Joy's Edge Flash Prequel ~ by D.F. Krieger

Today's guest post brings us a little teaser trailer for D.F. Krieger's book, Joy's Edge. Enjoy, dahlings!

~ ~ ~

The sharp rapping of the pencil as I repeatedly tapped it against the desk didn't do shit to calm my nerves. Only action, beingfront and center when things went down, worked. This sitting here and waiting bullshit was just that: bullshit. When my cellphone rang, I nearly reached for the ghost of a gun at my hip. Old habits died hard.

"Striker," I barked into the phone once I grabbed it.

"Wolfe."

The cool, calm voice took me on a quick waltz down memory lane. At the sound of my battle buddy, some piece of my mind relaxed. Wolfe and I went way back, and he'd saved my ass more than a few times. I'd saved his too, not that either of us kept count. It was because of that very bond I'd went out on a limb and pursued a childhood dream.

"Still waiting on the realtor?" Wolfe asked, his good ol' boy drawl filling the line.

I went back to drumming the pencil against the edge of the desk. "I put in the offer an hour ago. He said he'd call back in thirty minutes. If it doesn't pull through, and I've done all this waiting, I'm going to be pissed."

"You sure you want to do this? Purchasing an entire farm to start a horse rehab is noble, and you know I've got your back, but you could've done this anywhere in the US. No one knows horses like you. That's not my worry. But why..." He trailed off and I could sense his hesitation.

"Why there?" I asked, bluntly putting forth the question he withheld.

His grunt of acknowledgement caused me to lean forward in my chair. I clenched the pencil in my palm, then winced at the resounding snap as it broke. "Fuck," I muttered before returning my attention to Wolfe. "Truth? You're the closest thing to family I've got. You know I grew up on the streets. I was a shithead until the military set me straight, and even then, being with the horses was what finally got my head on right. I..."

The words were right there, but I couldnt force them out.

"I understand," Wolfe said, and gratitude filled me that he didn't make me say more. "Well, if you're going to do this, I've got a couple of contacts in that town I can put you in connection with. There's a woman named Hope Hopewell who runs a rescue. She can help you get up and running. And there's a vet named Doctor Hart who I highly recommend. Ill give you her number once you need a vet."

That name sounded familiar. I frowned until it hit me. "Hope. Is she the one you've tagged yourself as dating on Subspace?”

"Yes." A possessive undertone laced his words.

I sat back in my chair, body fully relaxed now. "I checked her profile out. She's hot. The blonde with her is fucking hot too."

"That would be Doctor Hart."

My jaw dropped as astonishment blasted me like a hurricane-force wind. "The vet? No shit."

The phone beeped and I checked the screen. Instantly, my muscles went rigid as I recognized the number. "Yo, man. I gotta call you back. Realtor's on the line."

"Roger that," Wolfe said, then the screen flashed that our call ended. I liked that about him. No awkward goodbyes or touchy-feely small talk.

Once again, I hit the accept button. "Striker."

"Mr. Striker, it's Cecil Sims at Sims Realty. I apologize for the delay in my call. Your offer on the property has been accepted.

"However, an issue has been brought to my attention. Apparently the prior residents did not properly vacate the premises. I've been making calls trying to arrange for the removal of their property, but I've had no luck. The good news, though, is the bank is willing to close on this today. I've already emailed the paperwork I need you to print, take to a notary, and sign."

"What kind of property are we talking?" I asked. "If it's just furniture, I can take care of it. I may even keep some. But if it's like a fuck-ton of trash...

"Horses, Mr. Striker. They left a few horses. They were in the large pasture in the back where the pond is, so they were overlooked. I'm assuming they were in the tree line when the assessor visited the property. Again, I greatly apologize. We'll be sure to have them removed quickly and at no cost to you. The bank has agreed to cover the removal fees," Sims hurriedly explained.

Poor guy had no idea how royally he was about to piss me off. I took a deep breath. "Sims, leave them so long as they dont require immediate medical attention. If they do need it, let me know. I'm friends with Fayette's Animal Control Officer. He can get them what they need until I take over there. How soon can I move in?"

"But, Mr. Striker..."

"Leave them," I repeated, keeping my tone deadly quiet. "They are living creatures, not trash. Whole fucking point of buying the place is for this exact reason."

The man's voice wobbled, but he kept on like a trooper. "Assuming you return the documents to me within an hour or two today, and we close, you can have the keys by tomorrow afternoon. The horses appeared to be fine, so I dont think it will be necessary to contact animal control."

While he spoke, I opened my laptop, connected to my email, then put the documents on a flash drive so I could print them off in the business lounge downstairs. I almost shut my laptop, paused, then clicked on the tab for Subspace.

"I'll have the docs back to you within the hour. I'll follow up with a call to ensure you received them. Roger that?"

"Uh, yes, Mr. Striker. I understand. Goodbye." Sims hung up without waiting for anything further. Good man. He wouldn't have got more from me anyway.

