Cover art for Masters at Arms!!!

What a delight to check my e-mails and find the new cover art for my MASTERS AT ARMS novella, the prequel to the RESCUE ME series. I have a friend doing my covers (and she hasn't come out of the closet yet, so I can't give her name), but she is an awesome talent. I'm hoping she'll retire from her day job soon and share her talents with other writers.

Anyway, here it is! And, yes, those who've been following my comments on Facebook, that's Master Adam's chest. *drool*

This book tells the stories of the three masters, in the ten-year span before the first novel (NOBODY'S ANGEL) opens. Chapters 1-3 are each devoted to one master (in the order their romance stories will be published), telling about a turning point in their lives that put them on track to meet. Chapter 4 shows how the Second Battle of Fallujah during the Iraq War formed a bond between them that can never be broken. That's where Captain Adam Montague decides almost 35 years in the Marines is enough. He retires and decides to follow the retirement plan he and his beloved deceased wife had discussed—to start a fetish club in Denver.

Chapter Five takes the reader to near-present time at the Masters at Arms fetish club. This is where the battle-weary Master Adam will meet up with the 16-year-old runaway he first met in 2002 (Chapter Two).

In this UNEDITED excerpt from MASTERS AT ARMS, she has come to Denver seeking Adam. But first she needs to find a job. Her reunion with Adam is just moments away (and one of my favorite reunion scenes of all time). But this excerpt happens just before that as she prepares to audition for Master Damián.

Karla nibbled at the inside of her lower lip. What kind of club was this? She’d been so jet-lagged when she saw the online ad and e-mailed to book an audition, she really hadn’t paid much attention to the reply other than to get the address and time right.

But she’d never seen anything like this place. A private club. A full bar and stage area right in the middle of someone’s house? And the furniture! There were a few tables and chairs, but what captured her attention were a number of ottomans scattered around the stage—each with manacles and chains attached to them. Talk about a captive audience.

A center pole in the middle of the house’s great room sported several thick eye bolts—and more chains and cuffs at varying heights and intervals. Along the wall were any number of implements of torture whose purpose she didn’t even want to think about.

She cast nervous glances at the Hispanic man in the Harley-Davidson vest sitting at a table between the center post and the bar. While he studied her paperwork, she noticed his shoulder-length hair was pulled into a ponytail. His moustache and goatee gave him the look of a…well, if she needed to put a word to it, it would be sadist. Or what she’d imagine a sadist would look like.

Then he looked up at her and his black eyes bore through her, sending a chill down her spine. No longer able to maintain eye contact, she looked down at the floor. Maybe she should run while she still had the chance. 
No. she needed this job. She looked up again, but her eyes gravitated to the center post with the chains and cuffs. Her stomach quivered, sending a jolt to her clit.

Oh, my!

“Miss Paxton?” Her attention returned to the intimidating man before her. When he stood, she realized how tall he was. Almost as tall as she remembered Adam being, although even Adam probably wasn’t as tall as she remembered. She was only about five-six then. Everyone looked tall to her then.

“Are you ready?” His voice was so stern. No smile. Would this man be her boss? Would she be able to work with someone who put her nerves on edge like he did?

Well, it’s not like you have a lot of options. The market for goth singers was pretty small, especially in an isolated city like Denver.

“Y-yes.” She drew her shoulders back. Why did she feel she should bow down before him. Lord, he intimidated her.

“I’m Damián Orlando, one of the owners of the club. You may call me Master Damián.”

Her hand shook as she adjusted the microphone to her height. Master Damián? What had she gotten herself into this time?

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

He smiled as if satisfied with her response. Well, she was glad she did something to please him. 
“Begin whenever you’re ready.”