Eight mistresses of the erotic bring you eight original, never before published stories to excite and arouse, including USA Today Bestsellers Alessandra Torre and CD Reiss, and NY Times Bestseller K. Bromberg.
This anthology includes novellas from EIGHT authors and it's only available for a **LIMITED TIME** and **ONLY 99 CENTS**
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**FYI** Bend was pulled from Amazon last night. It is still available from B&N, Kobo, and iTunes, for now. If you were wanting to purchase Bend, I'd recommend you do it NOW! :)
from the Bend Anthology
Release Date: May 5, 2014
Genre: Erotic Romance
Source: Purchased from Amazon for Kindle
Rating: 5 Bookworms
Fiona Drazen, sex addict, submissive slave, celebutante, trapped in a mental ward until Dr. Elliot Chapman can help her remember why she's there. But once she does, she might not want to go home to the Master she tried to kill.
This was my first CD Reiss read and I may never be the same again.
Kick is not a pretty story. It's dark...raw...base. There's nothing in the MC I identified with. And I couldn't look away - couldn't stop reading. I wanted to know what made Fiona tick - wanted to understand why she's the way she is and how she ended up where she is. Ms. Reiss has a way with words. She skillfully and beautifully conveys Fiona's story. The pacing is perfect and the prose is incredible. I was physically affected by Fiona's story. I was restless and distressed while reading the memories of things she's done.
I don't know how to describe this story except to say that Fiona is suffering. From what, I don't yet know. But I believe she's not beyond redemption and I'm disturbingly apprehensive to continue Fiona's journey.
The club is thick with humanity. The dance floor stinks. The voices are like a bag of broken glass. The music is a throbbing heartbeat. And the man is gone.
I put my hands on bare, sweaty skin, pushing through. Amanda finds me, blonde hair stuck to her forehead, lipstick fading, her bodyguard, Joel, two steps behind in dark glasses and firearm. She kisses me on the lips. I push her away.
“You see a guy in a suit? Tall? Hair like this?” I make a motion with my fingers.
She points to the exit with a wink. I smack a kiss on her lips, and continue pushing through.
She calls my name as I walk away, but I pretend I don’t hear her. I have a man to find.
Nothing like coke to make the impossible seem within reach, or to make it within your rights to shove, tread upon, growl and curse to get through a crowd just to get a look at some hot stranger. Nothing like that expansion of the ego to make it okay to push some squealing teeny bopper out of your way when she screams “Fiona Drazen! You’re Fiona Drazen!” in your fucking face as if your name alone is front page fucking news.
Of course, they wait outside in a cluster, pressing against the red velvet ropes. Paparazzi don’t care about the weather, which is rainy and cold for Los Angeles. Lights flash. They call out my name as if I even answer to it any more. Let them get their pictures. I have him in my sights.
He hands the valet a tip and takes the keys to a black Range Rover.
He is a thoroughbred, and there are twenty assholes with cameras between him and me, which is too bad, because I have to have him.
I put my knuckles out to them, both middle fingers extended for all it’s worth. I have rings on top of rings, and I know the lights are going to glint on them like hell in the pictures. I’m going to look like a flashy rich bitch and the coke tells me I don’t give a fucking shit what Daddy thinks.
I turn to the doorman, skinny ex-cop with a pencil moustache. He looks at my chest, then at my face. I know Irv. He’s a hustler. He keeps these assholes off us when we’re around, but he takes cash to let them know when Amanda and I show up.
“Irv! What the fuck?”
“I got it,” he says.
“Outta my way cocksuckers!” I shout, plowing through, with Irv’s help. They back off for him in a way they’d never do for me. I know they’d chew me up, spit me out, and photograph me crawling to the hospital.
I get to the Range Rover and pound on the passenger side window. It’s tinted. The car doesn’t move and the window stays up. Do I have the right one?
They’re behind me, and I’m on the curb, in the drizzle, out of Irv’s field of influence. If he comes to get me, he’s leaving the door, and that’s not cool.
I pound on the window again. Bursts of light flash on it.
I’m about to get mobbed.
“Hey, asshole,” I shout.
The window rolls down so slowly I feel as if I’m in a movie about falling.
And there he is. My heart jumps out of my chest.
“Hi,” I say, sticking me head in. I can feel them behind me. I can hear them calling my name, over and over. “You took something of mine outta the bathroom.”
“Really?” He’s older than I thought, and this makes him more attractive then humanly possible. “What?”
“My heart.” It’s a stupid come on, but I’m a girl. I can get away with it.
“Ah. I thought maybe your shirt buttons.” For the first time, he glances at my chest, and I feel that my breasts are chilled.
My shirt is wide open. Fucking Earl with his octopus hands.
“Don’t make me turn around,” I say. “They already got enough pictures.”
He takes a second to think about it, looking me straight in the face. A little smirk plays on the perfect line of his lips and I think I just might die.
The Erotica Consortium was the brain child of CD Reiss. In December 2013 she asked JA Huss to help her pull together the hottest erotica writers to start a private Facebook group that would
encourage support in all areas of bookish things. Members of The Erotica Consortium were personally invited by JA and CD and the group is complete with six additional authors: Shay Savage, Andrea Smith, KI Lynn, K Bromberg, Ella James, and Alessandra Torre. BEND is their first anthology together.
CD Reiss' Links