Saturday, May 26, 2012
Run immediately and grab a copy of the Rolling Stone Big Issue! You'll see the lovely and talented Cherise Sinclair featured on the books page as the next big thing in "Mommy Porn."
Mommy Porn may not be a tag we love, but it's awesome to see Cherise mentioned for her wonderful, rich, evocative BDSM novels.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
If you have a reader, most file types are available so there's no need to wait for it to come up on the secondary market.
Go rope a copy for yourself!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Even though she lived in Denver and only visited Dark Haven a few times a year, Shelby knew of Master Trevor’s stern reputation. Other subs dreamily whispered about him, wanting to experience his lash.
He stood well over six feet tall and commanded respect just by walking into a room. His broad shoulders, dark hair, unyielding jaw, and purposeful stride were the stuff of fantasies. Factor in his sexy, gravelly voice and she’d been a goner from the start.
If she were honest, she’d admit the other subs weren’t the only ones to fantasize about him. Ever since she’d first seen him last fall, she’d masturbated to images of him, and she hadn’t felt guilty doing so. He was exactly the type of man she wanted to dominate her.
Even though she had been kneeling on the floor for at least an hour, watching the poker game unfold in front of her, wondering how high the stakes would go, seeing Master Trevor with a replica six-shooter strapped to his thigh made everything bearable.
A cowboy hat sat jaggedly atop his head, partially shadowing his steely, electric blue eyes.
He’d wrapped a dark blue bandanna around his throat, and a tailored Western shirt hugged his upper body.
Because she’d been placed on the floor like a good little sub, she knew his brown cowboy boots were authentic, marred and scratched by the years. He also wore a pair of spurs. The silver had dulled, but they had made a forceful sound when he’d walked across the floor earlier.
The dark color of his jeans had faded slightly, and he’d obviously worn them a number of times, long enough that the denim had broken in to hug his strong thighs.
Master Trevor sat easily in his chair, his shoulders relaxed. He toyed with several high denomination chips, turning them over between his thumb and forefinger.
Last night, after she’d packed her suitcase for the trip to the West Coast, she’d imagined him drawing her across a room and tying her to a spanking bench, her ass upturned for his hand or a flogger, whatever he chose. After tonight, though, and seeing the well-worn belt circling his waist, she knew future fantasies would include that supple leather against her backside.
Unable to help herself as the minutes dragged on, she sneaked a glance at the object of her desire. He looked at her -- apparently sensing her perusal -- and held her gaze captive.
A shiver of fear mixed with desire raced up her spine as they made eye contact.
In that brief second, his steel blue eyes promised one thing: punishment. If she were his sub, her out-of-bounds behavior wouldn’t be tolerated. He’d expect, and demand, perfect submission.
Her breaths threatened to strangle her.
She wanted him. She craved his dominance. And her raw need scared her.
He raised a brow commandingly and nodded toward the floor.
Even though he wasn’t her dom, she immediately dropped her gaze to stare at the wooden floor.
BDSM wasn’t a way of life for her. Rather it was something she occasionally enjoyed, much like having dessert after a celebratory dinner. The weekends a few times a year satisfied her needs. Or they had, until right now, until this powerful reaction to Master Trevor’s unspoken command.
She heard the echo of footsteps, and she dared another surreptitious look. This time, though, she didn’t look up. She glanced sideways so it wasn’t immediately noticeable that she was being deliberately disobedient.
For long moments he sat there quietly, a study in self-mastery.
Finally, Master Trevor nodded and said, “If I win, I want the sub.”
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
“Damn, she’s good.” Tex’s voice showed his admiration. They’d trailed her through alleys until her scent would mysteriously vanish, only to pick it up several blocks away. Eventually Hunter had thought to look up, to seek the trail on another level. That had sped up the pursuit somewhat.
Tex was a pretty good hunter for having no enhancements; he seemed to have a knack for locating the most likely route she might have taken. Once, they found themselves on a fire escape that was so fragile, it barely held both men. Another time they ran swiftly over flat rooftops, leaping from building to building.
As they hunted, Hunter’s excitement increased, because, like Tex, he’d finally come to the conclusion that his little Holly was playing a game, leading them on a chase. This was flirtation and courtship, and she was initiating the game. It was the sudden awareness of what came at the end of the chase that had him aroused. Slowly but surely, they were heading back into the neighborhood from where they’d started.
When they arrived back near Dark Haven, the men moved at a silent, deadly pace, swifter than shadows in the darkness. They were only blocks away from the club when he spotted her.
“Is that her?” Tex’s voice held amazement as they slowed to a stop. He’d never seen her human form before. Hunter hid a grin at what his companion had in store, because Holly… She was beautiful.
