Read An Excerpt

by Cherise Sinclair, Sierra Cartwright, Belinda McBride

Genre: Anthology, E-book, Erotic Romance

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"A Good Sub Would..." by Sierra Cartwright

Even though she only visited Dark Haven a few times a year, Shelby knew of Master Trevor ’s stern reputation. Other subs dreamily whispered about him, wanting to experience his lash.

He stood well over six feet tall and commanded respect just by walking into a room. His broad shoulders, dark hair, unyielding jaw, and purposeful stride were the stuff of fantasies. Factor in his sexy, gravelly voice and she’d been a goner from the start.. He was the type of man she wanted to dominate her.

Even though she had been kneeling on the floor for at least an hour, watching the poker game unfold in front of her, wondering how high the stakes would go, seeing Master Trevor with a replica six-shooter strapped to his thigh made everything bearable.

A cowboy hat sat jaggedly atop his head, partially shadowing his steely, electric blue eyes. 

He’d wrapped a dark blue bandanna around his throat, and a tailored Western shirt hugged his upper body.

Because she’d been placed on the floor like a good little sub, she knew his brown cowboy boots were authentic, marred and scratched by the years. He also wore a pair of spurs. The silver had dulled, but they had made a forceful sound when he’d walked across the floor earlier.

The dark color of his jeans had faded slightly, and he’d obviously worn them a number of times, long enough that the denim had broken in to hug his strong thighs.

Master Trevor sat easily in his chair, his shoulders relaxed. He toyed with several high denomination chips, turning them over between his thumb and forefinger.

Last night, she’d imagined him drawing her across a room and tying her to a spanking bench, her ass upturned for his hand or a flogger, whatever he chose. After tonight, though, and seeing the well-worn belt circling his waist, she knew future fantasies would include that supple leather against her backside.

Unable to help herself as the minutes dragged on, she sneaked a glance at the object of her desire. He looked at her and a shiver of fear mixed with desire raced up her spine.

She wanted him. She craved his dominance. And her raw need scared her.

BDSM wasn’t a way of life for her. Rather it was something she occasionally enjoyed, much like having dessert after a celebratory dinner. The weekends a few times a year satisfied her needs. Or they had, until now.

For long moments he sat there quietly, a study in self-mastery.

Finally, Master Trevor nodded and said, “If I win, I want the sub.”


"Hunting Holly" by Belinda McBride 

They hadn’t caught Holly; she’d finally stopped running. And she now stood poised under the misty light of a street lamp. Wet asphalt glistened under her bare feet. She was waiting. His heart pounded frantically, unable to differentiate between lust and anger and flat-out joy.

There she was, beautiful as he remembered. Her black hair was long and sleek instead of cropped and dull. Instead of ragged bleached cotton, she wore tight denim jeans and a Western-style leather vest with nothing under it but skin and a lacy black bra. Though she was barefoot, he was willing to bet she’d left a pair of cowboy boots somewhere inside.

She saw them, and the wild emotions in her eyes reflected what he was feeling. She looked from one man to the other, and to his chagrin, Hunter realized she was equally drawn to them both. He glanced at his companion, almost amused at how transfixed Tex was.


He was a goner. Hunter knew Tex had sought out Holly over and over again since they’d come to Truckee. Most likely his promiscuous behavior had been out of confusion -- the subconscious knowledge that what he needed most was…somewhere. Never knowing  she was right under his nose. Jealousy flared and then died at the dawning realization at what was happening right there and then. Something he’d never dreamed could happen…

Then she snared Hunter with that fathomless gaze, and likewise, he felt as frozen as a deer in the headlights. He was caught, and so was Tex. The knowledge wasn’t as painful as he would have expected. His inner vision of the future shifted, making room for one more.

“I always knew she was my mate. Just didn’t figure she’d be yours too.” His throat felt so tight, it hurt to talk.

Tex tore his gaze from the woman and looked at Hunter in shock.

“Two of us? I’ve heard that dominant females will claim more than one mate…but Holly?” He looked back at her in surprise. “Eva’s a dominant. She’s with Harte only.”

“Harte’s an alpha. He’s at the top of the pyramid in his pack. We’re lower in the hierarchy. Dominant, but not alpha.”

It made odd sense as the explanation came from his mouth. He’d grown up outside the normal structure of a pack, but it was clear once he was confronted with the reality.

Holly wanted them both.

Immediately his wolf rose in possessive jealousy. In reaction, Holly poised to run, drawing his hostility away from Tex.

