Squee!! Body Politics is out! It’s feminist v. spanko in the third book of the Rod and Cane Society domestic discipline erotic romance series! It’s available now on Loose Id’s site, in all ebook formats. In a few weeks, it will be available on Amazon, BN, ARe, Fictionwise, etc.
To celebrate the publication of Body Politics, I’m post excerpts each day, now through Friday. The excerpts start at the beginning of the book and run sequentially. Each day, I’ll award a $5 gift certificate to Loose Id to one luck commenter. Comment all four days — get four chances to win! Winners will be announced on Saturday, January 5.
Here’s the blurb:
Feminist Stephanie Gordon knows the instant she meets blind date Mark DeLuca it’s not going to work. Sure the deputy chief of police is criminally sexy, but he’s arrogant, domineering and sexist. Thank goodness after the evening ends, she’ll never have to see him again.
A member of the Rod and Cane Society, an organization of men who spank, Mark DeLuca is attracted to Stephanie like a paddle to a well-rounded ass. He sees beneath the shield of feminist militancy to the soft, sensitive woman she tries to hide. When she storms away in a snit, the chase is on. Can a dominant spanko convince a diehard feminist her true strength lies in submission?
And here we go…the story is begins…
By Cara Bristol
The instant the leggy beauty entered the bar, the urge arose to leap from his chair and hustle her to safety, away from the prying eyes and itchy palms of the other tops.
The woman scanned the interior, turning her head to reveal a perfect feminine profile, her short hair crackling like an auburn flame. She clutched her handbag under her arm as if expecting to be mugged but threw back her shoulders in defiance. Defensive and aggressive. She wore a man’s white shirt and had unbuttoned the collar and rolled the sleeves to her elbows, then muted the masculine effect by cinching it with a wide leather belt to reveal an hourglass figure. A loop of gold chain rested against her generous breasts, while a heavy cuff bracelet manacled her left wrist. Blue jeans hugged her from hips to feet, which were encased in black motorcycle boots, styled for ass-kicking in addition to comfort.
She nibbled on her lower lip but then lifted her chin in a show of bravado. Her charming nervousness eased his.
Otis’s wife had nailed it. Strong but vulnerable. Gutsy but feminine. She was his type. Her discomfort called out to his protective side, to reassure her she didn’t need to put up a front with him.
Mark stood up, and she spotted him, hesitated a fraction, then strode to the corner table he’d snagged out of the traffic.
“I’m Mark DeLuca,” he said right off.
“Stephanie Gordon. It’s nice to meet you.” Up close her facial features were delicate, her voice even more girlish in person than it had sounded on the phone. She gripped his hand, her too-firm shake shorter than he would have liked but long enough to note the softness of her skin, the slenderness of her fingers—and that her nails were nibbled to the quick. The tiny chink in her armor sent the blood rushing south, finishing off the job that had begun the moment she’d entered.
She lifted her chin, and consternation flickered in her blue eyes. “You’re taller than I expected.” She studied the toes of her flat boots, then met his eyes again. She worried her kissable lower lip with her teeth, and his groin tightened.
At six feet six, he towered over most people, men included. He estimated her height at five ten. He liked a tall woman he didn’t fear crushing, wouldn’t lose in bed, who stood up to him. But he still topped her by several inches. He liked that too. “Don’t most women want a man to be taller?” he asked.
“Most do.” An unspoken but clung to the end of her answer.
“You don’t?” he asked and pulled out her chair.
Surprise flashed in her gaze at what was for him an automatic gesture, making him wonder what kind of men she’d dated in the past. Then she narrowed her eyes and hesitated. “Thank you,” she said, a hint of feminist resentment scoring her polite words. His lips twitched with humor. A woman needs a man the way a fish needs a bicycle. No doubt Stephanie would purport to ascribe to the 1970s feminist slogan. But only those who felt insecure erected a shield to protect themselves. Her emotions were easy to read.
She sat, and he assumed his seat, noticing a decrease in her shoulder tension now that they met eye to eye. That he unnerved her bespoke of her awareness of him. She was attracted but didn’t want to be. The gauntlet had been thrown. The only thing he enjoyed more than the company of a lovely woman was a lovely one who challenged him. He wanted to break through her defenses, put her at ease, then put her on edge.
“I’m not used to it.” She sniffed, revealing to Mark that she lorded her height over the males who orbited her. Yet she’d worn flats when heels would have given her a greater advantage. He hadn’t told her how tall he was and doubted Liz had, yet she had downplayed her height to avoid topping her date. Did she realize the contradiction?
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Does she realize the contradiction? Find out tomorrow with more Body Politics! Leave me a comment and email address and enter to win a $5 Loose Id Gift certificate.
Body Politics contains feminist indignation, old-fashioned courtship, hot sex and plenty of spanking! It’s available from Loose Id in all ebook formats. It will be a few weeks before it’s available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc. It’s the third book in the Rod and Cane series, but it can be read as a stand alone.
Body Politics Buy Link (Loose Id)