OMG OMG OMG It’s heeere and I’m SO excited to share with you the cover reveal for Violated and Hunted!
And here’s Hunted (aka The Last Rancher):
Are you as excited about these as I am??
OMG OMG OMG It’s heeere and I’m SO excited to share with you the cover reveal for Violated and Hunted!
And here’s Hunted (aka The Last Rancher):
Are you as excited about these as I am??
Missing my dystopian sci-fi western The Last Rancher (aka Hunted)? You need to meet Doctor Adam Weston. Here’s an early preview of Adam from the first time he punishes Isla, from The Last Doctor (book 2 in the Stolen Future series), which has just been sent to Stormy Night Publications for editing (update Feb 2018: The Last Doctor has been released as Violated and it’s so dark I’m using a new pen name–Aria Adams):
Alone with Isla, but aware that I was still being observed, I turned to look at my new charge. She crouched on the floor looking up at me with wide, terrified eyes. Her white skin contrasted wonderfully with her brilliant orange hair, and I momentarily thought about what her bottom would look like. Milky-white, I imagined. If her face was anything to go by, her rear would redden easily when I spanked it. Good. That would make this charade much easier to convey without having to hurt her too much. I would only have a short while before anyone discovered she wasn’t pregnant, but I couldn’t let myself think about that until later. Somehow, I would find a way to get her out of here, and hopefully rescue myself at the same time.
“Isla?” When I spoke her name, her eyes, against all possibility, widened even more. I knew better, but I still worried that if she tipped her head forward, her eyeballs might fall out.
“Y-y-y…” she managed. My heart wrenched. She was so terrified. Everything about her screamed prey. Even in a normal dating situation, I would have reservations. I liked the darkness. It beckoned to me. And her body called out like a beacon of innocence, just waiting to be corrupted with every naughty thing lurking in my imagination.
I had to be careful. It was going to be almost impossible to walk the line between savior and kidnapper, hero and molester, and—did she have to bite her bottom lip like that?—and I only wanted to unfasten that flimsy, poorly-fitting hospital gown and part her beautiful legs, then run the tip of my cock around the opening to her tight, perfect pussy, until I dragged her down with me into the depths of depravity, until she called my name, until she unreservedly begged me to take her.
Being the good guy… that was a new one on me. It was going to be hard to resist all the things I wanted to do to her, whilst still commanding her enough to make the Brotherhood think I had tamed her; the two roles were so close, they almost touched. I sighed and tried to think of something unsexy.
And she still stared at me, teeth clamped on lower lip, probably wondering why I just looked at her with a ridiculous crooked smile on my face. I did my best to snap out of it.
“I’m not going to eat you,” I told her. “Come on, I have to punish you for trying to escape. That was at the top of the list of all the stupidest things you could have done today.”
“Would tomorrow have been a better choice?” she asked timidly. It was obvious how scared she was of asking, but something had compelled her to say it anyway. I tried my hardest not to laugh, but that made it build up worse, until I made a face like I was trying not to spit out an ice cube.
Ice cubes. I wished I’d asked the guard to bring me some. Her breasts would look delectable with the freshly-thawed droplets of water beading on the surface of her white skin. I grabbed her shoulder more roughly than I’d intended, and frogmarched her back to my room. The whole way there, I ran through my meager furnishings and lack of possessions, trying to decide what to use for her punishment.
It seemed wrong to punish her on behalf of the Brotherhood or the cuntfaced guards that she wanted to escape from. I understood exactly why she’d tried. But at the same time, in doing so, she’d put her life in danger, and that was a reason to punish her that I could get behind. I wanted her to survive this fucked-up place and get out. I needed her to. So, she had to avoid putting her life in danger like that again.
I opened the door of my room and pushed her inside, ahead of me.
“I’m going to punish your bottom outside and in, to ensure you never put your life at risk like that again,” I told her. Her face was turned toward me, and I caught her horrified expression. I hated having to make her fear me. It wasn’t fair. She was too soft.
