Ruby
Book 3 Facets of
Passion
By Jeffe Kennedy
Publisher: Carina Press
ISBN: 978-14268-9548-7
Genre: Romance, Erotic Romance,
Contemporary Romance, BDSM
Release date: May 13
Blurb:
Danielle Sosna has no problem denying herself in order to
achieve her goals—after all, that attitude landed her a dream job at Vogue
Paris. But in New Orleans for one last assignment before heading overseas,
she's faced with the most decadent of temptations. Seductive Cajun chef Bobby
Prejean takes Dani's strength of will as a challenge, and offers her a night of
wild indulgence—if she will agree to obey his every command…
Dani can't resist Prejean's invitation to join him in a world
of carnal desire, complete with fetish costumes and masks. Determined to keep
her emotional distance, she gives Prejean everything but her name. A night
becomes a week, as she spends Mardi Gras suspended…in the delicious space where
pleasure meets pain.
Too late, she realizes the cloak of anonymity has not
protected her—and that chasing her dream might come at the expense of her
heart.
For more Facets of Passion, check out
Sapphire and Platinum, available now!
She headed
toward the B&B, at first hurrying through the rain. As she splashed through
the deepening puddles on the uneven sidewalk, her stockings soaked through. In
fact, all of her was as wet as if she stood under a shower. Since her pace
didn’t matter, she slowed, rain running down her face, sliding over her skin. A
pack of squealing tourists hustled by, sharing one plastic rain poncho like a
tarp. Prepared locals gave her smug smiles from under the umbrellas they always
carried.
She smiled
back. The rain might be cool, but the feel of it sliding on her skin brought
the world into focus. A small discomfort, like her hunger, to make getting
indoors that much more pleasurable.
She passed
the Court des Deux Pendus without glancing at it, no matter how much she might
want to. Up ahead, a man leaned against a courtyard wall, legs crossed at the
ankles, an enormous black umbrella protecting his upper half, while his stylish
leather shoes—likely Italian—were irretrievably drenched. Idiot.
“You look
like a drowned rat, chère.”
The familiar
voice brought Dani up short before she realized the stranger was speaking to
her. Cautiously, she looked over her shoulder to see he’d tipped the umbrella
back and was surveying her, an amused twitch behind that neat black beard.
“Are you
following me?” She poured ice into the question.
“Now how
could that be when you just came walking by? I should accuse you. Perhaps
you’re a stalker.”
“Ha!” She
barked out the laugh and turned to go, so not in the mood for more shit, all
the pleasant sensuality of walking in the rain gone. “I’ll be sure to take a
different route in the future.”
“Are you
hungry?” he called out, lightly,
mocking.
“Fuck you!”
she tossed over her shoulder.
“Well, all
right,” he said, from close behind her. “Though you’d have to do that my way
too. Your place or mine?”
She spun
around and nearly slammed into his chest. Backed up a hasty step and snagged
her hair on the umbrella.
“Goddammit.”
She tugged at her wet, snarled curls.
“You appear
to be trapped.”
“Quit
harassing me,” she hissed.
“In point of
fact, you accosted my umbrella. Now, here. Hold this.” He pushed the handle at
her and she took it, not looking at him while he used both hands to untangle
her hair from the spokes. In her four-inch stilettos, she was nearly the same
height, and his breath blew warm against her cheek, the rain drumming around
them.
“Some temper
you have there,” he murmured. “I can’t help but think that if you had something
in your belly, you’d be a little sweeter.”
She decided
declining to respond to that would be the better part of valor. That had
sounded like an invitation. A tempting one.
“Nothing to
say?” His lips whispered against her cheek.
“Let me go.”
“You’re free. For now.”
She started
to pull back, thrusting the handle at him, but he wrapped his hands over hers.
“Let me make
it up to you.”
“What?” Oh yes. Definitely tempting.
He returned
her gaze, steady, calm. His eyes weren’t truly black, but a deep brown, framed
by thick lashes any of her models would have killed to come by naturally. The
gold hoop glinted in his ear and she was seized by the random desire to take it
in her teeth. “I’ll make you something to eat. Something fabulous.”
“Absolutely
not.”
“No?” His
gaze fastened on her mouth and the moment felt oddly intimate, with the
curtains of rain falling around the umbrella. “Let me feed you.”
