This Therapy Gets Results!

When we first meet Natasha, she’s a hard-nosed control freak with unhealthy addictions to coffee, cigarettes, and pretty young men with prices on their...well, let’s say “heads”. When her therapist, Dr. Benson, recommends “Submission Therapy”, she is introduced to the notion of letting go, of releasing control. Master Sweet shows her the mental, physical and emotional benefits of simply submitting to the will of another.

Her journey continues through “Occupational Therapy”, where she learns a most intimate form of personal control. Her determination is strong but brittle, and though she’s had great success in her business life, she finds these personal challenges far more difficult. Simply because they require her to open up all the emotions and memories that she has suppressed or denied in order to compete in a man’s world. When this chapter ends, Natasha is faced with the most pivotal emotional choice she’s ever had to make.

Which brings us to “Immersion Therapy”. This story releases on Friday, November 30th in the US, and it brings out the best and worst of Natasha’s behavior. Her pride wars with her need. With the overload of sensation that Master Sweet has introduced her to, she flails against everything she once knew to be true. Yet she struggles to believe that a man who feels this good can have any kind of permanence in her life.

Katie and I hope you enjoy this series, and we welcome feedback and reviews.

Happy reading!

How about a Tempting Tease from Natasha's upcoming Therapy Session?

It didn’t escape me that He held His arms stiffly by His sides. The heat of His skin was a marked counterpoint to the coldness of His voice. “We’re done here, Natasha. You were instructed to return on time, you did not. You made your choice.”

“No, Master. I made a mistake.”

“I am not your Master. I am not your doctor. I am, as of 8:01PM, nothing to you.” 

For the first time I could remember, there was a vein of anger in His voice.

I grasped at His hand and tried to put it up on the back of my neck, the way I’d seen Chloe do it. He pulled out of my grip insistently, but without any apparent menace. He simply stood there, stoic and resolute, probably waiting for me to run away in tears. And though I was very tempted to do just that, I knew it was the one move that was guaranteed to lose Him forever.

“You are my Master. You will always be, even if I never see You again. You know me better than anyone, so I know you understand what scared me.”

“Of course. But there are strict rules by which I operate. I gave you a choice and a time to make it by. That’s how business works. You of all people know that, Ms. Blakely.”

That was worse than spitting in my face, calling me that. And implying that everything we’d done had simply been His job. It felt like He was completely detached from me.

Oh dear! How did Natasha land in this spot? Will she and Master work things out? Find out on Friday when Immersion Therapy is released!

Haven't read our Therapy Series  Catch up on the previous Therapy sessions before Friday and be ready for the third and final installment, Immersion Therapy.

Submission Therapy

Immersion Therapy
Accepting Master Sweet’s collar is a frightening commitment for pathological maneater, Natasha. Until recently everything in her life, including sex, had been strictly business; a safe zone that Natasha was quite comfortable with.

Submission Therapy ruined all of that. Her recently uncovered desires have left her feeling raw and needy, unable to trust her own judgment. The order and consistency in her life has been shattered by these terrifying new found feelings and desires. When even her employees find true love, Natasha’s world feels somehow unreal. Could this thing called ‘love’ be real? And could Master truly feel the same for her? 

Now she faces the biggest emotional decision of her life. Will she accept her Master’s collar, and the commitment that it entails? Or should she say goodbye to her Master and forever abandon the hope of a loving relationship with the one man who truly knows her?

Coming Soon - Immersion Therapy

Coming very soon to an ereader near you!!!

Immersion Therapy
Accepting Master Sweet’s collar is a frightening commitment for pathological maneater, Natasha. Until recently everything in her life, including sex, had been strictly business; a safe zone that Natasha was quite comfortable with.

Submission Therapy ruined all of that. Her recently uncovered desires have left her feeling raw and needy, unable to trust her own judgment. The order and consistency in her life has been
 shattered by these terrifying new found feelings and desires. When even her employees find true love, Natasha’s world feels somehow unreal. Could this thing called ‘love’ be real? And could Master truly feel the same for her?

Now she faces the biggest emotional decision of her life. Will she accept her Master’s collar, and the commitment that it entails? Or should she say goodbye to her Master and forever abandon the hope of a loving relationship with the one man who truly knows her?

Catch up on the previous Therapy sessions before Friday and see how Natasha got herself into this situation!
Submission Therapy
Occupational Therapy

Sale, Sale, Sale! Did I mention #Sale?

