I'm a mad football (soccer) fan so I'm really going to miss the Euros this year! But to get some hot sporting heroes into your life, I have plenty of super sexy sport romances for you to choose from. ACCELERATED PASSION is high-adrenaline Formula One, HOT ICE is bad-ass hockey, SCORED is soccer (oh yeah baby!), A FIGHTER'S LOVE is menage a trois boxing, and GRAND SLAM is kinky tennis. What are you waiting for? Bag a stud who is as talented in the bedroom as he is in the world of sport.
Harry Alexander and Grant Hunter are big names in reality TV, but they couldn’t be more different. For Harry, fame happened by chance. He was working as a marine engineer on a cruise ship when the liner became the subject of a fly-on-the-wall documentary series. Harry’s good looks and charming personality made him an immediate hit with viewers, and he became the break-out star of the show.
Grant Hunter took no chances in his pursuit of fame. Having starred in the outrageous reality show Sexy Northerners, he grabbed success with both hands and didn’t let go. Grant is prepared to do whatever it takes to stay at the top—red-carpet appearances, parties, high-profile romances and X-rated videos. He’ll do anything in the name of self-promotion to maintain his notorious reputation.
When Harry arrives in Grant’s home city of Manchester, they have preconceived ideas about each other. As they realize they have more in common than they ever thought, they must overcome prejudice, rivalry and the social and professional barriers placed before them, if they’re ever to get together
About the Series: Fame, money, power. Some men will do anything for them. In every field, it’s a cut-throat race to the top, littered with deceit, passion and love. For those strong enough to get what they want, maintaining it is never easy.
Reality TV stars, footballers, lawyers, singers and movies stars—join them as they discover what they’re each prepared to pay to preserve their success.
The bars along the canal were busy for a Sunday evening. People sat at the outside tables, laughing and drinking. From the corner of his eye, he clocked that someone had recognized him and was moving in his direction. Harry tucked his chin and kept walking. He wanted to reach his room, lock the door and spend some quality time alone.
When a hand touched his shoulder, he expected it to be a fan, eager for a photograph. He turned, hoping to make it quick, and was surprised to recognize the smiling face that greeted him.
My God, he’s handsome. Up close, his chiseled features and warm brown eyes were exquisite. His smile grew wider and his eyes sparkled with amusement.
“I thought it was you,” Grant said, thrusting a hand forward. “Nice to meet you at last.”
“You too,” Harry said, accepting the firm handshake.
“I wanted to say hello last night, but you left the club before I got the chance.”
“Sorry.” Harry shrugged, unable to tear his eyes from Grant’s hypnotic gaze. Dark and moody, like a film star from a different era, a 1950s matinee idol who’d stepped straight off the screen and been transported to modern-day Manchester.
You could cut yourself on his cheekbones, they’re so sharp. And that jawline…
“It wasn’t really your scene, was it?” Grant asked.
“I guess not. But sorry, again, I should have come over before I left. It was rude not to.”
“Why don’t you make it up to me now?” Grant said, gesturing to the bar where they had stopped. “A drink. I’ve got nothing else to do right now. How about you?”
The man was a natural flirt. That was obvious. But he had an undefinable and powerful charisma. Harry’s heart beat faster. Grant had an instant effect on him. “Why not?”
Thom Collins is the author of Closer by Morning, Gods of Vengeance, Silent Voices and the Anthem Trilogy. His love of page turning thrillers began at an early age when his mother caught him reading the latest Jackie Collins book and promptly confiscated it, sparking a life-long love of raunchy novels.
He is currently working on a new novel.
Thom has lived in the North East of England his whole life. He grew up in Northumberland and now lives in County Durham with his husband and two cats. He loves all kinds of genre fiction, especially bonk-busters, thrillers, romance and horror. He is also a cookery book addict with far too many titles cluttering his shelves. When not writing he can be found in the kitchen trying out new recipes.
Welcome to Saturday Spankings. This week I have SO much more than a snippet for you I have an entire book! Yes, that's right, grab your FREE copy of GRAND SLAM and fall in love with a hot, dominant tennis player who masters the bedroom as well as the court. Be quick, though, 21st March is the last day it's FREE.
“Okay,” she said firmly, clearly trying to insert some confidence into her tone but not entirely succeeding. “I admit I was buying some time to respond to you about this. But even now I’m not sure what to say. I don’t really understand BDSM. I know what it means, what it is, of course, but I’m sure there’s a lot more to it. More to it than spanking, being spanked, handcuffs, ropes and the like.”
I nodded slowly, pleased that she was being honest and that she already had an idea that there were nuances, variety and depth to the scene.
She flashed me a nervous grin, then squeezed her eyes closed. Fuck, whatever she was going to say next was something she was really struggling with. Did she think I was some kind of depraved pervert, unable to get my rocks off unless I was hurting someone? No, it couldn’t be. So far she hadn’t been reticent when it came to telling me what she thought of me—especially if it was an insult.
“I would like to know more about it—more than a bit of googling will tell me—and most of all, I would like to understand why… Why I, um, liked it when you pulled my hair. I liked it a lot, how you made me feel, how you were with me.”
