Jennifer Bene's Blog, page 13
May 2, 2018
Teaser Wednesday! ‘Rain’ by CE Johnson!
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Well, I didn’t have this intense snippet in time to post it on Teaser Tuesday, but that’s why I have backup graphics for when Teaser Tuesday needs to slide around… or be extended. In this case, once I read the sneak peek of ‘Rain’ by CE Johnson I knew I couldn’t wait until next week to share it! IT’S SO GOOD! Check out this hot cover and the heart-pounding sneak peeks below before you 1-click! You won’t regret it!
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Rain by CE Johnson
Charlie had it all.
Beauty. Brains. And the guy.
Until the perfect boyfriend went from heaven to hell.
Fearful for her life, and the sting of his hand still lingering on her cheek, she runs.
But she knows he won’t let her go so easily.
Determined to leave his crime-ridden life behind, Rain retreated deep into the Oregon woods.
He has everything he needs.
A beautiful home and a life of solitude.
But when an injured woman staggers onto his property, he can’t help but think she’s part of an elaborate setup.
His gut says believe her.
His paranoia says trust no one.
His heart, however, is completely screwed.
Will enemies from both of their pasts ruin their chance at a future, or will love find a way?
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Teaser
The crunching of the forest floor beneath my feet makes me cringe, but there’s no time to slow down. I’m desperate to get as far away from this car as possible, so I run. Whether it is Austen or someone who would call the police, neither will turn out good for me. Austen has connections in and around Portland. If he’s woken up and knows I’m gone, he’ll have every one of his friends—whether they work for the law or against it—looking for me. They aren’t looking to make sure I’m okay either. I’ll never forget the smirk on the police officer’s face when he brought me back to Austen the last time I left. For a brief moment, I thought I saw empathy in the cop’s eyes, but that disappeared when Austen handed him a wad of cash. Neither his morals nor the uniform he put on every day were enough to stop him from handing me over to the devil. I’m shaken from the memory as I almost lose my footing to a stick on the ground.
Running isn’t my forte. Hell, I hate briskly walking. I severely lack the endurance it takes to run a long distance on a flat surface, much less through the thick, uneven forest. The trees are unforgiving, and I have to dodge left and right every few feet to avoid running into anything. Lightheadedness taunts me, making the trees tilt, but I keep going. After running quite the distance from the car, I finally stop to catch my breath and shake the weakness away. Dread enters into my bloodstream as the sound of feet on the ground assaults my ears. Standing still, I try to pinpoint which direction they are coming from. Suddenly, they stop and there’s nothing but the sound of the forest at night.
Could it be my own echo? Am I imagining things?
Cautiously, I keep trekking on. It’s a struggle to see anything in the dark. Even the moonlight would have helped light my way, but of course, the clouds conceal it tonight. My very small flashlight only lights directly in front of my feet, so at least I can watch where I step, but I’m trying to use it sparingly. Although the forest has become quiet again, I can’t shake the feeling of eyes on me, watching my every move. It’s probably just animals. Even the thought of bears doesn’t frighten me as much as what could be coming for me. They could eat me alive and still I would prefer that death to Austen. The feeling grows stronger and my body freezes, trying desperately to see if my paranoia proves true. Then, it becomes frightfully obvious as steps become louder. Tears fill my eyes as they frantically spin, only seeing shadows of tall trees all around. The sight alone is dizzying, but I have to get away. I shut off my flashlight and, blindly, I run. The footsteps in the dead plant material on the forest floor come closer no matter which way I turn. Frenzied, I dodge between the trees as everything around me becomes a blur. A large trunk appears right in front of me and I bolt my way around it. The air pushes from my lungs. Terror takes over as I run right into a large, hard body. A bright light flashes into my face, and all I see is the barrel of a gun aimed right between my eyes.
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I know, I KNOW, it’s already so good, but because I can’t resist, here’s another quick teaser! I CAN’T WAIT TO READ THIS!
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Teaser 2
“What’s your name?” she asks.
“Rain.”
Curiosity fills her eyes, but she doesn’t ask anything else.
“Thank you,” she whispers as she puts her wrapped arm back at her side.
Sitting back in the chair, I nod and feel the pull from a muscle on one side of my cheek. Her eyes dip to my mouth, taking in the half smile that I didn’t mean to do. It disappears quickly as a loud knock on the door sends her flying out of the seat. I rise forcefully but steady until she collides with me. Ignoring the small woman against me, I grab my gun from the counter. Instead of leaping for the door for someone to rescue her from me, she latches onto my arm. Her grip is so tight that it could draw blood, and all I can think about is how amazing her touch feels against my skin. It takes me a minute to regain the fact that someone is at my fucking door. I look down to her long fingers begging for protection. For saving. It’s possible she’s a really good actress. But what if she isn’t and there is something truly evil torturing her? I don’t know what is wrong with her. But for the first time in years—and with no idea how I got to this point already—I give a fuck enough to find out.
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Are you as intrigued as I am? I seriously am already in love with Rain and this is all I’ve read about him. But you know how quickly I melt for a man with a dark side. #purr You’ve got to check this out, lovelies! It’s even on Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: 1-click now!
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Want more of CE Johnson?
C.E. Johnson is an author of contemporary and suspense romance novels. Her first novel Done (In the Dark Series, #1), released in May 2017.
When not writing until all hours of the night (with lots of late night coffee runs), she loves to read books that feature a strong male with a soft spot for his feisty heroine. She prefers stories that rip your heart out completely, then kindly place it back into your chest with a HEA.
She lives in a suburb of Chicago with her husband, two kids, and some spoiled rotten animals.
