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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. No sex in this one, sorry, but let’s explore Sam and Kat’s relationship a bit more, shall we?
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Kat wandered out of her room, humming to herself. The various negotiations were going well, even better than she’d hoped. Schoengraff was still being stiff-necked about meeting with them, but Arthur was looking for ways to convince the board to come to the table. The telegram she received from the headquarters of Tracy Electrics that morning was brief and to the point: BUY ANYTHING NEW FOR WEDDING?
Uncle William had no trust in modern technology, or the people who kept it running, and had already sent her a series of coded telegrams that would make little sense to the telegram operators who sent the messages. She smiled when she told the operator to send a reply telegram with BOUGHT SOME LOVELY THINGS. STILL LOOKING FOR PERFECT GOLD RING. He would understand the precious metal was a reference to Schoengraff.
To her surprise, she saw Sam seated by the fireplace, chin propped up on one hand as he stared into the flames. She stretched out on the sofa, warming her feet. “I would have thought you’d be in bed by now,” she said.
He shrugged. “I’m not tired.”
“Mm.” She stretched her arms over her head languorously. “Tonight was fun. Those dancers were delicious, weren’t they?”
Another twitch of his shoulders. “I suppose.”
She made a moue. “Well, that doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself at the time.”
He turned from the fire, his expression drawn. “Yes, the dancer was great. I came like gangbusters. Are you happy?”
Kat blinked at the unexpected tongue-lashing. “I — I’m sorry. Is something wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to bed.”
“Sam.” He stopped in mid-rise, and she hesitated over her next words. “Please, darling, talk to me. Perhaps I can help.”
He sank back onto the chair. “You’re good, kitten, but you can’t help with this. Nobody can.”
The expression on his face was painfully familiar. She got up and crossed to him, sinking down to the floor so that she could rest her arms on his knee. “You haven’t called me kitten in years,” she pointed out.
“That’s because you bit me the last time I did.”
“I was ten. I thought it was a baby name.”
He reached out and stroked her hair. “You always were the fierce one, weren’t you? Bart and I never stood a chance with you around.”
She took a deep breath, aware that she was treading on tender ground. “I know you miss him. So do I.”
“I know.” He turned back to the fireplace. The flickering light played across his face, revealing the slight glassiness of his eyes. “I was wondering what he’d think of us. What we’re doing.”
“You mean getting married? I think he’d understand.”
“No, not that. What we’re doing here in Berlin.”
“Oh.” She rested her chin on her crossed arms. “I don’t think he would mind. He’d want you to be happy.”
“That’s the thing. I’m not.”
She paused, unsure of how to proceed. “Is it … are you unhappy with me? I thought you didn’t mind my little games.”
He shook his head again, taking her hand and holding it. “It’s not that, kitten. I enjoy playing with you. It’s just…”
And then the pieces came together. “It’s the colonel, isn’t it?”
Sam gave her a weary smile. “I know I’m being ridiculous. He’s just as normal as he can be, after all. And he’s only doing this for the money. It’s all just fun and games. Stupid fun and games, nothing more.”
The misery on his face was tangible. She wanted to throw her arms around him and protect that huge, gentle heart from getting hurt yet again. “Oh, Sam. I’m so sorry.”
“So am I.” He shook his head. “I keep telling myself this is temporary, that he doesn’t feel the way I do. That he doesn’t want me. So I should just enjoy what I can get, right?” The glassiness in his eyes increased. “It’s not helping, though. I keep wondering what Bart—”
He cut off a sob. Kat jumped to her feet, gathering him in a hug as her own tears started. His arms unexpectedly wound around her waist, pulling her into his lap. She realized why when he buried his head in her shoulder to muffle his tears. “Oh, my sweetest boy,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “I’m so sorry.”
She remembered when the two Army officers had showed up on Uncle William’s doorstep with the telegraph from the War Department. Uncle William had taken her into his study an hour later, his eyes bloodshot from unshed tears, and informed her that he’d given the Army permission to busy Bart at Flanders Field. Sam came home soon afterwards, his right leg amputated, a lost and broken shell of the man she’d remembered and her brother had loved.
