Guest Post - 3/25/20 - Submitting to the Cattleman - BJ Wane #Erotic #BDSM #Romance

She was a one-night stand following his rescue, but he couldn't forget her haunted eyes.

Excerpt:

Leslie should have known by now wallowing in self-pity never helped. She took a moment to eye the man at the bar again, this time catching a glimpse of his rugged profile beneath the black Stetson, a straight nose and the sardonic curl of one side of his mouth as a young woman approached him. His reply to whatever come-on she whispered in his ear sent her trouncing off in a huff. Leslie wondered how low her spirits would have to sink before she approached a stranger with a needy proposition. Maybe, if one look stirred her juices the same as eying that man, she wouldn’t mind the rash, desperate act so much. If nothing else, a night indulging in sex with a stranger would alleviate the loneliness for a short time, give her something else to think about.

By the time she downed two more drinks, stood to leave and the room spun around her, she realized she should have paid more attention to her alcohol intake. I can do this as long as I go slow. Since she wasn’t about to call one of her co-workers to drive her the few blocks back home, she forced herself to walk a straight path toward the door. She made it with only one stumble and as she breathed in the warm summer air, her woozy senses calmed a bit.

At least, Leslie thought her head had cleared enough to drive until she teetered through the well-lit parking lot in search of her car and rammed her hip into the bumper of a massive pickup truck. Swearing under her breath, she pushed away and wobbled toward the sidewalk she could follow straight to her apartment door. With her inebriated head bemoaning the return to her lonely apartment she never heard or saw the punk purse snatcher sneak up behind her until he tried pulling her bag from her grasp.

“Hey!” she cried out with a desperate tug to keep hold of her purse. “Leave me alone!” Tears welled as frustration over everything shook her.

The kid, who looked all of sixteen, took umbrage of Leslie daring to fight back and stunned her further with a back-handed swing that landed her on the concrete with a jarring thud and red-hot pain blossoming across her cheek. Reeling from both the dizzying fall and the blow, she had to blink several times and shake her head to make sense of the angry shout and large man now grappling with her assailant. Big men wearing cowboy hats, denim and boots were a dime a dozen in Montana, but no one had ever come to her rescue before. Her aching heart rolled over in appreciation even before he turned concerned eyes on her as the wily teenager broke from his hold, giving up her purse before taking off.

“Fucking kid,” he swore, squatting down in front of her. His rough voice sent tingles of awareness dancing down her spine, the intent look in his dark eyes reminding her of the observant gazes of the Doms at the club. He thumbed his hat back far enough for her to make out his rugged features and the dark shadow of his five o’clock beard in the meager amber glow of the streetlight and realize he was the same man she had ogled in the bar. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I, yes, I think so.” He helped Leslie up and the street whipped around her in staggering circles. “Whoa,” she gasped, grabbing onto his thick forearm, the muscles rippling under her hands as he wrapped his other arm around her waist.

“This is where too much alcohol will land you. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

His firm, no-nonsense tone calmed Leslie’s racing heartbeat even if she didn’t care for his lecture any more than she wanted to spend another long night alone. God, it felt good to lean on someone for a change, not to mention the warm rush spreading through her body from his firm hold and take-charge manner. She must be either really drunk or really desperate for relief if a stranger’s kindness was tugging on her neglected needs as a sexual submissive.

“My car’s in the parking lot behind us and I live just a few blocks away.” Whether because of the scare she’d just experienced or from her self-pitying melancholy mood of late, she didn’t want him to walk away yet. If that made her a pathetic mess, she didn’t care and relief swept through her shaken body when he tightened his arm around her waist.

“I can’t let you drive in your condition.” He ran calloused fingertips over her puffy cheek, a light caress she felt clear to her toes. “You need something on this, and learning to duck wouldn’t hurt. I’ll give you two choices. Call a friend to come get you or let me take you home. We can return to the bar and let the bartender know where you’re going and with whom, to ease your mind. I’d say you need to report this, but the odds of finding that kid aren’t likely.”

Leslie didn’t hear much after he offered to see her home. Was it stupid to let a stranger know where she lived? Oh, yeah, but not as dumb as wishing he would stay and exert some of that commanding attitude in a different way. She craved a distraction from her isolated life and the bleak future looming ahead of her, and spending more time with this panty-dampening stranger worked for her.

“I think,” she whispered, swaying closer to that rock-hard body, “I can trust someone who was nice enough to come to my rescue.”

