Raven:

I’ve spent my life depending on one person: myself. I’ve learned the hard way other people will only let me down. I’ve worked for everything I have, but thanks to my drug-addicted mother, I’m about to lose the one thing I’ve craved for years. Needing to make some extra cash, I ask my boss at Restrained Fantasies, a Dallas BDSM club, for some extra shifts. Much to my chagrin, Master Carter Burkes is with him, and Carter leaps to my rescue, bound and determined to save me—only I’m not the kind of girl who needs to be saved.

Carter:

I can’t sit by while Raven, a recurring figure in my fantasies, is in trouble. My job as a detective keeps me busy, but I’m not looking for a relationship, just a sub to assist with a class I’m teaching: Reading Your Submissive. Raven always claimed she wasn’t a member of the lifestyle, so imagine my surprise when I discover a budding submissive inside her. She gets under my skin in ways I can’t fight, but emotions are dangerous. I learned that the hard way. Is getting close to Raven a mistake? Will I destroy her life like I destroyed the life of the only woman I’ve ever loved?

This is book two in the Restrained Fantasies series but can be read as a standalone.

Publisher’s Note: This romance is intended for adults only. It contains elements of danger, suspense, mystery, BDSM, sensual scenes, romance and adult language. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Carter needed a sub, and he needed one now.

In four hours, he was supposed to start a class at Restrained Fantasies, the Dallas BDSM club that was his second home, but forty-five minutes earlier, the sub he’d enlisted to be his teaching subject had called in sick. How was he supposed to give a class on reading subs without a fucking sub?

If he had a little more time, he’d be able to find someone from Restrained Fantasies’ clientele, but time was the one thing he didn’t have. And not having everything planned out ahead of time scraped on his every nerve.

Carter dropped onto the leather desk chair across from one of the club’s co-owners, Brock Michaels. The other man made an interesting contrast to the sleek modern feel of his office. Brock was menace and intimidation that had somehow been fused together to create a living person. Shaved head, tattoos covering most of his upper body, the man oozed bad-boy-biker out the wazoo. He was the kind of man Carter, a detective outside the walls of the club, would pay close attention to if he were skulking around in dark alleys at night.

“Oh, I know who I could ask,” Carter said with a smile, the suggestion more to get a rise out of his friend than being an actual suggestion. “You could always let me use your pretty little sub. Viv looks spectacular in chains.”

Brock glared up from the paperwork scattered across his desk, his expression a few degrees shy of homicidal. “I don’t share Viv with anyone. Ever. And if you want to keep your testicles from being kicked into your throat, you’d do good to remember that.”

Carter fought to keep his grin from spreading and failed miserably. “I know, I know. Viv’s off limits. What about her friend Anne? Do you think she’d be game?”

“Most likely.” The other man leaned back, crossing muscular arms across a chest about as wide as the Grand Canyon. “Anne’s game for almost anything. If she says no, you could always ask Terry. She might like the overtime.”

“Already asked Terry, but she has plans she said she couldn’t get out of.”

Brock opened his mouth to respond, but a knock sounded against his partially open office door, and an angel followed the sound inside. Well, a dark angel anyway. Raven Malek, with her blacker-than-black hair and purple highlights, tattoos running the length of her arms and shoulders, nose and eyebrow piercings, ripped jeans, and a T-shirt with a bleeding rose could never be classified as an angel. But damn, she drew him in with the unstoppable fury of a supermassive black hole.

Emphasis on black.

Raven was one of two bartenders at Restrained Fantasies and, for the past few months, she’d also been an on-again, off-again player in Carter’s jerk-off fantasies. He couldn’t pinpoint precisely when the young woman had snagged his attention, but she had. All five-foot-six, lush and curvy inch of her.

What would her sexy body look like tied open to him?

About the Author:

Brandi Evans was raised by a caravan of traveling Gypsies. She spent her days learning the ways of her people and her nights lost in legends as old as time. Okay, not really, but that’s way more interesting than the truth!

In reality, Brandi grew up the oldest child of an ordinary family. Grade school, middle school, high school. Nothing extraordinary happened until she left the nest. She joined the military, went to college, got married, and became a mom. And somewhere along the way, she discovered she liked to read—and write!—stories hot enough to melt eReaders.

Buy the book at Amazon.

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I love managing Red Light Lingerie, a sexy boutique in Dallas. I get to spend my days talking to people about bedroom wear, sex toys, and enhancement lotions for all occasions. But by far, my favorite erotic job perk is my sexy British boss, Maxwell Penn.

Max is a Matthew McConaughey look-alike who’s equal parts dreamboat and domineering pain in the neck, and I regularly fluctuate between “I want to bed him” and “I want to strangle him.” But still, yum.

The paradigm of our relationship, however, changes irrevocably when a lingerie designer, a friend of Max’s from Britain, comes to town, and I have to stand in for a no-show lingerie model. Before I can say G-string, I find myself sandwiched between Max and his dark-n-sexy friend.

I’d be in total heaven if it weren’t for the guilt swirling in Max’s blue eyes. I have no idea why it’s there, but I’m bound and determined to find out.

Publisher’s Note: This book contains descriptions of consensual activities, including eroticism and discipline. If you object to these elements, please do not read this book.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Max strolled in like he owned the place, which was appropriate, considering he did own the place. But did he have to do it looking sexier than any man should be allowed to be?

I clutched my hand over my heart. “Max, you scared the living shit outta me! I thought a maniac had stuck around after hours.”

“My apologies, Ms. Jennings,” he said.

Bree. Bree. Bree. I wished he’d stop with the formalities and go back to calling me Bree, the way he used to before our relationship had gone sideways.

“It’s okay,” I said, readjusting the strap of my travel bag. “My mind was…elsewhere.”

Max nodded, looking me up and down with the Texas-sky-blue eyes that fueled my fantasies, and my heart kicked up a few more beats per minute. That time, however, my reaction had nothing to do with fear.

Why’d he have to be so damned sexy?

Tanned, muscular, and topping six foot, he was a walking wet dream, and the stimulating hum between my legs, the one that had been driving me crazy all night, morphed into a high-powered tingle. I doubted even my trusty Rabbit could ease the ache.

About the Author: Brandi Evans was raised by a caravan of traveling Gypsies. She spent her days learning the ways of her people and her nights lost in legends as old as time. Okay, not really, but that’s way more interesting than the truth!

In reality, Brandi grew up the oldest child of an ordinary family. Grade school, middle school, high school. Nothing extraordinary happened until she left the nest. She joined the military, went to college, got married, and became a mom. And somewhere along the way, she discovered she liked to read—and write!—stories hot enough to melt eReaders.

Sign up for Brandi’s newsletter and receive a free book!

Buy the book at Amazon.

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