As if by their own volition, my fingers typed in Wolfe's name to bring up his profile on my friends list. From there, I navigated to his girlfriend's page, then to her friend. Force2NJoy appeared to be a smiling, thin, curly haired blonde. I'd ogled her picture more than a few times, but never read her profile. Even though my internal clock ticked loudly, reminding me I had shit to do, I took a moment to read her profile.

If you aren't rough and tough, you aren't my stuff. Sorry boys, but this Toy is for men only. I work long, sometimes odd hours, and life is short, so I don't have time to waste on wannabes who claim they are the real deal. If you can't tell the difference between being a Dom and an asshole, or Forced Seduction and rape, don't bother messaging me. Im not a 24-7 sub either, but for the right man, Ill rock his world 365.

I read through her list of kinks before gazing at her profile description again. Sassy little bitch. So she was into Forced Seduction, huh? Right up my alley. I loved bending a woman to my will, so long as we both were one hundred percent on the same page that her No really meant Yes.

Suddenly, I felt like the abandoned horses on the property were going to need to see a vet ASAP, whether they were in good health or not. Mind made up, and still aware of the clock counting down the minutes until I had a real home for the first time in my fucking life, I picked up my phone and dialed Wolfe.

"Striker," I said once he answered. "I'm going to need that vet's number."

~~~

Genre:  Erotic romance 

Buy Links: 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01I8BZ96C?tag=smarturl-20

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/coming-in-hot-paranormal-contemporary-medical-romance-boxed-set-gina-kincade/1124086188;jsessionid=639CA79D79BCD1333CFA3278AB459220.prodny_store01-atgap08?ean=2940153343822

Are: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-cominginhotparanormalcontemporarymedicalromanceboxedset-2076531-166.html?referrer=56f81090895d0

Author Bio:

When D. F. Krieger was banned from writing contests at her school, she immediately set it in her head that she would become a professional writer. Since then, she has thrown away her plans of world domination through books, but she still enjoys writing. By the time she pens her final book with a hand ravaged by age, she hopes to introduce her readers to many alternate worlds, lines of thinking, and captivating characters.

When she's not writing, she can be found surrounded by rescue cats who call her Mom while she's cross-stitching, crocheting, painting, or playing video games. Her family loves that she plays video games, though they refuse to play first person shooter games against her anymore because she makes an awesome sniper.

You can find D. F. on the East Coast, hiding away from the real world with a gleam in her eye and a plot in her head. She resides with her husband, kids, and pets; who all kindly put up with her random bouts of laughter over things she can't explain and journal collecting fetish.

Wanna keep an eye on D. F. online? You can find her at her website dfkrieger.com where she updates what shes working on and occasionally posts to a blog.

 Social Media Links: https://www.facebook.com/cominginhotboxedset/

Reading Diary: Threshold, by Adrea Kore

 I keep my reader's diary to share my thoughts on recent reads, new discoveries, and favorite books. I do not accept requests to review books, or reader copies, from authors. Nothing here is a solicited review.

Earlier this week we discussed the role poetry has in helping us to be better writers. Several authors I approached were kind enough to share some of their erotic poetry with me, among them author Adrea Kore, who shared two pieces. The first of these, Threshold, captured my attention immediately.

Threshold evokes a detailed scene of erotic bondage. While my earliest assumption is a scene between a male and female partner, I find it interesting to read through it a second time and realize there’s no actual details identifying the sex of either participant, which leaves the door open for the poem to be fully accessible to any readers regardless of orientation or gender. Personally, I like that, since my own bondage fantasies may wander from hetero to bisexual to pansexual play, depending on my mood. I could illustrate this poem in my mind with any combination of players.

But more provocative to me is the consistent repetition of bodily imagery, a personification of the non-human elements in play and the roles assigned to different parts of the anatomy. Descriptions of a wall as the speaker’s backbone, and the rope binding the speaker’s wrists as the fingers of their partner. The casting of tongue and teeth as interrogators, and skin and arteries holding the secrets of the subject’s confessions. These details give to me a sense of more than one relationship, more than two players. They also heighten the sense of nearness and pressure between two bodies, given that the tongue and teeth (again, the interrogators) are interacting so closely with the flesh.

There are several evocations of contrast: surrender vs. a hard embrace (soft vs. hard), coolness of the wall vs. the heat of the partner’s body, the wall vs. ‘your weight’, refusal vs. acquiescence. If there’s one thing I love in sensual imagery, it’s evocative use of contrast. But Adrea’s poem is full of powerful and sensual descriptive imagery. Just a few of my favorites include:

“Let the wall be my backbone / as I give up gravity to you”

“Your tongue and teeth interrogate secrets / Embedded long ago in arteries and skin”

“The taste sweet, clear, as lychee nectar”

But perhaps the most powerful line in Adrea’s poem is the final line. After six stanzas, each six lines, of a journey through this erotic exchange, the final line stands alone, promising the passion is not over:

“Again.”

 

Friday Free Read: "The Shed", Audio Excerpt

This recording is NC17 and contains graphic sexual content. You may want to listen with headphones!

(If you aren't able to listen to the audio, the text version is posted below)

 

Talking Shop: A Writer's Self-Indulgence

                     Sleeping Beauty
               by KharyRandolph on DeviantArt           

I've recently been reading the erotic Sleeping Beauty trilogy by A.N. Roquelore (Anne Rice, actually). It's been on my radar for a few years but honestly hadn't captured my interest. My decision to finally read the books came more out of a sense they'd be a good opportunity to learn something.

Mind you, I read a lot of books - including Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey - for this reason. I'm of the opinion authors can learn something worthwhile from a book, even if the book itself is atrocious...and believe me, some of the books I've "learned from" are definitely atrocious. But in fact, I think the terrible books quite often teach the best lessons, if in a cautionary manner.

But back to the Beauty trilogy. If you don't know, these books explore an alternate epilogue to the traditional Sleeping Beauty myth: a world in which, after the Prince awakens her, Beauty is swept into a new life as a sexual slave, and introduced to a world of bondage, discipline, wildly indulgent sexuality, and decadence. In an author's foreword included in my audiobook editions, Anne Rice describes her intent to make every page one filled with heat, sensuality, and arousal. If readers are going to dog-ear the steamiest parts to return to later, her wish was that every page of the Beauty trilogy would be tagged.

Talking Shop: Sexual Identity and Storytelling

While recently chatting with a friend and sometime beta-reader of mine, I asked him how he felt about the main character, Sadira, in my current work-in-progress, tentatively titled Master Me.

My beta reader kind of shrugged and said he didn't really care for stories of BDSM, and Sadira's character was (to him at least) entirely defined by her involvement in power exchange. He had some of the usual stereotypes about power exchange in mind: why would an "abuse survivor" return to a lifestyle of abuse, for example, and assumptions aplenty that the story was really about the character's "warped mindset". All ideas that I hoped to unravel in the story of Master Me, really. What struck me, though, was his expectation that Sadira's sexual identity was only about what happened in the bedroom.

Fuck-Me Frisky Friday: Satin, Lace and Handcuffs

I was most proud of my deception; Ryan had no idea what was being planned in his own house, under his very nose.  I played nice, with a laugh and a smile, throughout our normal weekend activities.  I drew up the grocery list—I did the laundry while he mowed the grass.  We went out to buy him new clothes and buy me new shoes for work—I sat cuddled demurely in his arms while we watched a little TV.  The five-o-clock hour finally rolled around and Ryan got up to leave for his evening shift at work, and he never suspected a thing.

That’s when I put my plan into motion.

Just a Bit of Rough Play: Lady in Chains

Sometimes I just have to get away from manuscript writing and clear my head with a little free-writing. Lady in Chains Is a scene I wrote to give myself a break from mostly vanilla romance. My brain needed a bit of BDSM as exercise.

Enjoy the naughty little vignette, darlings.