Happy Holidays from Rising Sign Books! We're ending the year off with a HUGE sale!
We're selling the remaining stock of Immortalis Series Print edition books for rock bottom prices.
Get Immortalis, Hunters & Prey, Pandora's Box, and Soulstone for $5 each. Pick up the Omnibus for only $15.
(Shipping not included in sale price.)
You can't beat these prices!
Give them as gifts! They make great stocking stuffers!
We'll even gift wrap them for you. Just let us know at checkout.

Book 3 in the series Elei’s Chronicles is now out!

In a world composed of seven islands in the middle of the ocean, an all-women Gultur race rules. Parasites create new human races, decimate towns and cities, killing the repressed mortals, but the Gultur are not affected, living in their private little world.

Elei is an aircar driver, and he leads a peaceful life – until a mysterious attack on his boss sends him fleeing with a bullet in his side. Pursued for a secret he does not possess and with the fleet at his heels, he has but one thought: to stay alive. His pursuers aren't inclined to sit down and talk, although that's not the end of Elei's troubles. The two powerful parasites inhabiting his body, at a balance until now, choose this moment to bring him down, leaving Elei with no choice but to trust in people he hardly knows. It won't be long before he realizes he must find out this deadly secret – a secret that might change the fate of his world and everything he has ever known – or die trying.

The series starting with Rex Rising follows Elei’s adventures as he figures out why the regime is after him, and as he discovers whom he can trust and why. Friendships are forged and betrayals discovered, and a girl, Alendra, manages burrow under Elei's defenses. Amidst all this, Elei and his friends discover that there’s much more to the seven islands than meets the eye. As the regime prepares for full-out war against the depleted forces of the resistance, he must find a way to use that knowledge to win the war and set the way for a better future.

Meet Elei – meek or aggressive, depending on which parasite controls him at the moment, Kalaes – protective and funny, unless the memories of his past torment him, Hera – pretty scary when her parasite controls her, and more quirky characters in a mad race against time set in a dystopian world.

Books 1, 2 & 3 are now available, with book 4 (last one) due out in Spring 2013. Two short stories (Hera, Mantis) are available for free on amazon.

