Decadent… Sensual… Forbidden…
12 Masters. 12 Desires. 12 Fantasies Come to Life. Meet the Masters of Blasphemy…
About THEIRS TO TAKE (Blasphemy #4, 9/26/17):
12 Masters. Infinite fantasies. Welcome to Blasphemy…
She’s the fantasy they’ve always wanted to share…
Best friends Jonathan Allen and Cruz Ramos share almost everything—a history in the Navy, their sailboat building and restoration business, and the desire to dominate a woman together, which they do at Baltimore’s exclusive club, Blasphemy. Now if they could find someone who wants to play for keeps…
All Hartley Farren has in the world is the charter sailing business she inherited from her beloved father. So when a storm damages her boat, she throws herself on the mercy of business acquaintances to do the repairs—stat. She never expected to find herself desiring the sexy, hard-bodied builders, but being around Jonathan and Cruz reminds Hartley of how much she longs for connection. If only she could decide which man she wants to pursue more…
As their attraction flashes hot, Jonathan and Cruz determine to have Hartley for their own. But the men’s erotic world is new and overwhelming, and Hartley’s unsure if she could really submit to being both of theirs to take…forever.
A Special Cross-Over Release with Jennifer Probst’s Reveal Me from her Steele Brothers Series!
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo
Hey everyone! I’m so excited to share this sneak peek from my upcoming Theirs to Take, a standalone in my erotic romance Blasphemy series! It’s been a few years since I’ve written a ménage romance, and I’m having so much fun writing charter sailboat captain Hartley Farren’s relationship with Jonathan and Cruz, two business acquaintances who help her when her boat is damaged during a storm—and who are also Masters at Baltimore’s most exclusive play club.
I hope you’ll grab your copy! And try book 1 in the series – Bound to Submit – which is free on all retailers! Now, read on:
“What am I going to do?” Hartley asked herself as the office door opened and closed. The office manager, Linda, no doubt.
“Hey, are you okay?”
The voice was deep, male, and definitely not Linda’s. Hartley’s gaze whipped up. And up. To find a tall and incredibly sexy man standing in the doorway to her cubicle. Sun-kissed shoulder-length blond hair framed a ruggedly masculine face and intense gray eyes that were at once inquisitive and observing. Broad shoulders and defined muscles pulled taut a heathered-gray T-shirt with a single word written across the chest: NAVY. His lean forearms and legs beneath a pair of khaki cargo shorts were toned and tanned, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun.
The guy exuded raw sex appeal doing nothing besides standing absolutely still, and his very presence scrambled her brain.
“Uh, hi. Yes. Sorry. I’m kinda in my own world here. Did you need Linda?” Hartley managed as she pushed to her feet. At five-five, she wasn’t exactly short, but his impressive height made her tilt her head back to meet his assessing gaze.
He shook his head. “I was coming by to see if she needed any help around the marina.”
“Oh. Wow. I’m sure she’d appreciate that. She stepped out to a meeting but she should be back soon if you’d like to wait.” Despite his selfless reason for being there, the man made Hartley nervous. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the intensity behind those odd, gray eyes. Or the way he towered over her. Or how freaking good-looking he was.
(Or the way she wanted to climb him like mainmast. Gah.)
“I’ll do that. Thanks.”
“Sure,” she said. But he didn’t leave. “Um, anything else I can do for you?”
His gaze stayed glued to hers, but she had the oddest feeling that he was checking her out nonetheless. He smiled and shook his head. And, man, was his smile a stunner, highlighting the strong angles of his jaw and charming her with the way the right side of his mouth lifted higher than the left. He thumbed over his shoulder. “I’ll just grab a seat.”
And then he disappeared from her little doorway.
Hartley was half tempted to peer around the corner and watch him walk away. Just to see if the rear view was as impressive as the front.
On a sigh, she dropped back into her chair. And even though her thoughts should’ve returned to the huge problem of fixing her boat, they lingered on the sexy Good Samaritan currently making small noises on the other side of the room. Who was he? Hartley had essentially grown up around this marina. Even though she couldn’t say she knew everyone here, she still recognized most of the regulars. And she’d never seen Mr. Tall, Blond, and Ruggedly Handsome before.
Her cell phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Mrs. Farren, this is Ed Stark returning your call from Stark Restoration.”
Hope rushed through Hartley. “Hi, Mr. Stark. Thanks for calling back so quickly. And, please, call me Hartley.” Being called missus was almost laughable when she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone on a date. With rebuilding the charter business after her father’s death and taking care of her grandmother, Hartley didn’t have time to date. Or, at least, she hadn’t made the time. Not that she’d had any prospects motivating her to do so. Shaking the thoughts away, she filled the man in on the damage her boat had sustained and the challenge of her three-week deadline.
