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Work in Progress ♣ Handle with Care (June 2018) Update

6/28/2018

 
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Oh-oh by Cynthia Hlady

Word Count 76K
*This is what the word count is for the book so far. This will be close to a 90K word story.


I went on vacation for a week and while I was out, Cynthia sent me another sketch!! This is what she said:

​Regarding the sketch, I chose a moment from chapter 4 which I though was really funny and representative of their current situation:

"But it would be so much more fun if you wrestled me to the ground." I covered my mouth with a hand. That was not what I was going to say. My checks burned.

Kai picked up his fork and went back to eating as if my sexual innuendo didn’t mean anything. I promptly went back to my food and shut up.
Want to read Chapter 4? Click the button below:
Handle with Care (Chapter Four)
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Kai by Cynthia Hlady
More and more I can see the end to this particular project and I'm getting excited as the first draft comes to a close. Of course I have another excerpt for you below.

In this scene I was trying to show Kai's point of view on sex, his rigid principles and how he feels about Liam. His boyfriend isn't legal yet, even though Kai agreed to "go out" with Liam they both want monogamy but the relationship is sexless.

This pushes Kai, a healthy, young male into certain carnal explosive positions in which he tries to avoid. 

Liam has only ever had bad, forceful sex and most of it was when he was "leased out" as a male prostitute. He has urges but they aren't as strong because of his past. This eventually comes to light. For right now, during this scene, Liam─the eighteen year old─is the voice of reason and stronger of the two when it comes to putting the brakes on before the two have intercourse. 

In other words Kai wants him bad, but Liam's like─meh. That changes when Liam discovers the joy of great sex. Of course that doesn't happen until he's of legal age.  

Hope you enjoy! 

Excerpt from:

Handle with Care

© S.N.McKibben
No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted without written prior permission from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, incidents and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

This is a totally unedited chapter. It may or may not stay the same after final edits and it may or may not remain in the story.

If you find any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors, please let know via the comments!! I may not get to them right away, but I will get to them. Thank you!

If you are totally lost & would like to start at the beginning of (working title) HANDLE WITH CARE, click the button below.
Handle with Care Chapter One
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Below is an excerpt of (working title) HANDLE WITH CARE
Happy reading!

Chapter 15

​“Liam thinks every bit as an adult.” My usual session with Ms. Slate turned into relationship counseling. This was the only place, the only person, I could talk to about Liam. “But his body is still underage.”

“How are you dealing with that?” Jennifer sat behind her desk, glasses on, hair framing her down-turned face as she scribbled in her notebook.

I cleared my throat. “I am dealing with it fine.”

She stopped writing and looked up at me. “Specifically, what are you doing to deal with your attraction.”

It was no use telling her there was no attraction between Liam and I. Jennifer could see through me. “I go to the dojo every night. I take extra cases. Keeping busy helps.”

Jennifer folded her hands and cast me an expectant stare.

On any other day I could wait her out, but lately my calm grated against the inner demon. My patience grew shorter and often. I was becoming sarcastic, haughty, and my temper was easily raised. Every ounce of control was put to the test. Especially when I was around Liam. “It takes everything I have to steer my thoughts clear of any sexual fantasies.”

“When was the last time you had intercourse?”

Some might think her questions intrusive, irrelevant, but I found her direct speech refreshing. She did not mince her words. “Eleven months.”

“And you’ve had no thoughts about Liam?”

“No. None. Not at all.” Liar. I would catch a slip of his skin and desire to touch him. He would talk with his hands and I would imagine how those fingers felt on my torso. The show of ankle and then my mind would wander into a scene where he locked his legs around my hips. But I snapped out of all of them before my imagination ran away too far.

“Kai…” Jennifer sighed. “Liam isn’t six years old. He’s three months from being legal.”

“He is three months, fifteen days, and nine hours from being legal.”

She compressed her lips. “It would be normal to fantasize about the person you like.”

“I will not go down that road.”

“You said yourself he’s an adult…”

“He thinks like an adult. He is still a minor.”

“Are you doing this to prevent another Mori situation?”

I flashed her a scowl.

She did not flinch. “It’s a valid question.”

“What do you think?” I hissed. Then amended, “Of course.”

“Do you think denying yourself will change the way you deal with Liam when you two finally have sex.”

I sucked in a breath. “Can we not talk about this?” Sex and Liam in the same thought was dangerous. Illegal even, despite what Jennifer said.

“How’s work?”

“Fine.”

“Not having any issues with your co-workers?”

“Mr. Puzo thinks I have abused my power.”

She nodded. “He came the other day asking for information about you. I gave him the client privileges act and told him there was nothing he could use from me that would involve your work performance.”

“Thank you.”

Jennifer knew about my past, about me helping Mori put a father in jail so we could get said father’s family to safety. Not everyone got out of harm’s way. Mr. Puzo must have found out about my under-the-radar string pulling.

