Jan Bowles's Blog, page 16
July 19, 2012
Release Day for Taming the Boss Lady
I'm so happy. Today is release day for my latest book ~ Taming the Boss Lady
It's the 3rd in the Masters of Submission series, and features one of the co-owners Matthew Strong. He's really got his work cut out with his new lady, Kelly McCloud. She's feisty, opinionated and wants him. Has Matthew met his match Taming the Boss Lady?
I'm also very proud of the cover which I designed myself. Let me know what you think :-)
Here's the blurb:
Twenty-nine-year-old Kelly McCloud is not the average submissive. CEO of a large corporate company, she demands and gets respect wherever she goes. Surrounded by weak yes-men, Kelly yearns for the touch of a dominant man—someone who can relieve the pressure in her hectic life.Natural Dom and Club Submission owner Matthew Strong is instantly drawn to the sexy, self-assured woman. Just who is this opinionated, outspoken lady who frequents his club night after night? When she turns down all the other Masters, he decides to take control.At thirty-five, Matthew has the experience to handle any woman, however important she may believe herself to be. With a little careful training, he can mold Kelly into the perfect sub, but when enemies from within surface unexpectedly, his well-laid plans may just have to be put on hold.Has Matthew finally met his match taming the boss lady?
If you'd like to find out more click HERE
It's the 3rd in the Masters of Submission series, and features one of the co-owners Matthew Strong. He's really got his work cut out with his new lady, Kelly McCloud. She's feisty, opinionated and wants him. Has Matthew met his match Taming the Boss Lady?
I'm also very proud of the cover which I designed myself. Let me know what you think :-)
Here's the blurb:
Twenty-nine-year-old Kelly McCloud is not the average submissive. CEO of a large corporate company, she demands and gets respect wherever she goes. Surrounded by weak yes-men, Kelly yearns for the touch of a dominant man—someone who can relieve the pressure in her hectic life.Natural Dom and Club Submission owner Matthew Strong is instantly drawn to the sexy, self-assured woman. Just who is this opinionated, outspoken lady who frequents his club night after night? When she turns down all the other Masters, he decides to take control.At thirty-five, Matthew has the experience to handle any woman, however important she may believe herself to be. With a little careful training, he can mold Kelly into the perfect sub, but when enemies from within surface unexpectedly, his well-laid plans may just have to be put on hold.Has Matthew finally met his match taming the boss lady?
If you'd like to find out more click HERE
July 11, 2012
My new cover art for Taming the Boss Lady
I just thought I'd show you all my new cover art for my next release Taming the Boss Lady
This will be the 3rd in my Masters of Submission series
The cover art has been produced by yours truly.
Let me know what you all think.
It's due for release on 20th July
Here's the unedited blurb:
Twenty-nine year old Kelly McCloud is not the average submissive. CEO of a large corporate company, she demands and gets respect wherever she goes. Surrounded by weak yes men, Kelly yearns for the touch of a dominant man--someone who can relieve the pressure in her hectic life.
Natural Dom and Club Submission owner, Matthew Strong is instantly drawn to the sexy, self-assured woman. Just who is this opinionated, outspoken lady who frequents his club night after night? When she turns down all the other Masters, he decides to take control.
At thirty-five Matthew has the experience to handle any woman, however important she may believe herself to be. With a little careful training, he can mold Kelly into the perfect sub, but when enemies from within surface unexpectedly, his well laid plans may just have to be put on hold.
Has Matthew finally met his match taming the boss lady?
June 27, 2012
Destined for the Dom on Amazon
For those who have been waiting for Destined to finally arrive on Amazon, here are the links ~
Amazon.com
Amazon.co.uk
Amazon.com
Amazon.co.uk
June 26, 2012
Read the 1st Chapter of Destined for the Dom Free
Read the Prologue and 1st Chapter of Destined for the Dom
Find out more from Bookstrand HERE
DESTINED FOR THE DOMMasters of Submission 2
JAN BOWLESCopyright © 2012
Prologue
Dressed as Genghis Khan, Hunter Black scanned the large room. The New Year masquerade party was going down a blast. Club Submission was packed to overflowing with party revelers. They all wore fancy dress costumes, most of which revealed plenty of flesh, leaving very little to the imagination. He smiled knowingly, but then what did he expect.
Submission was a BDSM club, and just about anything and everything went down here. Yeah, every sexual fantasy a man or woman desired could be enjoyed right here at Club Submission. As a Dom, he felt right at home.
Quite early on in life he’d discovered his predisposition for the D/s lifestyle. He needed the buzz of a woman’s submission as much as the air that he breathed.
The clock struck twelve, and a huge cheer went up. “Happy New Year, everyone,” shouted the tall well-built guy fondling his sub’s naked breast.
As the club erupted into a slightly out-of-tune rendition of “Auld Lang Syne,” he moved across to the bar and pulled out a stool. “Hey, Todd, give me a bourbon will you. A large one to see the New Year in, and have one yourself, buddy.”
“Thanks, Hunter.” Todd filled two shot glasses, and slid one across the bar. “So where’s Trudy?”
Hunter raised the glass. “Me and Trudy split.”
“That’s too bad. I thought you two were getting serious?”
Hunter lazily swirled the golden liquor around his glass. Settling down was the last thing on his mind. He’d seen too much destruction in the world. “Nah, you know me, Todd. I’m not a settling-down type of guy.”
“That’s what Zane said. Now look at him.”
They both watched Zane dancing with his gorgeous new sub, Emma. Dressed as the devil and Cleopatra, they looked incredibly happy as they embraced. Hunter had to admit he felt a little envious, but he wouldn’t let on to Todd. Instead he turned away from the smooching couple.
This year everything seemed more poignant than ever. A young woman who’d frequented the club had tragically lost her life. Why had it happened? He’d only known her by sight, but he just couldn’t shake her image from his mind. It seemed such a waste, but it also underlined how fleeting life could be.
His thoughts drifted to the past. His life simply overflowed with regrets. Why couldn’t he keep any of the promises he’d made? Maybe then he wouldn’t be so lonely.
Trying to stave off his melancholy, he asked the barman, “So have you made any New Year’s resolutions, Todd?”
“Nope, not a one. As a single guy, I just take life as it comes. What about you?”
Hunter threw back his head and took a large slug of bourbon. “I only ever made one New Year resolution in my whole Goddamn life. I didn’t stick to it, so I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake again.”
