Friday, August 23, 2013
Blog Tour: Handcuffed by Her Hero by Angel Payne
Between a rock and a hard place.
To Sergeant Zeke Hayes, the expression has always been a non-factor. There's never been a situation he can't blast, punch, or smart-ass his way out of, which makes him the perfect fit for his Special Forces battalion--and a natural-born Dominant who's made a lot of submissives happy from Mt. Rainier to Vancouver.
That all changes when Rayna Chestain enters his world.
From the moment Z snatches Rayna from the lair of a South Asian slave trafficker, his inner grizzly roars to life. This is a huge damn problem, because Z isn't wired to be a one-woman man. Growing up an orphan on the streets of Seattle has taught him that beyond a few hours in a dungeon, trust means disappointment and love leads to agony. But here he is, in the remote wilderness escape he'd promised not to share with anyone, harboring Rayna from a fiend who now wants his pound of revenge flesh from her.
A hard place.
Sheltering Rayna? Z's never done anything more right in his life. But wanting her? Dreaming of her beneath him, surrendering to his passion and domination? It's the most forbidden fruit he can crave...and the only thing he can't stop thinking about.
A new beginning?
This is a dead-end canyon that no rifle, bomb or sweet talk will let Zeke escape from. The only way out is to confront the reality of what Rayna has done to him...the mountain she's moved in his intractable heart.
RomFan Reviews has read the book, and here's what we had to say:
Handcuffed By Her Hero literally grabbed ahold of my heart and never let go. Zeke and Rayne’s intense bond is forged in fire. Thick with passion, smoldering looks, and red hot dominating sex, Angel Payne has created a sequel to rival its sibling. I am anxious for the next W.I.L.D Boy and the continuation of her addicting characters.
To read the full review, click here.
How do you write a very male driven topic such as Military and Dominance, yet keep it feminine enough that the ladies flock to read it?
WOW! I seriously love this question and thanks for asking it. To be really honest, the answer, at least for me, is comprised of a number of layers…
Layer 1: Contrast. Let’s face it, men are simply so many things we are not! They’ve got different striations in their muscles and different fathoms in their minds. The contrast of what they have, as to what we have, is unbearably sexy to me. Watching a man is like watching a sleek, gorgeous wild animal in the forest. They’re so….interesting! And to me, nothing embodies the essence of that contrast quite like “man stuff.” To be honest, ALL those “man worlds,” whether they’re cowboys or gladiators or race car drivers or even space explorers, kind of spark this reaction in me. It just so happens that the world of military men does it even better than the rest, because to me, there’s nothing more heroic than serving your country, your people, as the military does.
Layer 2: “Dominants don’t need anything” is a myth. A BIG one. The dynamic of Dominance and submission is often called “power exchange” for a very large reason—because it’s an exchange. A Dominant is nothing without the communication and dedication of his submissive…and it’s this fact that lies at the heart of turning my big, bold, bad-ass military boys into humans who not only love their women, but need them. In essence, on the surface, it may look like my W.I.L.D. Boys are the ones with all the strength and control…when in reality, it’s just the opposite. Now how sexy is THAT?
Layer 3: On the subject of turning men into marshmallows…*smirk*...well, speaking in emotional terms…nothing makes me grin more than getting the chance to show that even if a guy swings an M4 for a living, he still can be very much a fish out of water, and an adorable one at that, when the right circumstances arise. It’s this contrast that is the sexiest stuff of all for me to write.
I’d love to illustrate this point with one of my favorite examples from “Handcuffed By her Hero.” In this snippet, keep in mind that Zeke, after Rayna’s pleas, has had his merry Dom way with his woman for several hours. After they’ve caught a few hours of sleep, Z wakes up and finds out that Rayna has gotten up in the middle of the night. He finds her in the living room, and here’s what happens…
Moonlight shone through the back deck window, though the silver streams danced with the storm clouds, making the living room look like a mystical rainforest. Rayna, covered again to her knees in his Henley, stood in the middle of it—if that was the proper term for her pose. With one leg raised with its foot braced against her other knee and her hands pressed over her heart in a diamond shape, she reminded him more than ever of a graceful fairy tale bird. She was adorable. Amazing. If he hadn’t been all over her and inside her six hours ago, he would have even doubted she was real.