You can connect with her on
Facebook: www.facebook.com/CEJohnsonAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCEJohnson
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorCEjohnson/
Want to join in the fun on her reading group? CE’s Reading Roses
Sign up for CE’s newsletter to stay up to date with new releases and giveaways! http://www.authorcejohnson.com/newsletter
April 23, 2018
Music Monday – Asking for a Friend (Stripped)
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Look at that, the first #MusicMonday since chaos stormed my life hardcore. This song, “Asking for a Friend” by Annabel Jones, stumbled upon me during the insanity and it struck me because it seemed to ring so true to me in that state (after you read the lyrics you won’t be surprised why). Not to mention it’s beautiful, and just her and a piano which is just so perfect with her clear voice. Enjoy, lovelies.
Lyrics
How are you happy?
I’m asking for a friend.
Smiling and laughing, even when you’re feeling bad…
How do you stay clear?
I’m asking for a friend.
Even when you’re here, you’re somewhere else instead.
When every day is agony, it’s hard
to find somewhere where you can still belong.
Summer almost came but you left us.
Things were really bad, things got pretty tough.
Trouble, trouble followed you,
sadness, sadness swallowed you.
Call to the dark, it was broke from the start,
love won’t fix that part.
How can you find sleep?
I’m asking for a friend.
Quiet, still, and deep, it was simpler back then.
How do you stay close?
I’m asking for a friend.
Stay up, sweet recalls,
maybe you’re better off like that.
When every day is agony, it’s hard
to find somewhere where you can still belong.
Summer almost came but you left us.
Things were really bad, things got pretty tough.
Trouble, trouble followed you,
sadness, sadness swallowed you.
Call to the dark, it was broke from the start,
love won’t fix that part.
Love won’t fix that part.
I’m asking for a friend…
‘Asking for a Friend’ by Annabel Jones
April 19, 2018
Dark times, day jobs, and pseudonyms
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I know I’ve been gone for a long time, and I know that so many of you wonderful lovelies have reached out through FB, Twitter, and email, and I’ve been awkwardly silent. Honestly, I haven’t been on FB at all in over a month. Pretty much the only people who were able to get a peep from me are those who have my cell phone number to text me. And I know I owe you guys at least some semblance of an explanation, so here’s my best attempt (with GIFs where possible).
But for those not in the mood to read about my life, just know I’m sorry I’ve been gone, and know that I’m working to get back on track.
For those who want to, here it is.
You know that feeling you get when everything is going great and you start to get really nervous because you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop? For something bad to happen to balance out all of the good stuff? Like you’re walking a very thin rope over disaster, just trying to keep everything going so you don’t fall?
No? Well, maybe that’s just me.
I’m a realist, and on the spectrum of optimist to pessimist I generally lean towards cautiously pessimistic to prepare myself for disaster (and it blends oh so seamlessly with my anxiety)… but, whether you’re an optimist / realist / pessimist you probably know what I’m talking about by now, and in December and January I was riding a high like no other. ‘Destruction’ was killing it, people were loving ‘Imperfect Monster’, and we had the next Black Light Roulette box set getting ready to go. I felt amazing. It was like I finally felt like I’d figured out this whole author thing.
On top of that I got a major promotion at work, one I’ve been working towards for three years. It was something I wanted really, really badly because I was already doing so many of the responsibilities – and when the stars suddenly aligned and I got the opportunity (and the job) I felt like I had exploded through Cloud 9 and into the stratosphere of unbelievable good luck.
My kiddo was doing better, my mom was feeling well, everything just seemed to be perfect.
Which, is kind of the issue. I want to be perfect all the time. I hold myself to that, and as many of you know by now, I’ll kill myself to do it. I could almost see it from the very beginning, right after I took the new job at work, because the huge project I was supposed to take on in the role was… much larger than anyone involved had ever expected. It was one of those things where from afar it doesn’t look like such a big deal, kind of like driving in the rain and seeing standing water on the road. It never looks deep, but sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s deep enough to take you, the car, and the road with it.
In Texas they say “turn around, don’t drown” all the time during epic storms, because as humans we have this weird sense of invincibility that we definitely shouldn’t have. We drive the car straight into the water, and realize too late the water is deep, and we’re fucked.
I was drowning pretty soon after I took on the project. We figured out just how screwed we were based on the deadline, and we got to work. Except, this was unlike any other work I’ve ever done for this company. At first it was just stress-filled days that left me exhausted in the evenings, ineffective at pretty much everything except keeping my kid alive. I managed to do a cursory edit on the Thalia series to get it ready for the epic re-release, and my PAs (Michelle Brown and Niki Roge) made miracles happen to help me get those books launched with any kind of fanfare. The covers were gorgeous, people loved them, and then Amazon bitch-slapped many of us into erotica categories (and I still don’t have some of my books fixed) and fucked up the connections on the ebooks to new paperbacks, which took every ounce of energy I had at night to try and fix.
And then things just got worse.
The Dark and the Day Job
As my author stuff fell apart, with no new word counts, falling behind on promises and commitments and fixing KDP issues… work just went to hell. It was like every time we got one thing checked off, two more things exploded. There was always more to be done, and everything was urgent and important and omg on fire, Jen, we need to fix this right now. So, long stress-filled days turned into working nights and weekends. All of my usual “author time” was eaten up by this apocalyptic project that we had to get as close to perfect as possible because every leader in our company was aware of it, talking about it, and waiting for it.
And I was the main person for all of it. The project manager, the senior on it, the owner. I’d volunteered for it, and wanted it… and I still did. I just couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find a single moment to come up for air.
It was a never ending cacophony of chaos that seemed to only get worse and worse. I can’t even explain how stressful it was, how exhausted I was, and how insane I felt to be spending every waking moment of my life on it with the ever looming deadline threatening to ruin everything we’d worked so hard for, threatening to destroy my reputation in this new position before I’d even had the chance to prove myself. I was running on empty, but there was no choice but to keep going.
