I hope you enjoyed the sunshine in the Uk today! We have to get it while we can. Lol.
This is just a short note to let you know, Daddy's Rules is now available for pre-order on Totally Bound Publishings Website in PRINT & EBOOK Formats!!
As soon as I get a pre-order link for Amazon I will post it on here!
Check out the blurb and a small excerpt below.
Have a great night!
I am forever naked to him. There is nothing I can hide. All that I am I have surrendered to him. I am Daddy’s Little Girl.
Gabrielle Charles is trapped in a cold loveless marriage with a controlling man. At a crossroads in her life, she believes all hope for an escape is lost until she meets young French billionaire, Valentin Coudray. Taken with her vulnerability, strength and fragile beauty, he invites her into his erotic world to explore her true sexual nature as his submissive.
Coudray wishes to bare Gabrielle’s truth and help her find the will to stand up to her bullying husband and end her marriage. In return for allowing him to dominate her, he vows to love, protect and cherish her in every sense. But when a dangerous man from Valentin’s past reappears to threaten Gabrielle and her ex-husband attempts to manipulate her with guilt back into his arms, the lovers are forced to fight to stay together.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of BDSM, spanking and anal sex.
Daddy's Rules Excerpt
His presence entered my life when I least expected it. Isn’t that always the way? Daddy came when I believed all hope was lost and my life was a prison sentence I would never escape from, when I no longer saw the windows on my home as clear, unhindered portals to allow light and the outside world to flood in but with bars. They were barriers, reminding me of what I could not have—freedom.
Everyone wants the best for their child. They will sacrifice all that they have, even their life, no matter how many others find their actions insensible. My marriage was over, but my duty to my child remained. Until she finished school and was able to move on with her life, I would remain at the marital home. I would continue to pretend to be the dutiful wife to a husband who would not accept that I would eventually leave, despite my constant assertions. He could not understand why my love for him had died, even though the evidence of the reason was plain for all to see. But he would never let go. Perhaps he couldn’t. Perhaps he was too frightened of what would happen if he did.
It was one early Friday morning when I entered a restaurant serving breakfast and coffee to early morning shoppers. I’d decided I needed a break from writing that morning and I could afford the time for a change. As a nervous person, it was no easy feat for me to accomplish. Sitting on my own, I usually worried if anyone was watching me, then I would spend the rest of the time thinking how stupid I looked. I know…crazy, right? As if they could be bothered to watch me. But there it was.
I ordered my usual—a rich-bean latte, eggs and mushrooms on toasted Italian bread. While I waited for my order, I pretended to be preoccupied with my mobile phone. Then I felt it. Those dark eyes looking at me, boring into my very soul.
The feeling of being watched was so strong that it forced me to look up and seek out the threat. My eyes locked with black ones. They belonged to a man younger than me in age, yet they spoke of a wisdom I had never attained. To say he was handsome would be an understatement and do him a disservice. He had thick, black, lustrous hair that shone under the light. It was cut short and appeared businesslike, just like the rest of him. My admirer wore an immaculate black suit. There was no doubt in my mind it was designer. His tie was silver—clearly silk—and he wore a large but elegant Rolex watch. Everything about the man said money with a capital M.
My observer sat at a table in the corner surrounded by three men and two women in business suits. They were talking loudly in French among themselves and referring to two large plans they had stretched across the table. He was not paying any attention. Leaning back in his cream booth-seat, he studied me closely while he rested his arm and elbow on the table, exposing his crisp white shirt’s cuff and silver cufflink. The pose displayed his dominance and power to perfection. Although I was not fully aware of the reason for this strange sensation at the time, my whole body softened, ready to submit to it.
Something drew me to his hands. They were well manicured, large and enticingly masculine. For a moment, I found myself imagining them caressing my body—my bare bottom in particular. I wanted to feel his smooth palm tracing the delicate skin, circling his fingertips over it as though it belonged to him. I wanted his hand to slap at my buttock, making it jump and quiver as I cried out with the pain and the strange pleasure the action enforced in my mind.
But it was nothing to the sudden image of me kneeling naked and submissive at his feet. The urge to be made to kneel before him was compelling and strong. I had never entertained such thoughts or images in my life. They made me angry, disturbed. I could not—would not—feel subservient to a man. I was a feminist who ranted and raved, not someone who knelt naked and pliant at a man’s feet, welcoming his dominance and mastery in my world. Yet the gentle dampness between my thighs displayed my betrayal and told me otherwise.
The heat of a blush rose in my cheeks forcing me to turn away. My heart pounded with frustration and annoyance. But the magnetic pull of his eyes quickly drew me back. He smiled gently at me when my gaze returned to his face. There was triumph in his dark eyes, as though he knew all my damaging, conflicting thoughts. I had a strong feeling I had been captured and caged by a clever hunter.