“Liam invited me to an art competition.” No matter how I tried the conversation always went back to my boyfriend.
​
Boyfriend.

A title that kept me from losing my mind. At the very least, he was mine.

“Sounds like a date.”

I kept my head down but flicked my eyes over to see her reaction. “Is that, okay? We are not having sex.”

“Yes, Kai. Yes. That’s a good thing.”

Relief flooded my body. “We made an agreement.”

She remained silent. Jennifer never pushed.

“We want monogamy… we go on dates, but there is no sex. No kissing. No touching. But I am his boyfriend, I mean we are going out, a couple. But there…”

“Is no sex. I get it, Kai. I think that’s wonderful.”

“Talking to him is a relief and added pressure.” I smoothed the wrinkles in my slacks and kept my eyes down. “He is an amazing person. He is taking the age of consent seriously. He keeps the physical part out of our relationship. That is why I say he thinks like an adult.” Liam was not lost in his dick. He thought about the consequences. Not just for himself but for me.

“Buuuuut…” Jennifer prompted.

“My own urges are getting harder to resist.”

“You know, Kai, touching someone doesn’t automatically mean sex is on their mind. You can hold hands, or heaven forbid, hug without it meaning anything other than affection. Affection does not mean sex.”

Touching Liam. I shivered. Remembering Saturday’s hug sent a spike of energy up and down my spine. My cock started getting in on the action, an indication I should direct my imagination somewhere else. Like how my father would react to Liam being my boyfriend.

“He massaged my shoulders.”

“Well, there, you see.”

I did not have the heart to tell her I stepped out of his hold before I turned around, stripped naked and had him in my hallway. “We will make due. Four months will pass by quickly.” If I kept saying that, maybe I would believe it.

“True, but I’m a little worried about you.”

“How so?”

“Given that you and your boyfriend are monogamous and not having sex, are you masturbating?”

“What? No!” My body moved on its own. I stood and paced the length of her couch. There was no way I could disguise my abject horror. Did she think me one of those creeps that think about children when having sex?

Jennifer remained stoic. “As I was saying, there is a very large difference between a six-year-old body and a seventeen-year-old body. Don’t get me wrong. The age of consent is eighteen, but considering your past…”

“I am in control.” I sat down, loosening the tension in my jaw. I reined in my temper and straightened my tie. “I am in control. This situation is different.”

“How?”

“There is no touching, no teasing. It’s a shorter wait.”

“Have you talked to him about what will happen when he turns eighteen and you can have sex?”

“Are you asking if he is a virgin?”

“That was not my question.”

“We will talk about that when he is eighteen.” But it occurred to me that Jennifer might have already seen Liam as a patient. Her questions were always pointed. Direct. She was trying to lead me to a series of thoughts.

Jennifer compressed her lips again and waited me out. For what, I wasn’t sure.

“Can we get off the subject of Liam?” Bringing up his name was the very act of talking about him.

Jennifer kept her head down, writing. “We can talk about anything you want.”

But, for all I was worth, I could not think of anything to talk about. The time passed in silence. It was a testament to how Liam touched every aspect of my life. Work reminded me of him. Home reminded me of him. When I went to the dojo I conjured what lesson to teach him. I breathed Liam. Ate Liam. My heart beat drummed syllables to his name. Li-am. Li-am. Li-am. Li-am.

Finally I sighed and hung my head in resignation.

“Kai?”

I raised my head to Jennifer’s soft call.

“How are you sleeping?”

“Not much.” The admittance was painful, but I was no coward to truth. “I try but my erection keeps me awake.”

Silence.

Jennifer’s mouth thinned. Her hands folded. My therapist’s eyes cast down to her desk.

“Say what you want to say.”

“You requested not to.”

“Out with it.”

“What you are doing is unhealthy.”

“My thoughts are what is unhealthy.” I know what she wanted me to do. But masturbation was not an option. “If I release myself I will think of him. Thinking of him while he is still a minor… doing that is sick.”

“Again, he’s not six-years-old.”

“That does not give me license to think of him in that way.”

“And because you are in a relationship, you’re not seeking out companionship to relieve the stress, I take it.”

“That suggestion is just as disgusting.” I would not cheat on Liam. Nor would I ask his permission to have sex with another person. It would not only put him in an awkward choice, it was not an action I wanted to entertain. We agreed. Monogamy. I refused to fail him another time. Liam would have the best of me.  

“Couples do what they need to. When it’s not about the sex and they are trying to stay together, sometimes unconventional relationships help keep them together.”

“That is not applicable in this situation.” I was not opposed to unconventional. Hell, in the past, if I shared Mori with his other lovers I would have been all right with that. At least for a while.

“So, we have an impasse.”

“Yes, doctor, we do.”