During this mess we lost several employees on our team at work (people who could have been working on this project). Two got promoted to other positions, one quit, one went out on leave, and one position was never even back-filled from when it went empty last year. Our department had never been so understaffed in three years, and we were working on the largest scale project we had ever attempted in the shortest timeline we’d ever committed to. In the middle of this, my manager also got promoted and I got a new manager, the other manager in our department left, and if you’ve ever worked in a big company you probably have an understanding of the constant hum of internal screaming and anxiety / panic / fear that I lived with for months.
All of the light I’d started the year with was getting blotted out by the darkness, and I was getting sucked into the pit no matter how hard I clawed to stay up, to pull my head above water, and I hadn’t even reached the bottom yet.
You know how people say things get worse before they get better? I hate how fucking true it is.
It had been months of killing myself for this project, and it was set to launch on April 9th. The week before that, I hit the lowest point in my corporate career that I ever have. You see, I don’t write under my real name because I have a day job. I need my day job to pay my bills and take care of my daughter, because I’m a single mom, and I need health insurance, and a car, and an apartment, and currently author income just isn’t reliable enough to do that. So, I protect my corporate career by using a pseudonym. I don’t share my pseudonym with people very often, especially at work, because I don’t want to lose my day job. It has always been my worst fear that somehow my company would find out what I write and either make my job life so uncomfortable I’d have no choice but to leave, or straight up fire me.
But, that’s a ridiculous fear, right? Why would a company care what I do in my personal time?
I’ve seen people rant on social media about how people who write under pseudonyms are fake, or hiding, or whatever… but those people probably aren’t facing the backlash that many of us are.
Before I continue, let’s get one thing straight.
Pseudonyms are Fucking Important
And they should be respected, and protected, and if you are fucking lucky enough to learn the true identity of an author you should understand how precious that knowledge is.
Why am I on this soapbox?
Because the week before my giant monster of a project went live for pilot testing, the week when we were all working long hours to get every last minute thing done, when none of us were sleeping… someone called our anonymous HR report line and reported me for being an author, writing / promoting myself on company time, using company equipment, handing out “pornography”, and a host of other ridiculous accusations that left me stunned and broken by the end of my investigation interview with one of our HR people. Someone who, by the way, I work with regularly in my position at my company.
This person not only revealed my pseudonym, but also provided links to all of my social media, my website, Black Collar Press, and links to my specific books on Amazon. I spent an hour being interviewed by HR about my “sadomasochistic sex books” and being asked whether or not I had ever “pushed pornography” on my coworkers, and a lot of other humiliating and traumatizing shit. This HR coworker of mine has read through my social media accounts and my website. She knows more about me than anyone at my job has any right to know. Then, they took my work laptop to have IT review it to see if I had done any of those things (which I had not), but it meant I wasn’t able to work for an entire night on this insane project, while I waited to see if I’d be fired / written up / etc.
Now, I openly talk about myself here, I write the ‘Ask Me Anything’s to help people, and I do all of that under my pseudonym. I don’t talk about those things at work, I don’t do any of the things I was accused of by a person who was clearly after me for some insane reason, and while I am 99% sure who reported me… I don’t know for sure, and I can’t really say anything else on that topic except that I hope that karma is a bitch.
I was cleared by HR the next day, which was appropriate since I’ve never done anything author related on my work laptop, but as I told a few of my close friends… “You can’t unring a bell.” Whether or not I’ve been cleared of anything wrong at work, I still have to wonder now A) who knows this about me, B) who has looked up my information and now looks at me differently, and finally, C) how will this ultimately affect my career for as long as I have it.
All questions I can’t answer, but honestly, I wish that was all that happened that week.
On top of all the chaos of the actual project and the looming deadline, the nightmare of an HR investigation, and my entire world crumbling around me – the Dom decided that now was the time for me to make a decision on whether or not I could make him a priority in my life.
It hit me out of left field, and was not what I had expected, but we’ve always had the agreement that this was about mutual gratification, and I wasn’t available for him. In fact, I hadn’t been available to him for weeks (between work and getting sick because of work and my kid’s bday and everything else). So, I told him I would think about it and respond after I’d thought about it. And I did, and agreed that we should stop seeing each other because he deserves someone who can spend more time with him than I can. Not sure what that means for the future, and I have no idea what it really means at all actually, I just know that right now I’m too numb and overwhelmed to really process anything.
So, for now at least, the Dom is out of the picture.
Within all of this fucked up mess, my mom’s health has been on a constant rollercoaster of chaotic ups and downs. One of my close friends who was my parent-with-cancer buddy lost her father, and it was a wake-up call that it really does end in death. All of it does. Everything. I tried to be there for her as much as I could, but I’m sure I failed her just as much as I have the Dom, my other friends, and all of you. I was at the hospital with my mom on Tuesday this week looking at how skeletal she looks, how frighteningly frail and thin and weak, and it feels like a constant ticking clock that runs under my whole life.
Because, let’s be honest, none of this is going to matter the day she dies. Not the day job, not authorlandia, not my responsibilities, or my commitments. I’ll function for my kiddo, and that’s it. Everything else is going to dissolve for a little while, and cancer is a blessing and a curse in the sense that I get to say all of the things I want to say to my mom, and I get to take photos, and do things for her, and hold her hand – but I also have to constantly ask myself “Is this it?” every time she gets really sick.
The rollercoaster of that is just one more piece of tinder on the overall dumpster fire that my life has been the last couple of months.
But, now you know why I haven’t been around. Why I’ve been a total ghost, and haven’t responded to your emails or your messages or comments or tags, etc. I am very slowly bringing myself back to reality, but reality is new and different now. So many things have shifted and changed. Work is a very different landscape, my home life is changing, my world is just… different, and I’m trying to figure out how to deal with all of it.
