Untouchable, New Steamy Contemporary Romance — FREE Excerpt

In Washington D.C.’s political arena, no one is who they seem.

In Untouchable, book two of the Elite Doms of Washington series, we learn just how duplicitous some people can be. Yet, even in the face of treachery, love isn’t easily beaten — especially when it arises between two people like Carson and London.

Read a smexy excerpt below and check out my visual inspiration on the Untouchable Pinterest board. (Warning: hot men, strong women and compromising, sexy positions.)



About Untouchable
With fiery exchanges in the workplace, public relations princess, London Chantelle, intrigues and provokes the alpha male in wealthy attorney Carson Drake. He’d like to bend her over his knees—among other things. Outside the office, an unexpected meeting at a local BDSM club suggests she is the ideal candidate for a weekend of sensual submissive pleasure. Mistrustful yet fascinated, London agrees to his proposal of forty-eight hours with him. Finally, she can satisfy her unwanted, darker longings. Their passionate weekend stuns them both and London wants more of Carson Drake and his firm handling. But their assumptions about love threaten their budding relationship—even more than a blackmailing co-worker and London’s long-buried secrets.

EXCERPT: Untouchable, Book 2 in the Elite Doms of Washington series

Carson herded London toward the private rooms. She stopped short when they reached a gothic-arched doorway.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Someplace quieter.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Then you don’t have to.” He dropped his hold on her waist.
“Just talking?”
“Yes. Witnesses saw us leave. You’re safe.”
She let Carson pull her through the massive door, held open by a bodyguard. He moved them down an expansive hallway. Only after ushering her inside the last door at the end did he let go of her elbow. She immediately crossed her arms.
“It’s okay, sugar. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
“I’m meeting someone.”
“Yes, so I can’t stay long.” She worked her bottom lip and shuffled her weight from foot to foot. Her eyes also darted to the bed in the corner. Perhaps she thought he’d take her right away? She knew his identity. She should know he was committed to due diligence. And he had to know why she was here—the last place on earth he’d expect London Chantelle.
He sat in one of two cushioned chairs set before a lit fireplace. He appreciated her luscious curves, beautifully illuminated by the amber glow of the low fire.
“Sit.” He beckoned her to join him.
“I like standing.”
“Sit.” The commanding tones of a Dom brought the expected result. As she lowered herself into the chair, her ponytail licked one shoulder. “Your hair is beautiful in this light,” he said. “More golden brown than I noticed before.”
She swallowed. “Thank you, um . . . I go by Tatiana.”
“It doesn’t suit you. Why not go with, say . . . London?”
Her mouth dropped to an “O” in alarm, and she leapt from her seat.
“Sit. Down.” He pointed to the chair.
“Please.” Her hazel eyes implored lenience, and her tone of voice surprised him. He liked the beseeching quality. It was quite a departure from her customary unadulterated demand.
“Please what? You thought a simple mask and change of clothing meant I wouldn’t recognize you?”
“I hoped . . . maybe . . . I can’t do this.”
Before she could complete two steps, he’d risen from his chair and laid his hand on her shoulder. She stopped. He pressed his torso against her back, sending her firm ass into his crotch. He decided to like her stiletto boots. He was a tall man and they made her the perfect height. He waited to see if she’d object, at which point he’d back off.
She didn’t move.
Carson pulled off the elastic holding her hair captive. A curtain of gold-laced chestnut silk cascaded free. He brushed her mane to one side and bared her shoulder. “That’s better.”
Her breathing sped up. “You said just talking.”
“Still, sweetness.” He inhaled her scent of Ivory soap and cinnamon Christmas cookies before stepping backward. “We are talking.”
She twisted to face him. “Carson, please . . .”
He liked how her emotions turned in an instant. She’d test his abilities to direct her psychology in a scene. He nearly laughed at himself. How quickly I have her bound and pleasured in my mind. “There. Now that’s a start. I rather like you begging me.”
“I don’t beg.”
And there goes that chin. “We’ll see.” He took another step back. His instincts told him she wouldn’t bolt.
“Take a seat, London.” Carson returned to his chair. “When you do, hands in your lap. After you listen to me you can decide if you wish to leave. It will be your choice.”
London hesitated, then nestled her behind onto the chair opposite him. She placed her hands in her lap. The thumb of one hand worked the palm of the other.
“Take off your mask. Show me your pretty face.”
London took a deep breath as her elegant fingers slipped off her disguise, pulling the fastening ribbon through her perfect hair. He wanted to capture her cheeks in his hands. He’d rub off the mask indents and erase the worry imprinted on her forehead.
“How long have you been without a master?” he asked.
“I-I’m not . . .” Her jawline hardened. “It’s none of your business.”