“I’m not
going to a strange man’s place—for any reason.”
“Ah.” He
nodded. “I am stranger than some, it’s true. I’ll take you somewhere then. Buy
you a meal. Maybe a drink. All safe and public.”
“You threw
me out of your restaurant.”
“You
deserved it.”
“You don’t
know what I deserve.”
“Oh, but I’d
love to find out. You come to my place, you play my way. If you give yourself
over to me, I will show you pleasures that will keep you fed for life. A
different extreme.”
Something
about his tone, the heat from his body, sent arousal rippling through her. An
image of the manacles on the courtyard wall slipped through her mind, taunting,
compelling.
“Are we
still talking about food?” She tried to sound flip, but his eyes glinted and
somehow she knew he heard the desire in her voice.
“When it
comes to the sensual delights, it’s all the same. Come with me for now. Let me
give you a taste.”
She studied
him, definitely tempted. Keeping professional distance was important, so she’d
stayed in a different B&B than the rest of her colleagues. But it made for
lonely evenings at times. In a week, she’d be in Paris, where she knew no one.
Who knew when she’d meet another man this alluring?
“What else
will you do?” he asked, as if he read her mind. “A rainy night in New Orleans
is for sharing good food, a little booze, a lot of nice company.”
“I don’t
know why I’m agreeing to this.”
White teeth
flashed in a smile, outrageously sexy. “Because you can’t resist me, chère.”
“You wish.”
“Yes, I do.
Can you walk a bit in those sexy heels?”
“What’s a
little pain, in the face of what you’re promising?”
“Exactly.
C’mon, New York.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Let me show
you my city.”
Sapphire
Book 1 Facets of Passion
By Jeffe
Kennedy
Publisher: Carina Press
Available on Amazon
Blurb:
A successful executive, M. Taylor Hamilton
is on track with her ten-year plan. Too bad her personal life consists of
hitting the gym and grocery shopping. Enter the seductive Adam Kirliss. They
may have a working relationship, but everything changes at an office party when
he handcuffs her to the rail of a yacht. Taylor writes the adventure off as too
much champagne, but when Adam challenges her to a date, she agrees to meet up
with him. And follow his rules. They share a night of exquisite intimacy,
brimming with both pain and pleasure. But afterwards, fearful of losing her
heart, Taylor pulls back emotionally. Adam is determined to prove that she
longs for the loss of control he can give her – and the passionate release it
provides. How can he make her see that he wants her, and not just her body?
Kirliss captured her other wrist and held
them close in front of her, his warm fingers massaging her skin, while he
studied her face. The boat surged over a wave, disturbing her balance.
Kirliss’s unusual eyes caught the light, boring into her.
“This is silly,” she tried.
“Do you want me to make you stay?”
“What?” Taylor choked. She couldn’t let
him treat her this way. “No! You’ll do no such—”
She lost her breath entirely when he
pressed up against her. Thinking he was trying to embrace her, she pulled away
and found herself backed against the brass railing.
By the time she gathered her flustered
thoughts, her wrists were handcuffed to the rail behind her. Mortified, a bit
afraid and—worse—suddenly and wildly aroused…
Platinum
Book 2 Facets of Passion
By Jeffe Kennedy
Althea Grant is doing fine.
Sure, her Charleston gallery is suffering from the bad economy, and her
artistic aspirations have gone nowhere. But she’s happy enough. When rugged
metal sculptor Steel rides up on his motorcycle looking to rent studio space,
his infusion of cash is more than welcome. But his art is raw, visceral, sexual—and
completely inappropriate for her pastel world of watercolor landscapes.
Steel, fascinated by Althea’s
rare albino coloring, sees in her the key to his next piece: a metal satyr that
can be used for bondage games. Moving into her gallery basement is the first
step; seducing the coolly polite lady into modeling for him is the second.
As Steel peels away her
careful manners and tasteful outfits, Althea begins to realize her life isn’t
just fine at all—it’s as pale and washed-out as the watercolor paintings she’s
failing to sell. Can she transform her life and accept her most secret desires?
In the morning, Althea dressed
carefully in a pretty pale lemon chiffon dress with tiny pearl buttons all down
the front. She curled her hair and left it down, thinking it complemented the
neckline of the gown better and looked nice with the wide-brimmed matching hat.