For Bart, she’d gone to the Hellmans’ home on her own every day without fail, climbing the grand staircase to the second floor where Sam lay like a corpse in his narrow boyhood bed. All the hours reading to him, talking to him, trying anything she could think of to bring him out of his shell. When the doctor finally gave him permission to try walking on his wooden leg, she was the one who had cajoled him to stand up, take the first few steps. Slowly, his body healed, although he would never again look like the happy boy he’d been with Bart. His mind eventually followed, finding its way out of the fog left by the war.
His heart, though, was still bleeding over Bart’s loss. Sometime during his recovery he carefully built a briar fence around it, thick brush and dagger-like thorns shielding himself from anyone but her. He’d had dalliances here and there since the end of the war, often with her complicit assistance, but all the men were nobodies, working class types or low-ranking soldiers passing through Bridgeport on their way home. He wouldn’t let himself love anyone, not the way he’d loved her brother, and when she proposed marriage she’d seen the flash of bitterness in his eyes. She knew she was the closest he would ever come to being back in Bart’s arms, a consolation prize that was no prize at all.
They sat there for a time, united in their love for a dead man, with the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. Finally Sam gave a shuddering sigh. “I don’t know why you put up with me, I really don’t,” he said.
She smiled against the soft brown strands. “I could say the same about you,” she murmured. “It’s probably why we’re such good friends.”
“I think you’re right.” He leaned back, rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry about blubbing all over you.”
“Don’t fret. I’ll dry.” She touched his face, wiping the traces of moisture away from his eyes with a careful thumb. “Do you want to go to bed?”
“Eventually.” A corner of his mouth quirked. “Oh. Were you inviting me to sleep with you, kitten?”
She forced a fierce look. “It’s Kat now, darling. Don’t make me bite you. Again.”
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
As Friedrich approached the hotel room door, he heard the soft sound of piano music drifting through it. He hadn’t seen a phonograph in the room, but doubtlessly the Fräulein could order one up if she was in the mood for music.
He knocked, and the piano music ceased. A moment later Sam answered the door in his shirtsleeves. “Colonel, good to see you,” he said, admitting Friedrich into the suite. “I’m afraid Kat’s still primping for the evening. We may have a bit of a wait.”
“That’s quite all right.” Friedrich followed the limping American into the parlor. To his surprise, Sam sat down at the grand piano, long fingers drifting skillfully over the keys and teasing out the melody he’d heard in the hall. “I didn’t know you played piano.”
“Since I was a boy.” Sam moved over a bit on the bench and nodded at the space. Careful not to jostle, Friedrich sat next to him. “Mother made sure I had lessons, like all the little well-bred little monsters in our clique. I think I was the only one who actually liked to practice. Making music is one of my favorite things in the world.”
Friedrich let himself relax, listening to the tune Sam coaxed from the instrument. “That’s very nice. What is it?”
“Just something I’ve been noodling around with in my spare time.”
“You write your own songs?”
“Mm-hm, and lyrics, too.” Sam’s smile fell a bit. “Although Bart was always better at the music part than me. We used to talk about running away from Connecticut and heading down to New York City, try our luck at writing songs for the Broadway shows. You know, like Irving Berlin and Cole Porter.”
Friedrich could easily see Sam in something natty, strolling down a brightly lit street on the way to his opening night. “Why didn’t you do it?”
One shoulder rose slightly. “Lots of reasons. Uncle William might have let Bart go for a year or so, just to sow some wild oats and get it out of his system, but my father never would have let me do something as plebeian as write for Broadway.” His fingers touched the keys softly. “And then the war happened. Afterwards, well, there didn’t seem to be much point in going anywhere. So I just play for myself these days.” His mouth curved. “And friends, of course.”
Friedrich was surprised by the warmth he felt at Sam’s admission. “Would you play something for me? Something of yours, I mean.”
Brown eyes blinked at him. “Really? You don’t have to flatter me or anything if you don’t want to hear it.”
