Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Tuesay Books ~ Roxane Crawford, M.C. Webb, RC Boldt, & Lauren Layne


book blitz
Roxane Crawford - Chiaroscuro

Book Title: Chiaroscuro 
Author: Roxane Crawford 
Genre: Dark Erotica 
Release Date: April 21, 2016 
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions


book blurb

When I tell men what I look for in a relationship, they either run the other way or think a light spanking during sex is enough to get me off. It isn’t.

The only man who ever understood what I need is a man whose name I don’t even know, and whose face I didn’t even see.

My name is Alexandra Sinclair, and I’m a masochist.

WARNING: If you have ANY kind of trigger, this book is not for you.

After a long bath in the decadent bathroom in my suite at the hotel I dial the concierge to inquire about the nightlife.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks me in French.

I haven’t spoken French with a French since we’ve moved from Paris to Weston what seems like ages ago but which is, really, barely 4 years.

The words come easily, and I flat out tell him what I’m looking for. “Anything kinky will do.”

“Then you’ll surely enjoy the masked ball at the Xpose club. You’re in luck; it’s only once a year. I’ll bring you appropriate attire. Size 0, are you not?”

At 5’1’’ and 105 pounds, yeah, size 0, genius. “Yes,” I say.


I’m in my red silk kimono, applying mascara when there’s a knock at my door. I open and the cutest concierge stands before me; tall, blond, with deep, green eyes - a green darker than mine.

I smile instantly, and he hands me a small package. “Do let me know if you’d like something different. I will gladly fetch you something new.”

Fetch? Yeah, I don’t need a lapdog; I want to be the lapdog. “Thank you,” I say. “I’m sure this will be satisfactory,” and as I say the words, I realize with horror that I sound just as pompous as my brother.

The concierge bows, I tip him, and he leaves.

In the package is a pair of silver Troelsens stilettos and matching clutch, a stunning slinky white evening gown, an equally stunning white faux fox scarf, and a white masquerade mask encrusted with zircons. I scoff, insulted that the concierge would hand me fake diamonds, but I realize that a diamond encrusted masquerade mask must not be something readily available, so I forgive him.

I finish my make up with a red lip instead of my usual nude one. My complexion is pale and creamy; with a white dress and a white mask, a nude lip wouldn’t look so sharp.

I stuff my essentials in the clutch, slip on the shoes and the faux fox scarf, grab the mask and get down to the lobby, where the fair haired concierge is waiting at attention. If I can, I’m having some of that blond meat later.

I hop in a cab and ignore the knowing smirk the driver gives me when I tell him where I’m going. He’s in his late twenties, I think. Bit too young for me. I like them about twice my age. Of course, I can make exceptions; musicians, for example. They can be my own age and I’ll happily fuck them. Musicians bring us closer to the divine. To copulate with a musician is sacred.

The Xpose is situated at a dead end. Its door is huge, made of heavy wood, and there are two sconces of real fire illuminating the entry way. Two bodybuilders in white tuxes guard the door, and elegantly dressed, masked patrons are waiting in line. I slip on the mask, give the cab driver a hard hundred and get out of the car.

I spend five hundred to get in the club without waiting and am disappointed when I get past the heavy black curtains.

A few masked couples are going at it, sucking and lapping, a girl with a very nice rack and a fox mask is up on a stage dancing around a steel pole, and that’s it. Nothing exciting is going on, nobody’s getting whipped or anything.

With a sigh I sit at the bar and order a Lagavulin. I down it and order another. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall, dark haired guy but when I turn my head towards him, he’s gone. Shaking my head, I down my second Lagavulin and look at a couple giving one another hand jobs.

I’ve been to orgies before. Not what I had in mind for tonight.

I stretch my neck, about ready to leave, when a terribly tall plague doctor comes my way. I perk up when he sits beside me, and asks, through his mask, “Not what you expected?”

I gasp; I am not fond of masks which cover the entire face. They’re freaky. “No,” I say.

“What were you expecting?”

His voice is muffled but I can tell his French is perfect.

“More whip. Less cock,” I say, staring into two black pools instead of eyes.

A frisson goes through me. I’ve seen eyes like these before. I don’t like it; I look away.