I knew that if I didn’t, the Brotherhood would kill us both, now I’d involved myself. The bastards were probably watching the cameras right now, eating their farmed meat and laughing at her fear. If only the BSE outbreak in Novara had killed them all across the continent.
Hardening my heart, I pulled a tube of medical-grade lubricant out of the pocket of my labcoat—or was it a doctor’s coat, if I practiced medicine, now?—and twirled the small cap. I squeezed the metal tube along one finger, as though the lube were toothpaste. How would she react if this was toothpaste? The idea of her squirming on my bed with mint freshening her back passage was delicious, but I pushed it away. Wrong side of the line. I couldn’t go there while we were both prisoners at a forced breeding facility. As her doctor, my goal with this punishment was to keep her alive, not to fuck her brains out.
Instead, I parted her cheeks and touched the tip of my finger to her rosebud. She froze, holding her breath and not blinking. When I glanced at her face, her eyes were glassy and unfocussed. I had to get her out of here. I pushed my finger into her, and noticed her soft gasp as my finger penetrated her silky rear. More than anything I had ever touched, I loved the sensation of a woman’s bottom clamped around me. It was hard not to exchange my finger for my cock. I tried to drag my mind out of the gutter, but she was so pliant, so fuckable, so pure white, that it was impossible not to think about all the things her body screamed for.
Need more? It’s coming in February, and has more medical play than you can shake a thermometer at.
Today, I’m super-excited to share with you… my NEXT RELEASE! His Christmas Baby is my story in the 14-book spanking anthology, Mischief Under the Mistletoe, which features 14 fierce festive reads. Here’s the INCREDIBLE anthology cover designed by Allysa Hart:
What’s my story about? This is the blurb:
For Chloe, Christmas has always been a time of trauma and sorrow. When her Dom transforms her into his little girl for the 12 days before Christmas, beginning as a baby and getting a year older each day, can he help her overcome the ghost of Christmas past?
And here’s an excerpt for WipItUp Wednesday:
Baby’s Second Christmas
“Morning, morning, little bunny,” Bradley began, “The day is bright and warm and sunny.”
When Chloe opened her eyes, she remembered she was in her crib, where she’d slept last night. Razdar the bear was snuggled up next to her, and last night’s bottle of milk was on its side, half-finished, near the edge of the mattress. She must have fallen asleep before she even drank half of it. The light was shining through the curtains, and when Bradley dropped the side on the cot, Chloe tried to climb straight out.
“Hold your horses, hon; you need to wait for Daddy to get you up,” Bradley said.
“But I can do it myself!” Chloe declared. She was bigger today, right? Didn’t that mean she could get herself up?
“Not today. Today’s your second-ever Christmas. You can crawl around, and you can use single-word sentences, but you’re still in diapers. I’ve got some extra-special surprises for you today, but first I need to check your diaper.” Bradley lifted Chloe up and laid her on her changing mat, where he unfastened the tabs of her diaper. “I’ll just get you changed, princess.”
He rolled up the diaper and got rid of it, then Chloe felt a soothing, cool baby wipe sliding from her clit, along her pussy, and toward her bottom. She wiggled her hips slightly in response to the sensation, and moaned slightly as a sprinkling of baby powder landed on her labia. While she processed these feelings, which still weren’t familiar despite being a baby the day before, Bradley ensconced her in a fresh diaper and carried her downstairs.
When they reached the kitchen, Chloe was surprised that there was now a large high-chair beside the breakfast bar. Bradley lifted her into it and put the tray in place, while Chloe stared around the room in amazement, getting used to this new point of view.
“I’ve got some tasty breakfast here, little one. It’s apple and pear mixed together.” Bradley opened the microwave and pulled out a pink plastic bowl, which he stirred with a matching spoon. Chloe watched the food move around the bowl with fascination.
“Open up for the choo-choo train!” Bradley declared. Chloe found herself opening her mouth and a pink spoon full of food went in. She sucked the food off the spoon and, through habit, started chewing, even though the food was pureed. Chloe was so used to chewing that she often found herself trying to chew smoothies and soups, instead of gulping them down like everyone else. This food was tasty, and she tried to get herself to stop chewing so she could swallow it down quickly as the next spoonful arrived at her lips.
