to think of me as you do this. I want you to think of how I’ll have you seated just as you are, my hands underneath, cupping your smacked bottom, my tongue lapping away your sweetness as you open yourself to me like the good girl I know you can be.”

The wave was building again. Her eyes closed. Calling on her imagination was easy. She did it every day at her job, helping others visualize and bring messages to life. But this was so much better, imagining him—the man she’d longed for before she even knew him—possessing her, those elegant hands squeezing her buttocks as he tasted what was his.

“Don’t touch your clit.” She almost jumped in the chair, a chill running down her spine. She’d been about to, and moans of pleasure turned to little whimpers of frustration.

“Believe me, love. If I were between your legs, I’d be tasting everything but that. Your sweet, slick flesh would be the main course. Your delightful clit would be dessert. But only when I was ready.”

Her pussy pulsed at the description, her clit throbbing with the aching need to be touched. Her stocking-clad toes curled against the hardwood floor. He was touching her from a continent away, stroking her with his words.

“How wet is my sweet girl now?”

She threw her head back, her dark brunette curls spilling down the back of the chair. She could feel the arousal pulsing from her pussy. The chair seat beneath her was wet with it. She’d had six lovers in her life—actual physical lovers—and none of them had ever gotten her as hot as the man on the phone.

“So wet.” She moaned. “Please… can I come?”

“Now, now… you know better than that. Ask me properly. And correctly.”

He’s correcting my grammar? For some reason, this excited her even more. She was the naughty student to his professor, her favorite fantasy, and the first she’d confessed to him. She asked him properly.

May I come… sir?”

“My Kitty may come. She may touch her clit. Her finger is my tongue. Flick it… Mmmm…”

She obeyed, imagining looking down to see the top of his dark head between her legs, to see his thick dark hair. And this time when she came, she cried out so loud she worried the neighbors might have heard. But she was past caring, her back arching so hard that her bottom left the chair, the waves of pleasure so strong that they nearly took her breath away.

She felt suspended on a cloud of pure sensual bliss, and when she floated back down to sitting, she placed a hand on either side of the seat to steady herself.

“Kitty? Kitty?” His voice drifted back to her, calm, purposeful. “Pick up the phone.”

She reached over, fumbling on the table, picked it up, switched it off speaker mode, and pressed it to her ear. She could smell the arousal still coating her fingers.

“Sir,” she said. “I’m here.”

“That’s better,” he said. “Speakerphones are convenient, but there’s something so intimate about having you talk directly into the phone. I can imagine you, sitting in my lap, your lips pressed to my ear. I can almost imagine your warm breath tickling my earlobe as you speak the words in that lovely, lilting voice of yours.”

“Oh, sir…” She curled her feet beneath her and leaned her head against the chair’s railing. She imagined herself in his lap, and swallowed the sob of regret already forming in her throat.

“Did you get your ticket, Kitty?”

A pang, painful, centered in her chest. She glanced at the computer screen, at those intense eyes. She looked away. “Yes,” she lied. “I used my frequent flier miles.”

“I’d have happily paid for it.”

“It’s okay.” She tried to sound casual. “It didn’t cost me anything.”

“I respect that you want to be independent, but after today, I pay for everything. Understand?”

She nodded, swallowing, her finger tracing the top of her stocking. “Yes, sir.”

“You have all the information?”

“Yes.”

“Repeat it.”

She hoped he’d attribute the quaver in her voice to excitement. “Brookside Inn, Room 212, Victoria, British Columbia. I’m to be there at six in the evening on Saturday.”

“Good girl.” She heard the clink of ice in his glass. It was cocktail hour in the U.K. She knew that because he had told her of his regimented routine. Breakfast at seven—usually eggs over easy and toast with jam, although on Wednesdays he enjoyed a traditional English breakfast with sausage, baked beans, mushrooms, and half a tomato. Afterwards a brisk walk around his duck pond. Since they started talking, he’d treated her to several pictures of his small estate through all four seasons. Her favorite part was the pond. There was a bench by it, under a willow. Her most enjoyable daydream involved his sitting on that bench, her at his feet as the fall leaves swirled around them.

“Kitty?”

She startled. “Yes?”