A gloved finger under my chin forces me to look back into the black pools. The plague doctor cocks his head. “What if I were to give you all whip and no cock. Would you enjoy that?”

A smile comes up without me having to force it.

“Very well,” the plague doctor says, stands, and offers me his hand.

I gladly take it, expecting him to take me to one of the back chambers, but to my surprise, he takes me on stage instead. The girl dancing on the pole bows her head and skitters off stage.

The doctor takes my wrists and what seems like out of nowhere, shackles appear. I look up and see the steel grid there, with shackles and ropes and chains ready for use. I smile some more and a soft chuckle comes from the doctor.

He ties me up, places my clutch and scarf on a small table and bends to look me in the eye. “May I touch you?” he asks.

“Of course,” I say.



“Yell ‘red’ if what I’m doing to you is not enjoyable. Understood?” he asks with the softest voice I’ve ever heard.

I nod, but he repeats, “Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I say.

The doctor runs a gloved finger along my cheek and I imagine somewhere behind his mask, he’s smiling.

Slowly, the doctor walks around me. I keep my eyes up front.

This isn’t my first whipping. I just hope the man knows what he’s doing. I’d take a harsh, well administered whipping over a long hard fuck any day. I’m weird that way.

Soft hands come on my shoulder blades. “Are you scared?”

I say nothing but nod my head.

The doctor grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head back so far I can’t breathe. My heart starts pumping.

He places his other hand over my throat and squeezes.

My nipples start to tingle.

“You should be.”

He lets go of me only to pat my cheek with a weak little slap.

When I look up at the doctor, he cocks his head and it totally reminds me of the movie Halloween. I cringe despite not wanting to, and the doctor caresses the cheek he just slapped. I can’t believe I’ve become such a wuss; afraid of a mask. But, it is what it is. After what happened to Manny and me, I’m now afraid of masks which cover the entire face.

Without a word, the plague doctor unzips the back of my dress and pulls it apart to expose my back. I wait.

And I wait.

I hear him shift, and I hold on to the binds keeping my arms up. I forgot to ask him what he wanted to whip me with. Was it a whip? A flogger? A belt? A crop? A cane?

Ohfuck, I hope it’s not a cane I’ve never been beaten with one ofth—


A hit on my back. That’s a belt. I think. We’re good.


I yelp. That guy knows what he’s doing. He’s hitting me hard. Almost too hard. I love it.

Another hit comes, and my skin starts to heat up. So does my pussy.

He hits me again, and again, and once more, and he stops.

I rest my cheek on my arm and wait, hoping he hits again.

He doesn’t.

An ungloved hand comes up my inner thigh, and fingers probe about my pussy. The doctor’s nose approach. “More to your liking?” he asks, a finger slipping inside me.

I squirm, wanting the finger deeper, but it is removed.

The doctor yanks my head back again. “I believe I asked you a question.”

He speaks softly, which is way creepier than if he’d yell. Yeah, that guy definitely knows what he’s doing.

“Yes, sir. More to my liking, sir. Thank you, sir,” I say, stopping myself before I say, “May I have another?”

“How many more?”

I smile. “As many as you wish, sir.”

He chuckles. “Tell me, please.”

“Six.” I say. A dozen hits is nothing, but I don’t know what he has planned for after. I may need my strength.

The six blows come in what seems to be one giant hit. They cover all of my back, leaving a stinging burn and I end the string of whacks with a little giggle.

I should have asked for six hundred.

The doctor covers my back with the fluffy side of my scarf and unshackles me.

“Already?” I ask, and he nods.

He wraps an arm around me and accompanies me to a comfy club chair, where he sits with me on his lap. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he asks, and I giggle like a stupid air head, nuzzling his black cape.

He cradles me for a while as someone brings me a sip of water. I down the bottle and rest my head on the doctor’s chest, inhaling his cinnamon-y aroma. That man smells heavenly. I let out an appreciative moan and close my eyes.

I caress down the doctor’s chest and feel hard muscles under the cape and whatever he’s wearing underneath, if he’s wearing anything at all. I straddle his thigh and reach further down his stomach but he stops my hand.

“If you need to hump me like a bitch in heat, do so, but do not touch my cock unless I specifically instructed you to. Understood?” he asks softly.