Jennifer sighed in a I give-up kind of way. “If I prescribe you a sleep formula, will you take it?”

“No pills.”

“It’s not medication, it’s natural. Over the counter items.”

I was still leery. “I will research it.”

She scribbled on a pad and handed me a sheet with a website URL.

“Thank you.” With that, I was done with the session. I stood and walked out of the office ten minutes before my time.

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Liam by Cynthia Hlady
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Thank you for reading Handle with Care by S.N.McKibben.
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Two Vampires Battle Against the Werewolf Nation

6/21/2018

 

Moon Blood: The First Blood Son, Book 2 by Carol McKibben

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Blurb

Two vampires battle against the werewolf nation...
Hybrid-wolf “Moon” and her human vampire master, Kane, fight for their lives against a stalking shifter network out to destroy them. Each battle may be their last as vampires and werewolves edge ever closer to war.

While Kane and Moon work to unravel the looming threat, more and more questions surface. But one thing is for sure; the real motives behind the werewolves’ plot against them include destroying the vampire race.

​Only an act of bravery and trust will stop the werewolf species from destroying what Kane and Moon love the most. Vampire teeth flash and wolf claws clash as supernatural beings fight for life, love, and family.

Book Trailer


Inside Scoop

Carol is working on book three now and is almost finished. I hear of talks to combine books three and four because they are that closely related. But knowing the author... once the series really gets going cliff hangers are the norm. There will be five books in this series then we might see another character take over in a new series. But we can be sure it all will be written by the perspective of a dog.  
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My Review

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Marked for death.

Levity and humor go hand in hand in MB2 (Moon Blood 2). It's the kind of story that gets under your skin and has you believing dogs can talk, vampires can have souls (but not in a sparkly kind of way) and unconditional love is alive and well in the world. 

A new character, Zandra, is introduced. She's bold, brave and little bit arrogant─a perfect match for Kane. I can see them having many more adventures in more books of the series. 

Moon, our canine narrator, has cat like responses towards the pairing such as "hacking up a fur ball". But I think Moon will get her just desserts when it comes time for her to find a mate. 

Gory is prevalent for those who like that kind of story. But something interesting happenes during the battles in this installment as opposed to the Snow Blood series. 

***SPOILER ALERT***

If you haven't read the SNOW BLOOD series and want to, this section may be a little bit of a spoiler. Skip down to the I WOULD RECOMMEND THIS TO FANS OF section and continue.
Or read the SNOW BLOOD series which I highly recommend. 
Go on...
​scroll down to the next section.

Still here? Great. Carrying on...

For instance, in MB2 the fighting is very different from the SB (Snow Blood) series. Since Kane took over the coven the abilities of all the vampires lean towards Kane's abilities. I noticed more shape-shifting in this one. More dragons. More bats. Just as much blood and slightly different tactics because Kane is much different from Brogio. Kane is the thinker.
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Okay maybe not that kind of thinker
​but definitely this kind of thinker...
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James, Kane's valet, would make the most bad-ass vampire. He's in there in the fight with Moon and Kane for most of the fighting and yes, he's human.

In the end, Moon Blood 2 leaves us with no cliff hangers but has room for more stories. I can't wait!    ​
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I Would Recommend This to Fans of:

Vampire Series

Shifter Series

Unique Reads

Dog Lovers

Blood, Guts & Glory
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Author Bio

Carol's love of animals, especially dogs and horses, is obvious in everything she writes. When Carol isn’t feeding her horde of canine rescues, she’s out riding her beloved Friesian on the plains of Texas. Her love of animals leads her to write through a dog's eyes. Carol’s message is clear. "If a dog can love us unconditionally, why can't we do the same with each other?" And, her paranormal stories are often filled with characters that might be the most difficult to love.

Carol's writing career began at 14 years of age when she started telling her stories to Labrador Retrievers, Basset Hounds, and any stray that happened by. It wasn't long before people stopped to have a listen as well. Now, Carol writes for people and speaks to large audiences, dogs included. 

Contact Carol on her website at www.carolmckibben.com or join her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/CarolMckibbenAuthor


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Excerpt

While we sat watching the crowd at the bar, I noticed a female gazing seductively at my sire from a table across the patio. My hackles rose.

Kane took his glass of wine from the waitress and savored its aroma, twirling it in his hand.

I see her. Kane’s voice slid through my mind.

Two things struck me about the woman. She resembled Selene with black hair and golden-brown eyes. Her voluptuous body exuded sex. Her sensual mouth curved into a smile when her eyes met Kane’s.

Her large-necked sweater slid off one olive-skinned shoulder. A short black leather mini skirt and knee-high black suede boots completed her sultry appearance.

Kane, impeccably attired in a dark-blue Boglioli jacket, blue turtleneck, and Brunello Cucinelli jeans, dusted off his Bruno Magli boots. He picked up his expensive glass of wine and sauntered over to the woman’s table.

