By Desiree Holt:
As I gathered with my family (or some of it, at least) for the Fourth of July, I paused while dishing up the food to think how blessed I am. At all the critical points in my life, my family—my children—has been my support, my lifesaver, my cheering section, all the things that keep you breathing and your heart beating.
None of them live with me now. They are all grown adults and out on their own, but they are here in an instant if I need them, whether for moral support and actual physical help.
I’ve blown through a lot of careers in my life, so when I announced to my kids I planned to write a book they didn’t look at me as if I was crazy, or ask if I didn’t just want to enjoy my retirement. They said, “Go for it, Mom. What kind of books do you want to write?”
I think they get a lot of credit for not fainting or shrieking when I said, “Erotic romance!” But then, they’ve been right there with me when I ran a public relations agency and put together a shopping center grand opening with an elephant and a hot air balloon. They smiled and shrugged when their friends said, “Your mom manages rock musicians?” They didn’t even turn a hair when they came home from school to find five musicians on our front porch in full stage costume because they needed a place to audition for a club owner.
As they grew to be amazing adults, they have been with me every step of my weird journey to taste what life has to offer me. They don’t read my books but they promote them. They recommend them to all their friends. They hand out my business cards and bookmarks and other things. They have celebrated every success with me.
And when my husband became so ill and we ultimately lost him, they were right there beside me, supporting me—and him—every step of the way.
So as I looked around the table on the Fourth of July weekend-missing only my older daughter and her husband who were in New Jersey picking up their brand new German shorthair pointer puppy but with us in spirit and on Facetime—I realized how truly blessed I am. My life is rich and full today because of my outstanding children and their inborn sense of family.
So thank you, kids. We’re still enjoying the journey together.
Meet Desiree Holt:
Known the world over as the oldest living author of erotic romance, and referred to by USA Today as the Nora Roberts of erotic romance, Desiree Holt is three times a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award (and a winner in 2014), a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award winner for best BDSM book of the year, and winner of the Holt Medallion for Excellence in Romance Literature. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The (London) Daily Mail, The New Delhi Times and numerous other national and international publications.
“Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last.” (Romance Junkies)
Spurred To Submission Synopsis:
When the death of their fathers brings Zoe Hampton and Max Cameron back to Big Spur, she hopes for two things—to show the hot shot New York lawyer she’s not a little girl anymore and the ranch he hates could actually ease the pain of the past. She’s got her work cut out for her on both accounts, and she doesn’t know whether to kick Wade into next week or jump his bones.
Wade hates the ranch almost as much as he hated his father, and the only reason he’s home is to bury one and sell the other. But the old man’s will puts a hitch in Wade’s plans. Zoe spurs the Dom in him to take her over his knee for a spanking they’ll both enjoy. Even finding release at a private BDSM club becomes impossible….until the night Zoe follows Wade to Rawhide.
Purchase Spurred to Submission:
“Will tells me we’ve got a good crop of calves to brand this year.”
Wade’s voice behind her startled her out of her reverie and she lost her balance, tumbling into the pen. Before she could get to her feet he had climbed in beside her and stood looking down at her.
She spit dust from her mouth and glowered at him. “Aren’t you even going to offer to help me up?”
He stared down at her then shocked her by lowering his body over hers, his legs bracketing her as he knelt in the dirt. His long fingers wrapped around her wrists, holding them down to either side of her head, imprisoning her in the dirt. His grip was so tight as to be painful, and it shocked her to realize that it gave her pleasure.
Wade bent low over her until his face was just inches away. His eyes darkened to the color of burnt chocolate again and a muscle ticked in his cheek. He wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted her to think. That kiss yesterday might have been meant to frighten her, just as he was trying to do now, but it was very clear he was affected by it. Probably more than he wanted to acknowledge.
Instead of struggling Zoe lay on the ground beneath him, waiting to see what he’d do “You know what I’d like to do to you, little girl?” he ground out.
“What?” The word came out in a breathy rush of air. “What would you like to do to me, Wade?”
“Things that would scare the shit out of you.”
He was holding her forcibly in place, apparently unaware she wasn’t attempting to get up. He was holding most of his weight on his knees so he didn’t crush her but she was essentially completely helpless. His crotch was practically at eye level and there was no mistaking the prominent bulge. Oh, yeah. He was as hard as she was instantly wet.
“You think so?” She licked her lower lip, seeing the heat flare in his eyes again and knowing she was pulling the tiger’s tail. “You might be surprised.”
He stared at her for so long she wondered if he ever planned to speak or move. Without warning he rose to his feet, pulling her with him. Imprisoning her wrists with one hand he swept her over his shoulder and stomped into the barn with her. Before she realized what he was doing he carried her into the tack room and slammed the door shut, sliding the bolt into place to keep it locked.
“Big talker,” he ground out. “Let’s see where that big talk gets you.”
Grabbing a coiled length of rope hanging on a peg he wound it around her wrists, tying it off and fastening the other end on a nail high up on the wall. Her arms were now stretched high over her head, forcing her to stand on tiptoe. Wade kept his gaze locked with hers as he worked, obviously watching for signs of fear or resentment or—who knew what. She knew she should be terrified, or at least alarmed. This might be Wade, who she’d known since she was born, but in the twenty years since she’d last seen him, who knew how much he’d changed? What he’d become? Her brain told her she should either demand he release her—or beg him. But her brain seemed to be disconnected from her body. The edge of fear crawling through her was wrapped in a blanket of suddenly exploding lust.
Who knew how much his control and dominance would turn her on? She could take this as far as he could.
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