And An Heiress in Venice is out! Finally! Until Saturday Sept 20, available at the special new release price of $0.99 (will revert to its regular price of $2.99 early Sunday morning.)
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon DE
The Blurb:
Note: An Heiress in Venice is a stand-alone story, but part of the Nights in Venice series. Other stories in this series are of different couples. This story includes spankings, domination, graphic sexual scenes, and more.
He is Enzo Peron. By day, he is a Chief Inspector of Police in Venice. By night, a Dominant at Casanova, Venice’s most exclusive BDSM club.
She is Alice Blackwell, an American heiress who has fled to Venice. She comes to Club Casanova, hoping to explore the submissive desires she has held in check for many years.
He dominates her. She submits to him.
But Alice has a past, and it is determined to reclaim her.
Buy Links:
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon DE
Prologue:
Alice:
It was three years after Ian’s death before I even thought
about another man.
I’d been at some kind of fancy art gallery opening, the kind
where they fed you cheese and wine and tried to get you to buy art when you
were slightly tipsy. A guy had come up to me, we chatted about the meaning of
life, and at the end of the evening, he asked me out to dinner.
Craig Dearborn had been handsome, kind and funny, and I’d
had a much better time than I had expected. But, two days later, I’d received
another letter in the mail, this one containing a photo of Craig and me from
our dinner. I’d been laughing at something he’d said. I had looked happy.
My mysterious letter-writer had only written one sentence,
but it was effective enough.
‘End this, or I’ll end him.’
I had ended things with Craig, declining to offer an
explanation. But that had been the last straw. I’d lived in the shadow of the
letters for the last three years, my emotions oscillating between angry
recklessness and hopeless terror. But I’d be damned if I was dragging another
person into the shit-show that was my life.
Many, many years ago, when I was a child, and my parents
were still talking to me, they’d told me about the city they had honeymooned
in. Venice. They had made it sound so magical. My mother’s eyes had been soft
as she remembered how she fed the pigeons at the Piazza San Marco and how my
parents had sat on the cobblestones and had eaten bread and cheese and fruit,
and found themselves perfectly content with life.
Once upon a time, my life too had been magical, but those
days were past. Yet, I still ran away to Venice.
***
It had been a week since my arrival in Venice, and on cue, a
letter was slipped under the door of my hotel room. This time, there was no
picture.
‘How far do you think you can run, Alice?’
And though I’d moved halfway across the world, hoping to be
left alone, I’d been wrong. Whoever this person was who wanted me dead, I
couldn’t outrun him or her. I couldn’t hide. All I could do was wait.