They hadn’t caught Holly; she’d finally stopped running. And she now stood poised under the misty light of a street lamp. Wet asphalt glistened under her bare feet. She was waiting. His heart pounded frantically, unable to differentiate between lust and anger and flat-out joy.
There she was, beautiful as he remembered. Her black hair was long and sleek instead of cropped and dull. Instead of ragged bleached cotton, she wore tight denim jeans and a Western-style leather vest with nothing under it but skin and a lacy black bra. Though she was barefoot, he was willing to bet she’d left a pair of cowboy boots somewhere inside.
She saw them, and the wild emotions in her eyes reflected what he was feeling. She looked from one man to the other, and to his chagrin, Hunter realized she was equally drawn to them both. He glanced at his companion, almost amused at how transfixed Tex was.
He was a goner. Hunter knew Tex had sought out Holly over and over again since they’d come to Truckee. Most likely his promiscuous behavior had been out of confusion -- the subconscious knowledge that what he needed most was…somewhere. Never knowing she was right under his nose. Jealousy flared and then died at the dawning realization at what was happening right there and then. Something he’d never dreamed could happen…
Then she snared Hunter with that fathomless gaze, and likewise, he felt as frozen as a deer in the headlights. He was caught, and so was Tex. The knowledge wasn’t as painful as he would have expected. His inner vision of the future shifted, making room for one more.
“I always knew she was my mate. Just didn’t figure she’d be yours too.” His throat felt so tight, it hurt to talk.
Tex tore his gaze from the woman and looked at Hunter in shock.
“Two of us? I’ve heard that dominant females will claim more than one mate…but Holly?” He looked back at her in surprise. “Eva’s a dominant. She’s with Harte only.”
“Harte’s an alpha. He’s at the top of the pyramid in his pack. We’re lower in the hierarchy. Dominant, but not alpha.”
It made odd sense as the explanation came from his mouth. He’d grown up outside the normal structure of a pack, but it was clear once he was confronted with the reality.
Holly wanted them both.
Immediately his wolf rose in possessive jealousy. In reaction, Holly poised to run, drawing his hostility away from Tex.
“Oh no you don’t!” Tex crouched slightly, poised to leap after her.
She was off and running, with Tex only yards behind her. Hunter sprinted to catch up with the other man, leaping over trash cans and debris that littered the alley. They dodged back into the side streets, clambered over a chain-link fence and into a parking lot. She was fast, and she was agile, easily keeping out of their reach.
“Give me space…” Tex grunted, and Hunter drew back, watching in amazement as the cowboy began to loop his lariat through the air. He stopped, braced, and the rope shot out like a snake, then dropped down over her arms. With deft skill, he snapped the rope, pinning her arms to her sides. She jolted to a stop, shock in her expressive eyes.
“Wow. I thought that thing was just for show.” Hunter stood next to Tex, grinning as his partner slowly reeled her in.
“How’d you think I got a name like Tex?”
“Thought it was from your last name… Texiera?”
“Spent most of my summers on my grandparents’ ranch in Texas. We lived there full-time for years before I moved back to Truckee.” He smiled grimly. “Used to ride rodeo. Never went on the big circuits, but I could ride a bronc or rope a calf.”
“Or a filly.” Hunter couldn’t resist the joke, even though Tex shot him a look of surprise.
Holly struggled against the rope that pinned her arms in place. She wanted to laugh, and she wanted to scream. She wanted to rush the men and throw herself into their arms. As Tex hauled her closer, she eagerly examined their faces, wrestling with the conflicting urges that surged through her body. In seconds she was close enough to touch, but she couldn’t. Instead she stared at them boldly, summoning up every ounce of courage that she’d painstakingly cultivated over the year that she’d been on her own.
She tossed her head defiantly and gave them a pugnacious grin.
“Hello, Holly darlin’.”
At the sound of Tex’s drawl, her urge to struggle faded. All defiance fled when she looked at Hunter and saw the emotions ebbing and flowing in his eyes.
“Tex. Hunter.” She lifted her chin and challenged the two men. She knew what she wanted, and now that the men were here, it was so close, just out of reach. And damn it! She didn’t know how to ask!
“Why are you here?” She hadn’t fully recovered her voice this year. It was still harsh and low. The sound of it embarrassed Holly, but it seemed to light a fire in Tex’s eyes.
“Chase sent us on business. We caught scent of you and decided there was something more important to attend to.”
She flushed slightly. She didn’t ask what the business was; that could wait till later. Explanations could wait as well. Right now Holly had her two chosen mates standing in front of her, fire in their eyes and lust in their bellies. Deliberately she wiggled a bit, watching in satisfaction as their hungry gazes traveled down the length of her body.