Once again he was reminded of his past. Of course, as a thirty-two-year-old man, he’d had his fair share of regrets, but failing to keep a New Year’s promise fourteen years ago was a low point in his life. He remembered the girl he’d made it to—Zoë Leighton. He’d made a pledge back then, but hadn’t seen it through. Even though they were just kids at the time, it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He recalled his very words.
I promise I’ll come back for you, Zoë. I’ll find a place for us to live. As soon as you’re old enough to leave here, I’ll come back for you.
It was all going to be so simple, but as usual, life had other ideas. That was a long time ago now, and he’d never once returned to Pittsburgh in all that time. Fuck. He shook his head. What a selfish, uncaring prick he’d been, but he just couldn’t face seeing Zoë’s disappointment.
At eighteen, he’d enrolled in the Marines, figuring the don’t-give-a-fuck lifestyle would suit him perfectly.
Some decisions were right, while others were downright suicidal. The Marines had seriously fucked him up. He’d really enjoyed the intensive physical training, but a stint in Iraq, followed almost immediately by a long tour of duty in Afghanistan had changed him beyond all recognition.
The sheer horror of what he’d seen and done had fucked with his mind. Just like vultures picking over the bones of a dead carcass, his time in the US Marine Corps had stripped him clean of all feeling and emotion. Now all that remained was a fighting machine devoid of love and intimacy.
So just where had the freethinking and optimistic Hunter Black gone—the young guy Zoë had depended on?
He took another slug of bourbon, and slid the empty glass across the counter. “Same again, Todd.”
Melancholy forced him to wonder what had happened to that beautiful green-eyed girl. Was she happy? He hoped she was far happier than he was. He guessed by now she’d be married with a family of her own.
Funny how life sometimes threw you a curveball. Just over six months ago, he’d bumped into an old friend. As a Federal Air Marshal, he met a lot of people, and Jake McGovern just happened to be on the same flight as him. He’d grown up with Jake and Zoë at St. Mark’s, a children’s home in Pittsburgh. The three of them were close buddies, all trying to survive life in care as best they could. Similar in ages, Jake and himself had been ten. Zoë was barely eight years old when he’d met her for the first time. As three frightened kids all alone in life, they’d huddled together looking for comfort from each other. He knew the children’s care system well. Families were few and far between who were willing to adopt older children from broken homes. He figured prospective foster parents thought they’d be a handful to look after. They’d have been right, too. On the flight to New York, Jake had told him that he’d briefly seen and spoken with Zoë. Apparently she was working as a dancer at Les Belles, a club located in a seedier part of Pittsburgh.
Hunter raised his glass, and silently toasted the young woman from his past. To, Zoë, I sincerely hope you’re happy, love. If I’m ever in Pittsburgh, I might just look you up and make sure. If only to ease my conscience.
Chapter One
Three months later
Wishing to apply her makeup as professionally as possible, Zoë Leighton leaned closer to the dressing-room mirror. Those damned lights covering the frame did nothing for her complexion. Their overexposed brightness made her skin appear gray and lifeless. She smiled resignedly and shook her head as she carefully applied fiery-red lipstick. Who was she kidding. At the age of thirty, she guessed it was a case of diminishing returns.
In the mirror she couldn’t help but be distracted by the naked butts and breasts as the other girls got ready for work. Laughing and joking with one another, the stars of today and tomorrow were getting ready for opening time. Just like them, she had burned brightly once. She’d been in demand, too. Rich, important men had wanted her to dance for them all night long, but now she was lucky to get a fraction of the attention and money she’d once received. Soon it wouldn’t be worth her time and effort to come in at all. Then what would she do? Waitress? The money she earned at Les Belles had been fantastic in her early days at the club. Far more than she could have earned in a boring but safe nine-to-five job.
Some of the girls would even leave with the men who frequented the club. They weren’t supposed to. It was strictly against the rules at Les Belles. The management knew it went on, but they turned a blind eye to it. Zoë had been propositioned on several occasions, but sleeping with men for money just wasn’t her style. She knew it was prostitution by any other name, and she’d rather go hungry than give herself away like that. Men could look all they wanted, and she knew they jerked off to a mental image of her when they returned home, but under no circumstances were they ever allowed to touch her. This was one rule the management at Les Belles did enforce without exception. She knew that being naked yet untouchable gave her the power over the men who paid to see her dance. Guys acted like real jerks when a woman danced for them. Just watching a scantily clad girl seemed to disconnect their powers of reasoning and judgment. They were like lambs to the slaughter, happily parting with ten-dollar bills, just because the dancer gyrating in front of them flaunted her tits and ass.
The door to the changing room suddenly swung wide open, and her friend and work colleague, Karen, burst in. She was breathless as she spoke. “Thank God I made it in time. That fucking babysitter turned up late again.” Sighing loudly and shaking her head, she sat down at the dressing table next to Zoë’s. “I don’t know, I pay good money and yet the babysitter treats me like shit. She knows what I do for a living, so she thinks she can treat me like crap, and get away with it.” In an effort to get up to speed, she hurriedly began applying makeup to her face.
Zoë picked up a brush and proceeded to pull it through Karen’s mane of blonde hair. “Here, let me help.”
“Thanks, you’re a real doll.”
They both knew that the sooner they got ready, the sooner they could attract the attention of a paying customer. Time was money in this business.
Karen patted Zoë’s hand, and smiled. “Thanks, doll, you’re a true friend. You don’t get many people you can rely on in this game.” Changing the subject, she said, “Hey, on my way in I noticed there’s a lot of new faces out there. It should be a good night.”
Zoë brushed Karen’s blonde locks once more. “Let’s hope so. I’m a month behind with the rent, and my landlord isn’t noted for his patience.”
Karen swiveled in her seat, and looked at her. Caring, soft brown eyes studied her more closely. “I can lend you some money, Zoë. You’re the only real friend I’ve got in this stinking world.”
Zoë shook her head. “Thanks, but I can’t allow you to do that. I still owe you fifty bucks from last month. You’ve already done more than enough. If I don’t start getting more attention from the guys out there, I’m gonna have to look elsewhere for work. I’m gonna give it till the end of the month before I finally hang up my G-string for good.” She forced an unconvincing smile.
“That bad, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m not getting any younger, Karen, and in this business we’re not allowed to grow old and lose our looks.”