“Yes, sir,” I say, and hump his thigh until I cum. It doesn’t take long.

Some women take forever to cum and treat each orgasm as if it were a transcendent experience. I envy them, sometimes. I cum so often in a day, an orgasm is as transcendent as brushing my teeth. Still, I need them just as much as I need to eat. Maybe even more.

Barely out of breath after my orgasm I straighten and zip my dress back up myself. Yoga for the win. “What now?” I ask, eager for more.

“Now? You go home, and you call me in the morning,” he says, handing me a business card.

For a second I wonder if that’s my Silver Fox from the plane, but discard the thought. Silver Fox was English. The Doctor is… well his French is impeccable so I guess he must be French.

“Are you serious?” I ask.

He nods.

“I’m leaving Paris tomorrow,” I lie.

“Then you call me before you get on the plane, and we’ll take it from there.”

I stand. “You’re dismissing me?” I ask, heat quickly traveling from my sex to my cheeks. Nobody dismisses me without my wanting to be dismissed.

“I am,” he says, and even has the nerve to wave a hand as if I were a bug bothering him.

I huff, crumple his business card, leave it on his lap, grab my clutch and shoes and stomp out of the club, hailing a cab.

Who does he think he is?

I remove the mask in the taxi and hunt the concierge the moment I set foot in the hotel. I find him, discussing with a couple. He smiles at me, talks some more and, done, comes my way.

“Enjoyed your evening?” he asks, in a voice not even half as pleasant as the doctor’s.

“Not really.”

“Oh, I apologize. I thought you might enjoy. May I recommend—”

“No. I want you. I want to suck your cock until you pop in my mouth like champagne and I want you to fuck me until I beg for more. Think you can provide that for me?”

“Why, yes. I live to serve.”

book trailer


meet the author
Soft spoken introvert with a weakness for music and melancholy.

Roxane was born in Montreal, Canada, of French Canadian parents and was exposed to the English language at a young age. It was love at first hearing.

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Roxane Crawford - Chiaroscuro

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Title: Second String
Author: M.C. Webb
Genre: Contemporary Romance
  Release Date: May 17, 2016


One is lost, the other has the strength to save them both.

Jett is the second string quarterback, accustomed to living adrift.

Jesse is the lost war widow, unable or unwilling to take a chance.

When Jett is blindsided, the two collide in the game of love and loss.

The question is; can either learn to win, or risk losing it all once more?

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Author Bio

M.C. Webb was born in Georgia, raised in South Carolina,Tennessee, and Alabama. The author has spent all of her life in the Southern states. M.C. was first published in high school, but shied away from the attention she received from her stories. Years later, after much interest and encouragement to share her work, M.C. began writing full time. She lives with her family in Tennessee, loves to dance, travel, and most importantly as a true southern belle - watch football.

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Remember When, Book 3 of the Teach Me Series by RC Boldt
Date of Publication: May 10, 2016


The third installment of RC Boldt's Teach Me series returns with two people who once had it all…
Over a decade ago, fourth grade teacher Tate Donnelly was attending college with the love of her life by her side. She had been certain, even then, that it was the forever kind of love. But she was proven wrong when he left her all alone to pick up the pieces of her life—and heart—when her entire world imploded.
Former Navy SEAL Miller Vaughn once had the love of a girl he thought would be his, and be by his side forever. Unfortunately, that only lasted until after he joined the Navy. Then she vanished, never to be heard from again. Throwing himself into his training, he vowed to become the best, toughest SEAL he could be, and never let a girl get the best of him again.
Years later, a man who resembles a boy she once knew reappears in her life. A boy she had loved with her whole being. A boy who had eviscerated her heart.
Though much time has passed, Tate and Miller still feel that same "pull" they did years ago. When truths about the past are revealed, will they both be able to move on from their painful past … or are they destined for heartbreak again?
Can they remember when their love was the most important thing in their world?