Her daddy kept making train noises and feeding her the tasty breakfast, and Chloe found herself enjoying this meal more than any others she’d eaten recently. Maybe it was something to do with how close Bradley was, or the fact the bowl and spoon were made of pink plastic, or that the food tasted like dessert, but whatever it was, Chloe felt a bit sad when she swallowed down the last spoonful and the bowl was empty.
“All done!” she declared. Bradley nodded encouragingly.
“You did really well, sweetheart. Let’s get you a bottle of juice and you can come into the den and sit on Daddy’s knee while you have a drink.” Bradley put the bowl and spoon straight into the dishwasher and got out a bottle, into which he poured some fresh cherry juice.
“Favorite!” Chloe pointed at the carton of cherry juice.
“I know, princess, that’s why I bought it for you. You can have one bottle of this today, because it’s got a lot of sugar in it, then afterward, I’ve got some blackcurrant juice for you to drink.”
Chloe nodded. She didn’t care about after. She wanted her cherry juice now! Bradley put it in his back pocket, and then he lifted her out of the high-chair easily. He carried her into the den. The Christmas tree looked just as beautiful today as it did yesterday. Chloe reached out for one of the decorations as she passed it, and immediately put it in her mouth to find out what it felt like. When he arranged her on his knee, Bradley noticed and pulled the wooden ornament out of her hands. It came away from her mouth with a little popping sound, and she looked up at him in surprise.
“Chloe, you’re not allowed to pull things off the tree. And you’re not allowed to put any old thing into your mouth like that, either,” Bradley warned. “If I find you trying to eat anything that isn’t edible again, I’ll have to put you over my knee and spank you.” He put the ornament to one side and passed her the bottle of cherry juice. Satisfied with her favorite drink in a spill-proof bottle, Chloe sucked on the teat and tried not to smile too much as her mouth filled with tasty cherry juice. The threat of a spanking was enough to make her behave. Well, until she didn’t behave again, anyway.
Bradley put the TV on, and Chloe was excited to see A Charlie Brown Christmas come on-screen. She pointed and declared, “Snoopy!”
“Yes, it’s Snoopy. Would you like your bear? You could pretend he’s Snoopy if you wanted.” Chloe shook her head; she loved her bear but she wanted snuggles with her daddy right now. “After this, we’re going to open more presents.” Bradley held her to him, and Chloe cuddled up with her daddy while she watched the show.
* * *
Are you as excited as I am? Happy Thanksgiving for tomorrow, and keep a look-out, because a little bird tells me there might be an early pre-order of Mischief Under the Mistletoe!
The Last Rancher was released into the wilderness of Amazon on Saturday. I’m so excited to share this book with you, after all my excerpts and jokes about dead bodies. For WipItUp Wednesday, here’s one final excerpt from the book, when Ember realizes how she feels during her first spanking:
“If you’re getting turned on, I clearly need to spank you harder.” He brought his hand down across my upturned cheeks again, and at that moment he might have been a world-renowned tennis player whacking the ball straight across the court to catch out his opponent. When he spanked me again, I took a sharp breath. Over the top of my stiff glutes, this was really starting to hurt.
A dozen or more of these harder strokes and tears prickled at the corners of my eyes. The emotional wreckage from the last two days suddenly exploded into the air around me as I let out all my breath in one loud scream. Loss of my entire world. Death all around me. Shame at my failures. Anger with myself and the men who brought me out here. Betrayal of my trust in the system. Fear for the future. Desperation that I had to stop the hunt. Everything mingled together while my soul tore itself open and spewed angst in every direction.
He paid no mind to the bone-chilling noise while I emptied my lungs into the room, drowning out the sound of his hand striking my bottom, until there was no more air inside me. My stomach was still clenched so it was a second or two before I took another breath, during which the only noise was him spanking me. When I was able to get more air, it came out again straight away in a strangled sob, then another, until the tears tumbled across my face.
The sting in my bottom burrowed deep into my haunches, and it uprooted all my anger, my fear, and my sadness, casting it up to the surface and letting it all evaporate, until eventually I felt nothing anymore, just the distant burning of his hand as it continued to collide with my cheeks.
