As Secrets Remembered will be up for early download on 7th November, I thought it was time to tease you from it. And I so do love the cover as well as my hero and heroine.
What comes first your happiness or your job?
When Ailsa McLagan is sent undercover to investigate possible shady dealings at the private BDSM Club Diomhair she doesn't expect to be confronted by one of the Masters there. Not only does he make her want her to sink to her knees, he seems to see straight through her disguise.
Aidan is instantly attracted to the clueless Sub he stumbles upon. Even though he knows she is hiding her true identity he can't help but push her.
When Ailsa runs after an amazing wax session all seems lost.
When the truth does come out, can they find a true Dom/sub relationship, even though theirs started on a lie?
Here's your tease
Something tickled her cheek and she bit back a scream. It was a tendril of her hair that had fallen forward, not a spider. A noise outside made her even less inclined to open her mouth. Somehow she managed not to move—it was handy being pint sized—or sneeze as voices got louder.
“…a waste of time,” a male voice said. A deeper voice replied, but it came through the door as an indistinct rumble and Ailsa couldn’t have sworn whether it was someone else there, or someone on the end of a speakerphone. Then there was silence. Ailsa counted to fifty and opened the door a crack. The corridor was empty. She eased herself down from the shelf and looked at the dust that coated her.
If anything would give away her presence, a trail of dust would, and she wasn’t supposed to be found.
So much for good, clean undercover work. How many times had she wished she was back on the beat, policing a football match or shepherding drunken undergrads back to their lodgings? Well not many, she owned, but sometimes she wondered if she was right in the head. This job wasn’t all glamorous parties and secret microphones. Most of it was standing in the freezing cold and waiting for something and you had no idea what for.
She wiped her shoes on the inside of her coat, held them in one hand, slipped her mucky socks into her pocket and walked quietly away in the opposite direction from where the voices had gone. Ailsa mentally smiled at her thoughts. Independently acting voices and no bodies to go with them?
God she hoped not, she wasn’t a sci-fi or horror fan.
Stupidly she turned left not right and found herself in the gym.
And heard the whistling again.
It seemed someone was about, and she was going to be in big trouble. There wasn’t even a desk to hide under like in all good movies, or a floor length curtain. The windows had fitted blinds. A treadmill, cross trainer and rowing machine didn’t make good hiding places. Nor did the water cooler.
With a sigh deep enough to clear leaves from a footpath, Ailsa slipped her shoes back on, straightened her shoulders and faced the door.
The man who stopped dead in the doorway, mid whistle, was hot enough for her chin to drop, her eyes to widen and her body to tighten. Whoever said there was no such thing as instant lust was oh so very wrong. She might not subscribe to lacy thongs that got stuck up your arse like a cheese grater, but if she did, Ailsa reckoned they’d be wet and wrung out. As it was, her sensible, cotton, chain store knickers were damp under her thermals. Dark, soft, leather trousers and a black T-shirt were the clothes her wet dreams were made of.
He dropped the bag he was carrying, straightened and looked her up and down. “Well now, what have we here?”
Ailsa swallowed. How to reply to that and not be in trouble?
“Pet, answer me.”
The tone sent shivers down her spine, and the hairs on her arms stood on end in sympathy. Ailsa gulped. Who on earth did he think she was? Pet? Should she woof or growl? If there was one thing she hated it was being called silly names like pet, or chick. She was a woman, not an animal.
“Pet, are you wanting a punishment? The mood I’m in I’ll be happy to oblige. Surely you know the basic protocol?” There was no give in the harsh voice.
Well, no she didn’t, not unless you counted what she’d read in books and that was all fantasy and fiction—wasn’t it? She hadn’t even ventured around the club part of the castle. Her time inside the place was too limited to explore unnecessarily.
“Hello, I’m Ailsa McLagan.” Dumb, Ailsa, now he can trace you.
"You call me Sir."
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