“No, I’d like to hear it. I can’t play anything myself, but I like to listen.” Lilli was an accomplished pianist, and going to Oskar’s house and listening to her after-dinner performances of Beethoven and Schubert had been a delightful occurrence.
“Okay. Well, then.” Sam paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “This isn’t finished yet, but I really like how it’s going. Tell me what you think.”
Rippling through a minor flourish, he started playing a melody that was beautiful and wistful at the same time. Softly, he sang:
Across the ocean blue,
Across the sea so wide,
We’ll find a place to go,
And there we’ll both abide.
The storms will never part us,
I swear on Heaven above,
My home is where your heart is,
My ever after love.
He stopped singing, although he continued to play softly. “It needs a little work, obviously, as well as a bridge.”
The emotion in the song brought a lump to Friedrich’s throat. “It’s about the Fräulein’s brother, isn’t it?”
“Bart, yes.” Sam stared at his fingers on the keys. “I miss him. Five years on, and I still miss him.”
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. No sex in this one, sorry, but yonder lies character development!
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Sam stumped along the pavement, deftly avoiding the bustling sections of the downtown crowds. Part of him felt sorry for Kat, trapped in yet another business meeting. He’d come to the first few days of them out of a sense of loyalty and to fly the flag, and wound up bored out of his mind.
Then again, he reasoned, it was hardly a surprise. His father had been trying for the best part of thirty years to instill a love of business in him, and nothing worked. A few days in a Berlin conference room certainly wasn’t going to spark some latent interest in the fine art of manufacturing electrical equipment.
He sighed. It would have been so much easier if Bart were still alive. He could have run Tracy Electrics with Kat, satisfying the stodgy board of directors, and Sam could continue to be their mutual best friend and Bart’s secret lover. Instead, he was engaged to Kat and had to let himself be groomed as the heir apparent to Tracy Electrics. It was a joke, and everyone knew it except for those ten old men who gathered around an oak conference table and fancied themselves the arbiters of who should be worthy enough to run Tracy Electrics once William decided to retire. Personally, Sam dreaded the day.
Trying not to think about his unappealing future, he continued down the street, keeping a weather eye out for a decent restaurant or cafe. Ahead of him, a tall man came out of an office building. Sam surreptitiously studied his ass.
And recognized it. He looked up and saw Friedrich von Bader, desultorily studying a sheet of paper that appeared to be a list of some sort. His traitorous heart skipped a beat, then raced ahead. He’d never seen the colonel outside of Kat’s company. It felt like a secret treat, running into him this way.
He wondered if he should go up and say hello or just turn around and continue looking for a restaurant when Friedrich glanced up and saw him. To his dismay, the colonel went white.
Trying to ignore the surge of hurt at the German’s obvious fear of being seen with him, Sam decided to be perverse and walked over anyway. “Hello, colonel,” he said in a brisk tone. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Friedrich furtively glanced around the street, then took Sam by the arm and half-dragged, half-guided him into a shuttered store entryway. “What do you want?” he demanded.
Sam’s eyebrows went up, and he carefully shook his sleeve out of the German’s grip. “Nothing. I just wanted to say hello.”
The other man looked like he didn’t believe him. “I’m serious,” Sam insisted. “I saw you coming out of that building, and I thought I would say hello. That’s all.”
“Oh.” Friedrich still looked incredibly uncomfortable, but some of his tension eased. “I’m sorry. I — never mind. Hello.”
That was more like it. Sam’s good mood returned. “Say, I was going to grab some lunch,” he said. “I don’t suppose you could recommend a restaurant in this area?”
The German turned, quickly studying the street. “Landau’s is a block down that way, on the right. Their Königsberger Klopse was very good, the last time I was there.”
“Königsberger Klopse?”
“Meatballs made from veal and anchovies. It’s served in a white sauce with capers and eaten with potatoes.”
“Oh. Yes, that does sound good.” And then, inspiration struck. “Look, would you like to have lunch with me?”
To his dismay, the colonel went pale again. “Eat? With you?”