I was still crying when he stopped spanking me. Long after he finished, my rear burned. He let me lie over his knee as my tears kept flowing, and eventually the negativity finished working its way out. Now, I was calm, not because I was forcing my emotions down to survive, but because they simply weren’t there. They would return, I was certain, but for now they had receded.
“That helped?” he asked.
I recognized distantly that I should be angry at him. It wasn’t normal for someone to just throw another person over their knee and spank them. But I wasn’t angry. I felt better.
I had never, in all my life, thought about someone taking me over their knee and spanking me before. Punishment didn’t exist in Novara. When people disagreed, they separated. It wasn’t common for people to talk about their feelings. Emotions were for ball games and sports bars. It was the shared elation of a home win, or the devastation of a missed touchdown. Between people, feelings weren’t aired until someone decided they’d had enough and then they broke up. I could probably count on one hand the times when one of my friends had actually told someone why it was over. Or that it was over. Most times, they just froze them out.
When the sting subsided, all that was left was the warm glow, and my calmness was replaced by an overwhelming desire to be taken by this strong man. My clit throbbed, a reminder that it wanted to be touched, and my nipples pointed out that my pussy would have to get in line. Unwilling to tell him how much I needed him right now, I startled a little when his fingers lightly trailed along my bottom and ignited little sparks of need all over my body. A moan betrayed my desire, and he chuckled at my predicament.
“Are you going to ask me, or will I make you wait?” he prompted.
I shook my head fervently and decided I was innocent until proven guilty. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I retorted thickly, but my voice had dropped an octave and my lips struggled to form the words coherently.
The Last Rancher is available here on Amazon!
Hi Guys it feels like forever since I last participated in WipItUp Wednesday, the blog hop for sharing works in progress!
This week I want to give everyone a little teaser for my upcoming futuristic dystopian western erotic romance, The Last Rancher. If you’d like to get your hands on a bigger excerpt, sign up for my newsletter here:
Spoiler alert… there’s a longer, steamier preview going out in my very first newsletter on Friday 15th September, and it’s exclusive for newsletter subscribers, so don’t miss out!
This story is dark. I’ve been joking a lot on Facebook that the heroine is the only person in this book with a higher body count than the hero by the end of the first chapter. But it also has its less dark moments. Here’s one of them. After nearly being killed, Ember is trying to get back to her city to warn everyone that the city’s leaders are kidnapping women and hunting them for sport on live TV (everyone thinks the contestants for this “game show” are picked at random and just leave the city after). Hadley, however, wants to keep her safe because she’s badly injured and the city is 200 miles away, and there’s no roads any more because no-one ever leaves the city:
The moment Hadley left the house, I went to the window and watched him. He sauntered toward a big shed, then emerged with a large bucket of something. It looked like he’d be gone for some time. I decided to seize my chance and, knotting the sheet above my breasts, I stepped outside.
Blinking in the sunlight, I looked in every direction. There was a little patch of trees opposite the porch, and beside it, there was a big wooden shed. The cowshed beside it was even larger, and there was also a huge, rusty vehicle with eight-feet-high wheels. The deflated tires were cracked and covered in green moss. Further down, I saw the first field, with a neat wooden fence and an open metal gate. Beyond, there was green grass and those stout black and white animals like the one I’d seen in the forest. In the opposite direction from where I stood, the forest pressed in on the clearing where the house was.
Everything was so big out here, and yet, the surroundings were all so short and flat. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen so much sky; it seemed to cover the entire world like a big dome, with flat-bottomed clouds floating between the sky and the fields. When I breathed the air, it seemed softer, and filled my lungs more than I’d ever experienced before. I never expected the countryside to be so nice. On the TV, they always showed it as a vast wilderness where only the few remaining species of wild animals lived. It was beautiful, and I wished I could stay here and take my fill of the natural beauty. Would I ever tire of it?