This was a fragile moment, and she knew it. They’d both be reluctant to take her, fearing she might still be traumatized by her past. Hunter in particular. He’d seen her at her lowest point and had treated her like fragile china since.
Again she pushed away her doubts. That was the past. She’d wallowed in the past, relived every moment of pain and agony. She’d hidden away within her wolf for years, grappling with pain and loss. This past year, she’d held the wolf at bay, relearning to trust and live among humans again. She was ready. What Hunter didn’t recognize was that he’d washed her soul clean with the blood of those men who’d abused her for so long.
He was her hero.
If they’d waited just a little longer, she’d have been in her heat cycle. There’d have been no doubt, no hesitation. They’d have been hers. Now she could only hope that nature would overcome their hesitation. If not, she hoped that they could trust her.
Hunter broke first. He stepped up and grabbed her roughly by the arms, then examined every inch of her face. He cradled her jaw and then lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was clumsy and inexperienced, drawing tears to her eyes. All these years he’d waited for her, keeping his love -- his lust -- to himself. She knew he wasn’t a virgin; in the labs, virginity was only a state of mind. But if he’d taken a lover, she’d have known. As she’d done with Tex, she’d have scented it on him.
He forced his tongue into her mouth, and she felt his fangs drop slightly. She tasted blood -- hers. If her hands had been free, she’d have clasped him close to her body. As it was, their bodies strained together. He held her tightly, as though he drew his life from her touch. She never wanted it to end.
He broke away with a gasp and staggered back, horror in his eyes. She stared and didn’t back down. Slowly she licked the blood from her lips and watched as his expression changed. The guilt ebbed away, leaving triumph in its place.
Cautiously she turned to Tex, who still held the rope that bound her.
This time he didn’t grin. He didn’t have a clever quip or a silly joke. The smile no longer lurked there in his bright blue eyes. He didn’t even reach out to touch her. He moved close to Holly, slowly pushing her in Hunter’s direction until she could move no farther. Her back was against Hunter’s solid form, her buttocks pressed to his groin. Only when she was securely trapped between the men did he lean down to kiss her.
It was slow and deliberate, yet she sensed that he channeled every bit of his passion into that kiss. It was fierce and intense and incredibly gentle. He dropped the rope, reached around, and drew Hunter’s arms forward around her waist. There they stood, in the darkness of an alley, three pieces of a puzzle that had suddenly been solved.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
It will appear in their June issue, but here's the review in its entirety.
Erotic Romance, Anthology, E-book
DOMS OF DARK HAVEN
Sierra Cartwright, Cherise Sinclair & Belinda McBride
4 1/2 stars
This collection is fantastic! The characters and plot are fully
developed, the pace is fast and the sex is hot. Although the central
theme of the three stories is BDSM, there is a mix of suspense,
paranormal and contemporary erotic romance here. There are some anal,
exhibitionism and voyeurism scenes as well. It’s particularly nice to
see the three authors place as much emphasis on the romance as on the
In “Met Her Match” by Cartwright, Mira is confident and
tough, but not when it comes to her new partner, Torin. Torin did not
want to be her dom, but objects when she seeks one at Dark Haven. He
will have to show her who’s boss in the bedroom.
McBride’s story has alone wolf shifter stumbling across her mate at Dark Haven. Harte sets
about “Educating Evangeline” about survival, and about taking a chance on love.
In Sinclair’s “Simon Says: Mine,” Rona has just ended a 20-year
marriage and wants to explore her hidden desires. She’ll need Master
Simon to show her that a committed relationship is not the trap she
fears — if she has the right partner. (Loose-Id.com, dl $7.99)
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Four Doms to rope them up, ride them hard, and brand their hearts.
Welcome to Dark Haven, and may all of your darkest wishes come true...
Welcome to the Dark Side
novella by Cherise Sinclair
Real Doms terrify her, so Summer plays with lightweights only. And only in the safety of her club, Dark Haven. But on Western Night, the tough cop who wins her in a sub-roping game is as powerful as they come.
Virgil's first taste of BDSM was disturbingly enticing. Hoping to burn out his interest, he visits an infamous San Francisco club, where he wins himself the prettiest little sub he’s ever seen. He’s in a quandary. A man shouldn’t render a woman helpless, let alone spank her ass. But the nervous little submissive clearly loves being in his ropes. Her need to be controlled is as powerful as his need to control. So he indulges himself, and her.
That one night was the beginning--and the end. She's too afraid to play outside the club; he lives hours away in Bear Flat. Returning home, Virgil hangs up the fantasy. Kink isn't for a small town cop. Nor is the city girl. He'll just have to find a way to forget her.
