Hi,
Another release day has crept up behind me and shouted ‘boo’ in my ear! How could I have forgotten that today’s the day that Take the Heat hits the street? This is a steamy, sizzling anthology full of bad boys, smart girls and criminal intent, all put together by the queen of dark erotica, Skye Warren – and it features a fabulous line-up of writers, including Pam Godwin, Shoshanna Evers, Trent Evans and Giselle Renarde. It’s already been garnering 5-star reviews and I’ve been really thrilled as a couple of times my own story, “Playing with Fire”, has been singled out for praise.
Take the Heat
The ultimate bad boys, criminals capture our attention and awaken our darkest desires. Celebrate the illicit in this romantic suspense anthology, where handcuffs are used for more than play. These stories are shocking, sexy, and thought-provoking.
In New York Times Bestseller Skye Warren’s “Magnolia Hotel”, meet the heroine who pays her brother’s debt to a loan shark—who happens to be her childhood crush. Find out if the jury made the right decision in “Acquitted” by award-winning author Giselle Renarde. Explore a dark and sensual psychology with New York Times Bestseller Pam Godwin in “Unlawful Seduction”.
New York Times Bestseller Skye Warren – Magnolia Hotel
Cynthia Rayne – Captivated
New York Times Bestseller Pam Godwin – Unlawful Seduction
Sheri Savill – Slipknot
New York Times Bestseller Shoshanna Evers – This Might Hurt A Bit
Candy Quinn – The Bombshell
Tamsin Flowers – Playing with Fire
Elizabeth Coldwell – Disposing of Donnie
Audrey Lusk – Surprise Witness
Trent Evans – Last Day
Giselle Renarde – Acquitted
Ride the edge of desire and see if you can TAKE THE HEAT…
“Wicked, deadly, seductive…” – KT Book Reviews
Excerpt from “Playing with Fire”
Aston Moore sat alone at the head of the table. He was dressed in black from head to toe. His jacket hung on the back of the chair, and his top few shirt buttons were undone to reveal a curl of dark chest hair. In other circumstances Cassandra would have found his looks attractive, but this evening the sight of him made her tremble.
“Ah, Cassandra, come in,” he said, waving her forward. Then he looked across at the mâitre d’, who was now standing just inside the door. “Send someone to clear away this mess, would you?”
The man nodded and disappeared, leaving Cassandra alone with the bastard who would be her pimp. How had it come to this? She bit her lip and stared at the floor.
“You scrub up well, but you’ll get nowhere if you can’t look your johns in the eye.”
She raised her head and stared him in the face, hot fury coursing through her body in place of fear now.
Moore’s smile was disarming, but she still glared at him.
“It’s time to show me what you’ve got,” he said, shifting in his chair as he pushed it back from the table.
“Business first,” said Cassandra. “How much will be wiped off my sister’s debt for every…”
“…every trick you turn?”
“Every time I have sex with one of your johns.” Even just saying the words left a bad taste in her mouth.
“I can’t tell you that until I’ve sampled the goods,” he replied.
“Do I get paid for this time?”
“Listen, honey. I’m doing you a big favor here. Don’t push your luck.”
He was doing her a favor?
The door opened, and a waitress came in. She started clearing the table, and while she was in the room, Cassandra and Aston Moore contemplated each other in silence. A shifty, nervous silence, with tension thickening the air. The waitress seemed to pick up on it, clattering the crockery with nervous hands as she loaded her tray. By the time she left, Cassandra’s heart was thundering in her chest.
Moore stood and went over to the door. There was a quiet double click, and Cassandra realized he’d locked it.
“Here?” she said. “There’s no bed.”
“Perhaps I could take you bent over the table,” said Moore. He advanced toward her, and Cassandra stepped away. “Or I could sit back and relax in the chair while you worked on your knees. What do you think? How would you pleasure me if I was a paying client?”
Cassandra’s mouth was dry. Words wouldn’t form, but she could hardly think of what to say anyway. All afternoon she’d been imagining what she would need to do once she was alone with this man, a man whom she quite literally despised, but through all those hours her mind had gone blank every time she reached this moment. And now he was asking her to take the initiative.
Melly’s gaunt face flashed before her eyes.
Swallowing her pride, her nerves and her distaste, she took a step toward Aston Moore, who stood his ground, watching her with an amused expression on his face.
“If you were my client, I’d ask you what your pleasure was,” she said. She’d dropped her voice an octave, making it low and throaty. She put her hands on his shoulders and let them rove back and forth around his neck and down onto his chest. “What can I do to make you happy, Aston? To make you feel good?”
She dropped a hand down and pressed it against his groin. He was semihard already, and his cock twitched at her touch. Moore looked momentarily surprised, but then he grinned.
“I’m tired, Cassandra, and a little jaded. I’ve had more women than you could ever imagine. I want something special, something I’ll remember, that’ll make me want to come back for more.”
Cassandra had no idea what to do next. She was winging it. Her sexual experience heretofore came nowhere close to this. What the hell did a man like Aston Moore want? Or need? Slowly and deliberately she unbuttoned his shirt, sliding her fingers under the cool cotton and scraping her nails over his taut abs. She heard his breath catch in his throat as she eased the fabric out from the waistband of his pants. As she pushed his shirt collar back over his shoulders, she pressed her lips against his ear.
“Bitter or sweet?” she whispered.
“Bitter?” he said, sounding unsure.
“Light or dark?” she whispered.
“Dark.” She could hear the smile in his voice. He was intrigued.
“Obey or be obeyed?” she whispered.
“Obey.” He seemed to falter, but he left it at obey.
“Dangerous or safe?” she whispered.
“Dangerous,” he said, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking her head back so he could see her face. “But I think you’re playing with fire, Cassandra.”
“Undoubtedly,” she said.
“And someone could get burnt.”
“I hope so.”
Then she took possession of his mouth, a rough, savage kiss with no concessions to his position as the man, the john, the paying customer, the pimp.
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TAMSIN'S SUPEROTICA 