“I cannot wait to see you. I cannot wait to run my hands through those auburn tresses, to spank your sweet little bottom until you beg me to stop and fuck you.” He grew quiet for a moment. “Two days, love. That’s all that stands between us now. Two days.”

“Two days. Yes.” The truth rose in her like a bubble, the pressure of it pressing against her from the inside. Her idealistic side sparred with her rational one.

Just tell him! He’ll understand!

Don’t be an idiot. He’ll never understand. He’ll hate you.

“I’ll see you then,” she said quietly.

“Yes. Until then. Goodbye, my little one.”

“Goodbye, sir.”

The soft click as he hung up might as well be a gunshot killing everything she’d ever wanted. She drew her knees up, hugged them to her, and sobbed. She wanted to curl up there, in that chair, and just fade away. But she couldn’t. She had to move on. She was hardly the first woman to do something stupid, to get carried away by her emotions. A mistake like this could only destroy her life if it was repeated. She’d consider this a lesson.

She rose and walked over to the computer, looking at his image on the screen. Each morning since she’d made his photo her screensaver, she’d look at it and imagine him saying something new. Now she imagined him saying, “Shame on you.”

She hastily clicked on the Safari web browser icon, pulling up the Facebook page that mercifully blocked out the picture of the man she’d never met in person but desperately loved. And now, staring at her instead was Kitty Klein, the fake name of the woman she’d been pretending to be.

“You’re the one he wants,” she said, staring at the profile picture of the auburn-haired beauty smiling from under a floppy straw hat.

A sob rose in her throat, one of those painful ones she knew would break with ragged rawness if she let it. She willed herself to force it back down.

“No!” Her tone was one of a self-loathing scold. “You don’t deserve to cry. You did this to yourself. You did this to him, too.”

It was harder than she ever imagined, going to her settings, clicking on the security link, and then choosing ‘Deactivate Your Profile.’

Are you sure? Facebook wanted to know—a safety net, just in case she changed her mind. Facebook reminded of her options, suggesting she simply hide the profile instead.

But she was sure. She couldn’t allow the temptation. She couldn’t allow the deception the existence of the profile represented. With the click of a button, the auburn-haired beauty she’d been impersonating was gone, vanished from social media without a trace.

Next she clicked on her email folder marked ‘Sir’ and deleted everything—from the first email she’d sent him, to the reply she’d not expected, to the most recent note telling her what time to call, and what to be wearing when she did.

The final step involved going to the website for QuikPhone, where she deleted her account and disabled the phone she’d bought just to talk to him. There was a box at the foot of her bed. She opened it, willing herself not to pick up the books inside, not to caress the creased covers or peek at the dog-eared pages filled with the highlighted passages that had inspired her, words that had saved her life, words that had made a total stranger her hero.

She’d read once that if you suddenly severed a limb, you’d not feel it at first. And that’s how she felt now. Numb. She knew that when the feeling came rushing back, it would be excruciating.

But the break had to be made. Tomorrow she’d take the box with the books and the phone to Goodwill. She’d drop it off, the last traces of her Almost Perfect Life gone forever. Then she’d wait for the blood to rush back into her heart, and begin the daily struggle of trying not to think of what might have been.

Posted in Chapter Reveal, Coming Soon, InkSlinger PR, My Favorites

Chapter Reveal for Mastering Her Senses. (Blasphemy Book #2) by Laura Kaye

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Decadent… Sensual… Forbidden…

12 Masters. 12 Desires. 12 Fantasies Come to Life.
Meet the Masters of Blasphemy…

 

 

MASTERING HER SENSES - Cover

About MASTERING HER SENSES (Blasphemy #2, 2/21/17):

12 Masters. Infinite fantasies. Welcome to Blasphemy…

He wants to dominate her senses—and her heart…

Quinton Ross has always been a thrill-seeker—so it’s no surprise that he’s drawn to extremes in the bedroom and at his BDSM club, Blasphemy, where he creates sense-depriving scenarios that blow submissives’ minds. Now if he could just find one who needs the rush as much as him…

When an accident leaves Cassia Locke with a paralyzing fear of the dark, she’ll try anything to get help. Ready to fight, she knows just who to ask for help—the hard-bodied, funny-as-hell Dom she’d always crushed on—and once stood up.

