Maureen Thompson

After one painful and humiliating night, Mia was left wondering if Master Reed was just a figure that she dreamed up when she secretly discovered the world of BDSM. Until she collided with him in the conference room at her office building and found out just how real he actually was and he's made it very clear that he is going to be her Master. Reed bought "Bean Me" with the intention of claiming Mia as his submissive. A dream he'd had ever since the night he had picked her up off the sidewalk at his club "The Dungeon" three years earlier. Before that dream can come true, it is threatened when his manipulating ex-wife comes back into the picture with every intention of staying there. She brings a few nasty surprises as well that will leave Mia and Reed reeling and wondering if there is any way their fragile budding relationship.18+ Adults only. Explicit Scenes, BDSMBound To Me Series Contains Four books, You Are Mine, You Are Ours, Because I Want To, and They Are Mine.

"Sonja is a down on her luck waitress. Her bills keep climbing and she's stuck in an embarrassing job with no way to escape. She gets a letter from one Jasper Bright. He demands she come to see him that very night. There's only one problem, Sonja has no idea who he is. Her boss has been acting very strange lately. Ever since she received that letter he's been almost possessive, but that couldn't possibly be true, right? But these men are holding a secret of their own and when Sonja stumbles onto it, her normal everyday troubles are over and she's got a whole slew of much more worrisome ones to deal with. Just what are you supposed to do when you find yourself in the center of two possessive vampires?"

When I was a child, my grandma used to tell me stories. At the time, I never gave them much thought. Thinking they were just that… stories. Growing up, I soon realized that they weren’t lofty fantasies and fairy tales but memories of her past, memories of our ancestors before our world turned to sh*t. You see, what comes from legend, no matter how exaggerated the story becomes, there is always a sliver of truth. You just need to weed out the fiction from fact. My grandmother used to tell me stories of the Chosen One—the one who would save us all. When I was younger, I used to believe that what she said was true. Eventually, someone would be born, just as the Oracle predicted—someone who could save our souls and bind us back to our magic. Once I grew up and saw the world unfolding around me, I no longer believed in salvation. The chosen one seemed to be more of a prayer than reality. Some dream we wanted desperately to come true. Something in which we needed to find hope when there wasn’t any left. When our ancestors turned their backs on us, how were we expected to believe in this so-called salvation? Especially when all we witnessed was death and carnage ever since the great war. Nothing except pain and poverty. I used to believe the stories and used to pray for the mysterious chosen one that would rid our world of its evil. Now, though, I see it for what it really is, just a dream of hope. Some out of reach fairy-tale. A story to create hope. Hope is dangerous; it makes you believe things will get better. I stopped hanging on to hope when I witnessed firsthand that it caused nothing but heartache.