Sample from Rex Rising

Blood seeped between Elei's fingers.
The small wound was above his left hipbone. He pressed down harder to staunch the bleeding and gritted his teeth. His pulse leaped under his palm as he sat shivering on a hard, cold bench. He rested his other hand on the grip of his holstered gun. In his blurry eyes, everything had a shimmering edge, suspended between reality and dream.
Then the world tilted.
Elei jerked and sharp pain erupted in his side. Hissing, he drew his gun and waited. His possessed eye throbbed; cronion, the strongest of his resident parasites, hated surprises. The world lit up in bright colors. Be ready. His heart pounded in his chest, sent bruising beats against his ribs. He swallowed past a dry throat and gripped his gun until his knuckles creaked.
Nothing moved. Oblong objects around him pulsed in cool hues of green and blue. Safe. Nothing living. He relaxed a little. For a while he simply sat, left hand pressing against the wound, the cold metal barrel of the gun held against his right thigh.
"Hey, you," a man's voice said from behind.
Clamping his jaw, Elei lifted the gun and turned to point in the general direction of the voice. Cold wind blew his jacket hood back, allowing him a wider view. The man appeared at the right periphery of Elei's tainted vision -- a splash of red. He went still when Elei cocked the hammer. The click rang too loud in the quiet.
"Calm down, will you," the man said, raising his hands. "Just checking on you. You're bleeding all over my boat."
The boatman. Elei let out a breath and lowered the gun, but didn't click the safety back on, just in case. The cold breeze ruffled his short hair and water splashed and murmured. The low hum of an engine set his teeth on edge. What was he doing in a boat out at sea? He prodded his memories, but came up blank.
Cronion beat at the back of his eyeball like a hammer. He forced his tense muscles to relax and rubbed his eye with his thumb until the dull ache eased. This time, when he blinked, he saw the surface of things, his unfamiliar surroundings — the wet prow, moonlight glinting on metal benches like the one he sat on, yellow lifesavers underneath them. The boatman stood by the rail, dressed in shabby trousers and a pale yellow shirt, watching him from under his dark cap. The light from a lamp set on a bench pooled around him. The sky stretched naked above, night-black and starry.
The boat rocked and listed. His legs slid. He was falling.
He threw his hands to the sides, to find a handhold, the gun screeching against metal. His fingers caught the edge of the bench. He clutched it, the deep, sharp pain in his side squeezing the air from his lungs, and he bent over, panting.
Broken pieces of memories rushed back with a deafening roar. Shots fired. Running through the streets. The docks of Ost.
He was crossing the straits between the great islands.
Shivers crawled up his spine. He lifted his hand and stared at the blood on his fingers. He’d been shot, but couldn’t remember who’d done it.
Elei groaned to himself. He laid his gun — an antique, semi-automatic Rasmus — on his lap and wrapped his arms around himself, tucking his icy hands under his armpits; hoping fervently this was nothing but a dream, and knowing he just wasn’t that lucky.
“Hey.” The boatman approached him, stepping over the benches with his long, spindly legs. Red color flashed over his heart, pulsing with each beat.
Elei straightened with a wince and raised his gun. It seemed to have grown heavier; he could barely lift it. “What do you want now?”
 “We’re almost there.” The boatman’s voice resonated with a hidden growl. When he raised the dakron lamp, its light revealed a leathery, deeply lined face and bright blue eyes. “Better get ready to jump, do you hear?”
“I heard you.” Elei kept the gun leveled, his arm muscles straining. Where in the hells are we? Cold sweat sluiced down his back. His nostrils flared and his body tensed with the urge to run. Run where? He was in a boat, for all the gods’ sakes, and yet he knew that even here, in the openness of the sea, he couldn’t afford to let down his guard.
Holstering the gun, he struggled to rise but his damn legs cramped and resisted. Shivers danced down his spine and adrenaline made his blood pump faster, so it trickled down his side, scalding his chilled flesh.
“Hurry up, boy,” muttered the boatman and his hand closed around Elei’s arm like a band of steel. “We can’t linger here.” He hauled him up as if he weighed nothing, the movement sending sharp claws of pain deep into Elei’s side.
Hells. Elei gritted his teeth and refused to make any sound as the boatman dragged him to the rail and left him there, the boat rocking with the movement. Muttering, the man went back to his steering wheel and navigated the boat through the dark waters.
In the distance, squat buildings, old warehouses, rose from the white mist of night. Starlight reflected off polished gray walls. The vacant pier jutted out into the sea like an arm of stone. The boat swerved toward it, then slowed down and bumped to a stop, thumping gently against the square blocks.
Elei inhaled the humid air and tried to get his bearings, to remember something, anything. In the end, he had to admit defeat. “Which island is this? Is it Kukno?”
“Are you saying I tricked you?” The boatman’s voice was dry. “We’re right where you told me to take you. Dakru.”

Links (amazon):
Rex Rising:

Rex Cresting:

Rex Equilibrium:

Hera (free):

Mantis (free):

About me:
Greek Cypriot with a penchant for dark myths, good food, and a tendency to settle down anywhere but at home, Chrystalla likes to write about fantastical creatures, crazy adventures, and family bonds. After having lived in France, England, Germany and Costa Rica, she now lives in Cyprus with her husband and enjoys wandering the countryside sampling local food and wine. She writes mainly fantasy and science fiction, primarily for a young adult/new adult public, and her stories have appeared in many magazines and anthologies.

My links:
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Twitter: @chrystallathoma

Do You Need Therapy?

If you're on Facebook, then you may be in luck!

Check out the Excessica Publishing page on Facebook.

There's a quick and easy contest, and three lucky entrants will win a copy of "Submission Therapy" in the format of their choice.

Simply go to the post marked CONTEST/GIVEAWAY and follow the instructions! (It's easy...all you have to do is type in the comment: "I need therapy".)

Child of the Loch - You don't want to miss this new release!

Twenty-three year accountant, J.J McDonnell, has spent her life trying to be normal and hide her gifts, but all dreams of normalcy are dashed on her twenty-fourth birthday. A handsome man shows up on her porch with a marriage edict and news that the grandfather she has never met, has died. Her world is about to change forever. J.J must make the perilous journey to the Loch and take her place on its throne. With no idea what is expected of her and dark forces closing in at every turn, will J.J. be able to accept her destiny or will she stopped before she can?