Blurb:

Why does doing the right thing have to be so hard?

 Leslie Collins has been asking herself that question ever since her eye-witness testimony in a murder case landed her in the Witness Protection Program far away from everything and everyone she’s ever known. Now, four years later, she struggles with growing despondency over the circumstances that prevent her from forming a relationship. When she allows her loneliness to get the better of her and indulges in a one-night stand, she never dreams her stranger will show up again at the private club she’s stayed away from for a few weeks.

Kurt Wilcox returns home to Montana to help his father recover from a stroke and hopefully mend the rift between them. He doesn’t plan on rescuing a woman from a mugging and ending up succumbing to the loneliness reflected on her face and indulging in a one-night stand. When he meets up with Leslie at his club, he refuses to let her hide her identity or her reasons for inviting a stranger into her home and bed.

Leslie finally caves to his persistence and agrees to an affair that seems promising until she learns her identity has been comprised and an attempt on her life forces out the truth about her past. Will putting her trust in her Dom jeopardize him and his employees when she agrees to his protection, or will Kurt rid her of the threat against her, as he promises, leaving her free to embrace her own HEA?

This is book six in the Cowboy Doms series but can be enjoyed as a standalone.

Publisher’s Note: This contemporary, western romance contains elements of mystery, suspense, danger, power exchange, BDSM, and sensual scenes. If any of these bother you, please do not purchase.

Buy Links:

Amazon - Kindle https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0829XCHQP/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_taft_p3_i1

Amazon – Paperback

B&N – Paperback

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/submitting-to-the-cattleman-bj-wane/1135385337?ean=9781645631682

About the Author:

I live in the Midwest with my husband and our dog, a lovable Great Pyrenees/Standard Poodle.  I love dogs, enjoy spending time with my daughter, babysitting dogs and kids, reading and working puzzles.  We have traveled extensively throughout the states, Canada and just once overseas, but I now prefer being a homebody.  I worked for a while writing articles for a local magazine but soon found my interest in writing for myself peaking.  My first book was strictly spanking erotica, but I slowly evolved to writing erotic spanking romance with a touch of suspense.  My favorite genre to read is suspense.

CONTACT & SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3420232.B_J_Wane?from_search=true

https://bjwaneauthor.com/

https://twitter.com/bj_wane

https://www.facebook.com/bj.wane

https://www.facebook.com/BJWaneAuthor

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/bj-wane

https://www.instagram.com/bjwaneauthor/

Visit the other participants joining in the

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Kryssie Fortune	Patty Devlin
Kathryn R. Blake	Ashe Barker
Felicity Brandon	BJ Wane
Blushing Books	PK Corey
Abbie Adams	Alyssa Bailey
Anita Philmar	Valerie Ullmer
Daryl Devore	Libby Campbell
Sierra Brave	Jaye Peaches
Brandi Evans	Amber Daulton

Henry Webb, a dominant from "Playing The Game," is my guest today #BDSM #Menage

Today, I'm privileged to have Henry Webb, the dominant partner of the trio in Playing the Game, visiting with me.  He's not shy, but he is very reserved.  We'd love to have you join us, but I urge you to be on your best behavior.  I have a feeling Henry is very exacting and doesn't tolerate individuals who appear to be lacking in manners.  So, for this visit you must sit properly and pay attention, or else.... 

Ms. Blake? Henry Webb. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I do appreciate your flexibility in accommodating me today. My dear Alice is keeping our chronicler busy relating some recent adventures, but Ms. Barber has given me the authority to speak for her here. Shall we begin?

Very well.  Could you tell me how M.Q. wrote before she was published?

M.Q. has been writing since childhood. I will spare you the all-too-common details of her childish scrawling, both to avoid the onset of boredom for you and your readers and to avert a disastrous outcome for me. A vindictive chronicler might take her retribution by inflicting some, shall we say, performance issues upon her subjects. Entirely untrue, I assure you.

Playing the Game, however, is her first finished novel. Once my Alice started speaking, M.Q. had no choice but to listen and write. The time from beginning that novel to signing a publishing contract for it was about eight months.

 Eight months is not a long time.  Is that the total time it took M.Q. to write your book?

Playing the Game and its sequel, Crossing the Lines, were written at the same time, in the out-of-order style M.Q. favors. I must say, it frustrated Alice to no end. She’s quite a linear girl, and M.Q. hopping here and there with her incessant questioning about emotional themes distressed her more than relating the intimate details of our sex life.