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About RC Boldt

RC Boldt is the wife of Mr. Boldt, a retired Navy Chief, mother of Little Miss Boldt, and former teacher of many students. She currently lives on the coast of North Carolina but dreams of relocating to a tropical island. When she's not writing, she can be found daydreaming of relocating to a tropical island, at the beach, going running with her family (and contemplating *gently* tossing her daughter out of the jogging stroller to reduce weight resistance), singing karaoke, harassing her husband or relaxing with a good book. And, let's be honest. Most of those activities listed probably include wine or a good microbrew. Except for the running. In that case, the drinks come afterward. :)

Find RC Boldt Online


There was no mistaking the glaring ‘Return to Sender' stamps on the letters I held in my hand. Staring down at the letters I'd just retrieved from my mailbox in the commons area on campus, I couldn't ignore the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Miller and I had begun dating during our senior year of high school and it had been nothing short of spectacular. When the popular quarterback of our school's undefeated football team had slid into the vacant seat beside me in AP Biology, asking if I'd be his partner, I had been surprised, as the two of us normally gravitated in completely different circles. No, he wasn't a dumb jock; I had noticed him in some of my other AP classes, but still. I had been the Editor-in-Chief of the yearbook staff. Not exactly scintillating by high school standards.
We had grown closer, become friends, as we dissected animals and I'd discovered that we worked well as lab partners. Far better than I'd ever expected. We began studying for our tests and, little by little, I warmed up to him. When he'd asked me to go to the Homecoming Dance with him, I had been decidedly cautious.
"I don't know …" I had hesitated. "Don't you think you'd be better off taking Kalli? Or Stephanie?" I offered up names of the two extremely popular cheerleaders at our school. These were girls who showed absolutely no hesitation in fawning all over the tall, handsome Miller Vaughn with his sparkling blue eyes and dark hair. He was extremely muscular, even for a high school senior, and with his six foot three frame, he appeared intimidating to many.
Miller had given me a patient smile. "Tate, if I wanted to ask someone else to Homecoming, I would have. But I didn't. I asked you."
Looking up into his eyes, I had thrown caution to the wind. "Okay. But if it turns out to be like a scene from the movie Carrie, I'm going to be really pissed."
His head was thrown back in laughter before gazing down at me with a tender smile. "Tate, I promise I won't let anything happen to you."
And he hadn't. We had gone to the dance and he'd been a perfect gentleman, opening doors for me, holding my hand, his shoulders thrown back with pride as he walked into the gym with me on his arm. I'd had more fun than I had ever expected. And when it came time for him to bring me home, his soft lips pressed against mine in the sweetest kiss.
From that point on, we'd been inseparable. And by the time graduation came around, he had told me he loved me and wanted to be with me, for us to go to the same college. When we had both been accepted to UMU, it had seemed like it was meant to be—like we were meant to be.
Until the end of our freshman year.


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Title: Good Girl
Series: Love Unexpectedly #2
Author: Lauren Layne
Publisher: Loveswept
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 17, 2016


Lauren Layne brings all the unpredictable heat of her USA Today bestseller Blurred Lines to an all-new cast of characters! Country music’s favorite good girl is hiding away from the world—only to find herself bunking with a guy who makes her want to be a little bad.

Jenny Dawson moved to Nashville to write music, not get famous. But when her latest record goes double platinum, Jenny’s suddenly one of the town’s biggest stars—and the center of a tabloid scandal connecting her with a pop star she’s barely even met. With paparazzi tracking her every move, Jenny flees to a remote mansion in Louisiana to write her next album. The only hiccup is the unexpected presence of a brooding young caretaker named Noah, whose foul mouth and snap judgments lead to constant bickering—and serious heat.

Noah really should tell Jenny that he’s Preston Noah Maxwell Walcott, the owner of the estate where the feisty country singer has made her spoiled self at home. But the charade gives Noah a much-needed break from his own troubles, and before long, their verbal sparring is indistinguishable from foreplay. But as sizzling nights give way to quiet pillow talk, Noah begins to realize that Jenny’s almost as complicated as he is. To fit into each other’s lives, they’ll need the courage to face their problems together—before the outside world catches up to them.

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Author Bio

Lauren Layne is the USA Today bestselling author of more than a dozen contemporary romance novels. Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and web-marketing. A year after moving from Seattle to NYC to pursue a writing career, she had a fabulous agent and multiple New York publishing deals. Lauren currently lives in Manhattan with her husband and plus-sized Pomeranian. When not writing, you’ll likely find her running (rarely), reading (sometimes), or at happy hour (often).

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