Chapter One

The King lay in the large, downy bed inhaling his last, sallow breaths. Self-reflection was all he had left in his weakened state; he contemplated his kingdom’s future that hung in the balance. The lives of his people would be destroyed and his kingdom would meet their disaster if his lost heir was not brought home soon.
The kingdom was already showing signs of his illness. He could hide it no longer. There was no need to make any edicts or long speeches. His people already knew there dire situation. The King was failing and taking the land with him. The Loch suffered with the King in the throes of a deadly infirmity.
The King could see out the open bay window shrouded in bright red velvet and golden cords. It contrasted to his decaying lands. His thoughts were punctuated with a sour wind and the distinct odor of putrid compost. What would his kingdom do without him?
The King was a good leader. He was well-loved by his people and in return he always put them before his own needs. The King would prevent his people’s demise at all costs, even if meant breaking the laws that he himself wrote in the Scroll of Decree 29 years ago during the Year of Light Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Three.
The King knew he must send his fastest messengers to the far reaches of his kingdom, riding past the borders of the Kingdom of the Lochoan lands. The journey would take the messengers further than anyone had ridden in the last years of King’s rule. 
Only one, whose very name was outlawed in the land, had made the arduous trek that had traveled through all the lands of many allies, as the messengers were about to do now. The exiled one’s journey had blazed a trail of tears and sadness to the Lochoan borders that bled out into Outlands. Lands that distanced far beyond the pale, pink, rising sun and the blue rain clouds of the Loch. However, these messengers’ journeys would be bringing hope and light to a barren land. It was time to gather the allies. Dark times were ahead and the enemies of the Loch would use it to their full advantage.
Even now, the King felt the people’s pain as acutely as his own. The King squeezed his almond shaped eyes tight against the physical pain. He was so ravaged by the illness that no one would recognize him. He was a ghost of his former self. Now, only his amber eyes were a distinguishable sign of his pure royal line. 
The bevy of relatives had already gathered fighting for what was left of his kingdom. He heard their disappointed thoughts from time to time. They hated him for his tenuous grip on life. Their ochre shaded eyes were a variety of colors with only undertones and shadows, showing their royal lineage were of the distant past, which could only be verified by a scroll of lineages. Though they warred and plotted against each other to be the chosen heir, they would never do. The land would not replenish with their hard hearts and diluted blood lines. They held no love or bond to the land, not like a true “child of the Loch.”
The King had a direct heir. His mine drifted to the one whose veins were filled with the unpolluted blood of the first Queen. A gentle woman who bore curse of a connection to the land for imagined wrongs against the magic that governed the land. No one knew the full histories not even the King himself. It was of little importance because the curse was a blessing to her descendants.
The heir would heal the land and hold proof that none other would do. 
The kingdom would know the heir upon its arrival. The entire line was blessed with unnatural beauty and gifts that were not apparent in any other clan of the Loch. The land would begin to heal itself, growing stronger as they drew closer. New growth bloomed in small sections at the corner of the castle due to the King’s momentary joy.
Other gardens died in the same breath, when the King rolled to his side in agony. The King’s pale, lined face contorted as seizures took him. His face turned purple from lack of breath and his hands curled into balls. He cursed his murderer again from bloody, foam covered lips.
The land suffered with him. An earthquake shook knocking vases off pedestals and pictures from their places on the stone walls.  The King’s clumps of salt and pepper hair fell from his inflamed pink scalp. The land responded with pustules of rot that spoiled the crops leaving nothing edible. While the fever blisters popped oozing water and lymph into his jaundiced eyes, shut tight; flakes of pasty skin peeled from his dry lips and the trees withered bearing bitterly poisonous fruit.    
Even now he knew that these final hours were passing with prejudice. The slow, steady decline of the once strong King was highly unexpected in the view of the long lives of his predecessors. They flourished for many lifetimes as stewards of the land. 
