Welcome to the fourth day of the release week for Body Politics, in which feminist meets dom in an epic battle of the sexes! Body Politics is the third book in the Rod and Cane Society domestic discipline erotic romance series. It was released by Loose Id on Tuesday and I’m giving away a $5 gift certificate four days in a row to one lucky commenter.
All you have to do is read the excerpt, leave a comment and your email address. Tomorrow I’ll pick the winners for the week, so if you missed a day, you can go back and comment and still have multiple chances to win! Each day’s excerpt runs sequentially so the story starts on Day 1 and continues in order.
To recap what’s happened so far, feminist Stephanie and spanko Mark have met on a blind date. They’re in a bar called Bottom’s Up and she is drinking a Bottom Burner cocktail. So far she hasn’t made the connection but that’s about to change…
Body Politics 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 Dom convince a diehard feminist her true strength lies in submission?
The final excerpt of Body Politics…
He wanted to hold her and soothe her fears. Then spank her to teach her submission didn’t mean losing control but gaining strength.
She raised her glass for another sip, then set it down and traced the edge with her finger. Awkwardness circled like a faint breeze.
“Interesting glass,” she mused.
“Signature keepsake,” he parroted. Its somewhat narrow rim flared to a rounded base dimpled in the center, the bifurcation forming two halves.
She drew her eyebrows together. “It almost resembles a butt.”
“It is a butt.”
Her startled gaze flew to his. The moment of truth. The conversation would take a needed turn, but it was occurring sooner than he would have liked. He’d intended to get to her know better—let her trust him. When he said what he needed to say, would it be too much information too soon?
Stephanie glanced from her glass to Mark. A lightbulb switched on. She thumped her forehead with her palm. “Bottom Burner. Okay. I get it.” She rolled her eyes. A butt joke. How juvenile.
She expected a chuckle, but Mark’s criminally sexy face wore a guarded expression instead of mirth. The drink did indeed pack a wallop, but much of the warmth infusing her came from arousal. This man ignited her libido in a way no one ever had. Elizabeth had hinted he was handsome—but a walking, talking sex god in black denim and a matching pullover shirt was how she should have described him. Should have warned her.
Elizabeth had omitted quite a bit. Beginning with chauvinist with a capital C. Sure, he’d said he supported women’s rights, but the way his aggressive gaze had staked a claim demonstrated he viewed women as objects, not equal partners. She’d caught his hostile, possessive expression when the men at the other table happened to glance in her direction.
Had she known what kind of man he was, she never would have gone out with him. She’d assumed she and Elizabeth shared similar values and that Elizabeth understood what she liked. She’d agreed to meet Mark because she’d trusted the other woman, and she was tired of her one-sided relationship with her vibrator. She wanted to talk, to laugh, and have sex. She sneaked a peek at Mark. Support me. Hold me. Protect me.
Where the hell had that come from? Yes, she wanted support. These days she got little of it. Not from her ex-husband, whose sensitive, liberated philosophy hadn’t prevented him from cheating, nor from Bethany, her friend and colleague, who increasingly disagreed with her decisions, and certainly not from her board of directors, particularly its president. Stephanie had founded WAN to take on the world but hadn’t expected to do battle within the organization. And she yearned to be cuddled as much as the next woman. But she didn’t need any man’s protection. She was capable of fending for herself, thank you very much.
She stifled a sigh. She loved empowering other women, but romantically, this wasn’t the life she envisioned: sitting in a bar with a chauvinist, albeit a sexy one, drinking a hot and fruity cocktail from a butt glass. She supposed she should be grateful the drinkware didn’t have tits.
She eyed the shelves of liquor bottles and glasses over the bar. Nope. Just ordinary highballs, old-fashioneds, hurricanes, stemware, and butt glasses. No tits. There was a neon sculpture of a woman, but it depicted her naked backside, not her front. Her bikini panties winked on and off. Men! Did they ever progress beyond off-color jokes and dirty magazines? She stared at the sculpture of the woman and then scrutinized a bold sign bearing the bar’s name. Bottom’s Up was spelled out inside a scarlet shape of a paddle. Butt glass, naked woman’s backside, paddle. Bottom’s Up!
“What kind of bar is this?” She frowned.
“It’s a cocktail lounge that caters to a spankophile clientele.” His gaze bore no apology.
For a moment she could only gape. Then she jumped to her feet. “And you suggested this place? Do you seriously think this is appropriate for a date?”
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself until a moment ago.” He stood up and towered over her in a macho way that heaped fuel onto her anger.
Stephanie snatched her handbag and yanked out her wallet.
He closed his fingers around her wrist before she could pull out the bills to pay for her drink. With his thumb he drew a circle on the inside of her arm. A shock of warmth rippled outward. His woodsy, masculine scent invaded her nostrils, and it beckoned her to move closer, to relax into his touch.
“I’ve got the drinks.” His voice rumbled, far too close for comfort. He made no move to tighten his grip, but his brown eyes darkened, transmitting his message loud and clear: he would brook no disagreement.
Stephanie was trained in self-defense. In the early days of WAN, she’d taught it. He might appear formidable, but she could take him out with a blow to the eyes, the nose, the throat, the groin. But she suspected the police would fail to understand why she’d blinded a man for buying her a drink, and not any man—the deputy chief. That was why she’d tolerated his touch this long. The warm tingles shooting up her arm had nothing to do with it.
“Fine!” She wrenched her wrist out of his grasp. Conscious of the scrutiny of the other bar patrons, she pivoted and marched out.
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What Stephanie doesn’t know is that Mark isn’t about to give up that easily…
Body Politics contains feminist indignation, old-fashioned courtship, hot sex and plenty of spanking! It’s the third book in the Rod and Cane series, but it can be read as a stand alone.
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Body Politics has been selected as the Spanking Book Club’s debut selection! Spanking fiction author Celeste Jones started the club so readers could discuss spanking fiction in an interactive forum. Check out the Spanking Book Club.