She looked forward to seeing Brandon for a lovely Sunday outing.
Never mind that she’d spent a nearly feverish night thinking
of Steel’s lurid promises. She had no intention of breaking up with Brandon.
Steel could hang himself from his own sculpture for all she cared.
She clipped through the gallery as a quick check that all was
well, then let herself out through the front and rearmed the alarm. Brandon
hadn’t arrived yet, so she busied herself with deadheading the impatiens and
lobelia in the window boxes.
“Don’t you look a picture.” Steel leaned against the wall
nearby, decked out in his motorcycle leathers. He wore mirrored sunglasses, so
she couldn’t see his eyes, but his intrusive gaze consumed her nevertheless.
“What are
you doing out here?”
“Taking in the sun, seeing the sights.” He grinned at her.
“Gallery’s closed today, I see. Wanna go for a ride on my bike? You’d have to
change, though—that skirt would be up over your head in no time. Not that I
would mind. In fact the image of you offers some interesting—”
“I have a
date,” she snapped.
He raised
his eyebrows. “Let me guess—Sunday brunch. How…sweet.”
“I happen to
like brunch.”
“And did you
like staying home alone on Saturday night?”
“I had a
long day, working,” she emphasized.
“I preferred some time to unwind.”
He chuckled at that. “Princess, I have no doubt that you
could use some unwinding, but I could suggest a dozen more interesting ways to
do it. For example, we could start with—”
“I’m not interested.” She cut him off again and turned back
to picking off the dried and wilted blossoms.
“You don’t act like a woman who’s not interested.”
“I’ve decided to stick with Brandon. I’m declining
your…offer. Not that I seriously considered it. At all.”
“Brandon?” He drew the name out, baaing on the “a” sound like
a sheep.
“Oh stop. It’s a perfectly fine name.”
“You think so? Brandon? Sounds like a Momma’s boy to me.”
“Not every guy has a noun for a name.”
“Not unless he’s bold and manly like me.” He winked and she
laughed before she caught herself, but with her face still turned down to the
window box, he might not have heard. “I notice you never say my name.”
“Sure I do. Steel refinery. Stainless steel silverware.
Calphalon steel pans. I say it all the time.”
“I want to hear you gasping it out while I’m riding you,” he
spoke from just behind her, in a quiet, intense voice.
She whirled around and had to take a step back, he was so
close. “I don’t want you talking to me that way.”
“I think you like it.”
“I don’t.” But her voice faltered.
“I think Brandon treats you like a lady. I bet, when he
bothers to pay attention to you, that he ‘makes love’ to you. All clean and
polite-like. Sunday brunch sex. Am I right?”
She focused on the prominent Adam’s apple in his tanned
throat. He was all over stubble again. She wondered how the scratchiness would
feel.
“There’s nothing wrong with love-making.”
“No,” he agreed, and he smiled when she glanced up in
surprise. “There’s a place for that too. Long afternoons, lace curtains and
taking each other in long, luxurious, slow licks of pleasure.” He stroked her
cheek. “I can be into that too. But I’m offering something the Brandons of the
world won’t. I think there’s a very dirty girl under all that lovely lady
exterior. The one who gets juiced just looking at my art. Who wants it hard and
hot and maybe just a little rough. Tell me, has any man dared to tie you up
with your legs spread wide, so he could have his way with you?”
She gaped at him and he leaned in. Whispered in her ear.
“I would. One word from you, princess, and I will.”
“Is this your idea of luring me?” She tried to sound
indignant, but it came out breathless.
“Absolutely.” He flashed her his wicked grin. “And it’s
working too.”
Jeffe Kennedy took the crooked road
to writing, stopping off at neurobiology, religious studies and environmental
consulting before her creative writing began appearing in places like Redbook,
Puerto del Sol, Wyoming Wildlife, Under the Sun and Aeon. An erotic novella,
Petals and Thorns, came out under her pen name of Jennifer Paris in 2010,
heralding yet another branch of her path, into erotica and romantic fantasy
fiction. Since then, an erotic short, Feeding the Vampire, and another erotic
novella, Sapphire, have hit the shelves.
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