Rumors flew about the kingdom blaming the loss of the Loch’s only heir, though it was many years ago for some. It was only a moment in the life of the King. It was common knowledge that the King’s broken heart still bore the weight of the Queen’s death by the hand of the General of the Turlinds, the greatest enemy of the Loch.
The true nature of the King’s illness could not be fathomed until it was too late. Test after test from the chief physicians to the peasant apothecaries drew the answers needed. It was not grief that had stolen the spry King’s health. It was poison from magic of darkness or herb of the vine that took its hateful vengeance upon the King’s body. 
There was no antidote to either herb or spell. The cure for one could cause another to slaughter him more rapidly and excruciatingly.  It was well known in the land that the long list of poisons or black magics in the Loch that caused the King’s symptoms would all end horribly with the much-loved King cold and maimed in his grave. He would be unrecognizable to all who knew him. There would be no hope of recovery. The King’s death warrant was signed, sealed and awaiting its hour of designation.  He was a slave in his own body, mastered by the unnamed venom that flowed throughout his skeletal body.
The King’s endured every moment of the physical pain of his illness without complaint, but it was the heartache that was unbearable and made him cry out to the God of his forefathers.  He longed for the days when he ruled with his beloved Queen and his son, a shadow of them both. 
The King could not escape the thoughts of his beloved son, a mirror of himself when he was healthy. Both men were hard-headed, amber-eyed and so unforgiving of each other, that it seemed that there never could be reconciliation. What transpired could not be undone and the Prince was far away in presence, mind and spirit.  For this, the King waited, begged, and prayed for death to come and sweetly end his pain. He needed it to release him from his bonds, but not before he brought mercy to the Loch and her people.
Imminent death has a way of boomeranging the thoughts of a life once lived and regrets harp like old women. The King again reflected on the hard truths that brought him here. He dwelled on the perpetrator of this horrific act of treason that would leave his kingdom heirless and without a future in its wake.
             “My heir is gone and I’m to blame,” galloped through his departing mind.
Where had the time gone? It had been far too long since he last saw his boy, a man now, with a grown child of his own. A grandchild he had never seen face to face or held in his arms. How much had he missed in his arrogance and how could he get the rightful heir home in time to take the crown before the Loch was through?
Again, he stole a hard look outside his door that was flanked by relatives.  The King laughed bitterly at their pettiness. Only a true heir would do.
He fingered the photos in his ashen right hand and stroked the cheek of the young, dark-haired woman with his thumb. Another spasm grabbed him rigidly.  In his left hand, his grip tightened on the scroll marked in the family seal pressed into black wax crushing and crinkling the paper written in a shaky hand. The King was fading and he felt the last of himself disappearing into obscurity, soon he would see his ancestors and his God. No magic good or bad could touch him in the Land of Light.
The King called for another page, one who would go to his most trusted and truest friend, Chian, the Sovereign of the Ogres in the Western Wood.  There was no time for single journeys to be made. They would all travel through the Western Wood, but death waited by his beside, so he sent his riders to the lands of the Elves, Dragons and Merpeople. They would guide his heir when he could not. 
The King pressed the photo and the scroll into the final page’s solid, strong hand and his grasp fell weakly from the page’s wrist.  The young man gathered his bounty, bowed low and ran for the door.  He mounted the waiting horse and set off for the Western Wood at a dash.
Barely conscious the King urged himself on, garnering the final bits of his strength.  He only needed to be strong enough for his son and the hope he carried with him to make it back to the Loch. The King would set it right, even if he never lived to see the outcome. The race for the crown was on.
 “Come quickly, my son, for you hold the key to the future of the Loch,” he thought as he faded into the black, praying for his trusted pages’ safe journey and quick return. The King’s gurgling breaths could be heard throughout the castle and every subject loyal to the kingdom wept for the King’s impending death, mourning without hope for their dying land.