Quinton is shocked and a little leery to see Cassia, but he can’t pass up the chance to dominate the alluring little sub this time. Introducing her to sensory deprivation becomes his new favorite obsession, and watching her fight fear is its own thrill. But when doubt threatens to send her running again, Quinton must find a way to master her senses—and her heart.

Pre-order now!

Amazon: Coming 2/21/2017 | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

Add to your Goodreads

Dear Readers,

I’m having so much fun writing in the sexy, sensual world of Blasphemy that I couldn’t wait until release day to share a chapter from my next story in this series, Mastering Her Senses. Quinton is funny and sexy and smart as hell, but he also has that intense, dominant side that I just can’t get enough of! The Blasphemy series are stand-alone erotic romances all set in an exclusive play club located in the ruins of an abandoned church in downtown Baltimore. That means you can read them in any order and enjoy them all! Now, read on to meet the next Master of Blasphemy!

And don’t forget to preorder – now available everywhere!

Thanks for reading!
Laura Kaye

 

MASTERING HER SENSES (A BLASPHEMY BOOK)

BY LAURA KAYE

CHAPTER ONE

Quinton Ross was in his happy place.

Standing behind the bar at Blasphemy, the club he co-owned with eleven of the coolest assholes he’d ever known, he surveyed the roomful of wonderfully kinky people wearing a whole lotta nothing. Totally his jam.

And the fact that he’d get to play with one of them later? Seriously, a man’s life didn’t get any better.

Well, having a submissive of his own…that could be better. Theoretically.

Except the one and only time he’d attempted that, the woman had screwed him over so royally he’d almost needed lube. Heh.

But, whatever. Quinton tried really frickin’ hard to let things roll off his shoulders. People had much worse shit in their lives than him. Most of the time, he considered himself lucky and just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Besides, he never lacked for company or partners around the club, and no submissive ever left him anything but fully satisfied. He made damn sure of it.

“Hi, Master Quinton,” came a feminine voice from further down the counter.

He turned to find a blond-haired woman with a sleek, silver prosthetic arm leaning against the marble of the ornate bar. Kenna Sloane. And right behind her stood her big mountain of a Dom and one of Quinton’s best friends, Griffin Hudson. “Aren’t you looking lovely tonight, Kenna,” Quinton said with a smile as he made his way to where Griffin was sliding into a seat and pulling Kenna’s slim hips between his legs. “And am I wrong or is this some snazzy new hardware?” He nodded at her arm. She’d lost everything below her right elbow while serving with the Marines in Afghanistan. If she and Griffin hadn’t been fuckin’ fated, Kenna might’ve been Quinton’s kind of woman.

Adventurous. Brave. Willing to push life to the extremes.

But they were fated, something the diamond on her finger and the platinum collar with its unique interwoven knot sitting at the hollow of her throat both indicated. Loud and clear.

Kenna smiled, so much more comfortable here at the club—and seemingly in her own skin—than she’d been when she and Griffin had first reconnected a few months back. “I have a couple different sockets. And a girl has to coordinate,” she said, holding it up to the almost sheer sparkling silver halter top she wore.

Chuckling, Quinton nodded and clasped hands with Kenna’s Dom. “Master Griffin, how the hell are ya?” Their wrists bore matching leather cuffs with embroidered Gothic M’s. Every Blasphemy Master—the experienced Dominants who owned the club and took turns running and monitoring it—wore one like it.

“Never better, my friend. Never better.” The skin crinkled around Griffin’s dark eyes as he spoke, his smile coming a million times easier than it ever had before. Quinton guessed that was what happened when you were not only able to correct one of the biggest mistakes of your life, but find a submissive who was also your soul mate in the process.

Lucky fucker.

“I know that’s true,” Quinton said, winking at Kenna. She ducked her chin but was smiling bright enough to light up the whole room. And that was saying something given the size of Blasphemy. Located in the renovated remains of an old abandoned church, the massive rectangular nave formed the central part of the club. Filled with lots of seating and play areas, it had a soaring ceiling, massive stained-glass windows all around, and a performance and demonstration stage where the altar had once been. Themed rooms and other private spaces stretched off from the main floor. In addition to the very private and exclusive Blasphemy, the public front of their business—Club Diablo, a three-story dance club in a renovated warehouse—stood across a courtyard.

And Quinton provided hands-on management over it all.