Just know that even when I disappear, I’m never ungrateful for everything you guys have done for me. You guys make all of this possible, and even the fact that you care when I disappear is incredibly uplifting and warming. I hope to one day be a full-time author so that my pseudonym doesn’t matter quite so much, and then we can all look back on this dumpster fire and laugh about how terrified I was to lose my day job (or at least I can dream about it, right? borrow a little optimism from the optimists?).
The world is a pretty screwed up place, but at least we always have each other. We always have our tribe here that never judges us, or tries to ruin our lives, or tells us to pretend we’re okay when we’re definitely not. Because it’s okay to not be okay sometimes, it’s okay to be a dumpster fire sometimes, and it’s okay to disappear when we need to and come back when we’re ready.
“It’s always darkest before the dawn.”
Here’s to the coming dawn, lovelies.
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March 19, 2018
Music Monday – My Heart Goes Bum Bum Bum
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Hey lovelies, it’s #MusicMonday and I’m trying to pick myself up off the floor and keep moving forward. I spent all weekend making the paperbacks beautiful for The Thalia Series re-release, and I can’t wait to touch them and take pictures and share them with you all! Especially the GIGANTIC boxset, which is over 730 pages. Today I’ve got a good song to hopefully kick off this week in a good way! It’s ‘My Heart Goes Bum Bum Bum’ by Flatsound. Check it out, and enjoy your Monday, lovelies!
Lyrics
you said take the violin that you hang on your wall
stick it under your bed before it crumbles and falls
just dont open your eyes before counting to ten
i can hardly remember, just the smell of your hands
as they danced on my body, running over my pores
with the force of steering wheel crushing my bones
i said you smell like the devil but you feel like the lord
and when i think of perfection you know i’m thinking of your
voice when you tell me you dont call him your baby
because that was the name that you rightfully gave me
and its foolish to share with someone else
and my heart goes bum bum bum bum bum
but you admit that you’re lonely, you’re as cold as a statue
pleading ‘fuck me’ on the marble that was used to create you
i cant stand that you’re talking when you shouldn’t be living
i didn’t dodge all your bullets i just denied that they hit me
so when my body is bleeding i wont admit that this hurts
because admitting isn’t fixing so then what is it worth
so to say you’re unhappy is like saying you’re sorry
its nothing that i care to hear
so now the tears in your jeans are the holes in your armor
you’re the thoughts that i feared, you’re the mountain i’ve conquered
if i told you i loved you would you reach out and touch me
you taste like the ocean and your body’s disgusting
the only reason you breathe is to sleep through the night
the only reason you speak is to tell me i’m fine
the only reason you breathe is to sleep through the night
the only reason you speak is to state that you’re mine
and my heart goes bum bum bum bum bum
‘My Heart Goes Bum Bum Bum’ by Flatsound
March 8, 2018
Thankful Thursday
March 6, 2018
Re-cover Reveal! ‘Striking a Balance’!
Cover Designer: Laura Hidalgo of Beyond DEF
Thalia Series Box Set – Cover Reveal for Striking A Balance
Release Date: March 20, 2018
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Striking A Balance is being re-released in a box set of the Thalia series, with a bit of spit, a splash of polish, a new cover and now in one collection for the first time ever. The standalone book will be updated with this new cover after the boxset release.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*
Buy Link for Striking A Balance
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2G6gQrD
SYNOPSIS
Thalia and James have just met under the most insane of circumstances. He purchased her at an underground auction from a man who kidnapped her, tormented her, and sold her to the highest bidder.
In their first few months together Thalia wants to view James as her savior, her knight in shining armor that she can stay with in safety, but she can’t escape the trauma she went through and the lingering effects it has caused. James isn’t sure, now that he has Thalia, if he can handle the depth of submission she displays.
Can James help her strike a balance between who she is as a person and her newfound craving for submission, or will her urge to submit swallow her whole until James has no choice but to set her free?
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March 5, 2018
Music Monday – God of a Girl
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I know #MusicMonday is really late today guys, but work is still killing me and leaving me zero time to do anything but… well, work. So, I’m sorry this one is late but it’s a really good song. It’s “God of a Girl” by Georgi Kay, and just the opening lyrics should grab you as much as they did me. This song also speaks to me so hard right now. Hope you love it just as much.
Lyrics
She breathes in whiskey,
and she breathes out smoke,
into the face of the monster,
in the mirror.
Where she comes and goes,
in the mirror.
Where nobody knows who she is,
or what she wants from herself,
from them all.
In the mirror is her own world,
in the mirror she’s a god of a girl.
A god of a girl,
in her own world.
She’s a god of a girl.
In her own world, in her own world…
She shuts her eyes,
and she counts to ten.
The world looks better now,
things are clearer,
than they’ve ever been.
Things are clearer,
than she’s ever seen.
I breathe in gin,
and I breathe out the dark,
into the face of the monster,
in the mirror.
Where I see myself,
in the mirror,
I’m a god of a girl.
A god of a girl.
I see myself, I’m a god of a girl,
when I see myself, when I see myself.
You are my religion.
You are my connection.
You are my addiction.
You are mine.
She’s a god of a girl,
in her own world.
She’s a god of a girl,
in her own world In her own world.
She’s a god of a girl.
In her own world, she’s a god of a girl.
‘God of a Girl’ by Georgi Kay
March 4, 2018
Ask Me Anything: “Ask the Dom – Part 1”
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I’ve got something special for you guys today! It’s #AskMeAnything day, but I’m actually excited to bring you guys the first round of answers from my Dom! A few weeks ago I asked members of the Dark Haven if they could ask my Dom anything… what would they ask? They came back with over 70 questions, and while some were repeats/similar, it was still way too many to answer at once. And so, here is Part 1.
Q: Ask the Dom, Part 1!
A: These questions were the ones focused on him as a person. Enjoy, lovelies!
