Cover Reveal for Her Secret Master by Samantha Calcott



COVER REVEAL!

She will never bow.






Cover design by S.L. Perrine of Mayhem Designs


Avery Lourdes is a romance writer, specializing in BDSM culture. Once a week she attends a popular, secretive BDSM club. Not to participate, but to gather ideas. She watches the people and the scenes performed, jotting down notes for her next project.


When famous but problematic actor Geoffrey Underwood begins attending the same club, he immediately sets his sights on the young author.



While she's flattered, she has no intention of becoming wife #5, or helping the sexy Dominant divorce wife #4. But the attraction grows, and Avery soon finds herself stuck in the middle of a love story riddled with pain, lies, and plenty of pleasure.



What is one to do when they've accidentally stepped right into one of their own plots?





EXCERPT


“Miss Lourdes, what a coincidence.”
Oh fucking fuck, she thought, ignoring the stab of lust in her lower belly. She swirled around on the barstool, her knee brushing against his hip by accident. “Mr. Underwood, this is becoming redundant.”
“Is it now?” he asked, sipping something from his glass. He was sober, so she hoped it was just a Coke. “I thought it was serendipity.”
“Great movie,” she said, hoping to deflect him.
His smirk widened. “Have you changed your mind about my offer yet?”
“Not unless you’ve changed your history,” she replied.
He moved his head, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “History doesn't change, but people do, Miss Lourdes. In case you haven’t noticed, I have transformed greatly in the past few years.”
She scoffed. “If you had, you wouldn’t be badgering me.”
He was so close again. Even closer this time, as his body brushed against her legs. He leaned against the bar on one elbow, his eyes never leaving hers. His gaze captivated her, and like a good Dom, he could have asked her to do nearly anything and she would have obliged.
“Tell me, why do you come here if you don’t participate?” he asked.
“Who says I don’t participate?” she asked.
“The first night I saw you, you were at the bar and then left. The second, your hair was still perfect. No one participates in BDSM and comes out looking picture perfect. And tonight, you have been writing in that damned tablet for the past hour. It doesn’t appear to me that you have any interest in letting your hair down,” he observed.
“You have no idea what my interests are, Mr. Underwood,” she said to him. Her poker face was amazing; no one would ever know from her face or her voice that she was struggling not to get up and throw herself at him shamelessly.
“I would understand if you were a voyeur,” he said. “But I can assure you, nothing beats participating when you have the proper partner. Or do you already have a Master, and you’re just being polite?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t be doing anything with you, Master or no Master.” She moved to stand, expecting him to step back. He did not, and now that she was standing, she was eye-to-eye with him, and nearly chest-to-chest. She could breathe in the subtle scent of his musky cologne, his spicy aftershave, and something sweet just below that. His scent alone was intoxicating and she hated herself for being so damn virtuous.
“Can you tell me why?” he asked. “I realize you don’t owe me anything, but I am curious.”
“Did I not lay it out for you the other night?” she asked. “You’re married, and you have the reputation of a Casanova. I’m not going to be another notch on your belt, Mr. Underwood. And I would appreciate it if you would stop pestering me. The fact that you can’t take ‘no’ for an answer tells me all I need to know about you.”
With that, she turned on her heel and went to walk away. She had to walk away, or else what remained of her resolve would vanish, and she couldn’t let that happen.
However, he grabbed her arm lightly. She turned back to face him questioningly. He tugged her closer, within kissing distance, and she began to feel dizzy with want. It was absolutely unfair.
“Do you want to know why I refuse to take a ‘no’ from you?” he asked, his voice low in her ear. “It’s because I know your refusal is insincere. If you can look me in the eye right now and tell me that you have absolutely no attraction to me, then I will walk away and never bother you again.”
His thumb began to caress her skin, moving in slow circles as if to relax her. “I can read you like a book, pet. Your resolve is admirable, and if it is true, if you would never submit to me, tell me now. I promise I will leave you alone if you can tell me to my face that you don’t want me to take you upstairs and fuck you to within an inch of your life.”
If he hadn’t been holding onto her, there was a distinct chance that Avery would have fallen with the force of heat that washed over her at his words. And he had her, damn him. He knew she wanted him, and had put her in an awkward position: outright lie to his face, or give in to a sin that would surely send her straight to Hell.
“I…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, because she had no idea what she was going to say. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what?” he asked. “Come on, little girl. Use your words. What can’t you do? Tell me.”

“Can’t be around you anymore,” she said, nearly breathless.


Samantha Calcott is a secret lover of romance when it's done right, and after years of writing under another pen name in the horror and paranormal genres, she decided to dip her toe into a brand new genre.
She's a Midwestern girl who spent nearly a decade in the gritty heart of Los Angeles, where sex, drugs, and rock n' roll reign. When not writing, she's reading, at a concert, or cooking.
She currently lives in Illinois. She also writes horror and paranormal books as USA Today bestselling author Lily Luchesi.

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