Reviews from Goodreads:
Heather Alexander rated it 
Wow, this short book packs a ton of punch. Josephina is heir to the throne of Loch, a land of magic, mythical creatures, purity, and ferility. She is the halfling child of the son of the king of Loch and a human and has been living in our world her hole life. On her birthday a man named James, from Loch comes bearing a scroll that states she is to marry him and become the queen of Loch as her grandfather has died. Along the way she finds betrayal and love and brings together groups allied to her as well as enemies trying to thwart her. This book has mermaid,dragons, ogres, nymphs, elves, etc. It was fantastic and I can't wait to read more. I hope this is a continuing saga, as I absolutely loved the characters and the story and I want more!!!!

Karen Vance Hammond rated it 
“Are dreams real? What message do they send? Child of the Loch grabs your mind by the throat as it takes you vicariously through the eyes of Josephina in quest for the truth. An outstanding piece of work. You won’t be able to put this one down—diabolical entertainment!”

Karen Vance Hammond, Author of Shoe Marks a paranormal inspire by true events which took place in Texas.

Reyna Hawk  rated it 

So first let me say I am not a big fan of Sci-Fi or Fantasy. I have never been one that got into the stories with dragons and sorcery. However, this book captivated my interest from the beginning. I had to know what was going on with the King. As I read down the story line and met Josephine then I became enthralled with how she was going to save Loche and get out of the arranged marriage. I began thinking to myself how would I react to an arranged marriage and actually found myself giving her advice. I felt bad for Josesphine and really had a disliking for her suitor James. Even though he is described as a very handsome man, I didn’t like him.

Anyway the story line takes you through some tense moments and awesome descriptions that make you see the scenes playing out in your head. During these tense moments my heart actually raced a bit. I love Aurora’s manner of writing. It reminds me of the way a great story is told. Her metaphors crack me up at times but at others make me think “Wow that is exactly how that would be”. I give it five (5) stars and look forward to reading more of her work. 

I have always been a writer. When I first learned to write in Kindergarten, I wrote about pigs who "groo" wings and became "butterfys." I knew way back then that I would have a love affair with writing. It over took my life and has been a constant companion. Now over 20 years later, that love flows over into writing blogs, reviews, poetry and fantasy novels.  You can find me on the web at and

It's time for your therapy session!

Occupational Therapy

Natasha’s experience at the hands of Master Sweet has left her both drained and enlightened. Wanting nothing more than to curl up against him for as long as she can, she is dismayed when he sends her home to dwell on all she’s learned.

But being a creature of habit, Natasha’s stubborn and rebellious nature leads her back into her old patterns, threatening to undo all her progress. When her symptoms return in full force, she begins to doubt not only the effectiveness of Submission Therapy, but also the motivations of her Master.

Learning of her disobedience, Master Sweet brings forward Natasha’s next session. But recognizing her behavior for what it is - a cry for attention - leads Him to change His approach dramatically. If Natasha thought her first lesson was hard...she’s in for a real eye-opener.

Does the embattled billionaire have the internal strength to earn back her Master’s trust? And how will she handle it when his intentions suddenly become even more serious?

Warnings: This title contains graphic language, sexual situations, bondage, discipline, toys, and more billionaire shenanigans.

© November 2012 by Willsin Rowe and Katie Salidas

“Raise your face. Look at me,” Master commanded.
He sat on the edge of the bed, His crotch swollen so much that it was impossible to focus on anything else. It was right there, only inches from my face...but completely inaccessible to me.
“You like what you see.” He mocked me with His taunting tone.
Hell, yeah, I did. I flicked my eyes up to catch His for a second. He held my gaze with those penetrating blue eyes, but reached His hand out towards Chloe, who scurried over to take it. She kissed it, placed it on the back of her neck...and started unfastening His leather pants!
I ground my mouth around the smoothness of the ball gag. The red-headed minx was touching my Master! My body trembled with anger, the way it did when assholes tried to fuck me over in the boardroom. But at least in business I could speak. Here I was mute. Because He willed it.
Why? Why wouldn’t He put me over His knee again? Why, when He knew how wet it made me, how sweet it would be when He drove His cock inside me?
Chloe finished stripping Master and walked back past me. He sat back on the edge of the bed, His cock at half-mast, pulsing with every beat of His heart.
“I can see you so much more clearly than you see yourself, Natasha. I can read you like no-one else can. Even Dr. Benson.”
My head spun a little at that. Switching between the two sides of this one man threatened my balance.
His rich, deep voice continued. “I saw it in you, the moment I mentioned punishment. Your cheeks flushed, your nostrils wanted it. Your beautiful little pussy was desperate for my touch.”
I nodded. He had me dead to rights. And nothing had changed. I needed His hands on me. His control over me.
“And you thought you knew how to get it. Act naughty. Defy me. Look at me, I’m a bad girl. And essentially, we’re back at square one.”
He’d seen straight though me. I should have expected it. Derek had filled up so many notebooks with my bad behavior. How could I expect the Master not to pick up on it. I locked eyes with him and tried to ask a complex question using only the top half of my face.
“You knew what you wanted. And you were willing to do anything it took. Your head is still in that world, where cost is measured only in dollars.” Mischief glinted in my Master’s eyes.
I sensed movement behind me, but dared not turn.
“So you will get your punishment, Natasha. But you will not get my touch until you’ve earned it.”

Like what you see? Want to read more?

More from the Consummate Therapy series:

Billionaire CEO of Blakely Incorporated, Natasha runs her empire with an eagle eye for every detail. She’s an obsessive, compulsive, micromanaging hard-ass, consumed by the need to control every aspect of her life and her business. 