A bolt of triumph zinged through my body and I was glad she had her eyes closed so she couldn’t see the huge grin on my face. Not to mention the growing erection I was sporting. I straightened my face quickly and pushed my palm onto my cock, willing it to go down—for the time being, anyway. I suspected she’d now voiced the most difficult part of it for her, but I still didn’t want to scare her off. Not now we’d got this far.
I knew she’d fucking liked it. I’d known all along—her body couldn’t lie—but the fact she’d admitted it first to herself and now to me was progress. It didn’t mean, of course, that she’d throw herself to her knees in front of me and call me Master, but I hoped it meant she was up for some exploration. With me. At least I hoped with me and not bloody Peter, not that he gave off any signs of being anything other than vanilla, but hey, most guys could be persuaded.
Isla replayed the words in her mind. Had she heard her husband right?
“What are you waiting for?” He tipped his head and studied her. “Every moment of delay will earn you extra spanks.”
“McTavish, sir, I...”
“Aye, I am sir to you, and husband and master, and as such I command that you place your delicate wee rump over my lap so I can discipline you for your reckless, dangerous behaviour.”
She trembled, her nakedness beneath the towel making her feel even more vulnerable. “You’ve just earned yourself an extra ten swats of my palm.”
“Isla, I won’t say it again. Present me with your bottom so I can teach you a lesson.” She stepped closer, trepidation wending through her veins.
“Drop the towel and bend over.” His jaw tightened as though his patience was running out. “This is for your own good, not mine.”
“Are you arguing with me?”
“So do it.” There was steel in his voice. She knew she had no choice but to obey. She was going over his lap for her first punishment as a Highlander’s wife.
As she released the towel, it breezed to the floor and pooled at her feet.
His gaze raked down her naked body, to her toes then back up to her face, pausing only briefly on her breasts and peaked nipples. He tapped his thigh, his lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. “I won’t issue my instruction again.”
Isla’s belly trembled and her face flushed as she stepped up to his side and stared at his wide lap. She could see a hint of his leg through the gap in his kilt. He didn’t wear his sporran.
Her gaze went to his arms, thick and bulging with muscles, tendons, and veins. She prayed he knew his own strength.
“Only what you can take,” he said as if reading her thoughts. “Though right now I’m inclined to give you more as you’re taking so long to show me your rear.”
“I’m sorry.” With a gulp she leaned forward, her breasts pressing onto his kilt and in turn his lap. Her wet hair hung forward, sliding past her neck and shoulders to touch her cheeks. She bent her knees a little.
“Higher, how can I spank you like that?” He lifted her body, and repositioned her with her head hanging so low her hair trailed on the floor.
“Oh!” Her belly was tight over his hard thigh and her ass now the highest point of her body. Only her toes could touch the floor. She gripped his leg and the chair leg for support.
“That’s more suitable.” He rubbed his hand over first her left buttock and then her right. “Much better.”
Blood rushed to her face, flaming her cheeks and making her scalp tingle. It was humiliating to be over his knee like this, as though she were a petulant child who’d been caught stealing apples from a neighbour. “Please, I really think—”
“Be quiet, you will take this, and you will learn from it.” He slapped down, hard, his flat palm landing squarely on her rump.
“Ouch!” She jerked forward and kicked her legs upward, her heels banging the backs of her thighs.
“Hundred what?” Serena asked. Her arms were still locked above her. She tugged them but Luca held them tight in just one of his hands.
“First hundred spanks, for being all over the hit like a damn rash and then telling the police you were a woman who gets paid to have sex. There were a hundred other things you could have said. Seeing that, hearing that, as I took the rap for a job gone wrong was like adding salt to a wound. And you said it so damn fast, not a moment of hesitation, as if you enjoyed the look on their faces. So yes, a hundred spanks is your punishment.”
“Hundred spanks.” Her mouth fell open even though she was fighting for breath. “Are you mad?”
“Si, real mad, and you’re about to find out just how much.” He released her wrists and in one fast movement yanked at her blouse. Buttons flew to the left and right, clattering on the wooden floor. Cool air washed over her chest and her nipples tingled and tightened behind her bra.
“You need to be naked, Serena.” He pulled again, material ripped, and then the blouse was gone. Next her bra, a front-fastening style, was also on the floor.
She went to cover her breasts but he yanked her hands away and held her wrists.
Exposed and vulnerable, a shiver tickled over her flesh and her belly clenched. Heat traveled lower, to her pussy, and a deep hum of arousal flickered to life. But she didn’t want to be aroused. Luca was going to spank her. He was stripping her naked to punish her.
“What’s the point in trying to cover yourself?” His eyes glinted with steely determination as he gripped her wrists. “I’ve seen it all before. Many times.” He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip.
“But not like this.” She pressed her thighs together. “Not in anger.”
His intense gaze, his fast, shallow breaths told her he was still affected by the sight of her. A glance lower told her his cock liked the view too.