“Well, yes,” Sam said, puzzled by the reaction. Good Lord, man, it’s not as if I’m asking you to suck me off between courses. “I don’t like to eat alone, and Kat’s busy at the office. So if you didn’t have anything to do…”
Friedrich looked away. “I … I have things to do.”
“Of course, I’m sure you do,” Sam said quickly, not wanting to trample on the man’s pride. “But you could take a break and have lunch, right? It’s on me,” he added. “I’ll pay for it, I mean.”
Friedrich hesitated, glancing around. Then he seemed to sag. “What do you want for it?”
That stung. “Nothing,” Sam said. “I just wanted some company, that’s all. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I understand.” He shrugged, turning to go. “Thanks for the recommendation. I’ll see you later, I guess.”
He limped off, hating the mild churning in his gut. If he doesn’t want a free meal, to hell with him. I was just trying to be nice, which was obviously stupid of me. Damn Germans, all of them so stiff-necked and pains in the ass—
“Wait.”
He stumbled, and a strong hand wrapped around his arm, steadying him. He turned in time to see Friedrich give a small, hesitant smile. “I apologize for my rudeness. It has been … a difficult day. But I will have lunch with you, if you still want me.”
Sam swallowed hard. Oh, I want you. That’s the problem, isn’t it?
But they were in public, and even in Berlin he couldn’t pull Friedrich into his arms. He forced a blandly pleasant expression and nodded. “Where’s this Landau’s, then?”
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Want to read an interview with me?
Of course you do! Then bop on over to Jennifer Denys’s blog where I talk about writing, Breaker Zone, and answer a rapid fire challenge. Fun!
And as an update for those who are patiently waiting for Planet Alpha: Assassin, I’m finishing up the edits (hopefully today) so it looks like we’re on for a late October release, woohoo! (And if you’ve been following my Mid Week Teases for Assassin you’re going to want to buy it when it comes out because it’s been significantly changed.)
Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Kat stared up at the German, now perched between her splayed thighs. His sheathed cock, thick and throbbing, rested against her pubic mound. Her clit ached for contact with it. Behind him, Sam wore an intense expression as he did something to Friedrich’s lower body. From the sudden widening of Friedrich’s eyes, she could guess what Sam was doing with his fingers.
“Come on, then.” She stroked Friedrich’s cock, shifting herself slightly so that she could nudge him into position. “I want you inside me, colonel. Slowly.”
“Ja, Fräulein.” With exquisite slowness, he pressed into her. She took a deep breath at the first delicious stretch, the thick heft of his shaft as it forced her body to accommodate it. Wet as she was, she wasn’t fully open, and he had to work for the last few inches. She watched, fascinated, at the play of emotions across his face; strain, concentration, followed by the most sublime look of masculine enjoyment when he was finally seated inside her.
His eyes widened and he gasped, twitching inside her. Over his shoulder Sam loomed, his own look of pleasurable strain a close twin to Friedrich’s. “Relax,” he said hoarsely. “And breathe, dammit.”
Friedrich’s head dropped and he obeyed, pressing hard against her pubic bone as Sam pushed deeper. Her clit throbbed from the sudden attention, and she mewled happily. “Oh, I like that!”
“So do I,” Sam said, sounding breathless. “I wish you could feel it from this end, sweetheart. He’s so hot and tight. How are you doing, Friedrich?”
“Mm.” The German sucked in another breath, then nodded. “It’s good. More.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Sam said, still breathless. “Coming right up.”
At Sam’s careful thrust, Friedrich pressed harder against her, grinding oh so perfectly. She watched as pain flickered across his face, replaced by heavy-lidded pleasure. His sculpted mouth pursed into a soft oh, and he pushed back against Sam, then surged heavily into her.
Kat threw her head back, turning her cry of pleasure into a ragged gasp. She loved this, loved watching her colonel impale himself on Sam’s cock before pushing into her. He was trapped between them, a slave to both their pleasure and his own. She angled her hips to meet his next thrust, and moaned in surprise as his cock slid perfectly along her clit, setting off a firestorm in her lower belly.
Her eyes popped open. “Do that again!”
