Tuesday, March 3, 2020

#NEBT - "Desires" by Daryl Devore

Heat Rating – 4 out of 5 hot peppers
Genre – contemporary billionaire romance
Tags – Contemporary romance, billionaire romance, romance, #contemporary #romance, #billionaireromance, #DarylDevore, @daryldevore


When secrets conflict with dreams, love explodes. Desires is Daryl Devoré’s latest hot romance.

After a mistake by a surgeon’s scalpel shattered Fuchsia Quinn's dance career, she picked up the pieces of her life and moved forward. As the owner of a small, struggling dance school in a depressed neighborhood she supplements her income with a late-night job at a strip club. Haunted by the fear of humiliation, if her secret is revealed, her life was under control until the night he walked into the club.

Peyton Lang, having run from an impoverished neighbourhood, lives the lifestyle of a successful billionaire. Frustrated that his current multi-million dollar project is stalled, Peyton drops in to LEATHER-ICIOUS for a quick drink and late night entertainment. What he saw was a beautiful redhead. What he found was he wanted her.

After a lusty night with a hot pole dancer, Peyton and Fuchsia's worlds are about to collide.

N.B. This book was previously published by New Dawning Bookfair under the title FL.E.S.H. The edition has a new title, new cover and has been revised.

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She walked out of the room and into the hall that separated the dressing room from the side stage entrance. There, she ran through a series of moves to warm up and loosen her muscles. Years of dance training had taught her how to prepare for a show, but being a pole dancer in a dive strip club was not the Lincoln Centre she'd imagined. Her right Achilles tendon complained. She pointed and flexed her foot then stretched the back of her leg. How ironic. An Achilles heel had been both Achilles' downfall and hers.
Once she felt her muscles loosen, she popped her head into the sound booth. "Asswipe – I mean Frankie has deemed that I'm up next. Jade's not dancing tonight. Fell off her heel. Can you put the Pole Dance Six music on?"
"Flame, honey, your wish is my command." Steve winked then scrolled through the music list and clicked on the requested folder.
The music from Passion Fruit's performance faded and applause replaced it. She bumped Flame's shoulder as she exited the stage. "Sorry. Gawd, what a shitty crowd. Brain dead morons are takin' over the world."
Flame stepped past her, walked to the pole at centerstage, wrapped her fingers on the metal and waited for the first music cue. As the opening chord sounded, she focused solely on her job, spinning around the dance pole, holding on with a hand, a bent knee, or a curved elbow. She stood beside it, lifted her leg, resting it on the shaft, and then pulled herself forward into a standing front split. She laid her head on her leg and tossed her hair right and left as she gazed about the bar. Baseball Cap Guy's seat was empty. Probably in the men's room, jerking off.
With a twist, she lowered her leg, turned so her back was against the pipe, and kicked off the stage. With her legs spread wide, the black crotch of her thong exposed to all, she circled the pole. The brilliant stage lights blurred as they seemed to whiz by. She slapped her feet to the floor, dropped to side splits, and humped the floor for several bars of music. She raised her head. Her gaze met two eyes staring intently at her. A small grin hovered over his lips. Forgetting her number one rule, she smiled back. He tilted his head in a small nod.
Flame's focus broke. Her nipples strained against the leather bra. No man had ever disrupted a performance like the simple grin on this one's face. She pushed herself to her hands and knees and crawled forward. Reaching the edge of the stage, she shifted to sitting on her heels with her knees splayed. She dragged the nail of her right index finger down the centre of her forehead, along her nose, over her pouted lips, between her breasts, along her firm torso, and then over the edge of her leather-encased mound. Reaching up, she ran her fingers through her long red hair and paused with her hands behind her head. There, she waited, displayed for him, knees apart, and breasts pushed forward as if offering herself to his desires.


Two writers in one. Daryl Devoré writes hot romances with sexy heroes and strong heroines. Victoria Adams is Daryl's alter ego when she's inspired to write sweet romances with little to no heat.

Daryl (@daryldevore) lives in an old farmhouse in Ontario, Canada, with her husband, two black cats - Licorice and Ginny-Furr Purrkins - and some house ghosts. Her daughter is grown and has flown the nest. Daryl loves to take long walks on her quiet country road or snowshoe across the back acres, and in the summer, kayak along the St. Lawrence River. She has touched a moon rock, a mammoth, and a meteorite. She’s been deep in the ocean in a submarine, flown high over Niagara Falls in a helicopter, and used the ladies room in a royal palace. Life’s an adventure and Daryl’s having fun living it.

Where to find Daryl Devoré

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