“Tell me about it, doll. It’s a fucking crying shame that men cast us aside as soon as our tits and ass start to sag.”
Zoë put her head back and roared with laughter. “Honey, believe me they cast women aside at any age.” As a young teenager, a kid of just sixteen, she’d been let down by a man. Men just couldn’t be trusted, not a single one of them.
“I know exactly how you feel, Zoë. I’m five years younger than you are, and I can already sense a lack of interest in some of the guys. At least there’s some fresh faces out there tonight.”
Zoë squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “Hey, you’re such a beautiful girl, Karen. You’ve still got plenty of time left to make good money here at the club, and at least you’ve got your kids and Dale. I don’t have a man to care for me like you do.”
Her friend’s brows drew together. “What about Mike?”
“I threw him out a week ago. Just look what the animal did to me when he’d had too much to drink.” Zoë unclasped a large leather bracelet from around her wrist to reveal the dark, ugly bruise beneath.
“Holy shit, Zoë. I’d never have thought Mike was like that. He always seemed such a nice guy.”
“Yeah, well, when he used to pick me up, let’s just say he was on his best behavior.” Zoë had grown tired of defending Mike’s drunken rages. Enough was enough. While he was out at work one day, she changed all the locks, packed his belongings, and threw it all in the street. He hadn’t been happy, but then neither was she. He was frustrated by life the same as she was, but she was tired of being his punch bag. Let him find someone else to vent his anger on.
Looping a band around her beautiful golden locks, Karen put the finishing touches to her hair. After drawing it into a ponytail, she stood up. “Well truth be told, I’m glad the bastard’s gone. I never liked him anyway. I never thought he was good enough for you, doll.”
“But I thought you liked Mike?”
“Zoë, he was your man, and I respected that, so I’d never do him down to you, or any of the other girls at Les Belles. But now he’s history, I can tell you I never trusted the creep.”
“Well that makes two of us now, Karen.” She laughed.
They made their way out front where the action was, squeezing each other’s hands as they parted company. The heady music throbbed and pulsated, easing away Zoë’s worries and insecurities. She switched off her emotions. Nothing could hurt her when she was in the zone. Here at Les Belles she was no more than a mannequin, a doll to be studied and observed. Men never wanted to know the true Zoë Leighton. They were quite happy to accept the facsimile of the woman she presented to them. At Les Belles she could be anything she wanted to be. Tonight, she’d imagine she was a beautiful young girl waiting to dance naked for her sexy man. It was her defense mechanism, a way of surviving the soul-destroying business she found herself in. Zoë’s coping strategy had served her well these past twelve years.
As she scanned the faceless men before her, she wanted more than anything else for her time at Les Belles to become just a distant memory.
She watched Karen climb onto the stage, before placing her bottle of mineral water on the floor. She then began dancing to the beat, whirling her sexy body around the chrome pole.
Zoë moved to the bar, and ordered herself a drink. “An orange juice please, Frank.”
“Coming right up, Zoë. How’s life treating you, honey?” He shook the bottle, then tipped the contents into a glass.
“Fine, Frank. Getting by in the shitty world we find ourselves in.”
“That’s all we can do, honey. Ice as usual?”
“Please.”
He topped her drink with crushed ice, then added a sparkle and handed it to her. “You’re the prettiest girl out there, honey.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Frank, you make my day as always.”
Completely in a world of her own, Zoë never once looked at the guys in the audience. In her mind they just didn’t exist. She watched Karen, gyrating around the pole. Her lithe, athletic body flowing from one sinuous movement to another. She was such a beautiful girl, she soon had an audience of men willing to slip ten-dollar bills into her G-string, taking a long, lingering look at what lay inside. When a fat guy beckoned to Karen, she moved across and leaned provocatively forward, pushing her breasts together as he tucked money inside her bra.
Jocelyn, the floor manager, came across and whispered in Zoë’s ear, “The guy sitting at table eight wants you to dance for him. Shouldn’t be a problem, Zoë, he’s a real looker. If I were ten years younger, I’d be tempted to do it myself for free.” She laughed.
Zoë smiled at Jocelyn’s humorous comments. She grabbed her orange juice and wound her way through the tables. It seemed her sexy man awaited. She hoped he was as fit as Jocelyn had made out, and not an ugly four-hundred-pound guy with halitosis. Table eight was hidden in a discreet alcove. Sometimes it was deliberately chosen by customers, aiming to get the girls to do more than just dance.
As she squeezed into the alcove, she glanced quickly at the man. There was an air of danger about him. Each of his well-developed forearms sported large tribal tattoos. “Hi, I’m Chantelle.” At Les Belles they never used their real names. She made direct eye contact with him. Men loved this. It made them feel special and important. Dumb jerks. Dressed in jeans and a denim shirt, he somehow seemed familiar. His dark-blond hair appeared streaked by the summer sun. The thick texture caressed idly around his collar. His vivid blue eyes held hers. The familiarity of this guy unnerved her. She shook the unsettling thought from her head. Most probably she’d danced for him before, although she couldn’t remember when. “Would you like me to dance for you?”
“No, just sit down. I prefer to talk.”
Zoë looked at him again. Just who is this guy? I feel sure I should recognize him, but I don’t. Is he dangerous? His shoes were well polished, and he wore an expensive watch. He didn’t seem like the average jerk that frequented the club. “Sir, I’m happy to dance for you, or just talk, but nothing else. I hope I make myself clear.” She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.
She heard him let out a long, slow breath. “You don’t recognize me do you, Zoë?”
Her body stiffened when he used her real name. “How do you know me? How do you know my name?”
“It’s me, Zoë, Hunter. Surely you remember me?” His voice was deep and strong, and reminded her of safety.
Her lower lip quivered. The only Hunter she knew had broken her heart when she was just a teenage girl. She shook her head, not wanting to believe it was really him.
Find out more from Bookstrand HERE
DESTINED FOR THE DOMMasters of Submission 2JAN BOWLESCopyright © 2012
Prologue
Dressed as Genghis Khan, Hunter Black scanned the large room. The New Year masquerade party was going down a blast. Club Submission was packed to overflowing with party revelers. They all wore fancy dress costumes, most of which revealed plenty of flesh, leaving very little to the imagination. He smiled knowingly, but then what did he expect.