How old were you when you got into the lifestyle? How did you get involved in the Dom/sub life? How long have you been in the lifestyle?
I have always been dominant, since long before I had words to describe it. When we played ‘house’ in kindergarten, I was always ‘dad’ and told the girls who played ‘mom’ what to do. I spanked my first girlfriend at 15, and never really stopped. I have tried having vanilla relationships, but they just don’t do it for me, and so for a long time I fumbled around looking for like-minded people, basically proposing spanking or bondage to women who seemed to like my overall demeanor. Needless to say, there were some seriously embarrassing moments, but I survived.
Then the book ‘The Story of O’, and later the film, were released, and I realized there were a lot of other people who had interests similar to mine. This was pre-internet (1981), but I started looking in the local adult papers and found a group of fellow kinksters that were starting a group with bi-monthly meetings (they weren’t munches then) where we did ‘consciousness raising’ and skill development at alternate meetings. Joining the group was a huge step forward in helping me to define what I am, and in learning the skills to do what I do, which is why I am such a proponent of people getting involved in their local munch scene, whether they choose to engage in other activities (like play parties) or not.
Do you have any hard limits? What are they? Is there anything you have said “Oh hell no” to?
Yes, but I generally don’t think of them as hard limits, they are just things that don’t suit my particular kink (for Monty Python fans, my “Idiom”). I am an owner, I relish submission and obedience, I am proud of my submissive(s), I want them to develop and succeed, and to be proud of their place. So, I don’t do things that do physical damage (beyond some soreness and gorgeous bruises), such as punching or kicking. I don’t do humiliation or degradation. I don’t do things like needles or cutting (I do like knife play, but I don’t break the skin) because the risk when you start getting below the first couple of layers of skin is beyond what I am comfortable with. I don’t do true branding, tattoos, or piercing, because I don’t have the opportunity to develop the expertise I would consider acceptable, but I will get skilled artists to do them when I want my property marked.
Are there times you want not to be in charge? I feel like being a Dom is a lot of work, do you ever just need a break from it?
No, there aren’t, and no I don’t.
I am a dominant, in my essential nature. I spend my days in the corporate world hiding that nature, because not doing so would give my HR people ulcers. Among vanilla friends (from school and the military), and my family, they are aware that my relationships are ‘a little different’, but most would draw the line at me having Jennifer kneeling next to my chair instead of sitting at the table with us. So, I hide my nature there, too. When I get to where I can let it go, when I don’t have to fake being normal, it feels like taking off a too-tight suit and finally being able to breathe. And, no, I never want a break from that.
How do you choose your subs? Why do you not like brats? Do you have a preference in looks for your subs? What characteristic or personality trait do you find most appealing in a sub?
There were a group of questions around the theme of ‘how do I find a Dom?’ that I intend to answer more generally a little later on. You should not take what I say here to apply to any other dom, these are my preferences only.
First, there are some things that are instant disqualifiers, because I have relationships and not occasional play partners:
If you are monogamous, even if you think you can fake it till you make it in poly, it isn’t going to work, because Jennifer isn’t going anywhere. If you want a man who is all yours, then go find him, don’t try to twist yourself into something you are not.
If you are physically out of shape, it isn’t going to work. When I go on vacation, I like to hike 14ers in Colorado, scuba dive, or climb all over ancient cities in the jungle (my kids used to refer to vacations with me as “Dad’s death-marches”). Vacations are something I want to share with someone I am in a relationship with, so you need to enjoy stuff like that too.
Second, there are some general characteristics I look for:
Do you have a passion? Jennifer and I never lack for things to talk about, between my passions for woodworking, boxing, and my company, and her passion for her child, her writing, and her job. Some doms prefer submissives whose only interest is their dom, but I think that having other interests stimulates the creativity and joy people bring to the relationship.
Do you have your life more or less together? There are plenty of doms with rescue fantasies, but I am not one of them. I want you to have a job, a place to live, your finances under control, and a support network of friends or family, because when you have all those things then I know that the reason you kneel to me, is because you really want to. If you need a little help to get there, no problem. I will be your rock when something happens, but most of the time I want you to stand on your own two feet.
Do you have a fairly well developed sense of yourself and your boundaries? Whenever I negotiate with a submissive, I always try to push her into telling me “No” at some point, because I need to know that she can. Your morals, ethics, political views and religion are much of who you are, and they don’t have to agree with mine except in those areas where they absolutely must (if you believe polyamory is morally wrong, we have an issue), and I need to know that you can stand by them.
On a kink specific level, I look for a few things:
I want you to belong to me, because you want to serve and please me.
I want you to wear my mark, so that it is clear to anyone who sees you naked that you are owned, and I want you to wear it with pride.
I want you to understand that you are my property, to use as I see fit, but not to abuse. If I want to beat you with my belt and then fuck your throat, that is exactly what I will do, and, no, you don’t get a say in the matter, but you will always have a safe word.
I don’t want you to try to manipulate me to do what you want, by disobeying or acting up so I will “punish” you, by trying to make me jealous, or by faking a lack of capacity to do something. If you need something, say so. If you want something, ask. I may say yes, or I may say no, but you will never get in trouble for asking, unless I have told you the discussion is over.
Oh, I forgot to talk about looks… guess it wasn’t that important.
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Hope you liked this sneak peek into my Dom (I think he’s pretty awesome). For now, he’s working on more answers. Until next time, lovelies!
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March 2, 2018
Re-Cover Reveal! Security Binds Her!
I know I’ve been MIA but I’m doing something that is requiring major work between the job and authoring. Take a look at this!