Friedrich obeyed, moaning as Sam’s thrust pushed him deeply into her. The same slide, and the same burst of ecstatic fire through her. She gasped happily. That had never happened before, not with the pets she allowed to pleasure her, or even with Sam. “Keep doing that, just like that.”
Friedrich was breathing hard now, his large body trembling against hers from the strain of holding himself in position. Sam obviously felt it as well, because he said, “Friedrich, don’t work so hard. Let me do the driving. Just relax and enjoy Kat.”
“Ja.” It was a breathless grunt, but some of the tremors eased. Under Sam’s guidance, the three of them found a rhythm that drove Friedrich’s cock perfectly over her clit, pistoning deep inside her as Sam plunged inside the German. The bed began to creak, then squeak angrily under them.
“Good thing we have a suite,” Sam gasped. “Don’t — hah — want the neighbors calling — hah! — the cops on us.”
Even with her rising pleasure, Kat still managed to roll her eyes. “Just shut up and fuck him, Sam.”
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. In this snippet, we find how Friedrich took his first steps into the world’s oldest profession.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Friedrich stood in front of the door, staring at the worn brown paint, the battered number plate. He hated this, going hat in hand to someone who was practically a stranger, neighbor or not.
And having to ask someone like Gunter Strauss for money rankled. Tall and effeminate, the man was a performer at one of the nightclubs down on Alexanderplatz. Friedrich suspected that he was also a transvestite, from the carefully plucked eyebrows and traces of makeup the man occasionally sported. But Strauss was kind to Lilli and Rudi, and he always had money.
Unlike Friedrich, who had spent the last twenty years, man and boy, serving in the German army, as his father and grandfather had done before him, as every male von Bader had done since the rise of the Prussian Empire. But after the Great War and the enforced reduction of the German army, there was no room for hereditary soldiers. Friedrich abruptly found himself retired, unemployable, and with two dependents to support in a Berlin he hardly recognized anymore.
He steeled himself and knocked.
After a moment, the door opened, revealing a slender man in a lavish rose satin bed jacket and matching pajamas. His arched eyebrows rose even higher when he saw Friedrich. “Ah, Herr von Bader. How lovely to see you again,” he said, leaning against the doorframe with a smile. “What can I do for you?”
Friedrich forced down the irritation that always rose with Strauss’s outrageous flirting. “Herr Strauss,” he said formally. “I need to ask — that is, I was wondering if you could do me — us — a favor.”
Strauss smirked at that. “Possibly, depending on what it was. But I never negotiate on an empty stomach. You’d better come in.”
Reluctantly, Friedrich followed him into the flat. Unlike his own, Strauss’s flat boasted simple furniture but in a vibrant array of colors and fabrics, with brightly tinted feather boas draped over the lintels and a wide swath of what looked like purple silk covering the sitting room window in place of drapes. The wall across from the window was covered with a bewildering array of playbills, posters and other advertisements from nightclubs and cabarets across Berlin.
“So, you were saying something about a favor?” Strauss threw over his shoulder, sauntering into the tiny dining area.
Friedrich spotted the silverware and loaded plate on the dining table, and flushed in embarrassment. “You’re eating. I’m sorry, I can come back later–“
“Nein, it doesn’t bother me.” Strauss sat at the table, picking up his fork. “Go on.”
“I — we need to borrow some money.” He took a deep breath, and his stomach gurgled at the heavenly smell of Strauss’s dinner. “It’s for Rudi, you see. He’s sick again.”
“Poor child.” Strauss took a delicate bite of his sauerbrauten. “I suppose I could lend you something, but really, Herr von Bader, I’m not made of money.”
Friedrich swallowed. “I know, Herr Strauss, and I know how much we already owe you–“
The man waved his fork airily. “None of that. I gave what I did willingly, but there is only so much I can do, even for someone as charming as you.” He smiled at Friedrich’s discomfort. “And your sister-in-law, of course.”
