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Blog Tour: DARK CONTROL by ANNABEL JOSEPH

September 25, 2017

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Dark Control an all-new sexy standalone by Annabel Joseph is available NOW!

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Dark Control by Annabel Joseph

Release Date: September 25th, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Not all fantasies are safe, sane, and consensual. Welcome to the world of The Gallery…

Juliet meets Fort St. Clair on a miserable, drunken night, and wakes up the next morning cuffed to his guest room bed. Of course, Fort would never take advantage of her. No, the pleasure and pain he wants to inflict on her body must be negotiated in advance, because once Juliet sets foot in his private, exclusive dungeon, she belongs to him.

BDSM at The Gallery is supposed to be a straightforward arrangement, an affair by the rules, but Juliet and Fort’s growing connection brings unexpected emotions they can’t control. She’s the free spirit who transforms his rigid world, and he’s the Dominant she can finally trust—or can she?

 

I crossed to join him on the sofa, leaving some space between us for the questions and uneasiness to fit. He put his cup on the table behind him, then reached across the space to touch the top of my knee. His fingers trailed over the place he’d grabbed me last night, lightly, nothing sexual now. He wanted to discuss things. A future for us, maybe.

Next, he tilted my neck, inspecting the place where he’d bit me, his touch lingering like he might still soothe the pain. “No marks,” he said. “At least nothing obvious. You feel okay?”

“Yes, I feel fine.” I felt more than fine. God, I felt a million things. “How do you feel?” I asked, turning the question back on him.

“Conflicted,” he said, coming right out with it. “Here’s the thing about last night. What I did to you up against the wall in that work room…that was me on my best behavior. That was me being a gentleman.”

“Was it?” I took a sip of my tea now that it was cooler. “It felt pretty nice.”

“I can be worse. I usually am when it comes to sex.”

“Hmm.” I took another sip of tea to process, rolling the vanilla and cinnamon flavors on my tongue. “You mean you can be even rougher?”

“Rougher, colder, more intense. I’m a Dominant, but it’s more accurate to call me a sexual sadist. I like to hurt women and force them to do things for my pleasure. It’s how I prefer to get off.”

“I understand about BDSM.”

He shook his head. “You understand mainstream BDSM, the safe, sane, consensual stuff they do at Underworld. You’re into the romance of it, the slap and tickle to get off. To me, that’s going through the motions. It’s not real. Well, not real enough.”

I met his gaze, wondering what he meant by that. Not real enough?

“It’s hard to explain,” he went on, an edge of frustration in his voice. “Especially to a BDSM baby like you.”

“A BDSM baby?” I protested. “Maybe I’m a mess, but I’m not a baby. I’ve been submissive for years. I’ve done a lot of scenes, experimented with a lot of things.”

“I’m not trying to insult you. I’m trying to explain. You’ve been with a few Doms, you’ve participated in the lifestyle, but at the end of the day, you’re looking for pleasure, a good time.” He grimaced. “I’m into something different.”

“You don’t like having a good time? How does that work?” I blinked in confusion. “Why do you do whatever the hell you do if it’s not fun?”

“It’s fun to me. Dark fun, though.” He shifted, pushing back his hair. “I do BDSM for the rush and release. I like to push boundaries, and hang out with other people who like to push boundaries. Places like Underworld only scratch the surface of power exchange. I belong to a private club where people…go a little further.”

“So…” I put my tea on the low table in front of us. “This is why you’re not good for me? Your sadism is the reason you believe we won’t work out?”

“It’s hard for me to work out with anyone, Juliet. Except, you know, the women who come to the private club. I can be as rough as I want, as cruel as I want, and they want more.”

I looked away from him, biting my lip, considering how to reply. “Do you think…” I turned back to him. “Do you think I didn’t want more last night? Do you think I responded badly to your force?”

