Wednesday, February 13, 2013

The Cirque de Plaisir is coming to town!

Updates, update, updates!

Things got away from me, so I never managed to do blog posts for the releases of For His Sake: His #7 and In His World: His #8.  They are, of course, both available now on Amazon, B&N, All Romance, BookStrand, and Kobo.  Apple, which takes quite a while to approve erotic romance titles, started approving the His titles tonight.  I'm hoping all of them go live on Apple in the next several days.  The only downside, of course, is that Apple readers don't get the 99 cent debut promo price.

But what I really wanted to share was the approaching release of the first Erika Masten domination romance novel--The Ringmaster: Cirque de Plaisir.

The Book Blurb:
Cirque de Plaisir. Circus of Pleasure.  An upscale underground theatrical pageant of desire and allure.  A masked BDSM spectacle bringing forbidden fantasies to life for the select few with the power, wealth, and influence to secure an invitation.

For Donovan Haigh, the man they all call Ringmaster, the Cirque de Plaisir is illusion, showmanship, and domination brought to the level of performance art.  It is the culmination and affirmation of his grasp of human nature mixed with business acumen and sheer force of will. And no one dares ask what wounds and personal losses underlie the Ringmaster’s resolve to maintain that unwavering control.

For Olivia Keane, the Circus of Pleasure is a vision in the night, a hunger in the dark, and a promise of freedom couched in the terms of submission.   Become the Ringmaster’s slave and escape the grasp of her manipulative, belittling family.  Succumb to the tightrope-taut sexual tension between the showman Dom and herself and blossom in the warmth of the spotlight and Donovan Haigh’s embrace.

But when the Ringmaster’s slave becomes the star of the show, drawing the lion’s share of attention and princely sums for private command performances, will Donovan be willing to share either the spotlight or his submissive?  The Ringmaster’s hold on Olivia and his own self-control begins to fray as powerful admirers try to woo her away, and at least one suitor proves he is not who he seems.  Old pains and family hatreds will not be so easy to escape for the Ringmaster and his slave, even in their secreted world of glamour and passion.
I'm still not ready to announce the release date, though I have hinted several times at a late February release. Only two weeks of the month left; it must be soon! The ebook will come out first, with the paperback (my first!) a few days later--hard copy through Amazon only. Aaand I have...bookmarks! Many many pretty pretty bookmarks.

Beginning March 4, The Ringmaster will be one of the sixteen feature titles on the Insatiable Reads Book Tour.  We'll be doing a slew of blog appearances, many of which will include giveaways, include a "grand giveaway" of a Kindle Paperwhite pre-loaded with all sixteen tour titles.  Any paperbacks I give away will certainly include my pretty bookmarks.  In fact, as long as I have some left, I'm willing to mail bookmarks to any readers who send me their mailing address.  (I promise to keep all addresses confidential and use them only for the intended purpose of sending the bookmarks.  I hate spam and junkmail as much as the next person!)

So...while you're waiting for The Ringmaster...would you like a little excerpt?


Gwynne leaned my way, without taking her eyes off the men and women tossing tools and heavy, lengthy pieces of metal back and forth as they began to construct a round platform.  “You warmed up quick, didn’t you, Livy?”

“Quiet, you,” I muttered with somewhat feigned annoyance.  “I’m watching this.”

Watching the shouting, cavorting, preening performers in their grease paint, thick streaks across their eyes—their version of masks—and the odd black smear at chin or cheek or flexing forearm.  Watching the positively enormous fellow, at way way over six feet, heft up a long metal pole laid against the muscles banding his upper back and neck, petite women hanging from either end of the steely bar and using it to swing and twirl as the strongman pretended anger with them.  Watching the playful way this woman or that man wiggled their butts for a smack from the black flogger carried by the suspiciously familiar blond foreman supervising them.


He stood at the edge of the performance space, almost directly across from me, and I could have sworn for a moment that I caught those topaz blue eyes trained steady on mine.  A flare of heat at the suggestion of his attention, a flutter of wildfire lust, sparked deep inside my sex, under the slim black pencil skirt and between my legs as I pressed them hard together.  This new performer stepped into the light, all six-feet-plus of him.  No hat covering the luxurious waves of his short black hair…  Grease paint striping his eyes and the bridge of his flawless patrician nose but leaving unmarred that granite chin and rock-solid jawline…  No bondage harness visible through the loose V of his unbuttoned black poets shirt, just smooth skin and rounded pecs and Michelangelo-grade abs…  At his hip coiled a black whip with an alarmingly large handle that had me making unwarranted sexual inferences about what he had inside those snug black trousers.  Well, maybe not entirely unwarranted, from the way the contrast of light and shadow played along the thick bulge running just to the left of his zipper almost as high as his waistband.

Again without turning, Gwynne reached out to offer me her champagne bottle.  “Dry mouth, Livy?” Not just to teach her a lesson, I snatched the bottle from her and took a lengthy drag, then glared when she stole my bottle from the crate between us.

I had to concentrate on swallowing as the black-haired man sauntered unhurriedly into the midst of the stage-building activity and assumed a commanding pose with broad shoulders squared and with large, gloved hands clasped at his back.  As he pivoted slowly, little by little, to survey the full scene, I caught myself staring at his corded thighs in those skimming black pants and the curve of his muscular ass.  And those hands, encased in black leather.  My imagination kicked in so strong that I could hear the soft creak of the material, smell that lingering musk of animal, feel the chill of a single finger tracing my cheek.  My nipples peaked painfully hard through my lacy bra and black cashmere sweater in response.


I'll very likely post a few more teasers before release day.  I'm really hoping everyone is excited to read this; it has been amazing to write.

The last thing I'd like to share tonight is a song a friend just played for me that I think would sound awesome on a Cirque de Plaisir soundtrack: Flight Facilities' Crave You (Adventure Club Mix).

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