~~~~~

Bannon's rough, hot hand on the nape of her neck held her prisoner. It kneaded, exploring and massaging the muscle, spreading a warm, delicious relaxation. She arched herself into it, like a cat. He liked that, and his kneading went on longer in reward, sharp contrast to the strain in her legs and back, earned from standing so long in the inverted, spread-legged position in which he'd shackled her.

Today A Naughty Taste for My Lovelies

It's Thursday, and that means it's time to give you a taste of what's to come.

As I've mentioned now and again, one of my goals is to one day turn my stories of Bannon and Sadira into a full-length novel. This week I've teased about a bit of naughty bondage between them, a short scene-in-progress that I'm calling Lady in Chains.

 

Conditions of Anonymity (Pt 3)

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Conditions of Anonymity (Pt 2)

<Pt 1

There was a man stationed just inside the entryway to the ballroom where the guests were gathered.  He wore a mask, but it was a flat, uninteresting gray, and he was garbed in a red suit that seemed to indicate he was staff, not guest.  He greeted me with a nod and extended a hand for mine—I let him take it, and we glided into the room, he leading me through a warm crowd of party-goers.  They were all in masks all the same style and design, but in a myriad of colors.  I saw silver, green, royal blue, all glittering and sparkling in the dim golden light shed from the chandeliers overhead.  My mask was the only one with detail and accessory, and the same went for my outfit: all of the men wore simple, rich red fraternal robes, like monks.

Conditions of Anonymity (Pt 1)

The latest Hump Day Request story deals with more masquerade fun, hidden identities, and secrets revealed.  Enjoy this brand-new story, my lovelies!

The address on the little slip of paper in my hand belonged to an austere, officious sprawl of a manor on the Gold Coast, a big, dark building of cool stone and creeping ivy.  I took a long moment to appreciate it as I stepped out of the gleaming black limousine that had come out to my humble apartment to fetch me: perhaps I should have known, given the invitation I’d received to tonight’s event and the detailed instructions contained within.  This wasn’t going to be just any old party.

Of course, no party is any old part if I’m invited.