He held my gaze. “I think you responded wonderfully. That’s why I’m sitting here on your couch, drinking tea with you, which I literally fucking hate.” He picked up his cup as if to illustrate his point, pounded the rest of his tea, and swallowed with a disgusted face. “I hate tea, Jewels. More than anything in the world.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sorry. I only meant to say hi to you last night, but it went further than that, and now we have to decide…”

“Decide if we’re going to go further still?” I looked at him from under my lashes. “How often do you go to your private club to do dark, sadistic, non-fun things?”

“Often enough,” he said tightly. “And I don’t always play with the same women. It’s not a relationship thing, where we all pair up into couples.”

“It’s a sex club thing.”

He shrugged. “It’s scratching a mutual itch with no emotional expectations. So it’s not for everyone, especially emotional types. When the wrong people get caught up in that kind of lifestyle, the results aren’t pretty. That’s why I’ve been trying to stay away from you, even though I find you painfully attractive.”

“Painfully attractive.” I sniffed and sipped my tea. “Can’t hurt me, can’t live without me.”

“It’s not a joke, Juliet.”

“I know.” If it were a joke, I wouldn’t feel such lust and confusion, such horrible curiosity. “You could show me the kind of dark stuff you like to do,” I suggested. “You could invite me to this club to see what goes on, and I could tell you how I felt about it.”

“Spectators aren’t allowed. Only vetted people are allowed at the club, so there aren’t any misunderstandings.”

“Oh.” At this point, I understood what he was trying to say. Even after last night’s scorching-hot hookup, he thought we might be terminally non-compatible.

He reached for my hand and held it hard. His deep hazel eyes hit me full force, his lips pressed in a line. “I’m trying to protect you,” he said. “Since I can’t…” Those eyes raked over me, leaving me feeling stripped. “Since I can’t enter into any kind of…”

“Relationship,” I provided.

“Any kind of relationship with you, especially the sweet, emotional relationship you probably want…”

I let out a long breath. “That’s fucked up. You don’t know me well enough to know what kind of relationship I want. Honest talk: I wanted sex from you from that first sober morning I met you, and I got it.” I stood with my cup and saucer, carrying my tepid tea over to the sink. It had too much sugar. It was too sweet, like me. “I don’t have any judgment about your…your thing. Your sexual sadism, your private club, your playboy ways.”

“Playboy ways,” he repeated in an amused mutter.

“At the same time, I think you’re kind of an asshole. If you don’t want a relationship with me, don’t ask me to dinner at the Ivy. Don’t invite my boss to be part of your ad campaign, and then drop by his art show to fuck me against a wall after weeks without contact.”

“I tried to call you after the Ivy. You blocked my number, Sparkles.”

I glared at him from the kitchen. “Sparkles?”

“To go with Jewels. To go with your eyes when you get really emo and intense.”

I picked up a dishtowel and started aggressively wiping invisible spots on the counter. “I had to block your number, Fort. No offense to you personally. I’m just at the point where I have to be more careful about the men I let into my life.”

“As you should be.” He stood to bring me his cup, his expression turned serious. “I try to be careful too. I try to maintain boundaries when I think someone might be easily hurt.”

My eyes widened. “Me? You think I’m some fragile flower? I’m just super sensitive to bullshit right now.”

He didn’t reply, only watched me with his lofty, level gaze. A sadist? Definitely. He could hurt me in so many ways, and those were only the ways I knew about.

“Come here, Sparkles,” he said from across the counter.

“My name’s not Sparkles.”

“Come here, Juliet.”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to make some more hot tea and dash his most-hated mixture in his face.

No, I wanted to go to him. His expression was kind, if resigned. His arms opened for me. I walked around the counter and let him embrace me. He pressed his cheek against my forehead and stroked my back.

“You’d hate it,” he said. “You’d hate what I’m into.”

“I didn’t hate it last night.”

“I was careful with you last night.” He tilted my head back and brushed fingers across my temples and through my hair. “We have this rule at the club: never fuck with the vulnerable. We’re not allowed to hook up with women who are emotionally or physically complicated, women we might damage. We can’t even bring them into the space. It’s like an honor system.”

I tugged my chin from his fingers and looked away.