But underneath that seemingly strong façade, Natasha is a swirling mess of anger, anxiety and sexual addiction. Only her therapist, Dr. Benson, knows how close she is to burning out...or exploding. He insists on a radical form of treatment – Submission Therapy – knowing that it’s her only hope. 

Skeptical but intrigued, Natasha agrees to attend the first session. What she finds there is an erotically-charged environment that will forgive none of her habitual bad behavior. And a steely-eyed man who seems to read her every desire - even the ones she won’t admit to herself.

Will Natasha learn what it means to submit? Or will she allow her brittle pride to rob her of what she truly needs?

And our Winner Is....

Since our original winner did not step forward to claim their prize, we are awarding the prize to the runner up OpenID kittyb78!

Congratulations Kitty!

Please let me know you've seen the post and I will send over your character interview questions. 

Thanks again for playing.

Whispers at Ghost Point.

Deanna Jewel    Multi-genre Romance Author

Katie, thank you for having me this week! I’m so excited to chat with your readers. We’re going to spend this week along the Cape Fear River in Wilmington on the deck of the Pilot House in the shade of a few umbrellas. Let’s gather around, get our drinks ordered and then we can discuss the beauty of the boardwalk.

Readers, I’m so happy that you’ve popped in to check out my new book, Whispers at Ghost Point. Those who love lighthouses and hauntings will love the book. Do you enjoy learning about restored lighthouses and those that are bed and breakfasts? Then get comfortable and let’s chat a bit. I’ve just returned from visiting St. Augustine’s lighthouse and I made it all the way to the top to stand on the lookout deck…yes, I made it all the way up 219 steps and also did their Dark of the Moon ghost tour which also got us inside the keeper’s house!

My main character is Dana Kaster. She loves old lighthouses and is determined to remodel one that seems to be off limits to her but she never gives up hope of accomplishing her goals! Let’s imagine for a moment how Dana must have felt the very first time she gets to enter the keeper’s house. I think it may have looked a lot like the photo below. She probably looked over her shoulder a lot, too. Do some of you like ghost stories? Who enjoys exploring those old lighthouses?

My two main characters have lived and loved in another life…are there a few of you who believe that is possible? I hope so because too much in their lives is the same. I’ve reincarnated the characters from No Turning Back so you may want to read that book first. It’s currently on sale for .99 for those who’ve not read it yet. Please know that I’m working very hard on the edits to get things done so I can get this book out to you in a few weeks. Click HERE to read more and to watch the book trailer. There’s also a link to read Ch 1. In the mean time, I’ve got a contest or two going on for you to get into.

To be in the Whispers Tour Grand Prize drawing, click HERE and fill in the form to be entered, then enter the Rafflecopter contest below to be in the drawing for a $10 gift card and let me know where you’d like it to. I’ll be having contests at my other tour stops so I hope you follow along to get into them! Thank you all for stopping in to read about my new book and a special thanks to Katie for hosting me this week!

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Author Biography &Links

Deanna Jewel lives in the Pacific Northwest and has been writing since 1991. She is married to a retired captain of the fire department. He’s also owned his own businesses for 23 years. They have two Siamese cats: Zoie and Sinbad, who keep them entertained. Deanna has enjoyed reading historical romance novels for over thirty years, camping with her family, and traveling.
Her writing goal is to draw the reader into the story to experience what the characters feel, to show both the hero's and heroine's points of view, and to take the reader away from their every day stress to a place not yet visited.
She has completed one time travel and one historical novel and has several others in the works. A trip to Dubois, Wyoming, south of Yellowstone, inspired her time-travel novel. The landscape and town locations described in NEVER SURRENDER are real.  Jon Daley, a professor at Boise State University, translated the Shoshone language that you will find in the book.
 NEVER SURRENDER, her time travel romance, was released in 2008 in print, e-book and iBook for download to e-Readers and i-Pads. This novel won an Honorable Mention in the 2008 Quill Awards at
NO TURNING BACK, her second novel, an historical taking place in England, 1778, was released in April 2010, and is also in print, eBook and iBook for download to your electronic readers.
Hard at work on her next novel, Whispers at Ghost Point, which she hopes to have available in late fall, 2012. Whispers takes place at an abandoned lighthouse in Wilmington, NC and her main characters from No Turning Back are reincarnated into the present. Join Dana as she learns about her past while working toward her future. The dangers that lurk at an abandoned lighthouse pull her into a past she was unaware of but also involves a man she's never this lifetime! Follow the book’s progress on her website.

