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About the author:
She’s a big fan of BDSM in all of its glorious forms, and her favourite item in the toy closet (a box simply isn’t big enough) is her riding crop.
What inspired you to write your book?
Having always loved BDSM erotica, I began reading Anne Rice’s Beauty Trilogy at the age of about thirteen and have never looked back. I’ve been similarly enthralled with the written word, but though I have written so many stories over the years, I didn’t actually manage to finish one until a few years ago. When I did finish it, I decided it wasn’t finished and this is the second spin off series. One day, I will finish it, though. Promise!
Here is a short sample from the book:
The ceremony was formal and the hushed silence that surrounded us fueled my terror. Marriage should have been a sign of love, trust, commitment and devotion, and we were about to make a complete mockery of the whole affair. This was all about ownership. I would swap one ugly cage for another and I would bear Mark’s surname for life, because realistically I knew my only escape from this arrangement was death. Understandably, that thought was not one I wanted to dwell on. Instead, I tuned out my thoughts and let the droning voice of the minister penetrate my consciousness. There were important speaking bits coming up, and I didn’t want to look like a complete ass. They took far longer than they should have to arrive, but eventually my moment of stardom was upon me.
“Do you, Jennifer Courtney Redcliff, take Mark Matthews as your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, honor and obey, till death do you part, according to God’s holy law?”
I smiled sweetly, looking at my openly grinning husband-to-be and nearly choked. How the hell had he managed to get the ‘obey’ word in there? I was the one who’d had the interview with the minister. I’d picked the vow that I was happy with, and somehow, the whole thing had changed without a word breathed in my direction. As stamping my feet and throwing a fit wasn’t really an option at this stage in the proceedings, all I could do was stare my future husband down with a pair of bold blue eyes that were now glacial and hope he caught frostbite. The utter bastard. How dare he!
There was a pause as I cleared my throat, and for a moment Mark’s eyes flickered as if he dared me to object. Little did he know my father would rip my throat out if I decided to pull a stunt like that. How could he be so stupid? Men. So, I simply gazed up at him adoringly, and with a simpering voice that was an octave too high and coated with fine white sugar, I gushed, “I do.” That wiped the smug smile of his face. There was little time to applaud myself, though. The room began swimming in dizzying circles as the priest finished up his speech and said something about ‘kissing the bride.’ Shit, I’d forgotten all about that part.