I padded over and around to the gate behind her table and growled at her. Sniffing the air, I took in her aroma. She smelled of forest.

Kane sat opposite her, and she glanced over her shoulder at me.

“Your companion does not trust my motives.” She turned and eyed my master.

“What are your motives?” He leaned his handsome face toward hers and gave her a smoldering, unmistakable look.

“Nothing nefarious. You are just the most attractive person here tonight. Can’t a girl dream?” She sipped her wine.

“You can do more than dream.” Kane reached across the table and took her hand. “I am Kane de Medici. What is your name?”

“I know who you are, Kane. Everyone knows the most eligible bachelor in Tuscany.”

“Well, now that we both know my name, perhaps you have one as well?” He smiled, and his dark-brown eyes squinted at the corners slightly.

“Zandra Moretti.”

“Have you lived here for very long, Zandra, or just passing through?” Kane let go of her hand.

“All my life. Tuscan born.”

“How have we never met?” Kane sipped his wine, noticed her glass was empty, and called to the waitress. “Another glass of what I’m having, please.”

“You are gone often. A world traveler, no?”

The waitress brought another glass and set it down in front of Zandra.

She took it and sipped it. “This is one of yours, no?”

“You appear to know more about me than I do about you. Why don’t we rectify that?”

I could hold my silence no longer. Be careful. She isn’t human.

Yes, I know that she isn’t what she pretends to be. If she was sent to trap me in some way, I need to let it play out.

Zandra sniffed the wine, tasted it, and then drained the glass.

“Good wine should be savored, not gulped.” Kane frowned at her.

She reached into her black purse, pulled out a small card, and slid it across the table at him. “I’m late for an appointment. Call me.” She rose from her chair slowly, letting Kane’s eyes feast on every curve. “I’m sure you’ll like me once you get to know me.” She strode away, and Kane’s eyes never left her as she disappeared.

My sharp bark jarred him back to reality.

​She’s a shifter, but different than the others. I stood and paced around.
Kane finished his wine and responded. It will be fun discovering just exactly what she is.
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Jack the Bodice Ripper (Chapter 4)

6/14/2018

 
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This stock photo I found captured the regal glory I held in my mind of Queen Lydia Goththor. She's gorgeous and dangerous but without seeming too unapproachable. 

Queen Goththor loves her people and sees her position as a duty. She tries to instill social service as a virtue upon her son but Jackson does love certain perks that come with his high status.

Below is Chapter four of Jack the Bodice Ripper. Hope you enjoy! 
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If you are completely lost, and this is your first time here, you might want to start from the beginning. I suggest clicking on "Jack the Bodice Ripper" under the CATEGORIES on the right hand side of the screen. Or clicking the button below to start at the beginning. 

​For the rest of you...enjoy!
Jack the Bodice Ripper (Chapter One)

This is a FREE internet story for my fans. This is a fantasy somewhat historical called "Jack the Bodice Ripper"

© S.N.McKibben

No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted without written prior permission from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, incidents and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

If you find any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors, please let know via the comments!! I may not get to them right away, but I will get to them. I'm aware of the tense change, but alas, this was written when I was young and tense changing was a thing for me. I will try to do better in the future! Thank you.

Jack the Bodice Ripper

Chapter 4
I had to say something before silence and social pressure closed the opportunity to get to know each other. “You don't really want to be standing here with these old men, do you?”

“One of those old men is my father.” She quipped.

Not such a good beginning. “I meant no offense. It’s just... I'm determined to spend my last hours as a free man with beautiful women, such as yourself.”

“You must think yourself charming." She slung a white fan open and covered her mouth and nose. "You wouldn’t get away with such if you weren’t a prince.”

“Yet, I am.” I smiled.

“Not with me your not,” She murmured.

I got the distinct impression I wasn't supposed to hear that. Still, I held out an arm, forcing good manners from her.  “Come walk with me.” 

She hesitated and looked back at her father. “I have a chaperon, thank you.”

Raising my arm a bit higher I leaned forward and whispered, “I wasn't asking.”

I let the weight of my authority pressure her into the correct choice.

Finally, she lowered her head and took my arm.

Good bunny.

I strode to the back gardens, where the magical moon and enchanting stars could work their aphrodisiac.

As we walked she kept a hair’s distance behind me and never turned her face up. She wasn’t submissive so much as obedient. There was no lack of confidence in her stride, but she had the uncanny ability to remain in the background. She wasn’t demur as she was soft in presence, a true gem. I could spot her in any crowd.

Full moonlight illuminated the marble bench overlooking a garden covered in purple shadows. The wind rustled over the lilies creating just the right romantic climate I’d hoped for.

