November 19th an
original boxed set of erotic romance novellas set in New Orleans will ring in
the New Year, covered in ink and dripping in sexy good times.
Midnight Ink will
also be the start of a brand new BDSM series from me—Sidney Bristol. Set
against the bayou, these are stories of those who walk the dangerous line
between the law and their natural, darker inclinations. These will be stories
with suspense, action and one heck of a fun time, because consent is sexy.
Picture Her Bound
She's a police
officer desperate enough to break the rules. He's the bounty hunter standing
between her and ruin. Picture Her Bound--the first book in the brand new Bayou
Bound series from Sidney Bristol--a story of right, wrong and binding
pleasures.
Officer Odalia
Fouchaeux is a desperate woman. Incriminating photographs of her after-hours
job as a fetish model have been stolen and she's willing to break rules to get
them back. Standing in her way? The very dominant bounty hunter Jacques
Savoy.
Jacques has been
watching out for Officer Foucheaux. He wants her safe from harm as much as he
desires her body, her soul—and her submission. Odalia’s in trouble and
struggling to walk the line of the law. His solution? Work together to find out
who stole her pictures, what the thief wants and how to stop them. And if they
find a pleasure unlike any other along the way, well, laissez les bons temps rouler.
Let the good times roll.
The
first sneak peek into the Bayou Bound world…
Odalia bent and
picked something off—
Oh. That.
She turned, holding
up the glossy magazine, one brow arched.
A woman, her, sat on
a white box, wearing a pair of lace panties that were see-through. One arm was
planted on the box, while the other held her hair up. The way her back was
arched, the camera caught a glimpse of her breast, but the eye was captured by
a vivid black and gray tattoo stretching over her back and down her hip. It was
a mural of New Orleans history, so detailed he expected the gator on her side
to open its jaws and snap at him. One of the articles was about the rebounding
of the alternative lifestyle in the city after Hurricane Katrina.
Odalia’s skin
coloring was perfect for such a tattoo. Jacques had asked her outright about
her lineage, and it turned out to be a fascinating mix that created the most
beautiful canvas. Her mixed-heritage of Spanish, French and Native American
descent created a light, warm, sienna tone for the art.
The only thing about
the photograph he hadn’t liked was that Odalia’s face was turned away. It was
sexy, but he didn’t feel a connection to it without her eyes.
“I told you I
recognized you.” She was a hard person to miss at the dungeon. Attractive,
physically fit and responsive, he’d seen her with a variety of play partners,
but never collared.
“It’s a good shot.”
He glanced at the
cover and he wondered what she thought of it now.
“Odalia?” Jacques
rose and walked across the loft to her. He took the magazine from her and
tossed it back onto the coffee table, next to all his other tattoo and gun
magazine subscriptions.
She dropped her chin,
staring at his chest. He’d observed Odalia in many states, and never had she
seemed this disheartened or depressed. She was spitfire and gin, a Molotov
Cocktail in human form. He itched to shake some sense into her. The world
wasn’t going to end because of a few pictures.
Jacques reached
around her, wrapped her long, glossy hair around his hand and yanked her head
back. She gasped. He felt her switch into submissive mode as one might feel the
change in air pressure before a storm. It was a palpable thing. Her body
softened, bowing toward him and her eyes dilated. She grasped the front of his
shirt, fisting it in both hands.
The sweet zing of
chemistry flashed between them. He’d sensed it during the photo shoot as he’d
bound her, positioned her body and when she posed, she seemed to do so for him,
not the camera. But now, outside the bounds of professionalism, he couldn’t
help but stare at her lips and wonder, again, what did they feel like? How
would she kiss?
She licked her lips
and shifted her weight forward.
It would be so easy
to take her mouth.
“Boo, I’m going to
let go of you, and we’re going to talk about this for a minute, then we’ll
figure out how to find the camera. Feel me?”
She flattened her
hands against his chest. “Yup.”
Sassy possede’.
Jacques released her
and took a step back. She swayed, but remained where she was. They stared at
each other, breathing in time.
It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a
‘normal’ life. She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary,
and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an
occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her
parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with
children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time
between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.