“I figured out why I like you,” he went on. “I figured out why I want you so much. It’s because you’re all on the surface. Your emotions are right there, plain as day, all the time. You don’t give a fuck about saying what you feel and being who you are. You have this open expression, this way of looking at me and at other people. And you dress however you want.”

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

His eyes glanced over the blue fur headband I wore. “I love the way you dress. I love the way that headband matches your eyes, but not your clothes.”

“These are my Sunday hangout clothes,” I said, pouting. “They’re not supposed to look hot and put together like your freaking designer suits.”

He held me against his chest, running his big hands up and down my back. “Just shut up for a minute, because I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know what to do about what happened last night…”

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Read Today!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2wK0jHR

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2vt8mZD

iBooks: http://apple.co/2wjqCDH

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Kobo: http://bit.ly/2iJQwLM

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Blog Tour

About Annabel:

Annabel Joseph is a NYT and USA Today Bestselling BDSM romance author. She writes mainly contemporary romance, although she’s been known to dabble in the medieval and Regency eras. She is known for writing emotionally intense BDSM storylines, and strives to create characters that seem real—even flawed—so readers are better able to relate to them. Annabel also writes non-BDSM romance under the pen name Molly Joseph.

Connect with Annabel:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2jrZf5Z

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annabeljosephnovels

Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/388182564641628/

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Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/annabeljoseph/

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http://annabeljoseph.com

 

Categories : BDSM, Contemporary Erotic Romance, Release Blitz Tagged : Annabel Joseph, Dark Control

RELEASE BLITZ and GIVEAWAY: MASTER’S FLAME by ANNABEL JOSEPH

May 17, 2014

Masters Flame Release Blitz

[Read more…]

Categories : BDSM, Book Blitz, Giveaway Tagged : Annabel Joseph, Excerpt, Master's Flame

Book Blitz and Giveaway – Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire

March 5, 2014

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Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire
Boxed Set
(The Dark Duet #1)
Publication date: March 3rd 2014
Genres: Romance

Synopsis:

Take a trip to the dark side with 12 books by some of the hottest names in edgy romance, including USA Today Bestselling authors CJ Roberts, Eliza Gayle, and Aleatha Romig!

Pam Godwin – Beneath the Burn
Skye Warren – Wanderlust
Claire Thompson – Enslaved
Cari Silverwood – Take Me Break Me
Annabel Joseph – Comfort Object
Aleatha Romig – Consequences
Shoshanna Evers – The Man Who Holds the Whip
Annika Martin – The Hostage Bargain
Jasmine Haynes – Take Your Pleasure
Eliza Gayle – Play With Me
Pepper Winters – Tears of Tess
CJ Roberts – Captive in the Dark

These e-books would cost over $40 if purchased separately. This set will only be available for a limited time, so order your copy now!

All of these books are 18+, some are new adult romance, some are erotic romance, but all feature dark themes.

Goodreads Link

Purchase:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble

Guest Post by Anabel Joseph – Bad Boys, and Why We Love Them

My name is Annabel Joseph, and I’m a bad boy addict.

I know it’s wrong. I know they’re bad for me, but I can’t quit ’em. It’s probably because my first book boyfriend was Leo Kovalensky in Rand’s We The Living. (Yeah, I grew up in a weird home. But I digress.)
I remember getting into it with some authors on a romance chat board about how heroes “should be.” Kind, protective, responsible, loving, romantic. I raised my digital hand and said, “I like heroes who are mean sometimes.”
Jaws dropped, tongues lashed, lectures ensued. “Romance heroes can’t be bad, Annabel! They have to be heroic or you’re doing it WRONG.” I backed out of that argument because I wasn’t going to convince any of them otherwise, but in my heart I knew there was a place for bad boys in romance. I knew because I’d written a bunch of them, and those books (and bad boys) were the ones my readers talked about the most.
I can’t explain the Bad Boy mystique, I just know there’s something about a man who’s not perfect, who’s rough around the edges, who doesn’t always know the right thing to do or say. There’s something about watching a bad boy dig himself deeper into trouble with the heroine, and then seeing him realize that, bad as he is, love is badder and stronger than any of his faults.
I suppose that’s the key to it all. Love always prevails.
If the hero’s perfect and love prevails, yeah, sure, it’s sweet, but what else was going to happen? He’s perfect, for God’s sake. But when a bad boy finds love…well, that’s something special. There’s extra effort, a pressing need for redemption that makes my heart ache and worry, and then swell with joy when the bad boy finds his way to his Perfect Girl, the one who understands and accepts him, flaws and all.
The hero of my book, Jeremy Gray, is a Bad Boy Extraordinaire: selfish, haughty, demanding, sexually deviant. But he’s one other thing too…a damaged, scared man who really just wants love. I hope you’ll order MAKE ME: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire to meet my bad boy Jeremy, and many other bad boys who’ll make your heart ache and swell. As well as some other parts, hopefully. Thanks for reading!