It smelled so strongly of things, too. I only had to walk a few steps to sniff something different. There was the food scent from the kitchen, the horrible bathroom-like stink coming from one of the sheds, a creamy scent from another shed, the smell of petrol from the enormous rusty vehicle, and a sort of woody odor from the forest. I couldn’t even recognize some of the other things my nose had discovered.
It would be amazing to run through the open fields, toward the distant blue mountains. Before today, I’d only seen such things on the TV. If there wasn’t such an important reason to get home quickly, this would be a tranquil place to be. Unless I warned everyone about what The Brotherhood were doing, though, they would hunt someone else down soon. They ruled the city, maybe even the continent, and they weren’t worthy of that.
I remembered my cousin with another stab of fury. No-one else should have to go through what she and I went through, and no-one else should have to die like that. Those men were so evil. I was still more than a little horrified by the fact I’d killed them, but there had been no-other choice, and part of me was disturbed by the fact I didn’t feel as bad as I ought to about what I’d done.
All over, my body ached, and pain seared across my wounds. Tuning out the soreness and the anguish, I watched Hadley walk across the field with his bucket. When I turned to go in the opposite direction, I realized I wasn’t sure which way the city was. Ploughing on anyway, I shakily climbed the fence toward the forest and tried to run, but my limbs wouldn’t do what I wanted them to. My legs were still too stiff to take my weight at that speed. When my left knee buckled, I stumbled, crashing loudly onto a fallen tree branch which cracked with an ominous snapping sound.
Not to be deterred, I scrambled to my feet and continued moving. I traveled about two hundred yards from the house before something wrapped around my arms, between my elbows and, on one side, the gauze covering a bullet graze. Constricting my body, it tightened around me; at first, I thought it was a snake, as I’d seen plenty of movies where snakes did this to people.
Looking down, I saw a rope. I tried to struggle out of it, but some pressure was steadily pulling me backwards. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Hadley holding the other end of the rope. Patiently but firmly, he reeled me in.
“Never lassoed a lady before,” he told me with a twinkle in his eye. I didn’t know why he looked so amused, there was nothing funny about this. I glared at him and tried again to free myself.
“Get the fuck off me! I have to get back. Don’t you understand? I have to!”
“Nope.” He stood his ground.
Heaving on the rope with all my might, all I succeeded in doing was unbalancing myself. I landed unceremoniously on my bottom and felt my face getting hot. It was mortifying.
Hadley held out a hand for me to take. I shook my head and got up by myself.
“Such a gentleman,” I grumbled sarcastically.
“Suit yourself. You’re still coming with me. Will you walk, or do I have to carry you?”
“Go and fuck yourself,” I growled, wanting him to understand that he was getting in the way of me doing something really important. The lasso had been humiliating, and I was now in a thoroughly bad mood and ready to go thermonuclear on his ass.
“I’d much rather fuck a pretty young lady such as yourself, but what’s that got to do with getting your pert butt back to my ranch?” He was acting like I hadn’t explained this problem enough already, or maybe he just didn’t care.
He was still so unflustered, it was infuriating. I growled and tried to get out of the rope again. He tutted and shook his head. When he stepped forward, I lashed out at him with my semi-restrained arms. I had been so close to escaping that the disappointment burned at the back of my throat as he hoisted me in a fireman’s lift, still lassoed. He wrapped the spare rope around his left shoulder and ambled back to the ranch as if he wasn’t carrying a one-hundred-twenty-pound woman in his right arm.
My legs would barely obey me, but still I kicked them, fighting against him with everything I had. It was pathetic that I lacked the energy or strength to fight him off, and every time I tried, pain surged through my wounds and stiff muscles. He swatted my ass several times, hard, filling my body with a searing fire. It was similar to the incredibly delicious sensation that made my muscles tingle when I got a second wind after I thought I had run as hard as I could. My sore glutes gave up and I accepted that he was in control for the time being.
* * *
Now, what might a strong rancher do with a naughty city girl who won’t listen to old-fashioned good sense? Hmm… I wonder… Actually, I know exactly what comes next and it took a lot of self-control not to post the next 2000 words or so here, because OMG I’m just itching to share this story with you all!!
Lots of love,