Weeks later, Summer is in Bear Flat for a party, and he sure as hell hasn’t forgotten her…or how he felt when she knelt before him.
Doms of Dark Haven 2: Western Night
Refusing to listen to Mark whine, Summer Aragon dragged him away from the whipping scene to the upstairs stage. The calf roping had started.
Bouncing on her toes, she watched a dom chase after a collared older submissive on the raised platform. Almost to the end, he managed to grab her and toss her down on the well-padded platform. As he tried to bind her ankles and wrists, the crowd roared advice, cheering in yeehaws and whoops and whistles. God, didn’t that look like fun?
“And another sub bites the dust.” Mark slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his lanky frame. “I’m heading home. You gonna come over?”
“Leave now?” After she’d spent all yesterday shopping for just the right leather skirt and vest? She gave him an exasperated stare. When he’d shown up in a T-shirt and jeans instead of western wear, she should have known he’d bow out early. “We haven’t been here even an hour.”
“Don’t care. I had a rough day.”
A rough day of programming? Please. She thought of her own day as charge nurse for the surgical floor: filling in for the med nurse, transferring a patient to the ICU, wading through reams of doctors’ orders, managing a code right at the end of her shift -- successful, but God, the paperwork -- fixing the diet orders the kitchen had screwed up…and on and on. “Don’t you want to join the calf roping?”
“Nah. Jason lent me a new apocalypse movie, and I want to see it.”
She considered briefly: a cozy winter evening watching TV or finding someone to play with here. Play, play, play. “I’m going to stay a little longer. I’ve got an urge to be a calf.”
“Go for it.” He frowned. “I don’t think Rick or Mike are here though.”
Summer bit her lip. No buddies? That wasn’t good.
She only scened with a few doms, ones who were just friends outside the club. Lightweight scenes, lightweight doms. She didn’t want more. That would mean dealing with a real dominant -- like the darkly tanned man watching the whipping downstairs whose slow scrutiny had heated her from the toes up and set her insides to quivering. Not for me, thank you.
But if her buddies weren’t here, who would she play with? She glanced up, realized Mark was considering staying…just for her. She smiled at him. “Go home, Mr. Couch Potato.”
“That’s me.” He gave her a relieved look and added, “Sis is having everyone over for Sunday brunch. She said to invite you so you can get your kid fix in.”
“I’d love it.” She kissed him lightly before he headed for the exit.
Hmm. Recently she’d thought about testing her nerve by playing with other doms…easy ones, of course. Was this a hint from the gods?
I can do this. Determinedly, she joined the submissive queue, trying to figure out the rules. To her dismay, Xavier and Simon sat at a table by the stage, matching up each dom and calf. They’d make the choice for her? Her stomach clenched. What if she got a sadist?
But Simon was supervising. He’d been all protective since his party last year where Dirk had hurt her so badly, and he’d surely not choose someone cruel. Besides, if the dom caught her, she could still negotiate what the session afterward would involve. And they’d play here in a public place.
Despite her self-assurances, her heart rate increased as she neared the front.
Xavier glanced at the sub in front of Summer and announced, “Jen is next. Gentlemen?”
The contenders raised their hands, and after a moment, Simon pointed to a tall, lanky man. “Aaron. Good luck. She’s a fast little critter.”
Jen and Aaron took their places.
My turn. Summer stepped up to the desk and waited for the two doms to notice her.
With dark hair and dark eyes, Simon and Xavier appeared like a matched set although Xavier looked flashier in his gambler’s clothing. In his forties, Simon was older and attired as an 1860’s banker. Rich, classy, powerful doms -- so not her kind.
“Summer, it’s good to see you.” Simon motioned her forward and asked quietly, “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Thank you, Sir.”
“Are you being careful?”
After she’d healed, he’d given her a lecture on safety measures, and she’d listened carefully. One set of scars from a misjudgment was enough. “Yes, Sir. I never play anywhere but here.”
He straightened, a crease forming between his brows. “That’s taking prudence a little too far, pet. How can you form a relationship if you won’t leave here?”
At the thought of being tied up and alone with a dom -- a real dom -- she felt as if someone had run a cold hand up her spine. “I’m happy being a sub here.”
Xavier frowned also. “A sub? You’re not submitting; you only go through the motions. Playacting.”
Just team up on me, why don’t you? And you’re wrong. Her chin went up. “I believe that’s up to me.” When Xavier’s eyes turned to black ice, she gulped out a hasty, “My Liege.”
His forefinger tapped the desk for one beat.