Security Binds Her by Jennifer Bene
Cover Designer: Laura Hidalgo of Beyond DEF
Release Date: March 20, 2018
BUY LINK
Amazon: http://mybook.to/SecurityBindsHer
SYNOPSIS
Taken from work one night, Thalia is thrust into the violent, controlling world of a man she thought had been the security guard for her building, but she quickly learns that this was only a cover to get to her, to take her. As her old life is erased, the guard pushes Thalia to recognize the darker sides of herself, while Thalia endeavors to hold on to who she is.
Trapped alone with her abductor, can Thalia fight to retain her self, or will his small glimpses of kindness cause her to finally submit to him?
‘Security Binds Her’ is a brutal journey that leaves readers breathless and waiting to turn the page to find out if Thalia will break, or be lost forever to the darkness around her.
**WARNING: This book contains graphic punishments, disturbing situations, scenes of dubious consent, and very strong language. Intended for mature audiences.
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February 27, 2018
Teaser Tuesday! ‘Beast’ by Measha Stone!
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I was so excited this past weekend to share this with you guys today, that I actually scheduled it ahead of time so that no matter how bad or crazy my week would be I’d know that on release day, all of you lovelies had ‘Beast’ in your hands! That’s right, Measha Stone’s dark, twisted, and fucking HOT version of Beauty & the Beast is LIVE TODAY! *confetti* And you can snag it for just $2.99, which I know you’re going to want to do after you read this EXTENDED mouthwatering excerpt.
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Beast by Measha Stone
Wouldn’t you give up everything for the one you love?
When Ellie’s father is taken by a group of thugs planning to take his life in exchange for his debts, it’s no surprise she goes running straight into the beast’s lair. After all, Ellie Stevens has been her father’s keeper for as long as she can remember.
However, Ashland Titon isn’t a man of mercy. If you owe, you pay. End of story. His unrelenting control has built his empire, and he’s not going to give over that power now. But when Ellie charges into his life with her demands and possibilities of sweet surrender, her offer proves too tempting to pass up.
Yet there’s more at play here than just working off a debt. There are secrets buried in the shadows, and dangerous desires to be explored. While the two of them dance to a sensual beat, outside forces threaten Ashland’s empire and Ellie must decide where her heart truly lies – and what she’s truly willing to risk for love.
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Teaser
“You can’t really think to do this.”
Ellie swallowed a sob when stepped out of the cab up in front of the massive estate. Was her father inside? Did dungeons still exist in places such as this?
Gates surrounded the entire property. The only thing missing from the menacing property were perched gargoyles. And even those would probably lighten the atmosphere. “You can’t think to do this. Don’t do this, Ellie.” Jason pleaded.
“Jason. Just take care of the cafe for me, okay?”
“Ellie. This is Ashland Titon. He doesn’t mess around.”
A lesson she’d already learned. After her father had been snatched right in front of her, she’d done a little digging. Ashland Titon owned a fair amount of the city’s night life. Between bars, nightclubs, and stripper clubs, he had his hands in almost everything. None of which explained what he would want with her father, until she came across new articles showing him dealing with accusations of sex trafficking and loan sharking. Loan sharking. Bingo. It hadn’t taken much more digging to figure out where Ashland lived.
“I know, Jason. I’m not attacking him. I’m going to ask him to let Dad go, that’s it.” It sounded naive at best, even to her.
“Let him go? Are you insane? The only way he’s letting your dad go is if you have the money. And you don’t.” A heavy sigh came through the phone line. “Please. Just don’t go in there.”
Ellie peered up at the foreboding gates before her. “I have to, Jason. He’s my father.”
Another sigh. “Fine. I’ll take care of the cafe. Be careful, and don’t do anything stupid.”
“Of course not.” She ended the call and took a deep breath. She had passed stupid when she got into the cab.
Straightening her bag strap on her shoulder, tucking a few loose hairs behind her ear. She rolled her shoulders back and went for it.
The button made no sound when she pressed it. A bit of static and then a greeting came through the speaker.
“Uh. Hi. Uh. I’m here to see Mr. Titon.”
“Your name and business?” came the reply.
“Ellie Stevens. He-uh-does business with my father.” Mostly true.
A breeze whipped her hair into her face. The sun had already started setting, making the estate even more ominous and chilling the air.
She stared at the metal speaker waiting for a response. A sense of being watched struck her, and she scanned the house, searching the windows for a set of eyes. Nothing.
She let out a long breath and reached for the button again.
“Someone will be along to collect you,” a deep voice rang through before she could press the call button.
Collect her? She wanted to roll her eyes. If they were trying to make her feel intimidated, they were about five hours too late. Seeing her father dragged away with a split lip and bruised face had worked well enough.
Loose strands continued to blow into her face, and she peeled her hair tie from her wrist and went about working the long locks into a braid. She couldn’t very well be fidgeting with her damn hair while trying to bargain for her father’s life.
The gates opened, and the man who had hurt her father descended the half-dozen steps of the house and followed the winding path to where she stood. In a hurry to get this over with, she dashed forward, ignoring his offered hand to stomp past him.
“You probably shouldn’t want to rush this.” He chuckled behind her, catching up and grabbing her elbow to keep her at his side.
He guided her up the stairs and into the house. The enormity of the beauty inside took her breath away—mysterious and foreboding, much like the outside, but the artwork appealed to her. Baroque. Every painting, every statue they passed came from her favorite era. Everything appealed to her, the music, the architecture, the paintings, soafter getting taste of it during her coursework for her language arts degree, she’d immediately signed up for a class focusing solely on the Baroque period.
“I told you to forget about your father.” His grave voice, though soft, interrupted her inspection of the pieces they passed and reminded her she wasn’t in a museum but in the home of a man willing to kill her father if it would send the right message.
She didn’t respond, focused on what she would say when she spoke with Ashland Titon. There hadn’t been many pictures of him in her search, other than a few old ones. He didn’t appear overly threatening in the smiling photographs. A soft, forced smile giving little insight into his true mood. She doubted he’d be as happy to see her.