“That’s a shame. I’m good at business.” His mouth broke into a smile at the thought of bending her over her desk, papers sticking to her bared breasts, pens falling to the floor. He’d smack her ass with that leather portfolio she carried around like a shield. He wouldn’t stop until her engraved initials imprinted her skin.
“Why did you bring me here?” she whispered.
“You’re looking for a Dom. I’m a Dom looking for a sub.”
She flinched at his final word. “What do you want, Carson?”
What I want. Did it matter? He’d given up what he wanted long ago—a spirited submissive who matched his desires. Someone who might actually stick with him and not drop him the minute a better offer came through. He didn’t allow himself to think finding such a woman was possible anymore.
“Time. Willingness. Pleasure.” Carson folded his hands and laid his chin on his knuckles. “Now, I want to know what you want.”
“No, you don’t.”
Carson raised an eyebrow. “Toying with me will not get you anywhere, sweetness.”
“Isn’t that what you are doing with me?”
“Hardly.” Carson let silence take over the space.
“Then what?” she whispered after long minutes.
“Patience will be your first lesson tonight. Then I’ll consider you.”
“Consider me?” She gave him a hardened, fuck-off look.
“Yes. Last time. What do you want?”
He let a few seconds tick by. Then he stood. “If you won’t tell me why you’re here, what you seek, then I can’t help.”
“I-I didn’t mean . . . it isn’t easy . . .”
“You must answer my questions when I ask them. No delay. It’s for your safety and mine.”
Her lips pursed, her signal she realized she was losing. Her sassiness had its usual alluring appeal—futile, but adorable. She licked her bottom lip, the subtle move urging him forward.
“Stand,” he said.
She stood cautiously.
“What is your safeword?” he asked.
“Excuse me? A-a scene. With you? You’re a client. If anything ever got back—”
“Then we would both lose. And I don’t lose.”
“No, You take what you want and damn the consequences.”
“London.” Carson walked toward her and she backed around the chair. “What are you afraid of? Afraid you might get what you want? Experience what you’ve longed for?”
She let out a huff, but continued to retreat as Carson advanced. He sent her in a backward circle until she closed in on the canopied bed. Yes, most definitely submissive. The urge to discover how deep her desires ran raged through him like a brushfire.
“How would you know what I long for?” Her haughty chin jutted out.
“I want to know, London. Tell me.”
“Why?” She’d backed up until she connected with the bedpost.
“Fair question. And one I’ll answer. Given you and I dance well together at the boardroom table, why wouldn’t we here? Had I known your proclivities I might have offered. Why didn’t you come to me before?” How had he missed her signs?
“B-but you hate me.”
Now he was puzzled. “No, I don’t. You sometimes irritate, but I could never hate you. Surely you noticed my tendencies.”
“Being a bully in a boardroom does not make you a Dominant I’d be interested in.”
“Ouch, London. That hurt.” Carson slapped his chest above his heart but kept his face stony.
“I didn’t think you could feel pain.”
“Everyone feels pain.” Her lips parted when he closed the last inch of distance between them. His thighs touched hers, and he softened his voice. “It pleases me you’re here. There’s no use in fighting this chemistry.” Carson hooked a thumb on his waistband. “One weekend.”
“With you?”
“What will you do with your harem?”
He unbuckled his belt. “Your second lesson. Don’t force discipline with a smart mouth.”
“I don’t have that kind of time.” She raised her impertinent jawline—again.
Lesson three: discipline your haughty chin.
“Not enough time to learn discipline or not enough time, in general?” The loud rasp of leather yanked through his belt loops sent her attention to his torso.
“What are you doing?” Her panicked gaze shot to his face.
“I don’t have a collar on me.”
“I am wholly disinterested in being collared.”
“One weekend, London.” He grasped one of her hips with his free hand. “If you’re disappointed at any time, you can walk. I’ll never speak of it again. Our work together will go unaffected. No one—and I mean no one—but us will know.”
“Would you put that in writing?” Her eyes filled with mischief.
Priceless. London lured him toward a lightning storm. He could play. Hell, nothing appealed in the moment more than a weekend playing with London. Yes, this is what he wanted. Now he needed to know if she was willing.
“I’ll do one better.” He snaked the belt around her waist until the leather rested against her hips.
“I’m not a notch on a belt.”
“You could never be a notch, London Chantelle. You’re the whole belt, sugar.”
Her face softened, and the playfulness in her eyes died. He recognized the deliberation behind them, the wonder if she’d be safe, here and at work. London needn’t have worried. She might get scared, but mutual satisfaction was the only way his brand of sexual fulfillment worked.
“Say yes or no.” He pressed his torso to her corseted body, the last space between her body and his obliterated. “But say yes.”
“What will happen if I say yes?”
“What you want.  What you’ve probably always wanted.”
Her eyes misted with a surprising vulnerability. “Yes.”


Available at Amazon, iBooks, Kobo and B&N.

Also on Audible here.

I leave you with a little visual stimulation. Hint: It’s what comes after the excerpt above.


The Lovely Playlist

Below is the first ten songs from Lovely’s playlist. Warning: At least one of the songs is definitely Not Safe For Work (NSFW) listening. I marked it below.

