Three Dirty Secrets by Nikki Sloane is finally here at midnight tonight!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1mdj8dL
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1PrLtYW
No man can own me. I negotiate sex for money at an illicit blindfold club, but my body is not for sale. I don’t submit and I don’t surrender.
Until I meet him. This beautiful artist’s tattoo now covers the scar of the worst mistake of my life.
Being with him could expose everything I’ve been hiding, and although there’s so much at stake, I can’t stop myself. The battle for control between us is too hot, too powerful to resist.
With all my dirty secrets, what’s going to happen when he forces me to come clean?
NOTE: This book is a standalone with no cliffhanger ending, but does include scenes of MFF. Mature readers only.
I had a full on no-touch Payton style orgasm reading this book. I may have also had a few other of the uhhhh other kind. This book should be packaged with contraceptives. I’m not fucking kidding. Sloane’s best book to date is full of substance and sin. Not only did I love Regan more than words can properly express, but her connection with Silas was ever present and my undoing.
If you dislike strong women who have their shit together, then you’re going to have a problem with this book. But if you love it when a woman knows what she wants and takes it – FUCK, then this book is a sinful gift from above. Regan is still figuring herself out, but she does know that she likes the current version of herself better than the weak one that she’s been in the past. Her strength butts against Silas at times – but the connection isn’t blunt, rather it sparks & ignites.
Silas is absolutely fuckable, lickable, and delectable. He calls Regan out when she needs it and takes her to the edge when she’s not sure she can. He’s a tattoo artist, but he’s also an actual artist. The scenes with them together are killer – as in, they killed every single other fantasy I’ve ever had and replaced them immediately.
Nikki is The Threesome Master. Yes, there is a threesome – no, I didn’t find it offensive. Somehow Nikki does it in a way that enhances the connection between the two main characters without lessening their growing feelings. I wasn’t uncomfortable or grimacing…I was actually getting seriously turned on by words. And these days, it takes a special book to get me that wound up. This is special. This is powerful. This is fantastic smut that I want to share with the world. If Three Dirty Secrets was a man (or really, a woman at this point), I’d fuck him/her.
This book dominates and decimates with words. I’ll be grabbing my husband now. 5 stars!
[I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review]
“I think you want this almost as badly as I do, Regan. You’re going to take your clothes off because I’m putting my hands on your fucking body in a few seconds, and you don’t want me to ruin your clothes.”
He left me standing there in surprise and went back to the table. He picked up the charcoal pencil and rubbed it between his palms, covering his hands with even more black dust.
It was impossible to have friction without heat, and it flickered through my body, warming all the way down to my toes. He’d told me to take off my clothes, but it was really a choice. I could stay as I was and call his bluff, do as he asked, or walk away.
What would those dark hands do? Would they leave perfect black handprints against my ivory skin? The image was too powerful to deny. I locked my gaze on him, only breaking it for a moment as I tore my sweater up over my head.
Lust made his eyes heavy as he watched me shed the plain white t-shirt, and work the snap of my jeans. I tugged them off and tossed them to the floor with aggression. “Okay, done. Put your filthy goddamn hands on me.”
Fire flared so hot, it made the room scorching. He came at me, but I held my ground. His hands lifted to cup my face—wait, no. That wasn’t his intent. I inhaled sharply when he put both hands around my neck.
I fought the instinct to break his hold. There wasn’t any tension in his fingers as his hands wrapped around my throat, they simple rested there. It was dominating, but it was exciting, too.
When he released me, Silas made a noise of satisfaction. The sight of his black handprints on my skin obviously pleased him. My pulse sped to a million miles an hour. Did these handprints ringing my neck look like a collar? Like he owned me?
“The bra,” he said on a hurried breath. “Take it off.” He gazed at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d seen, and my hands moved instantly. The clasp was undone and I slipped the straps down my shoulders, letting the bra fall away. My exposed breasts felt heavy and aching for his touch, which he seemed eager to do.
He filled the weight of one in his hand, pressing his dark, rough palm against my pale skin. As he peeled his fingers away, we both looked down and admired the perfect gray handprint he’d left. God, it was sexy. He instantly did the other breast so I had a matching set.
“That looks fucking amazing,” he said. “Stay right like that.” And then he hurried for his camera.
About the Author:
Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, is married with two sons, writes dirty books, and couldn’t be any happier.
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