“I might be able to get someone out to take a look at your boat by the end of the week, but you’re at least the tenth call I’ve had today. I wouldn’t be able to guarantee a completion date without assessing the damage, and I’ve got a number of other repair jobs ahead of yours at this point.”
It was the same thing all the others had told her. And she got it. She did. It wasn’t anyone else’s problem that she depended on the Windsong for her livelihood. Or that she’d put most of what her father left her into her grandmother’s home and a bigger boat that could carry more passengers two years ago. Or that July had been so rainy that her normal charter business had been halved. Or that she needed the extra income that the sailboat show and Sailing University courses would bring in to make it through the leaner winter months.
Just then, the front door opened again. “Hartley, I’m back. Sorry I was gone so long.” This time, it was definitely Linda. “Oh, Jonathan. How are you? How did you guys make out in the storm?”
“Our shop’s fine, ma’am,” the man said. “Thanks for asking.” Jonathan. Jonathan who apparently had a shop somewhere in the marina? “Do you need any help with anything? Cruz and I are available if you do.”
“Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Linda said. “For the moment, I think we have everything under control, but I will absolutely keep your offer in mind.”
Even more curious about the mystery sex god in her midst, Hartley stepped out of her cubicle and tried not to stare. Or drool. But between those mountainous shoulders, built biceps, and his sun-streaked hair, it was hard not to. (That’s what she said!) Oh, God. Hartley was clearly losing her mind. She forced her gaze to her friend. “Hey, Linda. Everything go okay?”
“Oh, yes. Just little fires everywhere that need put out,” Linda said, dropping a legal pad full of notes onto her desk. “Were you able to find anyone to do the work?”
Hartley’s shoulders fell. “No. No one can even look before .”
Linda frowned, and then her gaze swung to Jonathan. “Have you two met yet?”
That intense gray-eyed gaze landed on Hartley, unleashing a whirl of butterflies in her belly. “Haven’t had the pleasure,” Jonathan said.
It was a simple statement. But something about the word pleasure from that man’s mouth made a tingle run down her spine. It’d clearly been too long since she’d been on a date. Or been kissed. And waaaay too long since she’d last had sex. Embarrassingly long. Like, she didn’t even want to admit to herself how long.
With that fantastic thought in mind, all Hartley managed to say was, “Uh, hi. Again.” She chuckled to cover how much she wanted to duck back into the cubicle and bang her head against the desk.
He grinned, and it was a grin that could’ve easily been playful or mischievous. Either way, it was sexy as hell. “Hi. Again. I’m Jonathan Allen.”
“Hartley Farren.” Feeling Linda’s amused gaze on her, she cleared her throat. “You have a shop in the marina?”
He nodded. “A&R Builds and Restoration.”
“Jonathan and his partner Cruz own the business that moved into the old Stanton space at the beginning of the summer,” Linda added helpfully.
Hartley’s eyes went wide as her heart kicked into a sprint. “You do builds and restoration?”
He chuckled. “As the name suggests.”
She didn’t even mind the teasing, not when he might be able to help her. “Then you might be my new favorite person.”
“Is that right?”
The office phone rang, and Linda excused herself to answer it.
Hartley stepped closer to Jonathan. Why did that make her feel like she was approaching a usually friendly but sometimes lethal animal? Her stomach did a little flip. “Yes, because I need a huge, huge,gigantic favor.”
He arched a sexy brow. “And if I do this favor, will I officially be your favorite person?”
She grinned, enjoying his playfulness—and the fact that he was entertaining doing her a favor when they barely knew each other. “Without question. I’ll even make you an official certificate. Jonathan Allen. Hartley Farren’s Favorite Person.”
That crooked smile emerged again, and hope flooded through her. “Hmm. I don’t know. I mean, a certificate is nice and all, but…”
Was he playing with her? She thought he was, but she didn’t know him well enough to know for sure. Hartley braced her hands on her hips. “Are you teasing me? Because that would be evil, Jonathan, and you don’t strike me as an evil man.” Now she arched a brow.
His chuckle this time was different. Deeper. Grittier. Sexier. With an undercurrent of…something she didn’t understand. “You never know, Hartley.”
“Oh, come on. Can I at least tell you what my favor is?” she asked.
Those gray eyes sparkled with amusement. “Well, I couldn’t help but overhear your phone conversation, so I might have an inkling.”
Wait. He knew what she needed and still hadn’t said no? Hope and anticipation rushed through her, making her feel restless and brave. “Then if my awesome certificate idea isn’t enough, what can I offer to convince you to walk out to my slip and take a look at my catamaran?”
That eyebrow arched again, and Hartley suddenly felt like they’d been playing chess—and her words had just allowed him to put her in checkmate. But still, he didn’t make any claims of her.
She stepped closer. “Jonathan. Mr. Allen. Mr. Allen, My Already Officially Favorite Person, are you going to make me beg? Because that wouldn’t be very nice,” she added playfully.