A New Chapter And A Sale
Let's start off with more good news before you get to the even more good news, shall we? Well, it's all good, so it's relative. But I'm excited! Today all of my Ellora's Cave releases are on sale on Amazon. Like fairytales, multiple partners, or polyamory? What about fairytales and BDSM? Or M/M/F menage historical? I've got that, check it out HERE. I don't know how long the same lasts, so I'd pick them up soon as I know deals like this at EC are rare.
My next bit of news is that I've uploaded Chapter Four of Trapped With Sin to Wattpad last night so you have another free read, if you desire to read it. Here's a little snippet from Chapter Four:
“We hope you had a nice drive, Miss. Mason. Here’s your completed contract. We’ve already sent half of the contestant’s home in the last episode and your inclusion will be our main play and big reveal tonight to shake things up in the house. Please sign here, here, and here in the designated spots and we’ll get our car to drive you to the shoot.”Riley met the suited man’s steady gaze and blinked. His mouth turned down a bit and hers turned up. When he reached for the glass of nine dollar lemonade at his side, she glanced down at the thick sheaf of papers on the table and continued to read. There wasn’t one syllable she was going to miss—and he needed to understand he’d be sitting out in the oppressive sun for quite some time before she made her mark on the contract.“I assure you everything is as it should be. You must be eager to get out of this heat and get started—““I’m not going to sign my life away for the next two weeks without understanding all of this, Mr. Allen. If you want to wait for me inside you’re more than welcome. You don’t have to hover, wringing your hands. You’ll get my John Hancock when I get to the end.” She didn’t miss a beat wondering if he’d kick her off the show for her attitude, if anything her brashness would make for good television.She didn’t even bother looking up. Her no nonsense client voice had reinforced her decision to the pampered, svelte executive sitting across from her out by the palatial pool near the hotel. He had thought the tables around the pool were more “atmospheric”. A nice code word for they were trying to impress her, get her mind off the legal stuff, and get her on the show. And if someone offered her another fancy vegan sandwich she was going to blow the whole damn thing.Against the backdrop of fancy, slithering English, Riley was able to pick out most of the perks and pitfalls of the contract. She’d get two thousand dollars for every episode she remained and the number of remaining episodes before production was shut down was fourteen. Twenty-four thousand wasn’t anything to shake a stick at—but she had to be sure of everything. No media allowed in the house except for books and even those were checked before they were allowed on the premises.No firearms—which was a given. But she still mourned the loss of her gun tucked into her backpack in the car. The fine weapon had been a present for her sixteenth birthday from her father and she never left the house without it. Something like a screwed up security blanket. Her gaze skimmed over the expected non-disclosure clause until all the episodes aired over the following six months. Standard and expected.The man made a noise in the back of his throat. She didn’t rise to the bait and continued reading for another four, long pages. With a flourish she signed and looked up at the executive with a cheesy, wide smile as she pushed the contract across the hot glass table.“Here we are. I appreciate you allowing me to take my time.”“Of course,” he replied with another snide smile before he snapped his fingers and two men appeared, one who whisked the contract away, and one who pulled her chair back from the table. The screech of the curlicue wrought iron chair against the concrete pounded against her temples and she clung to the sides of the chair. They weren’t screwing around. With a weird niggling in the back of her brain, she warily glanced at the big pony-tailed man who motioned with one hand to follow him while he still had one beefy hand resting on the back of her chair.“I signed my life away,” she muttered, before reluctantly following behind the man who led her back through the sprawling stucco lobby of the hotel, back outside to a sleek, gray town car.“Here we are, Miss. I’ll be your driver, please let me know if you require anything else on our little excursion.” He opened the door with a little bow and she shot him a tentative smile with a murmured thanks.“What about my suitcase?” she quickly piped up before he could shut the door.“That’s all taken care of, your things will be waiting for you when you arrive at our destination.”Vague. Lovely.
Also, if you were ever interested in meeting me in person, I'll be at Author's After Dark in Charlotte from Tuesday to Sunday wearing my pink hat of power. So look for me and I will give you many hugs! See you there, hopefully!
My next bit of news is that I've uploaded Chapter Four of Trapped With Sin to Wattpad last night so you have another free read, if you desire to read it. Here's a little snippet from Chapter Four:
“We hope you had a nice drive, Miss. Mason. Here’s your completed contract. We’ve already sent half of the contestant’s home in the last episode and your inclusion will be our main play and big reveal tonight to shake things up in the house. Please sign here, here, and here in the designated spots and we’ll get our car to drive you to the shoot.”Riley met the suited man’s steady gaze and blinked. His mouth turned down a bit and hers turned up. When he reached for the glass of nine dollar lemonade at his side, she glanced down at the thick sheaf of papers on the table and continued to read. There wasn’t one syllable she was going to miss—and he needed to understand he’d be sitting out in the oppressive sun for quite some time before she made her mark on the contract.“I assure you everything is as it should be. You must be eager to get out of this heat and get started—““I’m not going to sign my life away for the next two weeks without understanding all of this, Mr. Allen. If you want to wait for me inside you’re more than welcome. You don’t have to hover, wringing your hands. You’ll get my John Hancock when I get to the end.” She didn’t miss a beat wondering if he’d kick her off the show for her attitude, if anything her brashness would make for good television.She didn’t even bother looking up. Her no nonsense client voice had reinforced her decision to the pampered, svelte executive sitting across from her out by the palatial pool near the hotel. He had thought the tables around the pool were more “atmospheric”. A nice code word for they were trying to impress her, get her mind off the legal stuff, and get her on the show. And if someone offered her another fancy vegan sandwich she was going to blow the whole damn thing.Against the backdrop of fancy, slithering English, Riley was able to pick out most of the perks and pitfalls of the contract. She’d get two thousand dollars for every episode she remained and the number of remaining episodes before production was shut down was fourteen. Twenty-four thousand wasn’t anything to shake a stick at—but she had to be sure of everything. No media allowed in the house except for books and even those were checked before they were allowed on the premises.No firearms—which was a given. But she still mourned the loss of her gun tucked into her backpack in the car. The fine weapon had been a present for her sixteenth birthday from her father and she never left the house without it. Something like a screwed up security blanket. Her gaze skimmed over the expected non-disclosure clause until all the episodes aired over the following six months. Standard and expected.The man made a noise in the back of his throat. She didn’t rise to the bait and continued reading for another four, long pages. With a flourish she signed and looked up at the executive with a cheesy, wide smile as she pushed the contract across the hot glass table.“Here we are. I appreciate you allowing me to take my time.”“Of course,” he replied with another snide smile before he snapped his fingers and two men appeared, one who whisked the contract away, and one who pulled her chair back from the table. The screech of the curlicue wrought iron chair against the concrete pounded against her temples and she clung to the sides of the chair. They weren’t screwing around. With a weird niggling in the back of her brain, she warily glanced at the big pony-tailed man who motioned with one hand to follow him while he still had one beefy hand resting on the back of her chair.“I signed my life away,” she muttered, before reluctantly following behind the man who led her back through the sprawling stucco lobby of the hotel, back outside to a sleek, gray town car.“Here we are, Miss. I’ll be your driver, please let me know if you require anything else on our little excursion.” He opened the door with a little bow and she shot him a tentative smile with a murmured thanks.“What about my suitcase?” she quickly piped up before he could shut the door.“That’s all taken care of, your things will be waiting for you when you arrive at our destination.”Vague. Lovely.
Also, if you were ever interested in meeting me in person, I'll be at Author's After Dark in Charlotte from Tuesday to Sunday wearing my pink hat of power. So look for me and I will give you many hugs! See you there, hopefully!
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