Submission was a BDSM club, and just about anything and everything went down here. Yeah, every sexual fantasy a man or woman desired could be enjoyed right here at Club Submission. As a Dom, he felt right at home.
Quite early on in life he’d discovered his predisposition for the D/s lifestyle. He needed the buzz of a woman’s submission as much as the air that he breathed.
The clock struck twelve, and a huge cheer went up. “Happy New Year, everyone,” shouted the tall well-built guy fondling his sub’s naked breast.
As the club erupted into a slightly out-of-tune rendition of “Auld Lang Syne,” he moved across to the bar and pulled out a stool. “Hey, Todd, give me a bourbon will you. A large one to see the New Year in, and have one yourself, buddy.”
“Thanks, Hunter.” Todd filled two shot glasses, and slid one across the bar. “So where’s Trudy?”
Hunter raised the glass. “Me and Trudy split.”
“That’s too bad. I thought you two were getting serious?”
Hunter lazily swirled the golden liquor around his glass. Settling down was the last thing on his mind. He’d seen too much destruction in the world. “Nah, you know me, Todd. I’m not a settling-down type of guy.”
“That’s what Zane said. Now look at him.”
They both watched Zane dancing with his gorgeous new sub, Emma. Dressed as the devil and Cleopatra, they looked incredibly happy as they embraced. Hunter had to admit he felt a little envious, but he wouldn’t let on to Todd. Instead he turned away from the smooching couple.
This year everything seemed more poignant than ever. A young woman who’d frequented the club had tragically lost her life. Why had it happened? He’d only known her by sight, but he just couldn’t shake her image from his mind. It seemed such a waste, but it also underlined how fleeting life could be.
His thoughts drifted to the past. His life simply overflowed with regrets. Why couldn’t he keep any of the promises he’d made? Maybe then he wouldn’t be so lonely.
Trying to stave off his melancholy, he asked the barman, “So have you made any New Year’s resolutions, Todd?”
“Nope, not a one. As a single guy, I just take life as it comes. What about you?”
Hunter threw back his head and took a large slug of bourbon. “I only ever made one New Year resolution in my whole Goddamn life. I didn’t stick to it, so I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake again.”
Once again he was reminded of his past. Of course, as a thirty-two-year-old man, he’d had his fair share of regrets, but failing to keep a New Year’s promise fourteen years ago was a low point in his life. He remembered the girl he’d made it to—Zoë Leighton. He’d made a pledge back then, but hadn’t seen it through. Even though they were just kids at the time, it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He recalled his very words.
I promise I’ll come back for you, Zoë. I’ll find a place for us to live. As soon as you’re old enough to leave here, I’ll come back for you.
It was all going to be so simple, but as usual, life had other ideas. That was a long time ago now, and he’d never once returned to Pittsburgh in all that time. Fuck. He shook his head. What a selfish, uncaring prick he’d been, but he just couldn’t face seeing Zoë’s disappointment.
At eighteen, he’d enrolled in the Marines, figuring the don’t-give-a-fuck lifestyle would suit him perfectly.
Some decisions were right, while others were downright suicidal. The Marines had seriously fucked him up. He’d really enjoyed the intensive physical training, but a stint in Iraq, followed almost immediately by a long tour of duty in Afghanistan had changed him beyond all recognition.
The sheer horror of what he’d seen and done had fucked with his mind. Just like vultures picking over the bones of a dead carcass, his time in the US Marine Corps had stripped him clean of all feeling and emotion. Now all that remained was a fighting machine devoid of love and intimacy.
So just where had the freethinking and optimistic Hunter Black gone—the young guy Zoë had depended on?
He took another slug of bourbon, and slid the empty glass across the counter. “Same again, Todd.”
Melancholy forced him to wonder what had happened to that beautiful green-eyed girl. Was she happy? He hoped she was far happier than he was. He guessed by now she’d be married with a family of her own.
Funny how life sometimes threw you a curveball. Just over six months ago, he’d bumped into an old friend. As a Federal Air Marshal, he met a lot of people, and Jake McGovern just happened to be on the same flight as him. He’d grown up with Jake and Zoë at St. Mark’s, a children’s home in Pittsburgh. The three of them were close buddies, all trying to survive life in care as best they could. Similar in ages, Jake and himself had been ten. Zoë was barely eight years old when he’d met her for the first time. As three frightened kids all alone in life, they’d huddled together looking for comfort from each other. He knew the children’s care system well. Families were few and far between who were willing to adopt older children from broken homes. He figured prospective foster parents thought they’d be a handful to look after. They’d have been right, too. On the flight to New York, Jake had told him that he’d briefly seen and spoken with Zoë. Apparently she was working as a dancer at Les Belles, a club located in a seedier part of Pittsburgh.
Hunter raised his glass, and silently toasted the young woman from his past. To, Zoë, I sincerely hope you’re happy, love. If I’m ever in Pittsburgh, I might just look you up and make sure. If only to ease my conscience.
Chapter One
Three months later
Wishing to apply her makeup as professionally as possible, Zoë Leighton leaned closer to the dressing-room mirror. Those damned lights covering the frame did nothing for her complexion. Their overexposed brightness made her skin appear gray and lifeless. She smiled resignedly and shook her head as she carefully applied fiery-red lipstick. Who was she kidding. At the age of thirty, she guessed it was a case of diminishing returns.
In the mirror she couldn’t help but be distracted by the naked butts and breasts as the other girls got ready for work. Laughing and joking with one another, the stars of today and tomorrow were getting ready for opening time. Just like them, she had burned brightly once. She’d been in demand, too. Rich, important men had wanted her to dance for them all night long, but now she was lucky to get a fraction of the attention and money she’d once received. Soon it wouldn’t be worth her time and effort to come in at all. Then what would she do? Waitress? The money she earned at Les Belles had been fantastic in her early days at the club. Far more than she could have earned in a boring but safe nine-to-five job.
Some of the girls would even leave with the men who frequented the club. They weren’t supposed to. It was strictly against the rules at Les Belles. The management knew it went on, but they turned a blind eye to it. Zoë had been propositioned on several occasions, but sleeping with men for money just wasn’t her style. She knew it was prostitution by any other name, and she’d rather go hungry than give herself away like that. Men could look all they wanted, and she knew they jerked off to a mental image of her when they returned home, but under no circumstances were they ever allowed to touch her. This was one rule the management at Les Belles did enforce without exception. She knew that being naked yet untouchable gave her the power over the men who paid to see her dance. Guys acted like real jerks when a woman danced for them. Just watching a scantily clad girl seemed to disconnect their powers of reasoning and judgment. They were like lambs to the slaughter, happily parting with ten-dollar bills, just because the dancer gyrating in front of them flaunted her tits and ass.
