Friday, May 24, 2013

The Devil's Kiss Tour: Special Post & Giveaway!

Today I'm thrilled to host the last stop for The Devil's Kiss Tour, organized by Dark World Books!
(Click on the banner above to catch up with all the previous amazing stops.)

(The Devil's Kiss #1)

Kayla Sutton faces a question no mother wants to face: what would you do to save your daughter? Broke and desperate, she siphons thousands from the company she works for in order to pay for her daughter’s experimental life-saving treatment. But when Gage Channing discovers her theft, she is shocked to learn that her domineering boss has no intention of turning her over to the police. Instead he issues an ultimatum—submit to him, or go to jail.
Backed into a corner, Kayla signs his contract and spends her first weekend at his home, at his mercy, and is stunned when he awakens the desire she’d believed long dead.
Approximately 12,000 words.

*Click on the cover to read my review*

(The Devil's Kiss #2)

Freedom is but an illusion . . .
Kayla Sutton finds out the hard way that Gage Channing’s dominance doesn’t end once she leaves the confines of his basement. His rules dictate her days and nights, his watchful eye keeps her in line at work, and the memories of her weekend with him, spent under his absolute control and his firm hand, keeps her on her toes. Having been blackmailed into submitting to him, Kayla doesn’t fully understand what it means to relinquish control of her body and free will, and she doesn’t understand how a man who derives pleasure in whipping and humiliating her is capable of awakening the desire she hadn’t known existed.
As her daughter’s life hangs in the balance, Kayla must dig deep to find the strength to fully submit, to travel down the path of pain and pleasure. But when her past catches up to her, prompting a free fall into forbidden territory with a man she once fiercely loved, she knows her only recourse is to come clean about her transgression to her Master and beg his forgiveness . . . only she never imagined he’d have such a horrifying punishment awaiting her, or that his jealousy would send her life into a further tailspin.
Approximately 19,000 words.

*Click on the cover to read my review*

(The Devil's Kiss #3)

Kayla Sutton thinks it’s over. She now holds the leverage she believes will end her contract with her blackmailer, but Gage Channing isn’t going down without a fight. He’s turned the tables on her, cleverly making her submit under the guise of giving her a choice, and Kayla soon discovers that retribution isn’t so black and white when everyone around her has secrets.
She faced sexual servitude in Ultimatum. In Enslaved she was seduced into craving it. Now she must find the strength to either accept the part of her that craves him still, or walk away for good . . .
Approximately 21,000 words.

*Click on the cover to read my review*

Add Retribution to your Goodreads list!

Are you ready for a very special post? With permission from the lovely Gemma James,
we're about to reveal...*drumroll*... a deleted scene from Retribution (The Devil's Kiss #2)!!