The emptiness of the house sank into her as they continued along the corridor. The dark carpeting gave way to deep-maple-stained wood flooring. The clicking of her sandals echoed through the hallway. Although her escort barely held onto her, she could feel him, invading her thoughts with his threatening presence. She held no misgivings about how dangerous these men were.
They came to a closed door at the end of the hall and he reached around her to open it, shoving it inward and exposing the interior.
An oversized mahogany desk sat in the center of the room. The décor mirrored what she’d seen of the estate so far: ominous coloring with dominating artistry. Large sconces adorned the spaces between the paintings, holding long white electric candles that lit up the room. The rich purple draperies were drawn back from each window, but the closed blinds didn’t let enough light through to illuminate the area.
“Go on. You’ve come this far.” The man gave her a little shove, and she stepped into the room. The door slammed shut behind her, signaling the finality of it.
She swallowed and took in the room where she stood. It was only when he moved from the corner, she saw him. Stepping out of a shadow, he advanced into the light. Her breath hitched, her heart all but stopped as she took in the massiveness of the man before her. He had broad shoulders, larger than she’d ever seen on a man, and stood taller than her by a foot, maybe more. His thick, dirty-blond hair was tied at the nape of his neck, exposing a scar above his left eye and another running from his right ear along his jaw, disappearing beneath his beard.
He took another step toward her, the muscles in his chest, beneath the black button-down shirt rippling with his movements. The rolled-up sleeves showed off black tattoos running up from his wrists and disappearing into the folds of fabric. Was his entire body covered with ink?
“Peter told me you’re Dominick’s daughter.” His voice, so deep, shook her from her inspection.
“Y-yes. He’s my father.” She swallowed and thrust her chin forward. Allowing him to see how terrified she truly was would ruin everything, and having a quivering lip would most definitely give her away. “Your men took him this afternoon. I’m here to take him home.”
His eyes narrowed, his jaw tensed. When his gaze moved over the length of her, she found herself rolling her shoulders back and swallowing a demand for him to stop. He didn’t seem the sort of man who would listen to any demand she made of him, or one from anyone.
“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep twisting your fingers like that.” She dropped her hands to her sides and fisted them. More to keep them from returning to a fidgeting state than out of anger.
“My father,” she said again when he seemed content to keep staring at her. Her insides shook beneath his scrutiny, but she held herself straight, not wanting him to see how much she wanted to cower from him, how badly she wanted to run from the room.
“Your father owes me a lot of money.” he said, striding to the desk and leaning against it. He crossed one ankle over the other and pressed his hands against the edge of the desk. How could a man appear so casual and dangerous at the same time?
“I know. We’ll get it. I just need time. I’ll have to sell the coffeehouse.” It wouldn’t be enough, though. She’d have to let go of the rest of her mother’s jewelry and put their condo on the market.
“He asked for more time. Three times already. I granted it, but he’s delayed and delayed. No more delay.” He gave his dictate with a hard tone.
She didn’t come to him a timid mouse, she reminded herself. It was her father she was trying to save, nothing else.
“He’s not asking. I am. Let me sell the coffeehouse, or maybe you could take it as a down payment on his debt?” The idea seemed logical, an easy transaction for a man who had as many business dealings as he seemed to.
He laughed, a cheerless, deep-rooted sound that failed to add levity to the room. “What the hell would I do with a coffeehouse?”
“You could turn it into one of your clubs or keep it a cafe. We already have staff. All you’d have to do is collect the profits. Maybe Dad could still run it for you–”
His lips thinned and eyebrows rose. “What do you know about my clubs?” Of all the things she’d just suggested, that was what he wanted to know more about? His clubs?
“I know you own several.” A dozen, to be accurate.
“And what type of clubs are they?” he asked, uncrossing his feet.
She regarded him for a long stretch before licking her bottom lip and answering him. “Nightclubs and a few sex clubs.”
“Well, strip clubs, to be precise, but yes, sex happens. A lot.” He pushed off the desk and strolled around to the other side, opening a drawer. “Do you think your father would like me to turn his little cafe into a strip club? Maybe he could manage that? Help the girls with the blow jobs in the back room?” The sneering grin accompanying his crass words sent a tremor through her.
This was not a man with compassion.
A door behind him opened. She hadn’t seen it at first; it was masked along the wall. Her father stumbled in and barely caught himself before falling on his face.
She rushed toward him as he straightened. Peter stepped in front of her father, blocking her attempt to help him.
“Move.” She tried to get around him, but he thwarted her.
“It’s fine, Peter. Let her see him,” Ash said.”
Peter moved to the side, and she stepped up to her father. His face was swollen, one eye completely closed. Reddish-brown dried blood creased his puffed lips.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Her father coughed and grabbed onto her shoulders. “You need to leave.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I won’t leave you here. We’ll find a way to pay him. There has to be a way.” She kept her voice hushed, not wanting anyone else to hear. “We can sell everything.”
He grasped her face. Years of hard work left his hands rough against her skin.
“It’s not enough, Ellie. If it had been, I would have done it. I owe him almost quarter of a million dollars. The interest compounded too quickly. You have to leave, go home. Please. I can’t risk losing you.”
She’d heard the regret in his voice before, too many times for it to register as truly authentic. Always on the lookout for the fast buck, the quick way to repay one loan or another. And, every time, she paid the price. She could be angry with him later, once she made sure he was safely out of Ashland’s clutches.
“You’re so much like your mother. Strong and loyal. Not weak like me, Ellie. Please, you need to go.” He tried to push her away but started coughing again, grimacing. His ribs were probably as bruised as his face.
He was right.
She was strong. Much stronger than he. And the strong didn’t let the weak die. The strong protected.