I myself simply imposed order upon chaos and commanded M.Q. to share my story in neat chronological fashion. Alice hasn’t the forceful personality to do so yet, although she’s gaining practice with Jay. The two of them are a lovely pair of submissives.

Ah. I’ve gone astray. My apologies. Returning to your question, then, the writing of Playing the Game and Crossing the Lines together took M.Q. about five months.

Wow.  Five months is an incredibly short time for a novel.  Would you say M.Q. is a plotter or a pantser?

M.Q., I fear, would say she doesn’t “do” plot at all and describe herself as a complete pantser. She’s incorrect on that point, but as with many people, she lacks a clear vision of herself. She’s quite keen to impose structure. She writes a veritable blizzard of scrap-paper notes.

But as puzzles reach their solutions in her mind at their own pace, and she sees connections in disparate scenes, it’s not uncommon for her to write a section of chapter seven one day and a section of chapter two the next. The notes tell her what she needs where, but the “when” of writing the scenes occurs in a thoroughly disorganized manner.

The shape, however, is known to her early on, as she often writes the novel’s emotional climax in the first rush of drafting. She knows where her characters intend to take her. How we arrive at our destination is more roundabout.

So, when does she usually write, morning or night?

All hours of the day and half the night in her sleep, I’d say. My pets and I have been known to wake her from a sound sleep to jot down a phrase or two of dialog, sometimes several times a night. We also find it amusing to inspire her in the morning. Thus far we have not managed to make her forget to leave for her day job, though we’ve come close more than once. We send her to the computer on weeknights after work and on weekend mornings before the rest of the house has awakened.

Timing is, perhaps, the most powerful control we have over our chronicler. On a few occasions, she has used her safeword to request a day or two of non-writing recovery. She always comes back for more – usually more quickly than she said she would when she was ranting and swearing about needing a break.

To have a little fun, if I may, tell us if M.Q. could have any super power, what do you think it be?

Hmm. Ms. Blake, would you consider it cheating to have a super-powered gadget – magical or so scientifically advanced as to be indistinguishable from magic – rather than an inherent power?

Given M.Q.’s constant refrain of desiring more time in the day and her practical nature, I suspect she would enjoy the use of a time turner from the Harry Potter series. Something with a bit more heft to it would do equally well – a Time Lord’s T.A.R.D.I.S. wouldn’t go amiss.

And if Henry Webb could have any super power, what would it be?

I myself would gladly take Wonder Woman’s lasso, should it accept a male master. Bondage and the ability to compel truthful answers from the one bound would be an incalculable aid in my preferred diversions.

Ah.  Truth or Dare, eh?  Would you happen to know what M.Q. is currently reading?

My chronicler has a distinct fondness for fantasies and graphic novels.

To be clear, I mean to say the sort that fall under the fantasy fiction and comic book umbrellas as opposed to graphic erotica, though she finds Adam Warren’s combination of the three in the Empowered series compelling.

Had she but world enough and time, however, she would pick up most anything once. Be wary of approaching her when she enters one of her book binge phases. Days may pass before she comes up for air. Words hold as much power over her as I do over my dear Jay and Alice. Perhaps more.

What, do you think, inspired M.Q. to write your story?

It would be a bit self-aggrandizing to say I myself inspired her, would it not? Yet it approaches the truth.

My sweet Alice insisted upon sharing the circumstances of her introduction to the world Jay and I inhabited. With her vivid recounting, M.Q. became hooked on our lure. Thus one might call it secondhand seduction. I am reasonably pleased with our chronicler’s portrayal of the evening’s excitement and the path of our developing relationship.

Second-hand seduction, eh?  Do you believe there is a message in your novel that M.Q. would want readers to grasp?

Undoubtedly. My sense of M.Q. tells me she would speak at length about the contract between reader and text and the mutability of prose, such that each reader finds a message uniquely tailored for herself or himself alone based upon the elements the reader brings into the experience.

I will, however, limit myself to suggesting that love and acceptance serve as the heart themes of the book, as it were. M.Q. cannot fault me for such a broad conceptual discussion, though she may attempt to chastise me for becoming the observer who alters the outcome by so observing.

Love and acceptance are important to everyone.  Do you believe M.Q. included any experiences based on someone she knows, or on events in your own life?

It’s rather impossible not to, isn’t it? Empathy is the lever that moves the writer’s world. M.Q. chisels shards of herself to place within her characters and animate them.