He couldn’t decide whether to keep staring at her, or order her to the couch so he could redden her ass again for scaring the shit out of him.
Not scratching that itch again, jackass. Remember?
The next moment, she took care of his dilemma, anyway.
“Put down the gun and come join me, Sergeant Hayes.”
Her voice was as ethereal as the light that surrounded her and soft as the smile she tilted at him. The fact that he stood there with the weapon didn’t seem to stun her in the least—which dazed him so much, he complied without a word. She rewarded him by extending a hand, pulling him next to her.
“You should be sleeping, bird.”
She arched both brows as she angled him to stand as she did, facing toward the panorama of cliffs and mountains that seemed to undulate beneath the clouds and the full moon’s glow. “Are you really going to try that one on me, SF boy?”
“And are you really going to call me ‘boy?’”
She turned her face up to him. Her eyes were full of dark emerald solemnity. “Then what do I call you?”
Hell. That was the sixty million dollar question, wasn’t it? He looked away instead of answering her, all too aware of the words that pushed way too close to the edge of his discipline. You can just continue with “Sir.” How does that sound? Or maybe I’ll just tell you how it sounds. Maybe I’ll tell you about all the submissives who have offered it to me in so many scenes, but how none of them filled my spirit with such satisfaction or pumped my body with such need. How it never gave me what your lips did…
“What are you doing?” he asked, instead.
“Just getting the chakras in line.”
She centered her stance again. This time she kept both feet on the floor. Without letting his hand go, she lifted her arms like a swan about to take flight. If his evasiveness ticked her off, she chose to play it close to her vest. Well, her chest. Like he could avoid noticing the sight, between her pose and the deep V of flesh exposed by the neckline of his shirt. Damn it. From his vantage point, he could see all the way in to the dark gold circle of her left areola, including the deep pink streaks left behind by his teeth. He smiled in grim triumph. He couldn’t touch her anymore but she’d sure as hell remember he had, at least for a few days.
It would be so easy to use their handclasp to drag her close again. To ram her against him, devour her in a kiss, shove that shirt up past her waist and—
“Come on, Z.” Her voice fell back into its gentle mist again. “Join me.”
The steamy fantasy bugged out like a greenie grunt under heavy fire. “Nah. Thanks. I’m good.”
“Yes, you are.” She curled a silky smile. “But how’re your chakras?”
He seriously needed to just let go of her. But goddamnit, he couldn’t. As his arm went along for the ride through a sweeping circle of hers, he muttered, “Bird, I don’t do chakras.”
“Really? Because you sure as hell tangled with a few of mine.”
Shit. How did he address that without coming off like an elephant on rice paper?
With a nervous snort, he rotated and adopted the same pose as her. “Is that good or bad?”
He watched her face carefully as she considered an answer. Her forehead crinkled just a little before she replied, “A little of each. So breathe in the next time we go up, okay? Hold it then let it out slowly.”
He rolled his eyes. “I—don’t—”
“In,” she decreed. Up their arms went. He snorted his way through obeying her. “Now let it out. Slowly.”
“Christ,” he grumbled—though damn if the action didn’t spread a nice layer of warmth through him. As she lifted his arm again, he ditched the snort in favor of really filling his lungs all the way.
And sneaking in a stare at her.
And marveling at what he saw.
With her hair a bright mahogany mess, contrasting with the porcelain serenity of her profile, she was as fascinating to him as the first day they’d sat and talked in the garden at the embassy in Bangkok. He took in the little curves at the corners of her lips, the gentle rise of her neck, the straight strength of her shoulders. There always seemed something new to notice about her, something else about her beauty that took his breath away.
And here she was…all his. Dressed in his damn shirt. Still covered in his bites.
Filling his cock with craving her beneath him again.
“Huh?” he stammered. “What?”
“You’re not breathing.”
You see that even a Dom like Zeke can have his balance busted—literally—by being in a situation that’s new and strange for him.
Later in the book, I take this idea to even greater extremes, especially in a physical sense, showing that even the toughest soldier needs the magic of love to be truly whole. Isn’t that what we all want…man or woman? And in that sense, that gives us the greatest connection of all, doesn’t it?
Thank you, RomFan, for having me here today! You ladies are wonderful.
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