Grand Slam
By Lily Harlem & Lucy Felthouse
Genre: BDSM Sports Romance
Synopsis
Everyone’s
favourite dominant tennis player, Travis Connolly, is back! Grand
Slam, a M/F BDSM sports erotic romance by award-winning authors Lily
Harlem and Lucy Felthouse has been re-launched with a brand new cover, but is
the same gripping book—so if you’ve read it before, be aware the content hasn’t
changed.
California
had seduced me with promises of a new life working at Los Carlos Tennis
Academy. What I didn’t expect was the dark, brooding number one seed, Travis
Connolly, resisting my help. He wasn’t interested in my psychology skills.
Instead his attention was drawn to the edgy, sharper corners of my desires,
proving that they existed, setting me challenges and driving me crazy to the
point of combustion.
I’m the best
tennis player in the world—officially—so why would I need a damn woman full of
psychobabble to get me on form? Despite my irritation, however, I can’t resist
pushing Marie Sherratt’s buttons even though doing that shows her the darkest
shades of my lust, the parts of me I buried deep. So I set her a challenge, one
she rises to, one that has me rising too, and before long my game relies on her
calling the shots, hitting the target and bending to my will. One thing was
certain, being not just master of the court, but also of Marie is seriously
good for my soul.
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Excerpt
I turned to the door. I always kept
it ajar when expecting a client, to give the impression that I was open to
whatever they needed to talk about. It was a subliminal thing.
Travis stood in the frame, his wide
shoulders filling the space, the top of his head almost brushing the wood and
his jawline holding a heavy sprinkle of black stubble.
Fuck, he should come with a warning.
Hazard to the health of every female heart. He looked good enough to eat, or
lick all over at the very least. Tasty.
“Knock, knock,” he said, slipping
his gaze down my body.
“Come in. Take a seat.” I gestured
to the couch and made a point of not letting my attention slide over his body.
I didn’t need to look at soft blue jeans worn in all the right places or at his
black polo top with a Nike logo just over his right nipple to imagine what was
beneath them. I took a deep breath to stop myself doing just that. His physical
attributes weren’t my concern, it was his mind I was after.
He shut the door and sat sideways on
the low S curve of the black leather recliner, his long legs folding over and
his knees coming up high.
“Please,” I said. “Lie back, make
yourself comfortable.” I took a seat on a soft chair just to his left and
crossed my legs.
Damn, I hadn’t realized how short
this tight little red skirt was. Quickly I uncrossed, then started to worry
there was a gap between my knees that would flash the top of my stockings or
worse, what was between them. Hurriedly I pressed my notebook over my lap,
resisted a squirm and forced a gentle smile at Travis.
“You wear glasses,” he said.
“Contacts usually.” I touched the
black frames and pressed them up the bridge of my nose a fraction.
“You were in a hurry this morning
then?” He frowned, as though irritated by me being in a hurry.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You were in a rush to get to work?”
“Not especially, it’s just the heat
and being tired, it’s made my eyes a little sensitive. I thought it best to opt
for my glasses when I left home this morning.”
“So you slept at home last night?”
“Pardon?” I creased my brow in
confusion.
His fists were clenched and a muscle
twitched in his jawline. “You slept at home then and not at…?”
I struggled to keep the surprise out
of my expression. Bloody hell, was he getting at what I thought he was? Did he
want to know if I’d slept at Peter’s?
His dark eyes were boring into me;
they were deep chocolate-brown, almost black. Annoyance swirled in their
depths, so did a curious certainty that I’d answer his question. He was
definitely a man who was used to getting what he wanted.
Well, I supposed he would again now,
because if he didn’t chill out we’d get nowhere and I had things to start work
on. Plus I hadn’t slept with Peter. I wasn’t a to-bed-on-the-first-date kind of
woman, so what was the harm in being truthful? “Yes, I slept at home last
night.” I opened my notepad, clicked the spring on my ball-point pen and tilted
my chin. “Alone.” I caught his steady gaze. Yes, I’d told him something he had
no right to wonder about. But by telling Travis what he appeared to want to
know, he owed me something in the confessing stakes.
He nodded slowly, then lifted his
legs and did as I’d asked, lay back on the chair and settled his gaze over the
L.A. skyline.