She turned away from him. Taking long strides, with her chin thrust out, shoulders pinned back, she moved to the desk, facing Ash who hadn’t moved during their exchange. He eyed her with an arched brow.
“Let my father go. I’ll pay his debt.”
The corners of his lips curled upward. “And how do you think you’ll do that? You’ve already admitted you don’t have the money, and I’ve already denied your request for more time.”
“What are you going to do with him? If you kill him, you get nothing.” She waved in her father’s direction, not facing him any longer. Not able to withstand seeing the torment in his eyes for another second.
“His death would be a message to those who think they can borrow and borrow and never repay.” His sinister tone unsettled her, but she didn’t cower. “I’m not a fucking charity. He owes.”
“Then take me.” She heard her father’s gasp but didn’t react. She focused on the man who towered over her, even with the desk between them.
“You?” His voice rumbled with the question.
“Yes.” She gave a curt nod. “I’ll work off his debt. In your clubs.”
“No. Ellie, no!” Her father tried to get to her, but Peter grabbed him again.
“Do you know how long that will take?” Ash asked.
“I’ll do whatever is needed, but you have to swear to let him go and never bother him again.” Her nails dug into her palms, but she didn’t blink, didn’t turn her gaze away, even when his eyes narrowed.
He stepped around the desk, coming to stand behind her. His hands closed over her shoulders, and he tugged, turning her to face him. Her eyes came in line with his chest, but he gave a simple command.
“Look at me.”
She tilted her head, dragging her gaze over the buttons of his shirt, past the swirl of a tattoo peeking out from where the top buttons were undone, along his thick neck covered in stubble, and across his beard before she came to his eyes. She’d been wrong. They were bright blue with specks of gray.
“You have no idea what you’re offering me.” The warning sang clear in his tone.
“I’ll work off his debt. Take my life for his.” She may not understand the workings of his mind, but she knew what giving up her freedom meant.
He studied her for a long moment. “You would give up yourself for him? Why?”
“He’s my father.”
After a prolonged moment, he gave a brief nod. But she doubted he understood. Men like him only understood loyalty to themselves. Only to him.
Releasing her shoulder, he ran his knuckle across her jaw until he reached her mouth. He ran the tip of one finger over her bottom lip then her chin, her neck, until reaching her chest. He didn’t stop, and she made no move to make him, either. She sensed a test, and how well she performed would determine his willingness to accept her offer.
Her father yelled again for Ashland to leave her alone, but no one acknowledged him.
Ashland’s finger trailed along her breastbone, into the dip of her T-shirt and the valley between her breasts. Her breath picked up, her lips parted—to beg him to stop?
He moved from her chest to the elastic band of her skirt. Instinct took over, and she put her hands on his, stilling him. It only took a raised brow to make her release him. If she stopped him now, he wouldn’t consider her offer.
Unchallenged once more, he continued his descent, slipping inside the band then beneath the cotton of her panties and lower still until he tickled the narrow trail of hair there.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered. She scooted her feet apart, just enough to give him room to continue. Her face heated, and tears welled, but she wouldn’t tug away, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She had to make this deal in order to keep her father safe and alive. Ash could touch her body, but he wouldn’t get gratification of seeing her unease.
“You’re wet,” he accused softly. His lips curled. “Danger turns you on.” He kept his gaze locked with hers and pushed a digit into her entrance. She gasped, not having expected him to go so far. Her body stretching around him was only slightly uncomfortable. He pumped in and out half a dozen times before he withdrew and rested his finger against her clit. Humiliation over what he’d just done washed over her, stealing her breath and heating her face.
Keeping the tears back took more strength than she could have ever imagined possessing. Managing to stay upright and conceal the shaking of her insides, a damn miracle.
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” Fatality resounded in the words he spoke, amplified by his solemn tone.
“He’ll be safe?”
Ashland jerked back as though her skin suddenly hurt him. Steadfast gaze locked with hers, he pushed his finger into his mouth, licking it clean of her juices. Oh God, she’d been so wet. He gave his attention to Peter. “Let him go. Put him in a car and take him home.”
“No!”
“If you so much as dial her cell number, your debt will be reinstated. Thank your baby girl, old man. Her tight little pussy just saved your fucking life.”
Ellie tried to reach her father, to hug him, to promise she’d find a way to see him, but Ashland grabbed her arm and held her at his side.
“No! Ellie. Don’t do this!” Her father continued to struggle against Peter, but he couldn’t overpower him any more than he could in the cafe.
“I’ll find a way. I promise.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
The door slammed, and her father’s cries became only a muffled sound fading away. Ellie wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to suck in air. Wiping her cheeks, she settled a glare on him.
“You are a beast.” Her voice shook with rage.
His lips curled again, exposing his perfectly white teeth, and he grabbed her chin, forcing her to hold still as he brought his mouth down on hers. She didn’t struggle, but she refused to respond. It didn’t matter. He pressed hard, biting her lower lip before straightening and chuckling softly.
“I am. And you are quite the beauty. But don’t think for one fucking second this has a happily ever after.” He gripped her face tighter. “Because this is no fucking fairy tale.”
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Holy. Fucking. Hotness. I CANNOT WAIT TO READ THIS! You can read the FULL first chapter (of which this is only an excerpt) on Measha’s website right over here, and I’ve got even better news, it’s available now!! YESSS!! All I know is that I wish I had a family member owing Ashland money, because… yummy. This is a version of my favorite fairy tale that I’d love to be dragged into. #purr
Amazon: 1-CLICK NOW!
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Want more of Measha Stone?
Measha Stone is an international bestselling author of erotic romance. She’s had #1 top-selling books in BDSM, and suspense. She lives in the western suburbs of Chicago with her husband and children, who are just as creative and crazy as her. Her vanilla writing has been published in numerous literary magazines, but she’s found her passion in erotic romance.
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www.meashastone.com