The door to the changing room suddenly swung wide open, and her friend and work colleague, Karen, burst in. She was breathless as she spoke. “Thank God I made it in time. That fucking babysitter turned up late again.” Sighing loudly and shaking her head, she sat down at the dressing table next to Zoë’s. “I don’t know, I pay good money and yet the babysitter treats me like shit. She knows what I do for a living, so she thinks she can treat me like crap, and get away with it.” In an effort to get up to speed, she hurriedly began applying makeup to her face.
Zoë picked up a brush and proceeded to pull it through Karen’s mane of blonde hair. “Here, let me help.”
“Thanks, you’re a real doll.”
They both knew that the sooner they got ready, the sooner they could attract the attention of a paying customer. Time was money in this business.
Karen patted Zoë’s hand, and smiled. “Thanks, doll, you’re a true friend. You don’t get many people you can rely on in this game.” Changing the subject, she said, “Hey, on my way in I noticed there’s a lot of new faces out there. It should be a good night.”
Zoë brushed Karen’s blonde locks once more. “Let’s hope so. I’m a month behind with the rent, and my landlord isn’t noted for his patience.”
Karen swiveled in her seat, and looked at her. Caring, soft brown eyes studied her more closely. “I can lend you some money, Zoë. You’re the only real friend I’ve got in this stinking world.”
Zoë shook her head. “Thanks, but I can’t allow you to do that. I still owe you fifty bucks from last month. You’ve already done more than enough. If I don’t start getting more attention from the guys out there, I’m gonna have to look elsewhere for work. I’m gonna give it till the end of the month before I finally hang up my G-string for good.” She forced an unconvincing smile.
“That bad, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m not getting any younger, Karen, and in this business we’re not allowed to grow old and lose our looks.”
“Tell me about it, doll. It’s a fucking crying shame that men cast us aside as soon as our tits and ass start to sag.”
Zoë put her head back and roared with laughter. “Honey, believe me they cast women aside at any age.” As a young teenager, a kid of just sixteen, she’d been let down by a man. Men just couldn’t be trusted, not a single one of them.
“I know exactly how you feel, Zoë. I’m five years younger than you are, and I can already sense a lack of interest in some of the guys. At least there’s some fresh faces out there tonight.”
Zoë squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “Hey, you’re such a beautiful girl, Karen. You’ve still got plenty of time left to make good money here at the club, and at least you’ve got your kids and Dale. I don’t have a man to care for me like you do.”
Her friend’s brows drew together. “What about Mike?”
“I threw him out a week ago. Just look what the animal did to me when he’d had too much to drink.” Zoë unclasped a large leather bracelet from around her wrist to reveal the dark, ugly bruise beneath.
“Holy shit, Zoë. I’d never have thought Mike was like that. He always seemed such a nice guy.”
“Yeah, well, when he used to pick me up, let’s just say he was on his best behavior.” Zoë had grown tired of defending Mike’s drunken rages. Enough was enough. While he was out at work one day, she changed all the locks, packed his belongings, and threw it all in the street. He hadn’t been happy, but then neither was she. He was frustrated by life the same as she was, but she was tired of being his punch bag. Let him find someone else to vent his anger on.
Looping a band around her beautiful golden locks, Karen put the finishing touches to her hair. After drawing it into a ponytail, she stood up. “Well truth be told, I’m glad the bastard’s gone. I never liked him anyway. I never thought he was good enough for you, doll.”
“But I thought you liked Mike?”
“Zoë, he was your man, and I respected that, so I’d never do him down to you, or any of the other girls at Les Belles. But now he’s history, I can tell you I never trusted the creep.”
“Well that makes two of us now, Karen.” She laughed.
They made their way out front where the action was, squeezing each other’s hands as they parted company. The heady music throbbed and pulsated, easing away Zoë’s worries and insecurities. She switched off her emotions. Nothing could hurt her when she was in the zone. Here at Les Belles she was no more than a mannequin, a doll to be studied and observed. Men never wanted to know the true Zoë Leighton. They were quite happy to accept the facsimile of the woman she presented to them. At Les Belles she could be anything she wanted to be. Tonight, she’d imagine she was a beautiful young girl waiting to dance naked for her sexy man. It was her defense mechanism, a way of surviving the soul-destroying business she found herself in. Zoë’s coping strategy had served her well these past twelve years.
As she scanned the faceless men before her, she wanted more than anything else for her time at Les Belles to become just a distant memory.
She watched Karen climb onto the stage, before placing her bottle of mineral water on the floor. She then began dancing to the beat, whirling her sexy body around the chrome pole.
Zoë moved to the bar, and ordered herself a drink. “An orange juice please, Frank.”
“Coming right up, Zoë. How’s life treating you, honey?” He shook the bottle, then tipped the contents into a glass.
“Fine, Frank. Getting by in the shitty world we find ourselves in.”
“That’s all we can do, honey. Ice as usual?”
“Please.”
He topped her drink with crushed ice, then added a sparkle and handed it to her. “You’re the prettiest girl out there, honey.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Frank, you make my day as always.”
Completely in a world of her own, Zoë never once looked at the guys in the audience. In her mind they just didn’t exist. She watched Karen, gyrating around the pole. Her lithe, athletic body flowing from one sinuous movement to another. She was such a beautiful girl, she soon had an audience of men willing to slip ten-dollar bills into her G-string, taking a long, lingering look at what lay inside. When a fat guy beckoned to Karen, she moved across and leaned provocatively forward, pushing her breasts together as he tucked money inside her bra.
Jocelyn, the floor manager, came across and whispered in Zoë’s ear, “The guy sitting at table eight wants you to dance for him. Shouldn’t be a problem, Zoë, he’s a real looker. If I were ten years younger, I’d be tempted to do it myself for free.” She laughed.
Zoë smiled at Jocelyn’s humorous comments. She grabbed her orange juice and wound her way through the tables. It seemed her sexy man awaited. She hoped he was as fit as Jocelyn had made out, and not an ugly four-hundred-pound guy with halitosis. Table eight was hidden in a discreet alcove. Sometimes it was deliberately chosen by customers, aiming to get the girls to do more than just dance.
