Thursday, March 20, 2014

Auctioned to Protect by Doris O'Connor - Spotlight


Title: Auctioned to Protect
Author: Doris O'Connor
Genre: Erotica, Contemporary, BDSM


Long Blurb:

Tough undercover cop Mike Anderson does not submit to anyone, let alone a pint sized bundle of curves with a Mistress Complex, who stands for everything he despises about BDSM.

Thrown into a world where the rules make no sense to him, he has to rely on his instincts, and they all scream one thing—submit to His Lady.

Scarlett Simpson is one of the most feared Mistresses at Club Spectrum and she has a score to settle. Mike's atrocious behavior needs addressing. If only she wasn't so attracted to the big hunk of a man, and he didn't prove so utterly responsive. As she explores his boundaries through Shibari and Knife Play, Scarlett can't help but get emotionally involved.

Submission freely given is a gift she treasures, but can she trust Mike to stay around once the case is over? When danger comes knocking, will Mike be able to protect her, or will this end in tragedy?




Mike’s heart crashed against his chest bone, and his whole body tensed as adrenaline flooded his system at the sight of that knife.
“I warn you now. You come near me with that fucking knife and woman or not, I’ll take you out. This isn’t funny.”
He kept his gaze trained on that wicked-looking blade, and breathed a sigh of relief when Scarlett put it down on the massage table. She cocked her head to one side and regarded him steadily with an extremely unsettling small smile on her full lips.
Now what was the blasted woman up to?
“I mean it, there’s no way you’re getting near me with that thing. Knives are not for playing stupid games.”
“I agree, and I take knife play very seriously. It’s also the most effective way to test your trust in me.”
“You’re fucking losing the plot, here.”
Scarlett laughed, and drew herself up to every inch of her five-foot-nothing frame. She fixed him with that look again, and stood to one side.
“No, I’m not losing the plot here, you are. Look at yourself. Not so brave now, are we?”
“What has you getting some kick out of cutting me with a fucking knife got to do with bravery? Been there, done that, got the fucking T-shirt and the scars to prove it, so—”
“Show me,” Scarlett interrupted him and he stopped dead, and scowled at her.
Damn infuriating woman. He lifted his left arm, and she stepped closer to inspect the fine line left behind. That blade had punctured his lung and put him out of action for a while. He sucked in a breath when she followed that line and used just enough force for her long fingernails to score his skin.
“Anywhere else?” she asked.
Their gazes locked as she continued to run her hands over his naked skin, and he had to clear his throat to get the words out.
“My back.”
She stepped away and around the table and then her soft little hands were back, tracing a line down his spine this time, until she found the mark just underneath his kidneys. He grimaced at her sharp intake of breath, and then closed his eyes when something soft and supple touched his scars there. Had she kissed him? Sure enough when he risked a look over his shoulder she was in the process of straightening up, her expression unreadable.
Their eyes met again and she smiled at him.
“I can see why this would freak you out, but I never break the skin—never. In the right hands a knife can bring the ultimate erotic pleasure. I’ll show you, if you let me.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to blurt out a very emphatic no, but something in the quiet way she studied him stopped him.
“You mean I get a choice?”
This time he could read her expression all too well. Irritation radiated off her in almost palpable waves, and he knew he’d goofed up again.
“Forget I said that. I know it’s my choice. Laura screeched that at me often enough. How it’s her choice to do all this, and to jump at Slade’s bidding.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice, and Scarlett narrowed her eyes and shook her head.
“And yet you clearly didn’t hear her, did you? What you describe is not the way this works. Laura and Slade’s relationship is far more complicated than that. Your sister is a strong, independent woman, and her submission to her Master is entirely her choice. Submission is a gift any Dominant treasures, and it’s a responsibility none of us take lightly.”
“So you say,” Mike grumbled under his breath.
Scarlett went very still and when she finally looked at him, her previously warm green eyes were icicles of steel.
“Then there is really nothing else to say, and I’ll escort you off the premises.”
“Oh no you won’t. I have a job to do here.”
“Then fucking do it, and open your closed-off mind to the possibilities. There is no place for you here otherwise, and Laura will have lost a brother as well as her parents.”
Her voice could have cut steel, and the ice-cold disdain with which she still regarded him cut through his protective layers of indifference as though she had cut him with that damn knife.
“Keep my fucking sister out of it. I’m here to protect you on order of the commissioner himself, and I’m not moving until I get the bad guy.”
Scarlett moved so fast he never saw it coming. One minute she was stood glaring at him, the next she had her whip in her hand and the end of the damn thing missed his head by inches. Only he got the distinct impression that she didn’t miss him at all. Every crack of the whip rung in his ears, and the air whooshed past his face, yet she never touched him. Mike didn’t dare move, too caught up in watching Scarlett swing that whip with such deadly precision.
When she finally stopped, a fine sheen of perspiration marked her skin and she let out a slow exhale.
“Does that look as though I need protecting?” she asked.


Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris... at least that's what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.

There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.

She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.

                                                                                





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