Friedrich’s stomach picked that moment to rumble again, more loudly this time. He felt his face get even hotter as Strauss chuckled at him. “No, don’t blush. All men get hungry. It’s the way of the world,” the slender man said, dabbing at his lips with his napkin. He rose, gesturing at the seat across the table. “Sit. I’ll make you a plate.”
“No, that’s not necessary–”
“Stop being such a Junker, von Bader. You’re hungry. I have food. Sit.” With a flourish, Strauss moved to the tiny stove.
Suddenly exhausted, Friedrich dropped into the seat. Moments later, a steaming plate of roast beef, spätzle and red cabbage was deposited in front of him. The smell of the meat in particular made his mouth water. They hadn’t been able to afford any for a month.
“Eat, eat,” Strauss said gently, taking his seat again.
It took all of Friedrich’s military discipline not to fall on the food like a starving wolf. Gripping his cutlery, he forced himself to cut small portions of the meat, wrapping noodles and cabbage around each forkful before devouring it. Before the war, he would have turned his nose up at the pedestrian meal. Now, it was ambrosia.
Across the table, Strauss lit a cigarette and watched him eat. “I take it the job hunt hasn’t been successful?”
Friedrich chewed and swallowed, shaking his head. “They keep asking about my qualifications,” he muttered. “I’m qualified to be a colonel in the German army. Not a lot of call for that these days.”
“Hmm.” Strauss took a contemplative drag, letting the smoke stream from the corner of his mouth as he gave Friedrich a long, thoughtful look. “Well, there’s not much work for anyone, really. But there are other ways to make money.”
Friedrich paused, fork in mid-air. “I won’t join the gangs,” he said bluntly.
“God in heaven, no,” Strauss said, waving a languid hand. “You’re far too law-abiding and upright for a criminal gang. Besides, it’s too much risk for too little money.” He paused, nodding to himself. “No, I was thinking of something else. More along the line of, shall we say, services?”
Friedrich frowned. “You mean, like a valet?”
“Oh, you’re a delight,” the singer chortled. “No, I meant personal services, von Bader. Very personal, very … pleasurable.”
Strauss’s meaning dropped on him like a lead weight. His stomach roiled, threatening to bring up its contents. “You’re joking.”
“Hardly.” Strauss puffed on his cigarette again, blowing a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “That sort of work can pay quite well, you know, depending on the circumstances. And with your looks and manner, you’d have quite the clientele in no time. I can introduce you to the right people, if you like.”
Friedrich put his fork down. Like that, his appetite was gone. “You are seriously suggesting that I become…” The words ‘a whore’ sat on his tongue like bitter fruit.
“I am suggesting that you use what Heaven has blessed you with to make money and support your family,” Strauss said gently. “We can’t afford our treasured German morality anymore, colonel. The damned Americans and British made sure of that. So turn the tables and make some money off of them. God knows they have more than enough of it.” The singer leaned back, running a fingertip along the spotless rose satin of his bed jacket. “And if you’re worried that you’ll have to swish around like me, you won’t. Plenty of customers prefer their companions to be clean-cut and masculine. All you’d have to do is show up at the club in your uniform, and you’d be beating them off with a stick.”
His eyebrows, plucked to a womanly curve, rose and fell in a flicker of humor. “Charge extra for that, by the way.”
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TWO TO TANGO on sale for 99¢ this week at Evernight
What? You mean you haven’t read my hilarious M/M SF caper novel Two to Tango yet? I’m…well, I’m crushed. But I’m also strong, so I will dab the tears from my damask cheeks and think about it all tomorrow at Tara.
Now that I’ve finished pretending to be Scarlett O’Hara, do I have a deal for you! For the next week Two to Tango is only 99 cents at Evernight Publishing. And if that isn’t enough to persuade you, here’s a little more about the story:
Rory MacLellan, AKA the Highlander, may be the most successful interstellar art thief in the Known Worlds, but he still has a conscience. So when he runs into a suicidal museum worker during his latest job, he has no choice but to stun the man and rescue him from certain death.
Dr. Dmitri Grigoryev was an up-and-coming exoarchaeologist until a disastrous dig left his career in tatters. Hungry, broke, and desperate, the last thing he expected was a dashing thief to come along and save his life.
