Harrold lives an empty life. He has no joy in his marriage, no love of his work. His only reprieve is found at the hands of the whores, the ones he pays to beat and debase him. Upon being accepted into Blue Moon House, he learns the real cost for his desires, and what underlying need is really aching to be filled.
Naughty Nights Press, AllRomanceEbooks and Amazon. For the month of January, you can also pick up the original Blue Moon House for only $0.99.
Angelica Dawson is the author of Blue Moon House, which has been in the top ten best-selling titles at Naughty Nights Press for over six months. She has also written two short stories, “The Highest Bidder” and “Leave Taking” which were each included in anthologies.
She contributes flash fiction to several blogging collectives and excerpts from work in progress can also be found on her blog. She is active on Facebook and Twitter.
She has been writing for several years and having sex a lot longer than that. Angelica is a wife, mother and environmental consultant. Her love of plants and the outdoors is not diminished by the bloodsucking hoards – mosquitoes and black flies, not vampires.
Here is an excerpt from Gentleman. Let Angelica know what you think by leaving a comment and entering a draw for a free copy.
Harrold sucked breath through his teeth. The belt was his own, removed from the trousers he still wore. His shirt formed a white pool in the corner and his black jacket hung from the bedpost.
The wood of the bedpost groaned as Harrold pulled on the hemp rope securing his hands on the other side. However, he fought the pain and the desire to scream.
The burning intensified and a scream erupted, echoing off the walls. He heard the door open and looked over his shoulder, panting as the pain leaked away.
“Still alive in here?” the mistress of the house asked. She clicked her tongue. “You broke the skin, Miranda. I'm sorry, sir. I'll bring bandages.”
The girl dropped the belt in a clatter, running to untie his hands. Her normally dusky complexion was white with red lines tracking her cheeks.
Harrold seized her hands as soon as his were free. “I asked. You did nothing wrong. Thank you.”
“I-I can't do this, Harry. I'm not- I'm weak.”
He smiled, brown eyes dancing in relief and joy. “Your arm felt strong a minute ago.”
She squeaked and more tears fell.
“Go collect yourself, Miranda,” Delores, the Madam, ordered. Cool wet cloths were spread on his back. “Mister Long, that is the third girl you've made a blubbering mess.”
“If I must, I'll find another house.” There were several brothels that would be glad of his business.
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