I turned to a beauty beyond anything I’d known. “What is it about you that’s so—”

She raised those honey warm eyes and her soft expression caught my tongue and stirred my heart. Lady Fayola was the most open woman I’d ever met. Course, raw and ready for any whim. Her mind sharp, capable of handling my deviance. Not submissive, but a perfect obedient.

Mouth dry, I wanted hers to replenish mine. But mostly, I wanted to test our compatibility. Push our wills together and see for myself if she understood this game we played. “Kiss me."

She remained placid. “I’m not allowed.”

“Would you disobey me?”

Ever the perfect obedient she remained stoic. “I’ve been given strict orders, and you are not my paramount.”

Her knowledge of what I was—a protector, a paramount to her obedient, proved she knew exactly what we were talking about. And my preferences.

I was a prince, but I was not commanding her as a royal and she knew it. A paramount-obedient relationship did not have sexual connotation unless the situation was brought into the bedroom.

“Who is your paramount?”

“Sir Ahibodeau.”

Her father. Which meant she was pure. Untouched. A true dove. It also meant there would be no penetration tonight. That didn’t bother me. I found satisfaction from pleasing a lady more with my own release second fiddle. I would have my desire, but for her, I would respect her boundaries.

“Sit with me, please.” I guided us to the stone bench.

Side-by-side we gazed up at the moon. I let the wind and the stars cast their soft light upon her profile.

Fay's hair pulled back in a conservative style with escaping tendrils dancing with the breeze. 

“Are you cold?” I wrapped an arm around her.

“No.”

But she didn’t shrug off my touch.

I leaned closer to her. Bending my neck, lips to her throat I caressed the most sensitive part of her exposed skin with a kiss.

Lady Fayola tensed and a tiny cry escaped.

The slight swoon bolstered my need for exploration.

Licking my way up to her jaw I watched her squirm. Delightful lower thrusts of her hips raged the burning inside me.

“Stop!”

I pulled away fast as any flame to skin. “Oh dove, forgive me.” She wasn’t experienced. My affections might be something of a shock.

Preening with pride, her flushed cheeks and panting breaths excited my wandering imagination. 

“Too much?” I skimmed a hand along her back hoping to stave off her recovery.

“Yes.”

I chuckled. “We’ll sit and talk then.”

“Tell me something of your mother.”

Sitting up at the mention of mother and not “queen” I softened towards the dove. “When I was eleven she asked for her birthday that I did not lie, at least to her. I kept that gift going past the year term.”

“You extend your gifts for only a year?”

“It’s been our tradition since I could understand what a promise was.”

“Does that mean in a year you will annul your marriage?”

I laughed. “No, I suppose I’ll have to keep my wife. My guess is that Mother will ask for children next year.”

An escapee strand of her hair floated towards my attention and I twirled it with a finger. “How has it been that we’ve never met? I didn’t even know Sir Ahibodeau had a daughter.”

“I was never allowed to attend the balls. This was a bit of a coming out.”

“Ah. You were to be presented to the queen?”

“I was.” She nodded, her eyes averted.

“But you were leaving when Paul and I caught up to you.”

“Father—changed his mind.”

Perturbed I let go of her hair. “Did he change his mind before or after the queen announced my gift?”

Lady Fayola fiddled her fingers and gave no answer.

“Answer the question.” Though her silence proved the answer, I still demanded.

“He changed his mind while she made her announcement.”

Remaining respectful of both royal family and her paramount was impressive. She was cunning, and despite her absence of social circles, she was adept at riding the line of geniality. Good traits to have in a wife.

“Who do you think you’ll pick?”

I gave a long suffering sigh. “I don’t have but hours yet for that.”

She perked up and turned. “You mean you didn’t have someone already picked out?”

“No.” I shook my head. Eating sour lemons over choosing would be preferable.

Her eyes widened. “So you truly have but a few hours to choose? Why doesn’t she pick for you?”

“She probably will. No doubt she has someone in mind already.”

“You seem dissatisfied with the process.”

Looking into the face of compassion I knew she would understand. “I was hoping to marry for—love.”

She gasped.

​Sir Ahibodeau’s booming voice crashed our safari. “There you are.”
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Chapter 5
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I corrected a few mistakes in this chapter and I hope I've addressed them all but if you see something that doesn't make sense or grammar errors, drop me a line or tell me in the comments! 

Your feedback helps me create better stories. Better stories lead to wonderful entertainment. 

Thank you for reading!
XO ~ Stephy
You have been reading JACK THE BODICE RIPPER 
S.N.McKibben
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What to Listen to after Watching Fifty Shades

6/7/2018

 
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Blurb

Can you have love and power at the same time?

Politician and billionaire Jonathan Brond has mastered his work, his reputation and the art of sexual domination. But a chance encounter with college student Christiana Snow promises something he didn’t think was possible─meeting someone honest.