As she squeezed into the alcove, she glanced quickly at the man. There was an air of danger about him. Each of his well-developed forearms sported large tribal tattoos. “Hi, I’m Chantelle.” At Les Belles they never used their real names. She made direct eye contact with him. Men loved this. It made them feel special and important. Dumb jerks. Dressed in jeans and a denim shirt, he somehow seemed familiar. His dark-blond hair appeared streaked by the summer sun. The thick texture caressed idly around his collar. His vivid blue eyes held hers. The familiarity of this guy unnerved her. She shook the unsettling thought from her head. Most probably she’d danced for him before, although she couldn’t remember when. “Would you like me to dance for you?”
“No, just sit down. I prefer to talk.”
Zoë looked at him again. Just who is this guy? I feel sure I should recognize him, but I don’t. Is he dangerous? His shoes were well polished, and he wore an expensive watch. He didn’t seem like the average jerk that frequented the club. “Sir, I’m happy to dance for you, or just talk, but nothing else. I hope I make myself clear.” She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.
She heard him let out a long, slow breath. “You don’t recognize me do you, Zoë?”
Her body stiffened when he used her real name. “How do you know me? How do you know my name?”
“It’s me, Zoë, Hunter. Surely you remember me?” His voice was deep and strong, and reminded her of safety.
Her lower lip quivered. The only Hunter she knew had broken her heart when she was just a teenage girl. She shook her head, not wanting to believe it was really him.
June 15, 2012
New Contract with Siren
Hi, everyone, just to keep you informed. I have a new contract with Siren. They have just accepted my latest submission called
Taming the Boss Lady
. This is part of the
Masters of Submission
series, and focuses on Matthew Strong one of the owners of the club.The blurb:
Twenty-nine year old Kelly McCloud is not the average submissive. CEO of a large corporate company, she demands and gets respect wherever she goes. Surrounded by weak yes men, Kelly yearns for the touch of a dominant man—someone who can relieve the pressure in her hectic life.
Natural Dom and Club Submission owner, Matthew Strong is instantly drawn to the sexy, self-assured woman. Just who is this opinionated, outspoken lady who frequents his club night after night? When she turns down all the other Masters, he decides to take control.
At thirty-five Matthew has the experience to handle any woman, however important she may believe herself to be. With a little careful training, he can mold Kelly into the perfect sub, but when enemies from within surface unexpectedly, his well laid plans may just have to be put on hold.
Has Matthew finally met his match taming the boss lady?
June 3, 2012
A wonderful review for Master of Submission
I received a wonderful review for Master of Submission from Literary Nymphs.Amazon Nymph gave Master of Submission a Golden Blush Award.
Here's a shortened version of Amazon's review.
The first book in the Masters of Submission series, Master of Submission, is a wonderful introduction to BDSM that has a mystery as a subplot. The author did a good job showing Emma's emotional journey into the BDSM lifestyle. I felt that they were very realistic and the author also shows how some negotiations can go. The author also showcases how some authority figures can show subtle prejudices about BDSM.
Zane and Emma burn up the pages as the chemistry between them is intense. I liked that Emma did not just jump at the offer that Zane made and that she is very independent. The secondary characters were interesting as well and I am looking forward to the brothers' stories in the future.
This is a book I recommend for every BDSM lover’s bookshelf. This author will give a few of my favorite BDSM authors a run for their money and Ms. Bowles will be added to my must-read list.
You can read the full review HERE
May 28, 2012
Release Day ~ Destined for the Dom
Its release Day for Destined for the Dom the latest book in my new series ~ MASTERS OF SUBMISSION Find out more HERE
Club Submission is a fetish and BDSM club in the heart of Boston, Massachusetts. Behind the closed doors are several Masters waiting to make your fantasies come true. So, join me ~ Jan Bowles ~ for a safe, sane and consensual trip into the BDSM world....
Destined for the Dom Masters of Submission # 2.
Here's the blurb:
Erotic dancer, Zoe Leighton is overjoyed when Hunter Black re-enters her life. Fourteen years ago he'd made her a promise he didn't keep, but now he's back to make amends. Down on her luck and facing eviction from her apartment, she reluctantly accepts his help.
Hunter introduces Zoe to Club Submission and the D/s lifestyle he now enjoys. Using the skills of the dominant, he brings stability and control to her otherwise chaotic life, and she soon falls head over heels in love with the powerful Master.
Ten years as a Marine has left Hunter cold and detached. He's seen enough death and destruction to last him a lifetime. Keeping aloof protects him from losing the people he loves the most. Those three little words--I love you--will never pass his lips.
Will Zoe's sweet submission melt the ice that surrounds his heart? Is she truly destined for the Dom?
Find out more from Bookstrand HERE
Club Submission is a fetish and BDSM club in the heart of Boston, Massachusetts. Behind the closed doors are several Masters waiting to make your fantasies come true. So, join me ~ Jan Bowles ~ for a safe, sane and consensual trip into the BDSM world....
Destined for the Dom Masters of Submission # 2.
Here's the blurb:
Erotic dancer, Zoe Leighton is overjoyed when Hunter Black re-enters her life. Fourteen years ago he'd made her a promise he didn't keep, but now he's back to make amends. Down on her luck and facing eviction from her apartment, she reluctantly accepts his help.
Hunter introduces Zoe to Club Submission and the D/s lifestyle he now enjoys. Using the skills of the dominant, he brings stability and control to her otherwise chaotic life, and she soon falls head over heels in love with the powerful Master.
Ten years as a Marine has left Hunter cold and detached. He's seen enough death and destruction to last him a lifetime. Keeping aloof protects him from losing the people he loves the most. Those three little words--I love you--will never pass his lips.
Will Zoe's sweet submission melt the ice that surrounds his heart? Is she truly destined for the Dom?
Find out more from Bookstrand HERE
May 19, 2012
Destined for the Dom now on pre-order
Just wanted to let everyone know thatDestined for the Dom
is now on pre order.This is the 2nd book in myMasters of Submission series.
Here's the blurb:
Erotic dancer, Zoe Leighton is overjoyed when Hunter Black re-enters her life. Fourteen years ago he'd made her a promise he didn't keep, but now he's back to make amends. Down on her luck and facing eviction from her apartment, she reluctantly accepts his help.