Excerpt from Annabel Joseph’s Comfort Object in MAKE ME:

I was huddled beside my things on the stairs when he found me. He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t acknowledge him. He leaned down to pick up the eviction notice, holding it between his perfect fingers and scanning it with a frown.
“I’m sorry, Nell. Think of it as tough love.”
“You’re a sociopath.”
He sat down beside me, taking off his sunglasses and holding them loosely in his hand. “I’m not a sociopath, just desperate. I’m supposed to leave in four days. And I really, really want you to come with me.”
I breathed deeply, considering my next step. Punch him? Call the police? Gouge out his eyeballs? Listen to what he has to say…
“There are a million girls in L.A.” I said, hugging my knees more tightly to my chest. “A million girls who would probably jump at this opportunity. So why me?”
“Because I want you. There may be a million girls, but I want you. Kyle told me…” His voice trailed off as he thought better of it. “I heard that you were different. That you were smarter, deeper. That you were tough. That you were petite and beautiful. When I met you, I saw it was all true. I want you, not anyone else. If there’s someone better out there, I don’t know where she is and I don’t care. My mind’s made up.”
“I’m a person, Jeremy. I have a life. I have the right to self-determination.”
“I do too. If I want you, I can do whatever is in my power to attain you, within the law.”
“Within the law? You used slander and entrapment to get me fired from my job. Then you had me wrongfully evicted from my apartment. Now I’m homeless, and I can’t even… I can’t even…”
God, I needed my mom, but we hadn’t spoken in years. I was estranged from my whole family. I could call my friends, but they wouldn’t believe the story of what was going on with me, even if I could make it make sense in the retelling. And I’d signed his stupid confidentiality contract, on top of everything else. I hugged myself, feeling powerless and confused. Why was I even sitting with him? Why, even now, did some part of me want to insinuate myself into his arms?
“The thing is,” Jeremy said, “I really want to help you. I think you and I could have a lot of fun together. I think this could be mutually beneficial, this arrangement I’m proposing. The only reason you can’t see that is because you’re so angry and afraid of how I went about making it happen.”
“It’s not happening. I hate you so much, I can’t even explain how much I hate you right now.”
“It’s okay to hate me, to be afraid of me, to despise me. I don’t care. Just know that I would never do anything to hurt you, really hurt you, no matter what it seems like. Come with me, and belong to me for a while. Relax into it. Don’t think about it so much.”
“You’re a psycho,” I muttered, burying my head in my knees.
We sat there for a few moments, and then he reached over and put his hand on the back of my neck. He threaded his fingers into the wavy curls of my shoulder-length hair and started to rub my scalp and nape. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I couldn’t. It felt so good, so comforting. My mother used to caress me that way to soothe me when I was tired or afraid.
“Listen, what do you want more than anything else in the world?” he asked quietly, when I was reduced to putty in his hands.
I didn’t answer.
“Because you know what I want? I want you to come traveling with me these next four months. That’s all I want. A partnership with you. Simple and erotic and enjoyable and exciting and fun. That’s what I want most on earth. Now, what do you want more than anything else? Something I can do for you. Tell me.”
I shouldn’t have answered, but I did.
“I want to go to college. I want to finish my degree.”
“Finish?” he asked in surprise. “What degree have you already started? Medical school? Law school?”
“Comparative cultural mythology.”
He laughed. “I see now why you turned to waitressing and sex work.”
I pulled away from him and didn’t reply.