When the charismatic man proposes a summer of sensual, sexual submission, Christiana leaps into his world—the antidote to her bland life. But Washington, D.C. is an unforgiving place. Soon gossip and scandal threaten their relationship. In a town of players, introducing a new game is the only way out. Who knew love would be the winning plan.
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Inside Scoop

Instead of a book reading I thought... wait─that would be like an audio book snippet and realized I haven't been reviewing the audio books I've listened to. So here's my audio book review! 

Don't quote me on this, but I believe the ELITE DOMS OF WASHINGTON will have at least five books in the series. Elizabeth has confirmed the fifth book. That's all I can say. As I said... don't quote me. 
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Author Bio

Elizabeth SaFleur is an erotic romance author and dying-to-retire public relations practitioner who writes, tweets and posts under a pseudonym since her business clients might be (would be) shocked at her second career choice.

She wrote the Elite Doms of Washington, a contemporary erotic romance series, somewhat inspired by her thirty-year career serving D.C. clients, though her work life didn’t include the smexines or BDSM she features.

​Today Elizabeth shares twenty-eight, wildlife-filled acres in Central Virginia with her husband and dog, and is sometimes separated from her laptop to indulge in dance classes and local wineries. Elizabeth is a member of the Romance Writers Association and avid reader of all fiction genres. www.ElizabethSaFleur.com
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My Review

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This debut novel is something spectacular

The audiobook is equally magnificent. Anastasia Watley creates Elizabeth SaFleur's world with a seductive voice and resonating tone.

Listening to LOVELY made me think... this is what Fifty Shades should have been.

The Washington theme is prevalent through the book, but it's not about politics.

The Romantic Suspense kept me in the car even after I parked in my garage for a good half-hour.

BDSM themes entered every sex scene and the explicitness of each touch was felt from my ears down to my toes. 

Our nineteen-year-old heroine was no virgin and our hero was romantic, intoxicatingly charming and powerful in all the right ways.

The story wasn't just fluff. Drama encased every listening minute. Our couple had strife, betrayal, social pressure and high stakes that could drop on them at every turn. All the while it was a story of Christiana & Jonathan against the world. The kind of story you think of when looking for a soul mate.

Even if you don't like explict sex, or you can't stand politics right now, it doesn't matter.

The story is ultimately about a couple fighting for the right to love each other even though they come from two different worlds. Get swept away in this audiobook, I promise you'll love it!


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I Recommend This Story to Fans of:

Romantic Suspense

Couples from Opposite Social Status

BDSM themes

Explicit Sex

Powerful Alpha

Rich Dom

Innocent Submissive

Sexual Exploration

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Excerpt

© Elizabeth SaFleur 2014
Lovely Excerpt(Warning: light spanking/sexual content) 

The Jefferson Suite had a reputation. Everyone said so.

Christiana Snow watched Henrick, the sous-chef, slip a red rose into the silver bud vase on the room service tray she’d been tasked to deliver. “There are some naughty stories about the guests that stay in that suite.” He winked. “Let me take you to dinner, and I’ll tell you all about it."

She turned her back on Henrick’s smirk—and his eyes that never seemed to travel farther north than her neck. Since the day Christiana started working at The Oak she’d fought the desire to bend her knees to force his gaze to her face. It would only give him the wrong idea.

Instead she threw back two ibuprofens with her milk and then set the glass into a nearby bin of dirty dishes. Gossip made her head hurt.

She felt Henrick’s eyes travel her body as she pushed the room service cart into the elevator. "For a reporter's daughter, you aren't very curious,” he called after her.

Curiosity wasn’t the issue. The Oak, which stood mere blocks from the White House, attracted politicians and paparazzi—and dozens of men, sporting earbuds attached to wires disappearing into their dark suits, sent to watch them both. It took real concentration to ignore the stories that the hotel’s staff collected like trophies.

At least the tips were good at the boutique hotel and restaurant, and the mundane work gave her time to think—or think forward, as her father always said. And that’s what she was going to do—think forward and move forward. She didn’t have time to get wrapped up in other people’s lives and certainly not the pseudo reality of the D.C. politicos.

The elevator creaked to a stop. Water sloshed in the silver pitcher as Christiana leaned over the cart to push the slatted metal door aside. A dusty, oil-paint smell greeted her as she started down the hallway, lined with canvases of hunting scenes set in over-sized, gilded frames higher than she was tall and wider than her arms could stretch.

Christiana took in a lungful of the stagnant air as she reached the Jefferson Suite’s double doors at the end of the corridor. She knocked and listened for the sound of footsteps. No one came.

Her leg danced with impatience. Mrs. DeCord’s order was Christiana’s last task of the day, and she wanted to finish it as fast as possible to rush off to meet Avery, her best friend. Christiana had agreed to be her “date” at some society fundraiser that afternoon.

Christiana studied the rich mahogany crown molding, lining the long hallway. Gold brocade wallpaper led her eyes to images of smiling women, draped in gossamer swaths of pastel blue and green fabric. They stared down from their ceiling mural home, their eyes cold and full of secrets.

