Friday, October 24, 2014

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From the dark mind of Rhyll Biest comes a story about a Teutonic god, a guarded recluse, some dirty pictures, and the spark of curiosity that leads to a dangerous attraction.

When the reclusive Holly Unthanks finds some very naughty photos, both the star—a muscular Teutonic god with some serious ink and a knack for knots—and the way he’s tied his lady friend to his four-poster bed, make her more than a little curious. 

But to get to know the big, built stonemason better, she’ll have to overcome his vengeful ex and her own inhibitions—and pray that the walls she’s built around her guarded heart and dark secret remain safe from a man who has a way with stone. 

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Expected publication: November 8th 2014 
Escape Publishing - Harlequin Enterprises, Australia Pty Ltd

Just looking at these photos might make me a pervert. 

Holly dismissed the idea until the third photo, at which point everything inside her froze.


She moved a hand to cover the screen but stopped mid-gesture. I’m a grown woman and I’m allowed to look at whatever the hell I please. She clicked to enlarge the photo as an act of rebellion, but it was hard to convince herself she was a rebel while gazing at a naked man locked against a bound, naked woman, indulging in the most intimate of acts. 

The couple shared what looked to be the man’s bedroom judging by the cream walls, heavy wood paneling and absence of frills. 

But who really gave a shit about the d├ęcor?

The woman’s arms and legs were spread wide, tied to the thick, ornately carved wooden posts of a four-poster bed. A floor lamp spilled lasciviously bright light over her nude form and even as Holly felt a dark, strange stab of excitement at the woman’s vulnerability, she also winced at the thought of all her own imperfections being so mercilessly exposed. She could never do something like that. Not in a pink puffy fit. The longer she looked, the more the woman’s pose echoed that of a pinned butterfly, a human specimen laid out for leisurely inspection. Or, in this case, consumption. The man between the woman’s legs was so obviously straining to bury his head, his mouth, his tongue deeper that Holly’s guts hitched into a tight ball. It was so animal. Raw.

About the Author:

I'm an Australian writer of erotic romance published with Ellora's Cave, Momentum, Escape and Mischief.

Living in Prague, Shanghai and Germany as well as studying Russian and German have given me a taste for the exotic, and I populate my writing with sexy Soviet men, Teutonic hotties and alluring Aussie vixens. Yes, I'm host to the United Nations of Hotness (in my writer's imagination, at least!).

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