“Well, listen, if you stay with me for the term of the contract and work for me, then when you’re no longer in my employ, I’ll pay your way through college. Any university, any degree you want—bachelor’s, master’s, doctorate, whatever. If you can’t get into the university you want, I’ll pay your way into it. Anywhere you like. That’s in addition to the salary I’m already prepared to pay you, the salary I quoted you before. That’s what I can offer you. Maybe it sweetens the deal.”
And damn it, I guess it did.
A little-known fact about me—I attended Harvard University for two years following a stellar high school career and a perfect score on my SATs, and began what I hoped would be a lifelong career in the study and publication of papers on mythological tales and documents. But I had to leave because of my fucked-up family; a father sent to jail, a suicidal mother spiraling out of control, siblings with their heads up their asses. I did what I could, then finally washed my hands of the whole morass, but it was far too late to return to my studies, and the money was gone.
The money. Why was life about money? I’d been trying to save, but it was hard. University tuition was steep, and scholarships were hard to win when your application essay detailed your adventures as a submissive for hire. I put away what I could each month by cutting corners where I was able. I quit the gym to save money and exercised at home with workout DVDs from the public library. I stayed out of the pricier lingerie boutiques and shopped the end-of-season sales at Victoria’s Secret. I turned down dinner invitations, bowed out of barhopping with friends to put money away for the future. Still, after five years of determined saving, I barely had enough saved to cover one semester at Harvard, much less an entire degree.
But now, after a short stint of indentured servitude, I could get my life back on track. Maybe he was some twisted gift from the universe, this horrible man. He was the money, the influence I needed to move forward.
I crossed my arms over my chest, still refusing to look at him.
“I don’t know you at all,” I said. “I don’t think this is completely safe.”
“That’s what all the paperwork is for. You know how this works. If you would have looked over the papers completely, I think you would have felt better about everything. Jesus, I paid a lot of money to have them drawn up. Fortunately my lawyer is very discreet.”
“And perverted. To write up contracts like that.”
“Yes. Sure. The contract is perverse, and by no stretch of the imagination admissible in court. But it’s a job, Nell, a job that I think you’d enjoy very much. You live the lifestyle. It’s in your heart, it’s in your blood, it’s in your will. I think that’s why this is so hard for you. You want to be my submissive, but I think you’re ashamed.”
It was true. I despised myself for secretly craving the arrangement he suggested. “You hide too,” I pointed out. “You hide the way you are. From the public, from your fans.”
“Only as much as I have to. I do have a public persona to uphold. But I’m not ashamed of it. I think power exchange is beautiful. I think you are too. I think everything about you is beautiful.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Not yet. But if I get my way, I’ll know you very well.”
I rubbed my eyes. I was too tired to come up with any more protests or recriminations. Deep inside, I knew I’d already made up my mind. He knew it too.
“Finished sulking?”
“For now.” I looked over at my things, then back at Jeremy Gray sitting beside me. “But what do I do? What now?”
Jeremy pulled out his phone.
“I’m going to call someone to pick up your things, and we’re going to go to my place. We’re going to sit down with my lawyer and go over the paperwork page by page. When we’re done, I think you’ll agree to start a relationship with me, but if you decide not to, I’ll get your eviction reversed.”
“And if I do agree to this ‘relationship’?”
“We’ll go to dinner tonight and tip off the paparazzi. Our first date.” He turned away from me to bark into his phone. “Kyle, come over. She’s ready now.”

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Categories : Book Blitz, Dark Romance, Giveaway, Romance Tagged : Aleatha Romig, Annabel Joseph, Annika Martin, Cari Silverwood, CJ Roberts, Claire Thompson, Eliza Gayle, Jasmine Haynes, Make Me, Pepper Winters, Shoshanna Evers, Skye Warren

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