Christiana knocked on the door once more. After no response, she pulled her master key card from her apron pocket and slipped it to the lock slot. The door cracked open but stopped against something on the other side. Through the gap in the door, she saw a man’s shoe lying on its side.

She called into the room, “Hello? Room service. Ma’am?” No one answered though muffled voices resonated deeper within.

Well, she couldn’t wait. She pushed harder on the door, and the shoe slid aside.

The cart’s wheels whispered over the marble entryway floor. She announced herself one more time. No reply. She picked up the man’s dress shoe, an expensive leather smell wafting to her nose. She set it down beside a tufted chair in the hall.

A male voice echoed from the bathroom off the suite’s master bedroom. “No, Yvette.”

“Please take me. I won’t say a thing.” Mrs. DeCord’s voice reverberated off the tile.

“You know our agreement.”

Mrs. DeCord whined, “I don’t understand why I wasn’t invited. I’ll show up anyway.”

“You won’t do any such thing, Yvette.” He spoke her name like a caress. “Take off your panties.”

Christiana’s insides seized at the man’s abrupt change in tone. Maybe she had heard wrong. After a long silence, she urged the cart forward, but the wheels bogged down on the plush carpet in the living area.

The voice spoke. “Bend over, put your hands on the counter. Good. Look in the mirror. Eyes on me, Yvette.”

Smack! A sharp slap pierced the air, and Christiana jerked backward as if stung. Mrs. DeCord moaned. Was she hurt?

Christiana couldn’t break her gaze, eyes glued on the bedroom doors. They weren’t closed completely. They were slightly ajar, a sliver of the interior showing through a small crack.

“Open your legs.” The man’s voice, sandpaper and velvet, rooted Christiana in place even though her heart fluttered wildly. “Very nice, baby.”

Christiana took a deep breath to steady herself, inhaling musk mixed with the fragrance of lilacs. Something else hung heavy in the air.

Mrs. DeCord’s whimpers grew louder.

Should she call, so they knew she wasn’t trying to hide her presence? If they saw her, would they realize she had overheard? Should she leave? If she abandoned the lunch, they’d know she’d heard and run away, probably to gossip.

“Mmm, you like that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Christiana licked her lips at the man’s chocolate-caramel tone. She tried to place the voice—maybe he was a radio announcer. No, he sounded too sexy and way too dangerous.

Slap! Slap! Christiana’s leg bumped into the cart and silverware clanked. Water splashed on the linen, and she stilled, but no new sound came from the bedroom.

She couldn’t abandon the lunch in the middle of the living room. She’d just have to be quick. Christiana maneuvered the cart to the small bay window overlooking Pennsylvania Avenue. She set up the silver and lifted the dome on Mrs. DeCord’s salad.

“Touch yourself,” the deep, rich voice said. Christiana’s heart punched at her ribs, and she lifted one hand to her breast to still it. Her eyes darted to the doors.

She gulped and tried to shake off the sound of the man’s sexy intonation. Christiana tiptoed over to the French doors of the master bedroom and risked a peek into the room. The bed’s comforter wilted over one side of the bed, and sheets bunched in a tight wad at the foot, bulging through the brass rails of the footboard. Pillows lay scattered on the floor. Braided black ropes hung limply from the frame of the headboard. She envisioned a restrained body, spread-eagle and helpless on the bed. Oh, god.

A chill broke out across her body. Instinct told her to click the doors shut. She winced at the snick of the door jam. Did they hear her?

More whispers escaped from behind the closed doors. She couldn’t make out the words, but the sensual rhythm of his voice rose and fell in a soothing, hypnotic cadence. Christiana’s ears strained for the man’s instructions, for what he wanted Mrs. DeCord to do next. Footsteps brushed across the carpet in the bedroom. The man spoke in rumbling purrs, approaching the bed.

She bit her bottom lip when a thought arose about that strange, human scent. Sex. A pang hit between her thighs as an image slipped into place of the faceless man—with that voice—putting his mouth on Mrs. DeCord’s neck.

A long wail and an ecstatic groan drifted from inside the bedroom.

Christiana stepped back. She needed to leave--now. If caught eavesdropping, even accidentally, she’d be dismissed. She clutched the silver dome to her chest like a shield and slunk to the marble foyer. The man’s smoky voice oozed into the main room as the suite’s front door clacked behind her, a barrier to . . . what?

She jogged down the long hallway to the elevator, punched the call button, and tried to steady her breathing as the elevator creaked upward. The man’s voice still reverberated in her chest. Relief coursed through her body, glad she hadn’t run into either of them inside, especially him. One look and he would have guessed she’d heard, had sucked in the air, heavy with sex, and understood.