“And what about you?” I asked, watching
as he unfurled his fists and rested his hands over his flat belly. “Did you
sleep alone?”
He frowned. “You know I did.”
“No I don’t.”
“I was eating alone, Marie. You saw
me.”
“Yes. I did. But you could have been
heading out to meet someone or catching up with other players. I’m not a
mind-reader.”
I waited for him to elaborate on our
chance encounter or offer some information on the rest of his evening. He
didn’t.
“In these sessions, Travis, it’s
important for me to know who else is in your life, who you hang out with, who
you share your thoughts and feelings with.”
“You have everything you need to
know in my file.”
“Your file is full of facts. I’m
more interested in the non-tangible things.”
“Like what?”
“Things like who your special
someone is.”
He sucked in a breath, rolled his
lips in on themselves and stared out the window.
“Have you left someone you care
about back in England?” I asked gently.
“I think this is all very much
beyond the realms of what we’re supposed to be doing here.” He’d fisted his
fingers again and shifted his right foot irritably, as though kicking something
away. I wondered if he was imagining it was my head.
“It’s up to us to decide what we
want to do with our time together, Travis. We can talk about your accident or
cognitive methods for keeping calm and focused under pressure, or you can
unload all the stuff that fills your mind and stops you from being able to
concentrate on court. Entirely up to you.”
“Great, in that case we won’t
discuss my love life. It really is the last thing that plays on my mind when
I’m beating an opponent into submission.”
Okay, now was the time to play my
trump card. “Yet you feel it necessary to ask me about my love life.”
“You didn’t have to answer.”
“No, I didn’t, but you wanted to
know, and since we’re stuck with each other for three hours a week for the
foreseeable future I figured it would make sense for us to know a little about
each other’s lives.”
“So now we do. I know you’re dating
my coach and he wants to get into your knickers, and you know I sleep alone and
have done for a long time now.” He paused. “Too long.”
Great, now we were getting
somewhere. “And would you like that to change?”
“What?”
“Sleeping alone.”
He sighed and shoved his hand
through his hair. I watched the black strands feather through his fingers and
an image of myself doing that to him as he kissed down my sternum, onto my
stomach, lower, suddenly stole into my mind.
I tightened my legs together. Felt a
pleasurable little rush of heat in my lower abdomen. No. That was a ridiculous
thing to daydream about. Travis Connolly was not only way out of my league, he
was also a surly grump. Sitting here talking to him was stretching seconds into
minutes.
“Are you asking me if I want to get
married?” he asked, his gaze slipping to my chest.
Damn it, my nipples were tingling
now.
“No, not at all. Simply wondering if
you feel your career allows you to have a romantic relationship or if it’s
something you’ve sacrificed in the name of tennis.”
“I’ve sacrificed lots of things to
be number one seed.”
About Lily Harlem
Lily Harlem
lives in the UK and is an award-winning author of erotic romance. She writes
for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including HarperCollins, Totally
Bound, Pride Publishing, Evernight Publishing, All Romance eBooks, Stormy
Nights Publishing, Tirgearr and Sweetmeats Press. Her work regularly receives
high praise and industry nominations.
Before
turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest
HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse draws on her many
experiences while nursing in London. Lily also self-publishes and The Silk Tie,
The Glass Knot and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their
release.
Lily writes
MF, MM and ménage a trois, her books regularly hit the #1 spot on Amazon Best
Seller lists and Breathe You In was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended
Read of 2014. Her latest MM novel is Dark Warrior.
Lily also
co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae - check out
the Sexy as Hell Trilogy - The Novice, The Player, and The Vixen - and That
Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel 'every woman should read' and is
available in book stores nationwide.
One thing
you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, is it will be
wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!
Check out
Lily’s website
for details of her other books. Subscribe to her newsletter
to get a FREE ebook and be the first to hear of new releases and free reads,
and if you enjoy Facebook, hop on over there and say hi!
About Lucy Felthouse
Lucy
Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately
Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics
That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller) and Eyes Wide Open (winner
of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon
bestseller). Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 140
publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati,
and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her
writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk,
or on Twitter
and Facebook. You can also subscribe to her
monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
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