Here is a quick history of my story as a writer: After several deaths in the family and a health scare of my own, I quit writing back in 2008 after releasing several titles with Samhain Publishing. When my son was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes–young adult onset–in May of this year, I did what any good mother would. Cried for several days and then went to check out the Brenda Novak Auction where I bid on, and won, a three chapter critique from Ellora’s Cave!! I pitched to the lovely Julie Naughton at the Readers and Writers weekend sponsored by Lori Foster and Duffy Brown in June, and voila, the Red Masks Series was born. The first in the series, A Taste of Winter, will be releasing November 8 2013.
So let me tell you a little about the Red Masks series. Set in Charleston, South Carolina (somewhere I have never been, but definitely plan to visit in the future) at the Gaston Plantation House, the club is owned by the mysterious Madame Manette Brisson. Descendent of the infamously beautiful mixed consorts in Louisiana during the 18th century, the Brisson women have dealt in pleasure for generation after generation.
Today the Gaston Plantation is a place where the daring and decadent come to play in anonymity and comfort. Each of the women who is invited to the club is given an elegantly constructed red mask that fits their individual personality and desires.
I am very proud of this series. While the setting remains basically the same, at the Red Mask you will find people from all over the world and each novella has its own definite flavor where the reader can explore everything from the art of Japanese bondage, to ménages to studies in domination.
Nothing is off limits where pleasure is concerned. So sit back, get comfortable and get ready to experience all things of wicked and sinful delight.
A Taste of Winter
Red Masks, Book One
For the ladies of the Red Masks pleasure waits behind every door…and no one is ever who they seem to be.
When Alaina accepts an invitation to Charleston’s premier sex club, she has no idea the stranger who makes her scream with pleasure is her micromanaging ex-boss Ryan. But while she couldn’t stand his domination on the job, his mastery in the bedroom takes her to whole new levels of pleasure. He forces her to submit to his every decadent demand—including a threesome with his old friend and her new employer, Zayne.
While Ryan knows Alaina’s true identity, she remains unaware of his deception until the masks come off and she is faced with a decision. Can she continue to submit to his will now that she knows who he really is?
Inside scoop: Alaina enjoys a blistering-hot ménage and light bondage in her explorations—lucky girl!
A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Then…after she’d finished for the day…Alaina planned to do something so wicked, so decadent, so completely out of character, just the thought of it sent shivers of need across her skin. She was finally going to accept the invitation she’d received several weeks ago from the notorious Red Mask Society, the best-kept secret in South Carolina history.
Started by the notorious Monique Gaston well before the Civil War, the Red Mask Society was housed in a massive old plantation just minutes east of the city. Originally a brothel, it had morphed through the years into an exclusive sex club where th e men were gorgeous, rich and highly skilled in the bedroom, and the women were admitted by invitation only…ostensibly at the request of one or more of the male members of the club.
That someone had singled her out for decadent pleasure gave her a shiver of delight she could barely control. After months of not having a single date due to Ryan’s 24/7 work schedule, Alaina was more than ready for some sorely needed physical release.
Her hand trembled as she dialed the number, but she was determined not to chicken out as she heard the exotic female voice answer on the other end.
* * * * *
Ryan Marquis stared in displeasure as his cell phone rang. He had a strict policy of no business between the hours of six on Saturday night, and noon Sunday, that brief block of time set aside every week to satisfy his need for rest and relaxation—along with some decadent indulgence when the need arose.
He frowned as the phone rang again, noting it was now three minutes after the hour, before picking it up to see who dared break into his personal time, his frown twisting into a semi-smile as he noted the number and answered.
“Bon nuit, mon cher,” came a husky voice across the line. “I have someone for you tonight. Someone you have been waiting for.”
His heart pounded in uncharacteristic excitement, his fingers tightening around the phone, a weakness he stifled in an instant. But his body proved a traitor to his discipline, every nerve buzzing, every muscle tightening in anticipation as thoughts of the night ahead wove dark and dangerous pleasures through his mind.
Was it her? Finally, after all this time, had she accepted his invitation?
He’d been unduly fascinated with the frosty blonde ever since he’d hired her two years before. Not only was her work exceptional, the woman had an unnatural ability to match him on a professional level, her wall of politeness so thick she’d refused to break no matter what he’d thrown at her. And every time he heard her precise Southern voice across the phone, agreeing to his every ridiculous demand without a single hesitation, he became more and more obsessed with finding a way to make the ice queen melt.
It wasn’t a thing he was proud of in any manner. He deplored his need to feel her tremble in his arms, hear her cries of pleasure as he stroked his teeth across her skin…drive his flesh so far between her legs she’d beg him to stop while he kept her bound and still beneath him. His need had grown so distracting he’d finally taken action. He’d petitioned Madame Manette Brisson, the proprietor of the Red Mask Society, to issue Miss Winter an invitation to come and play—an invitation she’d ignored for so long he thought she would never send a reply.
So what had fueled her sudden acceptance? The lady was up to something, he understood in a heartbeat, remembering their last conversation. And whatever she was up to, he planned to enjoy the ride.
“Monsieur Marquis? If you are unavailable, I will find someone else to keep the lady occupied.” The woman on the other end of the line sniffed, her voice chill with censure.
“Not if you value your life,” he finally answered, his own voice throaty with rising excitement.
“Then I expect you here at eight o’clock sharp. Don’t disappoint either of us by your absence.”
Ryan’s laughter rumbled from his throat. “I never disappoint, Madame. Is my room cleaned and ready?”
“Mais certainment. Do you have any special requests for the evening?”
This time he didn’t bother to try and control the surge of want that throbbed between his legs, spreading them to make room for his growing erection, his hand dropping to rest on the lengthening mass of flesh.
What instruments did he need to make her scream in pleasure?
“Leather,” he answered with grunt of satisfaction. “Black. New. Enough to bind her to my will.”
“I will see it done,” said the woman in a whisper before the line went dead.
Lime green, my ass, he thought with uncharacteristic delight as he pocketed his phone and headed home, the taste of winter already tantalizing on his tongue.