“Oh no you don’t!” Tex crouched slightly, poised to leap after her.

She was off and running, with Tex only yards behind her. Hunter sprinted to catch up with the other man, leaping over trash cans and debris that littered the alley. They dodged back into the side streets, clambered over a chain-link fence and into a parking lot. She was fast, and she was agile, easily keeping out of their reach.

“Give me space…” Tex grunted, and Hunter drew back, watching in amazement as the cowboy began to loop his lariat through the air. He stopped, braced, and the rope shot out like a snake, then dropped down over her arms. With deft skill, he snapped the rope, pinning her arms to her sides. She jolted to a stop, shock in her expressive eyes.

“Wow. I thought that thing was just for show.” Hunter stood next to Tex, grinning as his partner slowly reeled her in.

“How’d you think I got a name like Tex?”


"Welcome to the Dark Side" by Cherise Sinclair 

“Summer, it’s good to see you.” Simon motioned her forward and asked quietly, “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. Thank you, Sir.”

“Are you being careful?”

After she’d healed, he’d given her a lecture on safety measures, and she’d listened carefully. One set of scars from a misjudgment was enough. “Yes, Sir. I never play anywhere but here.”

He straightened, a crease forming between his brows. “That’s taking prudence a little too far, pet. How can you form a relationship if you won’t leave here?”

At the thought of being tied up and alone with a dom—a real dom—she felt as if someone had run a cold hand up her spine. “I’m happy being a sub here.”

Xavier frowned also. “A sub? You’re not submitting; you only go through the motions. Playacting.”

Just team up on me, why don’t you? And you’re wrong. Her chin went up. “I believe that’s up to me.” When Xavier’s eyes turned to black ice, she gulped out a hasty, “My Liege.”

His forefinger tapped the desk for one beat.

She had a vision of being caged and hung from the ceiling like the last sub who’d displeased him.

Another tap.

Or up on the stage being used for flogging practice.

He finally nodded. “That is your choice.”

She took a relieved breath. Thank you, God.

Xavier turned to the crowd. “Gentlemen, this is Summer. Who would like to win her submission?”

Oh great. Make a big deal of the submission part. Thanks, Xavier. She turned to see an ego-stroking number of hands had gone up. A couple of sadists, some younger doms, and—her gaze was trapped by intent hazel eyes shaded by a black cowboy hat. The rest of the crowd blurred and faded away, leaving only the darkly tanned dominant she’d seen earlier.

He studied her; then his lips curved in a faint smile. He raised his hand to compete.

Her heart gave a nasty thud. Oh God.

“Virgil, I believe this little calf is a good one for you. She’ll need a steady hand,” Xavier said.

As if she were caught in a dream, she watched the dom—Virgil—move forward through the crowd. He looked appallingly big. A couple of inches over six feet. Dirk’s height. Probably about as heavy too, but this dom was as solid as the mechanical bull. He wore a scuffed black hat, faded cowboy shirt, and well-worn boots; she doubted his western outfit was a costume.

As he stopped beside her, his level, assessing eyes met hers, and the floor seemed to shiver like quicksand under her feet.

He glanced at Xavier. “Thank you.” He sounded pleased, thank God, since she really didn’t want to annoy him. Why did he have to be as big as Dirk? He made her feel like a little calf, and she glanced down to make sure she hadn’t grown hooves.

The sun lines beside his eyes crinkled. When he took her hand, hard calluses on his fingers scraped her palm. “Nice to meet you, Summer.” His rough baritone voice curled around her in a dark embrace.

All the spit in her mouth dried up, yet she wanted to move closer. Confused much, Summer?

“Are you ready to play?” Virgil asked, unsnapping his shirt cuffs and shoving his sleeves up to his elbows.

Lord have mercy. Even his heavy-boned wrists were muscular. But he’s not Dirk, and I’m going to be a calf. Her excitement started to rekindle. An ornery calf. “Only if you catch me.”

His growling laugh almost made her knees buckle.

“I’m glad to see you here, Virgil,” Simon said and added, “By the way, this little sub had a bad experience last year, but it’s time for her to move past it.”

Summer’s jaw dropped. “You… Damn you, that’s none of your busi—”

A hand covered her mouth completely, and a voice rumbled in her ear, “I’m new to the club, but I’d say that disrespecting a dom is a piss-poor idea.”

For extended excerpts of all three novellas, please visit: