a look at the Bromley Brothers #series by Laura N. Andrews #gay #BDSM #Romance @lauranandrews91 @SDSXXTours

Trusting Him
Bromley Brothers Book 1
by Laura N. Andrews
Genre: MM BDSM Romance
This out and proud event coordinator is about to pursue a man he knows could break his heart. But David Rossi isn’t a man he can stay away from.
Event coordinator Trey Bromley is the youngest of three brothers and is out and proud. The last thing he’s looking for is a man who doesn’t know what he wants.
After a chance meeting with David Rossi, a security guard who has recently discovered his bisexuality, Trey begins to question exactly what he wants and how much he’s prepared to bend his own rules.
Healing Him
Bromley Brothers Book 2
“An intense, sexy, and heartfelt gay BDSM romance.”
“The perfect amount of hotness!”
“A baring of souls… beautiful.”
Henry Bromley wants to find not only the perfect submissive, but he’s also searching for love. When he meets Ryan Scott, a man who seems to take control, Henry is conflicted.
However, when passion and lust ignite a spark and their flame is lit, Henry discovers there’s no turning back. He wants Ryan.
Ryan Scott has fought hard to protect himself and his desires. With his wounds freshly opened, Ryan has to make a choice: submit to Henry and allow himself to heal or continue to live the lie he’s created for himself.
Will this Dom help his sub fly? And if trust is broken, can it truly ever be healed?
Canadian born Laura N. Andrews moved to Australia when she was three years old. When she finished high school, she successfully completed her studies in law enforcement. Since then, she’s been working for over eight years as a pharmacy assistant. When she’s not working or spending time with family and friends, you can find her either curled up with a book or writing one of her own.
A signed paperback copy of Trusting Him and an Amazon gift voucher for USD$20
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a look at Properly, Or Not At All by Lucy Felthouse #MF #BDSM #audiobook #audible @cw1985

Good news for audiobook fans who love a spanking short story—Properly, Or Not At All is now available to listen, thanks to the amazing talents of Frankie Holland!

Blurb

Can a husband and wife cope when one of their favourite sexual pastimes is taken away from them?

Tristan and Jayme are not only devoted husband and wife, they are also Dominant and submissive, with a particular penchant for spanking. They’ve been playing delicious kinky games for the fifteen years they’ve been together, and couldn’t be happier. However, when Tristan develops a health issue that means he can’t redden his wife’s backside for a while, it puts them under a lot of strain. It’s a big part of their sex life, and they’ll miss it badly.

They try to find a way around their unfortunate predicament, but in the end, Tristan declares he will either spank Jayme’s bottom properly, or not at all.

The prospect of no spanking at all dismays Jayme, but she has no other choice. Or does she? She continues to put her mind towards the issue and she indulges in some solo experimentation, with mixed results. But how will Tristan react when he finds out his wife has gone behind his back?

Buy

Universal link: http://books2read.com/properlyV2

Excerpt

“You know what this fucking means, don’t you?” Tristan snapped, slamming his car keys onto the hall’s side table and storming into the kitchen.

Jayme hurried after him, her heart racing. Tristan rarely got angry—sure, he often pretended she’d done something wrong and faked being pissed off about it when they played D/s scenes, but real anger—it was something that just didn’t happen. She wasn’t quite sure what had sparked it, either. The news had been unfortunate, yes. Inconvenient, yes—but it wasn’t the end of the world. Tristan’s only choice was to follow the doctor’s advice.

“Um, I take it you mean aside from the obvious?” she ventured quietly, not wanting to piss him off even more.

“Yes,” he said on a heavy sigh, making it clear his anger and frustration weren’t aimed at her. “Come here, you.” He held out his arms, and when she went into them, he hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head. “Fucking hell, Jayme, I’m really going to miss spanking that beautiful arse of yours.”

“And I’m going to miss you doing it,” she murmured into his chest. Then, pulling back so she could make eye contact, continued, “But we’ll cope. There’s loads of other stuff we can do—we can still have fun. As much as I love it, it’s not worth making the problem worse, or screwing up your recovery once you’ve had the op. Your health is more important, babe.”

“Mmm…” came the reply, along with a very displeased expression.

“Hey,” Jayme said sharply, raising her eyebrows, “you might be in charge in the bedroom, mister, but I’m putting my foot down here. Hopefully you’ll get a date through for the operation really soon. And the sooner you have the op, the sooner you’ll be recovered and we can get back to normal. In the meantime,” she grinned widely, “we’ll just have to get creative, won’t we?”

Much to Jayme’s relief, Tristan finally smiled. “You’re right, as always, wife of mine. Clearly I’m not happy about this—fucking carpal tunnel bollocks, spoiling all our fun—but it could be a lot worse, I suppose. At least they’re not operating on my dick.”

“True.” She giggled. “That would take some creativity of epic proportions!”

“It would. So, does this mean we have to have sex more often, then?”

Frowning, Jayme replied, “How do you figure that out?”

“Well, if it’s too risky to spank you, then surely wanking is going to be bad for my wrist, too. And I’m not sure that when the doctor asked if we had any questions, he meant of this nature, did he?”

Jayme laughed again. “No, I’m sure he didn’t. I think we’d have given the poor man a heart attack if we’d started asking him how we were going to get on with our particular kind of sex life without exacerbating your problem. And I was under the impression we already had plenty of sex and that you don’t feel the need to toss yourself off very often.”

“I don’t.” He shrugged. “But you can’t blame a man for trying, can you? Especially when that man’s wife looks like you.”

“No, I suppose not.” She grinned, then slipped her arms around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Closing her eyes, Jayme allowed herself to get into the touching of their lips, the parting, the questing tongues, shoving all thoughts of not being able to have her arse reddened to the recesses of her mind. She loved Tristan with all her heart, and their relationship was so much more than sex and kink, so they’d just have to get on with it.

And what better way to get on with it than to find a way around their unfortunate predicament? She pulled Tristan’s bottom lip into her mouth, then sucked and nibbled at it, enjoying the guttural sounds this elicited from his throat. Letting go of his lip, she then sucked at his tongue, mimicking fellatio on the warm, wet flesh and smirking to herself as his rapidly growing erection pressed against her stomach.

God, yes. The two of them had been together fifteen years, married for thirteen, and were still crazy about each other. What was a little break from spanking in the scheme of things?

Sitting back suddenly as something occurred to her, she said, “Hey, gorgeous. Shall we take this to the bedroom? I’ve had an idea.”

Tristan grabbed her hand and they immediately headed for the bedroom. “Of course. What’s your idea, sweetheart?”

“Well, now,” she replied, grinning wickedly, “that would be telling, wouldn’t it? You’ll just have to wait.”

“Damn,” Tristan muttered, picking up his pace. “I can’t even threaten to punish you unless you tell me.”

“We’ll see.”

After throwing a confused look over his shoulder, he led them up the stairs and into their room before ushering her in and closing the door behind them. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he said, pulling her back into his arms.

“Now, now,” she replied, pushing his chest and wagging a finger at him. “No trying to butter me up just so I’ll cave and tell you what I have in mind.”

Adopting a mock-shocked expression, he said, “Moi? Would I do such a thing?”

“Yes! You bloody would!”

“Yeah, yeah, all right, all right. I totally bloody would. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. You are gorgeous, and I love you. And I want you.” Gesturing towards the erection that tented his jeans, he gave a wry grin. “And you’ll have me,” Jayme shot back matter of factly, beginning to remove her clothes. “Now, Sir, could I respectfully ask that you get naked?”

Author Info

a look at ‘Eyes Wide Open’ by Lucy Felthouse #MMF #BDSM #audio @cw1985

A chance meeting opens Fiona’s eyes to some very sexy possibilities.

About the Book

Good news for audiobook fans who also love steamy BDSM ménage romances—Eyes Wide Open is now available to listen, thanks to the amazing talents of Frankie Holland! Enjoy her dulcet tones as she takes you on an adventure through the swankiest parts of England’s capital city.

Blurb

* Recent graduate Fiona Gillespie is stuck working in a grimy pub in London’s East End, and living in a horrid flat. It’s only while she figures out what she wants to do career-wise, but that’s easier said than done.
* When she sees an advertisement for a job at a plush Mayfair hotel, she jumps at the chance. Determination and a spot of luck land Fiona her dream role—and it comes with accommodation included.
* Her job and living situation sorted, things are on the up. Unfortunately, her personal life is lacklustre. It doesn’t bother her, though—not until she meets businessmen James and Logan, and her head is well and truly turned.
* When a misunderstanding leads Fiona to James and Logan’s sumptuous top-floor hotel suite, she has no idea what she’s about to uncover. Her imagination runs wild, but not wild enough to get to the truth—James and Logan are a couple, and they’re into some seriously intriguing activities.
* Fascinated, she launches herself into a whole new world with the two men. But is this just physical, or is their arrangement set to become something more?

Excerpt

Fiona Gillespie wiped a damp cloth half-heartedly over the surface of the bar. It was a pointless exercise. The pub’s fittings and fixtures were so old that no amount of scrubbing would remove the grime that had been ingrained in the wood over the decades. That and the next time she served one of the old drunks who frequented the place, it’d just get beer spilled on it again.
* Glancing at her surroundings in distaste, Fiona stifled a derisive snort when she caught sight of the swinging pub sign through the window. It had never really registered before, but The Royal Oak? There was nothing remotely royal about the pub in London’s East End where she worked. If an actual royal—even a minor one—so much as stepped foot across the threshold, they’d run screaming in the other direction. A shame, really, as a chance to try to woo Prince Harry would not go amiss. She was sure those mischievous eyes and smile hid a multitude of sexy sins. His grandmother would not approve. And besides, he was spoken for now.
* Abandoning her cloth with a sigh, she reached for a newspaper one of the patrons had left behind. There was hardly anyone in, as usual, so no glasses to collect, tables to wipe, or bowls of nuts to refill. A flick through the paper was her only source of entertainment. Or at least the only thing to stop her going completely out of her mind with boredom.
* It wasn’t quite where she’d seen herself when she’d decided to take a chance and move to London after graduating from university. But while she figured out her next career move—or any career move—this would have to do. It served a purpose—paying her a paltry wage, just enough to cover the rent and bills on her scummy flat, and food. There really wasn’t much left after that, so her social life mainly consisted of vegging in front of the TV with her flatmates.
* They’d club together their miniscule amount of disposable income to buy some cheap, supermarket own-brand lager and swap stories, either about their pasts or about how their current situation was just temporary—just a stepping stone on their way to success, to high-flying, ridiculously well-paid jobs in the banking world, the publishing industry, in PR, advertising, acting, production, tourism… The list went on.
* Fiona was absolutely determined to get a foot on the career ladder. She’d rather scurry back home to her parents in Birmingham with her tail between her legs than stay in this dump for much longer. The only trouble was, the others at least knew what they were aiming for, which particular ladder they were trying to grab hold of. She’d graduated with a first class honours in creative writing and didn’t have a clue what to do with the damn degree now she had it.
* Nobody got approached just for having a degree in creative writing, then were given a ton of money and told to sit down and write a book. It simply didn’t work like that—more was the pity. Even the world’s most famous and successful writers had had to start somewhere. And she wasn’t sure fiction writing was the way to go, anyway.
* A cough, accompanied by a whiff of stale smoke and booze, alerted her to the presence of a customer.
* Fixing a smile on her face, she turned to him and said politely, “What can I get you?”
* A white-haired, grizzled old guy with yellowing teeth—the teeth he still had, anyway—squinted at her. “Pint, if you’re not too busy reading the bleeding newspaper.”
* Holding the smile so firmly in place it hurt her now-gritted teeth, she took the proffered glass and filled it. After placing it back on the bar, she picked up the money that had been left. The exact right amount. This guy bought enough pints to know. She murmured her thanks as she deposited the money in the till, but she needn’t have bothered. The grumpy old sod was already halfway back to his table, precious beer in hand.
* She rolled her eyes. Then, after double checking there was nothing that needed doing, shifted her attention back to the newspaper, figuring it was better than wondering about a career she couldn’t even imagine.
* As it happened, the paper wasn’t all that engaging. It was several days out of date, so she knew about all the big news pieces already, and the weather and TV listings were now obsolete. But her interest was piqued when she reached the jobs section. She’d never looked in this particular publication for jobs before, thinking the online searches she did on various websites were more targeted, more relevant. But then, how could you target a role you didn’t even know you wanted?
* Skimming through the ads, she immediately dismissed many of them. She had no wish—or the qualifications—to drive an HGV, look after sick or old people, cold call, sell advertising, work in retail or become a model. But amongst all that was something interesting. Something that maybe, just maybe, she could do.
* She wasn’t entirely sure what being a PR assistant entailed, but it sounded like a very posh job title, and she could sure as hell tick the box of the phrase in the ad that had caught her eye in the first place. We’re looking for someone with creative writing skills.
* As she read through the information again, excitement bubbled in her stomach. The role was at a top London hotel—in Mayfair, no less—offered live-in accommodation, a generous starting salary, access to all the hotel’s amenities and, best of all, career progression. It was clear they wouldn’t employ just anybody and, if Fiona was honest with herself, they were probably looking for someone with more experience than her—which wasn’t difficult—but she had to give it a go. She had nothing to lose. If she didn’t get it, then she’d have gained some valuable interview experience—if she even got that far, that was—and if she did, well, then she’d have well and truly grabbed the bottom rung of the career ladder she’d been striving for.
* It was only on her third read-through, when she was mentally picking out key words and phrases she could use to help tailor her CV to the role and to write a spectacular covering letter, that she noticed the closing date for applications. For fuck’s sake! How typical was that? The only job advert she’d seen since arriving in the capital that had got her genuinely fired up, and she’d missed the bloody date by one day. One. Single. Day.

Buy

Universal link: http://books2read.com/eyeswideopenv2

About the Author

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight and The Heiress’s Harem series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Join her Facebook group for exclusive cover reveals, sneak peeks and more! Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter here: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter
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