Hunter introduces Zoe to Club Submission and the D/s lifestyle he now enjoys. Using the skills of the dominant, he brings stability and control to her otherwise chaotic life, and she soon falls head over heels in love with the powerful Master.
Ten years as a Marine has left Hunter cold and detached. He's seen enough death and destruction to last him a lifetime. Keeping aloof protects him from losing the people he loves the most. Those three little words--I love you--will never pass his lips.
Will Zoe's sweet submission melt the ice that surrounds his heart? Is she truly destined for the Dom?
Available from Bookstrand HERE
May 17, 2012
New Cover Art
I had a lovely cover for my next book in the Master of Submission series.
This ones titled ~ Destined for the Dom, and is due for publication on 28th May 2012
This ones titled ~ Destined for the Dom, and is due for publication on 28th May 2012
April 29, 2012
Read the 1st Chapter of Master of Submission Free
Read the prologue and 1st Chapter of Master of Submission
Find out more from Bookstrand HERE
MASTER OF SUBMISSIONMasters of Submission 1JAN BOWLESCopyright © 2012
Prologue
Emma Parkes pushed open the front door of her friend’s apartment, and called out, “Chloe, are you there?”
No answer. The only sign of life was the Boston skyline twinkling brightly in the huge glass windows.
Worried now, she dropped her suitcase inside and closed the door behind her. What had happened to her best friend? Chloe had telephoned five days ago, excitedly telling her that she was going to spend the weekend with a guy she’d just met. She told her she’d be out of circulation for a while, as hot sex was the only thing on the menu.
“Are you mad? Going away with a chap you hardly know. Please be careful, Chloe,” she warned.Her best friend had laughed down the line. “It’s just some harmless fun. You remember fun, don’t you, Emma? The kind we used to have when we were at Oxford University together.”
Emma knew exactly what she meant. While studying law together at Oxford, her newfound American friend was always trying to lead her astray, encouraging her to stretch her horizons and boundaries. Chloe had always been extreme in everything she did. Even down to the type of men she dated.
Emma caught her worried frown in the mirror as she tentatively looked around the empty apartment. Her friend was nowhere to be seen. At least Chloe wasn’t lying dead on the bathroom floor, as she’d imagined on the twenty-minute cab ride over here. That was a relief, nothing unpleasant to report so far. Emma took a deep breath and reined in her emotions. Surely there was a simple explanation why Chloe hadn’t picked her up from Logan International Airport, as she’d promised. She’d waited for over an hour, calling her friend’s landline and cell phone, over and over again. After an exhausting seven-hour flight from London Heathrow, all she wanted to do was sleep for a week, maybe more. Her body clock was still running on British time.
Well, first she’d have a bite to eat, and then rest for a while. Acclimatize herself to life on the Eastern Seaboard. After all, Chloe had told her, make yourself at home, honey. What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours. It was an exciting and challenging time for them both. They were in the preliminary stages of setting up a small law firm together, right here in Boston. She shrugged resignedly, guessing her best friend would turn up soon enough, with graphic details of her sexual exploits.
Chapter One
One week later
With no news of Chloe, Emma stood staring up at the doors of the private fetish club, wondering whether to enter. She’d found reference to Club Submission when she’d accessed Chloe’s personal computer, looking for clues to her disappearance. Chloe was so trusting, she didn’t even have her computer password protected. Access to her private files had been child’s play. There were a number of messages from an unknown person simply calling himself Orion. The sexually explicit e-mails repeatedly asked for them to meet up at Club Submission. Knowing Chloe’s sexual preferences, she was in no doubt that the mysterious Orion was a man. Whoever Orion was, he was a persistent fellow, because he’d sent Chloe sixteen messages in a twenty-four hour period. She guessed her impulsive and naïvely trusting best friend had finally given in and met with the guy.
Emma had filed a missing person’s report with the police herself, just a few hours after arriving at her friend’s apartment. Both of Chloe’s parents were dead. They’d been killed in a horrific car crash in Maine when Chloe was just an impressionable teenager. The fatalities occurred just two days after Chloe’s fifteenth birthday. As an only child, with few real friends, it seemed that no one had even noticed that she’d disappeared off the face of the Earth.
The American police had entered Chloe’s personal details into the FBI’s database, along with her friend’s medical and dental records. They’d also asked for a recent photograph. It wasn’t against the law to go missing, in fact thousands of Americans deliberately disappeared each year—often to escape debt or abusive relationships. Most police agencies didn’t actively search for an individual—not unless the circumstances warranted it. In Chloe’s case the intriguing e-mail messages and her insistence that they find her best friend had finally made them sit up and take notice. She’d insisted they make further inquiries. They’d told her they’d sent an officer to check out Club Submission, but she wasn’t sure if she believed them or not. Until new information came to light, there was nothing more they could do. If Chloe were a child, it would have been a different matter. But as a thirty-year-old woman, the cops seemed completely uninterested.
It wasn’t Emma’s style to just wait around and do nothing. Instead of returning on the next flight to London, she’d decided to stay, and at least try and find out what had become of her best friend. So that’s how she came to be standing outside the very imposing BDSM club on a cold, damp, November evening. Two huge bronze ravens guarded the entrance. One stood either side of the oak double doors. They looked menacing and forbidding, in the soft glow from the gothic lanterns swinging eerily above them. All she had to do was walk up the half dozen or so steps and go inside. She instinctively knew the club held the key to her friend’s disappearance. Just who was the mysterious Orion who’d arranged to meet Chloe here? Was it the same guy she’d spent time with when she’d simply vanished off the face of the Earth?
These questions needed answering. There was just one small thing stopping her. She’d never stepped foot inside a fetish club before. Even she was a little surprised her friend was into that lifestyle. She’d known Chloe for a decade and was well aware that she was sexually adventurous, even promiscuous on occasion. However, she never suspected for a moment that her friend was into the BDSM scene.
She sucked in a deep breath, drawing the cold, damp November air into her lungs. Keep strong, Emma. You’re doing this for Chloe. Whatever lay on the other side of those doors would just have to be faced head-on. There was nothing else for it. Chloe’s life might even depend on it.
Her legs shook as she walked up the short flight of steps, and pushed open the heavy doors. She’d checked the place out on the Internet, and already had her membership approved. During the sign-up process, she’d learned that the club closely guarded the privacy of its members. Their true identities would never be divulged to anyone inside or outside the club, and everyone had the option of being known by a scene name. If Chloe had chosen an alias, it might prove more difficult finding out what had happened to her.