Thrown together by accident and with interstellar police on their tail, Rory and Dmitri reluctantly join forces for a major heist. But will their simmering attraction get in the way, or prove that they were meant to be together?
Guess what I did this morning?
Everyone who liked my Breaker Zone MWT snippets is about to be very happy because — ta-da — I signed the publishing contract with Evernight this morning! Breaker Zone should be coming out either in late November or early December, and I cannot wait to see the cover art and make the trailer for this one.
Of course, that also means that I need to get cracking on Olympic Cove 3 because waiting eighteen months between books is not fun (I mean, who do I think I am, George R.R. Martin?). Right now the working title is Deep Water, and this one will be a little different in that it’s going to be a MMF story.
MM lovers, come back! There’s going to be plenty of hot man-on-man action for you, I promise. The initial pairing will be Poseidon (I TOLD you he was going to get his own book) and a gruff British oceanographer named Griffin Parkes who wants to spend a peaceful week at Olympic Cove before going into hospice care for his terminal cancer. But the God of the Ocean isn’t giving up that easily, especially when he recognizes Griffin as the long-lost agapetos of himself and his consort Amphitrite. Now, Poseidon must seduce a quite straight Griffin in order to save his life, then figure out how to bring Amphitrite back into their triad.
Can a still-grieving Amphitrite forgive Poseidon for the ancient betrayal that destroyed their marriage? Will the blunt, pragmatic Griffin be able to accept not only a male lover, but the fact that he’s a mythological figure reborn? Will Poseidon be able to bring the two loves of his life back together, or is he destined to lose Griffin and Amphitrite yet again? And what plans does Thetis have for this triad? And gads, how are Bythos and Aphros going to react to the idea of their parents, you know, doing it?
Only time will tell, mwahahahahaha. (And I can see Ceit staring at the screen and screaming, “WHAT? You, I, buh, WHAT?” Don’t worry, sweetie, I already have you down as one of the betas.)
In which I am a little frustrated about the lack of literary Dommes
So I was wandering around the intertubes as you do, and I read this piece over at Herosandheartbreakers.com about the top 5 Dommes in kinky romance. One line in particular jumped out at me:
(Linger by Joey W. Hill) was the first BDSM story that I read with a dominant heroine. I was hesitant at first, and I know I’ve heard the same thing from many readers about Linger…they just don’t know if they’re going to enjoy that role reversal.
Really? Because I know I would freaking kill or die to read a good BDSM erotic romance with a Domme. Or even better, a good BDSM erotic romance that didn’t feature a Domme who secretly wants to submit to a man. I can’t tell you how many times I bought a promising-looking novel with a Domme/sub relationship only to find out halfway through that she was just doing it for the money, or she’s “secretly fragile,” or damaged somehow, or she’s in danger and the sub has to protect her, or just needs to meet the right man at which point poof, all her Domme tendencies disappear.
Hear that whooshing noise? That’s my suspension of disbelief disappearing. Yes, there is such a thing as dom drop, and not all Dommes want to be in charge all the time. But that identification doesn’t go away just because you need a break. I understand the appeal of the Dom/sub relationship and why a submissive woman would want to serve a loving, sexy Dom who takes care of all of her needs in return for her service/submission/obedience/etc. I also understand why these stories appeal to so many women who are juggling a career, a home, kids, and a husband, and sometimes just want to hand over the reins and be taken care of for a change. Hoo, boy, I understand that. It’s totally cool, and I fully support such stories and the writers and readers who love them.
But when it comes to me, I want to read about a Domme because that’s what twists my wick. Please God, I just want to read a book where a well-adjusted, happy Domme meets up with a sub and they have great scenes together and she isn’t:
- just doing it for the money
- in some sort of danger that only he can protect her from
- emotionally damaged
- secretly wanting to submit to him
- some sort of general damsel in distress who just happens to wear leather and wield a crop
I’m trying to think of how many stories I’ve found that fit that description, and to be honest the only one I can think of is Shoshanna Evers’ Dominatrix Fantasy trilogy (holla!). And yes, if you can think of more please let me know because I’d love to check them out.