She had a vision of being caged and hung from the ceiling like the last sub who’d displeased him.
Or up on the stage being used for flogging practice.
He finally nodded. “That is your choice.”
She took a relieved breath. Thank you, God.
Xavier turned to the crowd. “Gentlemen, this is Summer. Who would like to win her submission?”
Oh great. Make a big deal of the submission part. Thanks, Xavier. She turned to see an ego-stroking number of hands had gone up. A couple of sadists, some younger doms, and -- her gaze was trapped by intent hazel eyes shaded by a black cowboy hat. The rest of the crowd blurred and faded away, leaving only the darkly tanned dominant she’d seen earlier.
He studied her; then his lips curved in a faint smile. He raised his hand to compete.
Her heart gave a nasty thud. Oh God.
“Virgil, I believe this little calf is a good one for you. She’ll need a steady hand,” Xavier said.
As if she were caught in a dream, she watched the dom -- Virgil -- move forward through the crowd. He looked appallingly big. A couple of inches over six feet. Dirk’s height. Probably about as heavy too, but this dom was as solid as the mechanical bull. He wore a scuffed black hat, faded cowboy shirt, and well-worn boots; she doubted his western outfit was a costume.
As he stopped beside her, his level, assessing eyes met hers, and the floor seemed to shiver like quicksand under her feet.
He glanced at Xavier. “Thank you.” He sounded pleased, thank God, since she really didn’t want to annoy him. Why did he have to be as big as Dirk? He made her feel like a little calf, and she glanced down to make sure she hadn’t grown hooves.
The sun lines beside his eyes crinkled. When he took her hand, hard calluses on his fingers scraped her palm. “Nice to meet you, Summer.” His rough baritone voice curled around her in a dark embrace.
All the spit in her mouth dried up, yet she wanted to move closer. Confused much, Summer?
“Are you ready to play?” Virgil asked, unsnapping his shirt cuffs and shoving his sleeves up to his elbows.
Lord have mercy. Even his heavy-boned wrists were muscular. But he’s not Dirk, and I’m going to be a calf. Her excitement started to rekindle. An ornery calf. “Only if you catch me.”
His growling laugh almost made her knees buckle.
“I’m glad to see you here, Virgil,” Simon said and added, “By the way, this little sub had a bad experience last year, but it’s time for her to move past it.”
Summer’s jaw dropped. “You… Damn you, that’s none of your busi --”
A hand covered her mouth completely, and a voice rumbled in her ear, “I’m new to the club, but I’d say that disrespecting a dom is a piss-poor idea.”
Oh hell. Xavier came down hard on rudeness.
Seeing the cold stare he gave her, she tried to back away, except Virgil’s unmovable, rock-hard body pressed right up against hers. Xavier turned his gaze to Virgil. “Are you still interested?”
“She will need to be reprimanded for her rude behavior.”
Virgil didn’t speak for a long moment, then said, “I understand.”
“Very good.” Xavier tilted his head toward the stage. “You’re up.”
Summer climbed the steps, way too conscious of the big dom behind her. He’d punish her? The thought of his strong hand coming down on her bottom -- of having a real spanking -- sent anticipation zinging through her. She glanced over her shoulder.
Such a serious expression, brows together, mouth in a tight line. But as he watched the stage where Aaron had just tossed Jen over his shoulder, laughter appeared in his eyes.
Summer smiled. He had a sense of humor after all. Oh, this might be totally great.
On the platform, the male sub directing the roping pointed to a big sack. “Boots and shirt go in there, Sir.” He checked her. “Your boots too.”
She got one boot off, but then Virgil removed his shirt and, oh Lord, her gaze got stuck on the impressive contours of his chest. With every movement, muscles rippled under his tanned skin. As he pulled his boots off, his biceps bunched, making her fingers tingle with the need to touch and discover if his muscles were as hard as they looked.
He caught her staring and smiled -- not a conceited I-work-out-and-have-a-great-body type smirk, but more of a I’m-a-boy; you’re-a-girl; life-is-good. He nodded at her remaining boot.
Oh, right. She yanked it off.
“Okay, Sir and sub.” The sub handed Virgil two pieces of short rope from a box and pointed to a taped line ten feet away. “When she reaches the yellow line, you give chase. If she gets to the far side or you can’t restrain her within the time limit, you lose. No tackling.”
“Got it.” Virgil gave her a slow smile. “I don’t think she’s that fast.”
She eyed him as he put the ropes between his teeth. God, this was too fun. Her competitive spirit ordered, Run like hell. Her inner submissive said, Let him catch me. The gung ho voice won, and she leaned forward.
The sub yelled, “Go!”