Emma took a deep breath before slowly releasing it as she moved further into the club. A female receptionist sat behind a desk. She looked up and smiled when she heard Emma enter.
“Hi, my name’s Andrea, welcome to Club Submission.” The woman studied her more closely. “Is this your first time, honey?”
Emma nodded, nervously. “Is it that obvious?”
“Just a little. You’ll soon stop shaking when you get to know everyone.”
“I applied to join the club by e-mail. I was told my membership card would be at reception.”
Andrea flipped through several papers on her desk. “Ah, here it is.” She handed over the card. “I’ll get one of the regular girls to show you around. If you could just sign in.” She nudged a ledger toward her.
“Remember to put your scene name down, if you don’t want members to know your real name. Discretion is a word we pride ourselves on here.”
With trembling fingers, Emma took the pen from the pretty blonde haired woman and signed in Emma Windsor. For simplicity she’d only chosen a different surname. It wasn’t as if she would be returning to the club after tonight.
“You can leave your coat here, honey.” She pointed to a coatrack behind her. “You’re number fifty-three.” She tore a ticket from the stub and handed it to her.
Emma nodded. “Thanks.”
She peeled off her chunky black coat. Now she felt even more conspicuous. She’d borrowed some of Chloe’s revealing clothes—a short black miniskirt that came to the top of her thighs, and a skimpy leather bra top. She’d made up her face with more makeup than she’d usually wear, using heavy black eyeliner to create an overtly sexual look. Being a reserved Englishwoman, it wasn’t really her style, but she was trying to blend in. A shiver ran down her spine as the door opened behind her and several more women piled into the entrance hall. They all appeared very happy, giggling and laughing out loud as they too removed their coats. If Emma thought her clothes were revealing, then she had to think again. Plump ripe breasts, squeezed into tight-fitting leather and silk, jiggled wherever she looked. The scent of expensive perfume filled the air. She had no doubt these women were out to enjoy themselves.
The receptionist spoke to one of them. “Jessica, can you show Emma around? It’s her first time here.”
“Yeah, sure, Andrea.”
Jessica smiled benignly, and took hold of her hand. “You’ll be perfectly safe with me, sweetie. I just know you’re gonna fit right in here at Submission. The Masters are simply gonna love you. You’re a real pretty lady.”
Masters? Oh, hell. Emma knew all about the Masters. She’d read about their preferences on the Internet. Weren’t they the ones who wanted to chain people up and whip them for some perverse sexual pleasure? Her throat went dry, but she managed to croak out, “I hope they don’t mind someone who’s nervous?”
“Quite the opposite, sweetie. They’ll love breaking you in.”
Emma closed her eyes. That’s what she was afraid of. Jessica squeezed her hand tighter, and led her through another set of doors.
“My, my, you really are nervous, aren’t you? You’re trembling like a leaf.”
“I hoped it wouldn’t be so obvious.” She smiled, unconvincingly, trying to put on a brave face.
Jessica patted her hand. “Remember it’s what you’re willing to do. Not what they’d like you to do. Us subs have the ultimate power.”
Ultimate power? Subs? Masters? Just what had she got herself into? Yes, of course she wanted to find Chloe, and she’d do everything in her power to discover what had happened to her. But there’d be no kinky sex. She just wasn’t inclined that way. She’d only ever experienced sex in the good old-fashioned missionary position. So what if she didn’t orgasm every time, or hardly at all. At least there was nothing perverted about her sex life.
Jessica held open a door for her.
“Thank you.”
“Say, is that an accent you have there?”
“I’m English.”
“Oh really, that’s just swell. Fancy, a real live Englishwoman in a BDSM club.”
Emma smiled. Being English didn’t automatically stop a woman from liking kinky sex, though she guessed Jessica seemed to think that was the case. For some unknown reason, she felt the need to explain herself further. “I was born and grew up in Oxfordshire, although my father is an American. My parents divorced when I was just three. It seems like Anglo-American marriages don’t work too well. He returned to the US twenty-seven years ago.” She’d seen her father on and off over the intervening period. He’d remarried and had two more daughters. They’d never been really close, but at least they kept in touch.
Jessica smiled. “Hey, dual nationality. Even better.”
Despite her obvious anxiety at being in the club, Emma couldn’t help but warm to Jessica. The pretty brunette was dressed extremely provocatively. Her full breasts were displayed for all to see, and her skimpy black knickers clearly showed under her tight red skirt. She could already tell she had a heart of gold.
Emma guessed Jessica was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. She wondered what had drawn a woman like her to the BDSM lifestyle. Man trouble? Bad homelife? There had to be a catalyst. She shook her head. Perhaps she’d never know. Perhaps Jessica didn’t even know herself. The analytical and calculating part of her mind had already started assessing the situation. It would be wise to keep alert, and try and make some sense of it all once she returned home. No one should be above suspicion, however nice they appeared. She was a trained lawyer, and needed to keep her focus.
Jessica smiled incessantly as she showed her the changing rooms and restrooms. “Think of it as three zones. This is the Cool Zone. There are strict rules in place here. No sexual interaction between masters, mistresses, and their subs.” Everything appeared normal. So far so good. She could handle this. When Jessica squeezed her hand and pointed to an imposing set of double doors at the end of the corridor, she guessed the kinky side of the club lay behind them. Already she could hear heady, sultry music drifting toward them as they drew closer.
“Through there is the Warm Zone. Sexual interaction is allowed, in fact it is encouraged. There are a few rules. We have to keep our clothes on, for one, which makes for some interesting interplay. In the Hot Zone, anything goes, but you should only venture there when you feel comfortable everywhere else.” Jessica smiled, making Emma feel a little less self-conscious. “Now don’t you worry about a thing. Trust me, you’ll love it here. Club Submission is everything your heart desires.”
Emma nodded politely. This was going to be the scariest and most bizarre night of her entire adult life.
If you would like to find out more click HERE
The 2nd of the series ~ Destined for the Dom ~ is due for release 28th May 2012. All the books in the series are stand alone and can be read in any order. Thanks for looking, Jan xx
P.S. I'm working on the 3rd in the series, which highlights Master Matthew, one of the brothers who owns Club Submission. :-)