The Lovely Playlist

1. The Lightening Strike by Snow Patrol

2. This Will Make You Love Again by IAMX
3.  This is Hardcore by Pulp. (I once choreographed an exotic dance routine to this – nothing like Lovely or this video. I’ll tell you about it someday…)
4.  The Truth by Audiomachine
5. Bilingual by Jose Nunez. Definitely NSFW. Wonderful, but very, very dirty song. Enjoy!
6. Numb by Alanis Morisette. Because no one does angst like Alanis.
7.  Simple Girl by IAMX. I imagine Christiana being introduced to all of the “extras” in Jonathan’s bedroom during this song.
8. Moonlight Sonata by E.S. Posthumus. This song goes particularly well with the fashion show that Avery “manages.”
9. Broken by Leona Lewis. This song is dedicated to Peter Snow, Christiana’s father. (Beautiful YouTube tribute video by Verysweetify)
10. Addicted to You by Avicii
Lovely: Elite Doms of Washington (Book 1)

Part Two of Jonathan Brond Interview; ELITE’s Hero Seduces . . .

Jonathan Brond Interview Part Two

“Congressman?” Clarisse held out the tray filled with cream cheese and salmon on triangle toasts.
He waved it off and sipped his mimosa. She noticed the waitress brought the drink without him having to order it. The thought he’d been here before—had drink preferences well known by the primarily female staff—stirred something in her belly. Just ask the questions, she reminded herself.
“Like I said, we know so little about you,” she said.
“Well, Google doesn’t seem to know you’re alive except for your speeches, your congressional profile and your congressional web site. Why is that? Usually when someone is so hard to find they have something they’re trying hard to hide.” She took another sip of tea. “But, you are dating. A blond, I think?”
Clarisse caught the small twitch in his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes. Bull’s eye. She didn’t know where she got the balls to say it out loud, but she wasn’t about to walk away from this interview with nothing but perfectly polished, politician bullshit.
He set his glass down and picked a piece of lint off his pants. “I date the American people.”
“You’ve never been married.”
“Have you ever been in love, Congressman?”
“Perhaps. But, it’d be asking a lot from someone to return that sentiment.”
“To love you?”
“To have them to put up with the scrutiny that comes from being with a public figure.”
“Is that why you have a set time limit for your relationships?”
“Who said I had a limit?”
“Google images. So many pictures of you with women.”
He smiled. “And, here I thought all you found were my speeches.”
“What’s the longest any woman has ever lasted with you?”
“Counting would be rude. Besides, like I said, being the girlfriend, or wife, of a member of Congress is a tough job.”
“You haven’t always been a member of Congress.”
“But that’s where you’ve always been headed, right?”
“That’s been the plan.”
“And now?”
The tension in his jaw returned.
She paused when he didn’t answer. “You did say I could ask you anything.”
“I did answer. It just wasn’t the answer you wanted.”
She shifted in her chair and tried not to show what she was trying to do: shift her damp thong.  She cleared her throat. “How do your work associates perceive you?”
“I hope they see I’m an asset to the party. I am deeply committed to making a difference. There. Your cliché for the day.”
Jesus, that smile alone must have bought him Ohio in the primaries. She swallowed. “How about your family? How do they see you?”
“I hope the same as my work associates. As an asset.”
The coldness of that statement hit her in the chest. “Strange way to call yourself.”
“Yes, an ‘asset.’”
“Not in my family.” He casually sipped his drink.
“Your father was instrumental in your election.”
“Was he?”
She could tell he fought with a smile that threatened to take hold of his face.  “Well, who are you closest to in your family?”
“Sarah. She was a terrific big sister. She taught me a lot.”
“Like what?”
His smile was worthy of a panther ready to strike.  “Life skills.”
She darted her eyes to the left to a group of elderly women admiring a silver tea stand. She wanted to see if they might overhear. “How important is sex in your life?”
He didn’t flinch at the abrupt change in subject. “How important is it to you?”
Heat washed her from her head to toe.
“Just what I thought,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
He shifted in his seat and beckoned her to pitch forward, as if he was going to impart a secret.
“What are you doing for the rest of the day, Clarisse Walker?”

Read more about Jonathan’s escapades in ELITE.


Lovely: Elite Doms of Washington (Book 1)

My Beloved, Bloated E-Reader. Long May It Reign.

I have so many books downloaded onto my iPad – using both the iBooks and Kindle apps – I’m surprised I can lift the darn thing. I’ve been hearing this mysterious new term lately – Kindle fatigue. What the heck is that? You mean people actually are tired of amassing a library of books? Not me. Bring it. In fact, I get a little itchy when the queue thins. I mean, what if I’m stuck in an airport or doctor’s office with no wi-fi and I can’t download anything and – gasp! – I don’t have at least 50 books to choose from? Perish the thought.

 What about you? How many books to you have on your e-reader? Can you have too many?