Knowledge and understanding go hand in hand. Her own experience turned on its side here. Her feelings stretched and knotted there. Characters like myself develop voice and personality of their own, but each carries a core of M.Q. within. Without that connection, we would be hollow.

The connection between a writer and her characters is extremely intimate.  Could you tell what M.Q.'s current projects are?

Now that Playing the Game has ventured into the world, M.Q. is editing Crossing the Lines, the second book in the Neighborly Affection series, with her editor at Lyrical Press. That book will make its appearance in early 2014.

Beyond that, M.Q. is cheating on us, the naughty girl. Were she Alice, I’d turn her over my knee. Her current work in progress is a standalone contemporary erotic romance featuring new characters. I’ve instructed Alice and Jay not to tempt her overmuch until she has that story wrapped. The moment she lays it down, though, we shall set her to continuing our own adventures. The first draft of our third tale is awaiting a good bloodletting.

Bloodletting?  Okay, moving on.  Name one entity (person, place or thing) you feel supported or inspired M.Q. outside of her family members.

Many voices contributed here and there, some perhaps all unknowing. The one constant has been M.Q.’s regular critique partner. She possesses a disturbingly intimate understanding of the workings of my own mind. Her support cannot be overstated. Her continual prodding prevented M.Q. from leaving the finished novel languishing unsubmitted on her computer.

I am grateful to M.Q.'s critique partner.  What advice, if any, do you think M.Q. would have for other writers?

I believe M.Q. would encourage writers to examine the assumptions and doubts that impede their progress. Sometimes the simplest things make all the difference:

Push past the need for perfection in a first draft.

Accept the potential for failure.

Realize everything is fixable in the editing process.

Listen when a friend asks, “So, if you never finish anything when you write chronologically, but you know what happens two chapters later, why not write that scene now and swing around to pick up the other scenes later?”

Small ideas become big breakthroughs when one’s mind is open to them. A solid foundation is no use if your feet have been caught in the hardening concrete. Shake off the doubts and find a place to stand where you are properly supported.

____________________________________________________________

Ms. Blake, if I may say, I’ve had a lovely time chatting with you here today. Thank you for the invitation. I suppose I ought to bow out gracefully and allow the book to speak for itself.

Thank you for joining us, Henry.  You have been a delightful, if not a trifle intimidating, guest.  I hope everyone visiting has behaved themselves properly in your presence, and still enjoyed themselves as much as I did..

Playing the Game by M.Q. Barber

She expects dinner with neighbors, but gets sex with a side of safewords.

Mechanical engineer Alice still drools over her sexy neighbors a year after she’s moved in. She can’t decide whether they’re roommates or partners, but either way, they spark a wanton desire in her that has her imagination–and vibrator–working overtime.

Henry, director of everything around him, studies human nature and applies philosophies to his paintings as well as his relationships. Quirky, polite to a fault, and formal, he follows his own code of honor even when it means denying himself.

Flirtatious and playful, Jay needs stability, guidance, and to please others. His antics counterbalance Henry’s stuffy ways while he brings a level of vulnerability and fun to everything the trio does.

BDSM play with the enigmatic artist and flirtatious joker across the hall allows Alice to put aside the linear thought processes which have kept her unsatisfied and distant with other lovers. She must dismiss her preconception of love, sacrificing her independence, if she’s to find a permanent place in their beds and hearts.

CONTENT WARNING: Explicit sex, graphic language, BDSM, bondage, spanking, M/M/F menage.

A Lyrical Press Contemporary Erotic Romance

Excerpt:

Henry’s fingertips trailed over her spine, and she shivered.
“Except when they’re a bit skittish,” he murmured. “Is that what you are, Alice? Perhaps you’re feeling unsure of your place here?”
She couldn’t meet his gaze for long. His eyes invited her to drown in tender concern, implied an intimacy that made her nervous and needy. Jay proved no help, his focus locked to his plate.
“If you don’t wish to play, my dear, that’s fine. We three may still have a lovely dinner, and your longing looks will be no less welcome for the declined invitation.”
Her gaze flicked back to Henry’s. She wet her lips. Beneath the nerves welled a thrilling jolt, an anticipatory burst of glee.

“But there could be more if I want it?”

Playing the Game Purchase Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Playing-the-Game-ebook/dp/B00DJYXDJY/

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/playing-the-game-mq-barber/1115799657

M.Q.'s Social Links:

www.mqbarber.com

www.facebook.com/mqbarber

www.goodreads.com/MQBarber