Her imagination settled on Mrs. DeCord pressed into the mattress under a dark, mysterious man. His lips floated over her breast. Christiana shook her head in a vain attempt to stop the image from evolving into the man slipping his hands between the woman’s legs.

Christiana hit the button twice more. Come on. She gave up on the antiquated elevator and headed to the stairs. More questions surfaced with each step downward.

Did Henrik’s wink mean he knew? Who was Mrs. DeCord hooking up with in the Jefferson Suite? The mystery man had done something carnal to her, something she’d wanted done, though Christiana couldn’t imagine what. Something with ropes and slaps and Lord knows what else. Maybe she should’ve listened when the other waitresses, huddled in the employee break room, tittered about who slipped through the hotel lobby trying not to be noticed.

Then again, maybe not. She began to understand why her manager, Brian, had directed staff to drop off the orders and avoid looking around. He had warned, “In the political climate of Washington, D.C., some things are best not to see.”

Christiana dislodged her overactive daydreaming and ran to the staff room to gather her things before clocking out. She jumped when her phone rang.

“Hey, get here already! I’m guarding your dress in the main ladies room. You know where,” Avery said. “I never wore it, and you seem to like blue.”

Avery’s closet enjoyed a regular turnover, as the budding socialite wouldn’t be caught dead photographed in anything twice. Christiana was the grateful recipient of Avery’s generosity. Her hand-me-downs were really more like hand-me-ups for Christiana.

She grabbed her purse from her locker. “I’m leaving right now. How come this event is so early?”

“Mom said it’d be like happy hour. It’s really so they can all start drinking earlier. Serve anyone interesting today?”

“No one special.” She glanced in the small mirror inside the door and smoothed down a few wispy bangs to cover up the two-inch scar on her forehead, now pink from exertion.

“Oh, come on. It’s an election year. Everyone wants to be seen.”

Christiana laughed. “You sound like my dad.” The silence on the other end signaled Avery wasn’t pleased with the comparison. Another faux pas—something Avery said Christiana was very good at making, like wearing the same dress to a charity event more than once.

“Um, do you know Mrs. DeCord?” Christiana asked.

“Sure. Former Miss Dallas, married to a high-powered lawyer. Well, at least for now. Women like that go through men like wardrobe changes. Why? What’d she do? Spill it.”

“Oh, nothing. She comes in from time to time.” Damn, she shouldn’t have asked. Avery’s natural investigative nature came alive when a fellow socialite’s name arose.

“Who was she with today? Not her husband?” Avery’s voice lit up with excitement.

“I don’t know what her husband looks like. It was probably him.”

Avery snorted. “Yeah, right. No one goes to The Oak with who they’re supposed to be with.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Look, I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

Christiana stuffed her phone into her purse and sprinted to the garage.

Cars choked Constitution Avenue even on a Saturday. Tourist season had begun in Washington. Families clad in matching t-shirts and people carrying maps and cameras would soon replace D.C.’s full-time residents, who would escape the city for Rehoboth Beach on most muggy summer weekends.

She shifted in her seat and adjusted the air conditioning vents to blow directly over her clammy chest. Christiana glanced to the National Mall alongside Constitution Avenue. Stopping at a red light every thirty-five feet never used to bother her. It gave her time to take in the sights. But lately the Washington Monument’s constant pointing to the sky created an unsettling feeling. It only reminded her nothing really changes in D.C.

Christiana pulled up to the entrance of the Rosemont Country Club only ten minutes late. Sunlight bounced off the brass plaque on the white brick pillars, the only announcement to the outside world that the elite of Washington gathered at the other end of the dogwood-lined driveway. Members of Congress discussed budget negotiations while golfing and bored wives complained about Neiman Marcus inventory while sunning themselves on the terrace.

Avery’s family had held membership here since the club opened in the 1920s. Her great-grandfather was one of the founding members. The Churchill women had spent countless hours flipping from their backs to their fronts by the swimming pool and attending mixers and events in the cool evenings. Avery reveled in the ambience. Butterflies usually took over Christiana’s stomach at the thought of crossing the threshold of the country club though she attempted to raise a little gratitude for Avery’s generosity in letting her tag along. Or drag me along.

Christiana handed her keys to the valet, whose traditional red coat was replaced by a ridiculous number in black and pink. Oh, right, today’s event was a fundraiser for breast cancer research. Great, she’d be in blue while everyone else draped themselves in various shades of fuchsia and rose. She hoped no one would notice. She knew everyone would. Even when helping a great cause, Washington feasted on mistakes, and failure to heed dress codes was a major gaffe. It took a lot of time and money—none of which she had—to conform to all the rules of Avery’s world.

​She shook her head and tried to focus on not tripping up the stairs in her high-heeled sandals. But memories of work today and what she’d overheard at the Jefferson Suite kept replaying in her mind. Stop it. Chris. Think forward. She slipped through the massive oak door.

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