Her site links:

Twitter!/DeannaJewel (@deannajewel)
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*See her site for more places to find Deanna Jewel!

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Are You Ready For Submission Therapy?

Billionaire CEO of Blakely Incorporated, Natasha runs her empire with an eagle eye for every detail. She’s an obsessive, compulsive, micromanaging hard-ass, consumed by the need to control every aspect of her life and her business.
But underneath that seemingly strong façade, Natasha is a swirling mess of anger, anxiety and sexual addiction. Only her therapist, Dr. Benson, knows how close she is to burning out...or exploding. He insists on a radical form of treatment – Submission Therapy – knowing that it’s her only hope.
Skeptical but intrigued, Natasha agrees to attend the first session. What she finds there is an erotically-charged environment that will forgive none of her habitual bad behavior. And a steely-eyed man who seems to read her every desire - even the ones she won’t admit to herself.
Will Natasha learn what it means to submit? Or will she allow her brittle pride to rob her of what she truly needs?

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“If your spirit is the equal of your body...” He ran his fingers across my shoulders and down the gully of my spine. “...then it will be a rare pleasure breaking you in.”
Despite my initial apprehension, his words and his touch sent a thrill through me.
He moved from behind me and my back suddenly felt cold. I watched his muscular form as he prowled to the chair, and admired his grace as he mounted it.
“Bind her. Bring her to me.”
Chloe appeared beside me with a length of smooth rope in her hands. My instincts cried out to run, to fight, but I bit down on them. I could see where this was heading and…and I wasn’t sure I hated it.
With practiced efficiency, Chloe had my wrists secured in under a minute. She led me over to Master Sweet and handed him the loose end of rope.
“Slave, lay across my lap.”
I couldn’t help it. I hesitated. This was so new to me. He curled the rope around his wrist and pulled steadily, with a strength I couldn’t resist. With Chloe’s help he had me prone across his lap, my bare ass angled out and vulnerable. My heartbeat sped with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. Even though there was something so degrading about being put over someone’s lap, there was a part of me that found it...invigorating. I wasn’t about to let him know I felt that way, though. I held my tongue and watched blankly as Chloe worked, binding me in place.
She took the rope and fed it through the eyelet at the base of the chair, leading it underneath and through a matching eyelet on the other side. She walked around and crouched behind me. From my angle I could only see her hands taking the rope, but I could sense her body heat on the backs of my thighs, feel her breath tickling across my ass…and everywhere else. I wondered if she was there to do more than just tie knots.
The rope’s firm grip around my right knee took me out of that reverie. I watched as Chloe fed the rope back through the loop and then around my left knee. I understood the chair’s construction much better now. Looped around it, with Master Sweet’s strong legs as a cushion, I had nowhere to go. Intriguingly, there was still enough slack in the rope that I could spread my knees apart.
“Look in the mirror.”
I raised my head and stared. I barely recognized myself. In the low light, my black hair almost blended with the room. I could see enough to know it was a mess, though.
He slipped his hand onto my ass and rested it there, soft, unmoving. The deceptively light touch sent chills rippling across my body.
“You’ve earned a spanking for your disobedience. You will watch as your punishment is delivered, and you will count the strokes.”
My breath hitched in my chest. Spanking. I hadn’t had one of those since I was a little girl. So demeaning, and yet the thought of it sent heat rushing between my thighs. There was a part of me that longed for it. In a world where I constantly had to think at least six to twelve months ahead, a consequence that was both immediate and tangible somehow felt like a luxury.
He raised his hand, cocked it like a gun. I followed the movement instinctively, admiring the pure power of it, knowing full well that its force was about to come crashing down on me.
“No. Look into your own eyes.”
I did as instructed. My mouth hung open as I tried to catch my breath, which had begun racing. I clenched my muscles and squeezed my thighs together, waiting for what came next.
The blow, when it landed, cracked like a pistol shot. For the slightest instant all I felt was the jolt through my body. My vision blurred with the impact. Then the sting bloomed on my ass and began to tingle. I watched my own mouth stretch, listened as my breath hissed in. I would not cry out.
“Count it!” he demanded.