For thirteen years, Tristan Blackthorn has searched for his lost love, Keira. Has the time for their reunion finally come?
When the ball-busting Patrice Wyngate figures out she’s not happy, she does what she does best—takes control. Yet hearing, “Dance for me” completely changes her life, and nothing will be the same again.
For Zoe Harper, there would be no more dieting. The plain truth of the matter was, her no-good cheating boyfriend could kiss her size fourteen ass. Because quite simply, she found a man who was happy to show her Big Girls Do It Better.
Hadley Cooper, Eric Williams, and Jude Jamison had been best friends forever. Yet, at some point, their time living together would end, each of them finding “the one.” Only, Eric and Jude had other thoughts. They intended to make Hadley understand—Three’s Not a Crowd.
Be Warned: menage sex (MFM), BDSM, floggers, spanking
Everyone knows heartache. This seems a harsh statement, yet it is the one fundamental truth all of us have in common. We may allow religious beliefs to separate us. Fall behind the dividing wall of the social classes. Have varying shades to our skin. Maintain different political views or sexual orientations. We may see the world through diverse eyes and hail from dissimilar backgrounds. However, the one thing each and every single one of us comes to understand—to live is to know pain. There’s no escaping. Whether we know the sorrow and grief of losing someone we loved dearly, the disappointments of deceit and lies, or the devastation of a broken heart, all of us, no matter who we are, will eventually become acquainted with heartache. The question then becomes; what do we do to survive?
I placed my favorite Mont Blanc pen atop my scribbled thoughts, and stared out the office window. The setting sun backlit the city skyline in a splash of burnt umber. In just a few hours I’d be donning my Armani tuxedo and joining my audacious sister, as well my mother who flew in from France, in order to co-host the gala marking a milestone for the company Adelle and I run. The company my late father started forty years ago. But here’s the thing. While most of the New York publishing world will be in attendance, armed with their celebratory faces and platitudes of well wishes, I’ll be there going through the motions—forced to appear happy.
With a heavy sigh, I rolled my leather chair back from the desk. I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. Quite the opposite in fact. After the call I received earlier today from my P.I., informing me the lead on Keira’s whereabouts was another dead end, all I really wanted to do was settle into my penthouse to read some of the newest submissions to Dark Tales Diaries, and drink single malt scotch until the words blurred upon the pages. This seemed the more appropriate thing to do since the date on the calendar also marked another occasion—thirteen years to the day since I last saw Keira.
I could still remember the facets sparkling in her aquamarine eyes. They were eyes so deep I could get lost within the depths of them. So sharp, they slayed me. So soft, they comforted me. Trust me when I say, I’m well aware thirteen years is a long time to be apart. Nonetheless, it seems only yesterday I was basking in her happy laughter. Tasted the sweetness of her lips. Felt her delicate body pressed firmly against mine. Heard her soft voice whispering naughty notions in my ear, and felt her warm breath gust across my skin. Yet, in other ways, every single minute of every single day of my unwanted separation from Keira has eroded at me like a slow drip of acid.
Squeezing the back of my tense neck, I wondered if perhaps I should listen to Wade, and call off any further investigation into Keira’s disappearance. After all this time, how could I not consider it? Maybe my sister, Adelle, was right when she said Keira didn’t want to be found and I needed to let my obsession go. Could I do that? Did I even want to give up? Or was I doomed to endlessly search for answers and an unobtainable dream?
Almost absentmindedly, I ran my fingers over the stack of mail which contained the words of so many, and plucked a pink envelope from the pile. I read the return address. Seattle, WA.
“Are you in there, Keira?”
Shaking my head, I sat the letter aside. I knew the truth. Regardless if I found the girl turned woman amongst the erotic tales of others or not, it didn’t really matter. Simply because, what I was doing now, what I’d started with Dark Tales Diaries, was so much more than a possible means to finding her. It was my way of dealing with the loss—my way to survive.