He’d been with the clubs from the beginning, and had used his savings and the money he’d made selling a small but successful bar of his own to purchase his ownership stake in Blasphemy, a deal that got even sweeter when his partners had offered him the job of managing the bars and all the food service at both clubs. Food, drink, and sex all tantalized the senses and therefore were equally high up on the list of things he loved, and always had been. Given his prior experience, he pretty much had full control of the operation. Just like he liked.

Griffin placed an order for him and Kenna, then asked, “You have a scene set up tonight?”

Quinton got busy making their drinks and shook his head. “No,” he said with a grin. “But I’m looking forward to the thrill of the hunt.”

Griffin chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

The quip on Quinton’s tongue died when a flashing red light under the bar’s edge caught his eye. An emergency in one of the rooms. He glanced at the tag over the light to determine which one, then slammed the drinks down in front of his friends harder than he’d intended. “Shit, G, sorry. Emergency in the dark room. Get someone to cover?” he said, moving without waiting for an answer. He knew Griffin would have his back.

Quinton moved as fast as he could without calling undue attention. Their members knew that the Masters and a team of other Doms who worked as monitors responded to all sorts of problems around the club, some as mundane as an equipment malfunction and others more delicate situations involving disputes between players in a scene. Hell, a few months ago, Quinton had responded when Kenna broke down during a bondage scene, and Griffin had called for help extricating her from his intricate ropework. Sex at the extremes was bound to run into a few issues, which was why consent and safety were hallmarks of BDSM and Blasphemy itself. But none of that meant any of them wished to distract players from their pleasures with worry or curiosity, either.

Off the main floor, Quinton picked up his pace as he moved down the long hallway off of which most of the themed play rooms were located. The dark room was at the far end. Master Wolf came up beside him. “Hey, man,” he said.

Quinton gave him a nod. “Didn’t know you were on tonight, Wolf. Good to see you.”

A little taller than Quinton, the guy had dark blond hair, the brightest green eyes you’d ever seen, and a chiseled Scandinavian face that turned heads all over the club. “Running the security control room. Relieving Isaac because the baby’s sick,” he said, referring to Isaac Marten, their head of security operations, who had a two-month-old son.

“Damn. Sorry to hear that,” Quinton said as they closed in on their destination. The dark room was actually a series of three interconnected rooms. In the center was a pitch-black bedroom, accessed only through two changing/waiting rooms on either side of it—one of which let out into this hallway, and the other of which let out into a different hallway so that the players couldn’t run into each other before or after the anonymous scene. The dark room was very popular, and given Quinton’s interest in sensory deprivation, it was one he’d used many times.

He heard someone in distress before they even got inside.

Quinton and Wolf burst through the door to find one of the monitors trying to calm a woman curled on the floor, gasping like she couldn’t breathe. She wore a slinky bronze dress that bared most of her legs.

“What happened?” Quinton asked, grabbing a blanket from a shelf and going to his knees beside her. He tucked the soft fleece around her.

“I don’t know,” the monitor said. I sounded the alarm but she told me not to call an ambulance when I asked.

“She just freaked out. I swear. Nothing hardly happened between us,” a shirtless man said from the doorway to the dark bedroom.

Quinton hadn’t even noticed him there, but Wolf was already questioning him. He nodded to the monitor, a Dom in his forties, and then peered up at Master Wolf. “You all clear out. Debrief him and get his information.”

“You got it, Q,” Wolf said, motioning the other men out into the hall. “Call if you need help.”

As they left, Quinton brushed the woman’s shoulder-length hair back off her splotchy face. “We need to get your breathing under control or I have to call an ambulance.”

“No…no…I…it’s…” Clenching her eyes, she shook her head and growled as if in frustration.

Damnit, he needed to do something for her. The part of him that needed to care and soothe decided, and he scooped her off the floor and carried her to the couch. Everywhere they touched, her pulse hammered against her skin. If this was a panic attack, it was one of the worst he’d ever seen.

He sat with her in his lap, the blanket still wrapped around her, and cradled her so that they were facing each other. “Breathe with me, little one. Do you hear me? Look at me and breathe with me.” Striking hazel eyes with flecks of gold cut to his. Almost familiar…

Focusing, he exaggerated one breath, than another, and another, until she struggled to match her rhythm to his.