“Don’t bother arguing, Serena, it will get you nowhere. I’ve had months planning your punishment, don’t forget. Hours and hours pacing a cell working out every detail of how I’d make you sorry for what you’d done.”
When destiny gets it wrong, a lifetime of true love hangs in the balance.
Gabriel Black doesn’t want to believe he’s been dumped, but when the texts, calls and sweetly scented letters from his long-distance girlfriend, Elle Cassidy, suddenly stop, what else can he think?
Just as well his family is starting a new life away from the rat race, which means he can find out what’s going on face to face. But when things don’t go to plan, he finds it hard to keep his cool. And when life gets downright creepy, Gabe’s hot temper quickly burns through his veins as he struggles to comprehend his situation.
When the dust settles, he learns that a twist of fate means he’ll have to navigate a new, never-before-trodden path if he’s to have Elle at his side. It’s not easy, danger lurks in the shadows and he has to fight to protect what’s his. But Gabriel and Elle have allies, the ghostly glow of the moonlight is their friend, family love provides breathtaking strength, and together they can face the future no matter how many soul-takers try to tear them apart.
"Great book. Didn't want it to end!"
"Describes the scenery perfectly and reminds me of my own teenage angst."
Struggling artist Ariane Arlington flees the Welsh valleys after exposing her corrupt boss. But when the sun rises she finds herself jobless and homeless in Cardiff city with barely a penny to her name.
She responds to an advert in the local paper - Room to let, wanted, girl to share. What she doesn't realize is that the two insanely gorgeous guys who live in the penthouse apartment really do want a girl to share, in every sense of the word.
Fortunately for Ariane, rent is the last thing on their minds. She discovers the men are bound together by a turbulent past. Liam, a computer whiz, keeps a painful secret hidden beneath his buff exterior, whilst Quinn, a pioneering neurosurgeon, wonders if he'll ever meet a woman who can live with his controlling ways. They admit the one thing missing from their lives is a woman just like Ariane, who can handle them both in and out of the bedroom and who, together, they can keep satisfied, loved and most of all, safe.
I jerked my hips searching for his face and yanked at my cuffs, furious. I’d been ready to come, just about to explode, and it would have been delicious, my G-spot was in perfect tune with my clit, it would have been double the pleasure, double the intensity. “No,” I wailed like an aggrieved child. “Quinn, I was just about to, that’s cruel. Please.”
“Turn the hell over.” He scooped me up and I yelped in surprise. The next thing I knew my wrists had crossed as my belly hit the mattress. My forehead sank into the pillow as he dragged me onto my knees. Again one leg, my right this time, slipped to the floor so I was half on, half off the bed with my behind in the air.
“Do as I say, Ariane, remember this is me in charge and every time you don’t do as I say I will spank you all the harder.”
I pushed to my elbows. The word spank had been used, again. My clit quivered, the exposed flesh on my behind tingled. Every time Quinn just uttered the word spank I got a thrill in a new, uncharted part of my being.
I heard a rustle in the box as Quinn swept one hand over the orbs of my buttocks. “I love your ass,” he said in a tender voice. “So pale and creamy, so round and soft.”
“And here was me thinking you were a tit man,” I said, with a healthy portion of irritation.
“With you I’m both,” he said.
And then it hit down. A whack from something hard and solid landed on my right butt cheek. I jerked forward and cried out, surprised by the sheer force. There was nothing gentle about the way Quinn had hit me, he’d put pure male strength behind it.
Suddenly my whole buttock was ablaze, as though it had been pierced by a thousand needles, even the air in the room felt hot against it.
Then he stroked over the seared skin and soothing noises escaped his lips. “So pretty,” he said. “You’re flushing pink already, I can’t wait to see you red, red and hot.”
I let out a quiet moan. The pain was starting to ease.
Another blow hit down. On my left buttock this time. I bit my lip, tears sprang in my eyes. But this time the pain, the burn, radiated outward and settled its intensity in my pussy. It was as though the heat, all those needles, were darting pleasure and stimulation to where I needed it most.
I found myself squirming, wanting more. I groaned. Bemused at the conflict between my physical and sensual being.
“You need to say anything?” Quinn asked from behind me. “You need to use any words, Ariane?”
“No, no,” I said, shaking my head against the pillow.
He slid his fingers down the crack of my butt cheeks and over my anus. I felt so hot, so wet, so supersensitive. He found my pussy and pushed in two fingers and began to fret at my G-spot again.
I moaned and arched to his touch even as I was thinking I wouldn’t survive this. It was so concentrated, so intense.
Another slap rained down. It definitely felt like wood hitting me, something round, like a table tennis paddle perhaps.
And then the blows poured down fast and steady, alternating cheeks as Quinn’s wicked fingers pumped inside me. I was getting ready to climax, how could a spanking be bringing me so close to tumbling over the edge? My clit was humming but it didn’t need attention, I was going to come anyway.
I could hear Quinn’s breaths harsh and ragged behind me. Each time a blow hit I could sense the change in air pressure just before the connection. “So red now,” he said hoarsely. “You’re so red, Ariane, not much more, not much more, come for me now, come.”