Her blood lingered on my hands. Dark and red—the color of passion, the color of rage. I possessed both in equal amounts. Perhaps that was my curse. No other woman’s cries had made me so hard, so ready to burst from my skin with the need to claim and own.
Yet she never would be, not in any way that mattered. My rage had wrecked any chance I’d had with her. But God, she’d been mine while chained and spread-eagled, while my whip struck her soft skin and elicited the cries I couldn’t help but crave. She’d been mine when I’d buried myself inside her tight, hot place that no other man had touched in three years.
If I had my way, no other man would touch her again. I’d cut his fucking fingers off and make him choke on them. But some asshole would eventually touch her . . . do more than touch her. Some jerk would eventually marry her, and I had no one to blame but myself. My temper had always been my downfall, but this was the mother load of hitting bottom.
She’d never forgive me, and she would never belong to me . . . she never had.
“Go home, Kayla.”
Her sneakered feet came into view, shoulder-width apart, and I refused to look up and meet her eyes. The reality of her witnessing my pathetic display of weakness was hard to swallow. I reeked of alcohol and sweat—worked up from ripping apart anything my hands touched. The St. Andrew’s cross lay in pieces on the other side of the room, and I’d torn the sheets from the bed and had shredded and ripped until my fingers grew numb. I clutched my half-empty bottle of rum with them now.
“I’m not going anywhere until I’ve said this.” She tossed a manila folder on the floor. “You’ll find enough evidence in there to send you to jail for a long time.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What evidence?”
“Proof of your embezzlement. How ironic that you blackmailed me for doing what you’re guilty of yourself.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Isn’t this a tidy little circle we’ve got here? You steal from your clients, I steal from you. He blackmails you, you blackmail me.” Her jaw clenched unforgivingly. “If I didn’t have Eve to think about, I might find some humor in it all.”
She was speaking in riddles. Either that or I was drunker than I thought.
“Why are you here, Kayla?”
“The rules have changed.” She began to pace, and I’d never seen her so worked up. Then again, I’d never allowed her the freedom of aiming her anger at me. Even now, I wanted to whip it out of her, only I was too wasted and couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. “I’m here to call a truce. End our contract, take care of Eve’s medical bills, and I’ll consider us even.”
“Fine,” I snapped. “You can go now.” I tipped the bottle back and took a swig.
“That’s all you have to say?” Her voice shook, betraying her rocky composure. “Look at me, Gage.”
I lifted my head, amused by the switch of our roles; now she stood over me demanding that I look at her. My gaze fastened onto her hands as they rose and unhooked the buttons of her jacket. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she peeled the clothes from her body. She was creamy perfection, marred by the flaws of my being. My whip had left her black and blue and covered in welts, though the worst of her pain lived in her glistening eyes.
I did this to her. My hand. My whip.
I took another swig, one so long I almost finished the damn bottle. 
“Is this why you’re hiding in that bottle?” She gestured to the wounds on her body. “Did your conscience finally claw its way out of the grave?”
I’d never been more proud of her. Despite everything I’d put her through, she was still strong enough to stand on her own—to stand up to me. She really was different. Something inside her called to the darkness in me until it burst free and shone like onyx. She tapped her foot, one . . . two . . . three times. My cock twitched at the thought of sweeping her off those stubborn feet, and I didn’t care what method I used. I could seduce her or use pain to make her bend—either would suffice. But the end result would be the same; I’d have her writhing underneath me, fingernails digging into my skin as she begged for completion, and I wouldn’t stop pounding into her until the core of her being touched mine. I grew painfully hard as I imagined taking her, only this time she’d scream my fucking name.
“Dammit, say something!” she shouted.
“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?”
“Are you?”
I sprung to my feet, so unexpectedly that she jerked back a few steps. “I’ll never be sorry for fucking you in front of him.” The image of her in his arms flashed crimson behind my eyes, and I hurtled the bottle against the wall behind her. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the basement, and she shrank away. I grabbed her before she put enough distance between us, digging my fingers in a little deeper when she whimpered. “I’d do it again and again until he gouged his fucking eyes out.”
“Let go, you’re hurting me!”
“Then stop me.” I mashed my lips to hers and forced my tongue inside. She struggled for a few moments before her body went limp in my arms, before she surrendered her mouth. I became dizzy off her display of helplessness. With a groan, I tangled my hands in her hair and tilted her head back. She didn’t know I was the helpless one; helpless against the lure of her and split down the middle between what I wanted to do and what I needed to do. If kissing her was sinful, then I was going straight to hell. And something so seemingly innocent was sinful—that forbidden touch of her mouth to mine was far more intimate than fucking.
I pushed her away and staggered back. “Go home, before I fuck you again, and no amount of crying or begging will stop me.”
“Why are you holding back now?” Her voice splintered, and that vulnerable sound tore me in two. “What’s so different?”
I collapsed to the floor. I could say everything. I could say nothing. In the end my silence said everything; somewhere, beyond my most base desires, I was guilty as hell and she knew it. But that was all she could know—the rest was too messed up to put into words, and some things were better kept in the dark. I buried my head in my hands.
“If there’s a speck of humanity in you, Gage”—I raised my head in time to watch her remove the collar—“you’ll do the right thing.”
The thin strip of leather drifted to the floor, and I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry.


Gemma James writes dark erotica fiction, drinks too much caffeine, and stays up too late. She’s morbidly curious about anything dark and edgy, whether it be serial killers or BDSM. Erotica is a new venture for her, and she’s looking forward to exploring the deviant side of human nature, the contrast of pleasure and pain.

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