Griffin appeared in the doorway, questions clear on his face. Quinton spared him the smallest of glances and gave a single shake of his head. Griffin nodded and closed the door. Quinton had this. The others would be there in a heartbeat if he was wrong, but he didn’t think he was.

Because the woman’s body was calming. Her breathing was evening out. Her pulse was slowing. Her muscles were losing their tension.

“That’s it. That’s good. Just watch me and breathe with me. Don’t stop. We’ll kick this thing, don’t you worry.” He stroked his hand over her hair, wanting to soothe her. The color was so rich it almost matched the bronze of her dress. Her hair was beautiful and soft. As was the rest of her, all golden skin and pretty curves. Her weight felt good in his arms. She turned her face into his hand, just the littlest bit, and he stroked her hair again. A jagged scar ran along her forehead and into her hairline over one eye.

The scar triggered the oddest thought: That wasn’t there before.

His gaze cut back to those eyes. Hazel with the gold. And he suddenly knew he’d seen them before. Years ago. Right here at Blasphemy. A name clicked into place.

“Cassia?” he asked. Cassia. As in Cassia Locke, a submissive he’d flirted with quite a few times and was once supposed to play with…but she’d stood him up the night of their scene.

“Y-yes, Sir,” she whispered. “H-hi, Mas-ter Q-quinton.”

So she recognized him, too. Did she remember that night? He shook off the thought. Their history wasn’t something to deal with just then.

“Hi yourself, kid.” He gently scratched his fingertips against her scalp and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths that she mimicked. Studying her, Quinton noticed another scar on her right shoulder. Her hair was also much longer than the almost boyish style she used to wear. Finally, Cassia went limp in his lap, and her ease unleashed a satisfaction in his blood. “Feeling better?”

She gave a long sigh, the sound exhausted and defeated. “As better as I can feel after utterly humiliating myself. Sir.”

He shook his head. “No such thing happened. Not as far as I’m concerned.”

Her gaze skittered away.

“Did I tell you to stop looking at me?”

Cassia’s eyes snapped back to meet his. “No, Sir.”

Her obedience unleashed even more of that satisfaction. The attraction of BDSM, to him, was as much about the psychology of it as the physicality of the acts. Her reaction—that obedience—represented an ingrained instinct, a need to serve, a desire to surrender. And that fucking heated his blood. He arched a brow and nodded. “Good girl.”

She shifted in his lap, but kept her eyes on his. The movement reminded his body that he’d been planning to find a partner, but he locked that shit down tight. First, because she’d been through something tonight he didn’t entirely understand. And second, because given that she’d stood him up and never bothered to follow up to explain, he wasn’t sure what to make of her anyway. And trust was kind of a thing, for him. Well, for most Doms, really. Which meant he needed to know.

“Now, tell me what happened,” he said, nailing her with a stare. “And tell me the truth.”

 

 

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Books in Series:

Hard to Serve #.5

Bound to Submit #1

Mastering Her Senses #2 – 2/21/17

Eyes on You #3 – 7/11/17

 

 

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Join the MASTERING HER SENSES Facebook Party on February 21st!
JOIN THE PARTY HERE!

 

 

Laura Kaye - headshotAbout Laura Kaye:

Laura is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of thirty books in contemporary and erotic romance and romantic suspense, including the Blasphemy, Hard Ink, and Raven Riders series. Growing up, Laura’s large extended family believed in the supernatural, and family lore involving angels, ghosts, and evil-eye curses cemented in Laura a life-long fascination with storytelling and all things paranormal. Laura also writes historical fiction as the NYT bestselling author, Laura Kamoie. She lives in Maryland with her husband and two daughters, and appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.

 

 

 

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Playing His Game Chapter Reveal!

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New Author Audrey Randall has an exciting release coming out on August 8th 2016. It’s a steamy romance in the world of gaming.

First Chapter Release- Audrey Randall

Today, Audrey and Knotty Girl Reviews have a couple of treats lined up for you, First, some information on how you can earn yourself an Amazon gift card!! Then, The first Chapter in Playing His Game.

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Playing His Game by Audrey Randall- Chapter One peek

 

Australian Amazon: https://goo.gl/pdBg2r
Canadian Amazon: https://goo.gl/APJ6RY
My website: http://audreyrandallauthor.wix.com/author– Join my naughty list for a FREE tryst!