This is your Invitation to Eden, an exciting series coming in 2014 from 27 of the biggest names in sizzling hot romance. Join us as we take you on an exciting adventure to Eden, where anything…and everything goes!
The island always knows what you need…
Miranda lives in paradise— the exclusive Eden resort, the ultimate in fantasy retreats.
Roan, the resort’s dungeon consultant, lives part-time on the island and full-time in the past.
When the sexy Dominant and the sultry pastry chef both receive one of the island’s mysterious invitations they spend a sizzling week together in the dungeon suite. They’re left breathless, wanting more… and hopelessly falling.
Both have been scarred by loss, both have created a nearly impenetrable shell. The intensity and intimacy of kink might be the perfect recipe to open Miranda’s heart again. But can the man who fulfills her every secret desire ever give her what she needs the most?
Miranda checked her reflection in the small compact mirror she pulled from her black clutch and peered at her reflection. Her familiar blue eyes stared back at her. Yep, she still looked like the same woman she’d been before the mysterious piece of pale, papery linen and vellum had slid beneath her apartment door two days ago.
This is your invitation to Eden…
Crazy, how a simple piece of embossed paper could come across as so utterly commanding. What she still couldn’t figure out was why she of all people had received an invitation from her employer at the exclusive Island of Eden Resort.
She tucked the mirror back into her small clutch purse and took in a breath as she stared at the imposing brushed steel double doors before her.
Had an employee ever been issued an invitation before? She hadn’t heard any rumors about it in the resort’s pastry kitchen, which she managed, or around the staff apartments or at the staff pool.
And why, of all places, had she been instructed to go to Club Sin? How could anyone have possibly known? But there she was, her heart fluttering, her pulse hot in her veins as she pulled open one heavy door and stepped through into the red, black and chrome interior of the elegant dungeon, which was apparently an ante-chamber. Just inside the door sat a large, sleek black lacquer desk with chrome-framed black-and-white photographs of deliciously wicked images on the walls: a naked woman lay over the lap of a man in a business suit, his hand coming down to smack her round bottom; in another a woman wearing nothing but kitten ears and a rhinestone-studded collar knelt on a bare wood floor; in another a man and woman were chained back-to-back on either side of an enormous X-shaped St. Andrew’s Cross. Miranda’s lips parted and her breath caught in her throat as desire rippled over her skin, her gaze moving from one image to the next. Oh, she loved the kitten image—something she’d never considered before, but…
She shook her head.
This is crazy.
She hadn’t done any of those things since Daryn. Hadn’t even thought about it. Okay, maybe she’d thought about it. And it was said the island always knew what you needed. The island, or her employer the enigmatic Theodosius Vardalos—‘the Master’ as he was known to his employees. But was kink what she needed?
It had been five years. Five years of grieving. Not a time to play. But…she’d missed it. Missed the thrill of kink. The sensations. The giving over control—something she never did in her day-to-day life. It was still her number one fantasy—being bound and touched, teased, tortured with pain and pleasure.
Her nipples went hard just thinking about it. She almost wanted to stroke the tips, allowing her body a shiver of desire before flexing her hands on her small bag and trying to remember that the damn invitation had made her wary. Rightfully so.
So why did she feel as if something important was about to happen? Something important and possibly thrilling.
When she walked into the main room of the dungeon she had to stifle a gasp.
Oh, I am in big, bad trouble.
He was tall, which she always loved, being five-foot-eight herself. And he was elegant—there was something in the way he held himself that told her so. It was a relaxed confidence, but something more…and so damn handsome she could barely believe he was real. Dark hair. Chiseled features that would have belonged on a model if he weren’t so thoroughly masculine, with that little bit of scruff shadowing his angular jaw making him seem all the more male. And even from several yards away the man radiated pure power.
Her knees shook, weakened by his presence. Stunningly male. Stunningly dominant. He wore authority like a second skin.
He held a hand out. “Hallo.”
He had an English accent. Sexy as hell.
© Eden Bradley 2014