Mind you, there are excellent books with women who are Switches; Tiffany Reisz’s Nora Sutherlin from the Original Sinners series comes to mind, as does Tymber Dalton’s character Tilda in Cardinal’s Rule. Both these characters start out as subs and discover their inner Domme tendencies as the stories progress, and they totally and utterly rock. I just want to see more stories with characters like Nora and Tilda who happen to start off as Dommes and stay Dommes all the way through the story.
So, yeah, if you ever wondered the impetus behind me writing Behind the Iron Cross, now you know. And I can assure you right here and now that Katherine Tracy has no intention of suddenly handing over the reins to Friedrich just because she’s fallen in love with him. They both know what they want, and that’s him tied naked and hard in her bed, ready to submit to his Fräulein.
Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a rather tense teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. In this snippet, Friedrich is attending a masked ball/orgy at a church-themed nightclub with Kat and Sam and spots General Gerhard Hauptmann, the man who recruited him to spy on them. What he learns next will shock him.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Friedrich glanced into the grotto as they passed, then did a double-take. Inside, dressed in a Roman toga that Caesar himself would envy, was Hauptmann, sitting next to the American businessman. They laughed over drinks, all the while caressing what he could only assume were three whores dressed in flimsy tunics and vaguely Roman hairstyles, all piled curls and wrapped ribbons.
“Come on.” He felt Sam’s hand on his arm, and let himself be tugged away, back to their grotto. Something gnawed at him, something that had first raised its head during that horrible dream about Hauptmann and the Somme.
Sam plopped down next to Kat, managing not to spill a drop of their drinks. “Guess who’s here tonight?”
“Darling, half of Berlin is here tonight,” she said lazily. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”
“You’re right. Guess who’s here tonight whose head you’d really like to see on a pike?”
Her expression dimmed, going cold. “Brayburn?”
“The one and only. Looks like he’s entertaining, too. Some big blond with one of those military mustaches.”
Kat put down her drink. “Going grey at the temples? With a small scar on his right cheek?”
Friedrich went cold at her description of the general. “Yes, that’s the man,” Sam said, puzzled. “You know him?”
“Arthur warned me about him. His name is Gerhard Hauptmann. He was a German army general until he got cashiered for almost beating a corporal to death. According to Arthur, he’s become quite the eminence grise for the Black Arrow. Taught them military tactics for fighting the other gangs, how to rig an ambush, things like that.”
The sensation in Friedrich’s stomach grew, turning into a spiked ball of guilt and recognition. The Black Arrow, the gang that Oskar had worked for. The one that had raped Lilli, that had almost killed Rudi. “How long has he worked for the Black Arrow,” he blurted.
Kat glanced at him, brows coming down. “For well over a year, now, according to Arthur. Brayburn supposedly hired him as a sort of local guide, but Arthur thinks Hauptmann’s been using his gang connections to bully various executives into signing their companies over to Brayburn.”
Friedrich clutched the edge of the tiny table, knuckles white. It took him a moment before he registered the Fräulein’s warm hand covering one of his. “Colonel, what’s wrong? Do you know this man?”
Oskar’s death, Lilli’s assault and his own guilt tangled together on his tongue, colored now with a rising film of purest rage. He nodded once, sucking in a deep breath. “I — I’ll be right back.”
He stood up and lurched out of the grotto, ignoring their questions. Guilt and fury pounded in his head, coloring everything red. He needed to find Hauptmann, strangle the traitorous bastard with his own hands, rip his throat out for what he’d done to Oskar and Lilli, what he’d persuaded Friedrich to do.
Oh, you stupid bastard. You believed him, and you gave him everything he wanted.
As he approached the Brayburn grotto, he could only see the American businessman and his whores lounging on the purple couches there. He turned, pushing through the heaving throng, scanning for his prey. Ahead, he saw a familiar head disappear into a door labeled HERREN.
He followed.
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Nicola Cameron Writes 