Something Different
By
Nia Farrell
Genre: Erotica, Menage, BDSM, MMF
Something Different (The Three Graces Book
Two) is a standalone MFM ménage BDSM rock star erotic romance by Nia
Farrell. Only $2.99 for a potty mouthed
gamer girl and triple platinum indie artists who are about to rock her world.
What Reviewers Are Saying
“Sexy and
sultry” “Fun and hot…This ménage à
trois, featuring two sexy rock star brothers and a talented musician, will
leave you breathless and wanting for more.” “Nia Farrell did not disappoint.
Although Something Different is a heavier BDSM read than its predecessor, it
was well written and flowed well. I cannot wait for more in this series.”
Synopsis
Singer/songwriter
Anna James is getting desperate. Even
with a day job, money’s tight, and she’s wound tighter yet, having sworn off
sex to reconcile with her mother who’s in chemo and her father who disowned her
for her wild, wicked ways. No sooner
than her psychic best friend predicts an end to Anna’s self-imposed drought,
rock stars Jackson and Jacob Thomason come to town, with the dream of an indie
album co-written with local American Indian flutist Nico White and his
songwriting partner, Anna's alter ego AJ McPherson. From the first, it’s clear that the
triple-platinum indie rock stars want more than her music, but does Anna dare
submit to the part-Comanche twin brothers who perform as No Mercy?
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Now
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The
Three Graces Series by Nia Farrell
Something Else August 25, 2015
Something Different September 29, 2015
Something More October 15, 2015
From Dark
Hollows Press
Excerpt
They’re staring
now, trying to reconcile reality with my stage name and with how I look in the
cheesy publicity photo I use, shot four years ago when I turned eighteen and my
mother wanted the whole glamour thing captured for posterity. She’s never forgiven
me for refusing to let them tease and torture my hair. In the shot, I’m looking
over my shoulder like I’m caught in a fucking daydream, while my thick,
straight hair drapes my back like a black silk curtain.
I wear my hair
shorter now, streaked with red and purple. Those splashes of color and my
asymmetrical cut keep it well this side of boring.
My eyes, on the
other hand, are the same. Unlike my hair, they wouldn’t improve with the
enhancement of colored contacts. They’re purple. Fucking Liz Taylor purple–one
of those anomalies of nature that my mother can’t explain. Hell, I’ve caught my
dad looking at me sideways, like I might be the spawn of an incubus, ‘cause
there’s no way that I belong to the Chinese-born mail man. I guess my wild ways
haven’t given him any peace of mind, either. Shit, when I met Grace, she didn’t
screw, didn’t swear. Now she goes to bed with two strapping men every night and
has a mouth that could make a biker blush. As far as I’m concerned, my
corruption of her is complete.
Right now, she’s
staying blessedly silent. The Thomason twins are, too.
When the intensity
of their stares shifts from kind of rude to downright disconcerting, I’m
tempted to stick out my tongue and tease them with the surgical steel ball I’ve
sported since I turned twenty-one last year. Right now Jacob’s looking at the
diamond stud adorning my left nostril, and Jackson’s staring at my C-cup
breasts, his own nostrils flaring as my responsive nipples tighten to hardened
nubs.
Enough of this
shit.
“Guys.” I drop my
voice to a husky whisper that could earn six figures at a 900 number. “I might
use an outdated picture to throw people off, but my eyes–they’re fucking
purple, for Christ’s sake.”
Yep, the eyes have
it. Recognizing them, both men sit straighter and exchange a look that makes
excitement thrum in my veins. They’re here to see Nico, but why? I remind
myself to breathe, tell myself to slow down before my imagination runs too
wild. They wouldn’t be the first major artists wanting to lay tracks with the
American Indian artist and his native flutes.
“So…AJ–Anna James.”
Jackson says it likes he’s tasting my name, tasting me.
I swear my pussy’s
gushing. Okay, so they might not have come looking for me, but they know my
work. They’re big fish in my small pond, and their recognition means everything
to someone like me.
“Yes, but please,
guys, call me Anna. Jax. Jake.”
Recognizing them as
individuals, and not just as No Mercy, earns me a brownie point. I rack up more
for not going all fangirl on them.
“You work with Nico
White. Motherfucker.” Jackson eyes his brother, then turns back to Grace.
“Nico’s expecting us at eight. I suppose we’ll see you both then?”
Eight? Shit.
That’s–
“You’ll see more of
Anna,” Grace tells them. “I make myself scarce on music writing night. The
energy’s too intense for me.”
I’ve suspected as
much, but the lake where she lives with her lovers is really conducive to
creativity. So, rather than meet at the apartment I rent above a vintage
storefront on Main Street or somewhere else, Nico and I have our songwriting
sessions at their house. Grace, bless her, doesn’t complain, since it means she
gets to have some alone-time with J.T., the half-Puerto Rican member of their
threesome.
While Grace starts
a review of local businesses that would make a Chamber of Commerce proud, I’m
thinking of tonight. I might be working with these two men, writing for them.
Fuck, maybe we’ll be writing with them. The possibility makes me wet. I know
how Nico and I work. Our collaborations are so natural, so organic. We’re
comfortable with each other.
These two make me
anything but.
Meet
the Author
Nia Farrell has
been writing for pleasure since junior high. Now that she writes about
pleasure, she can share the fantasy worlds she visits and introduce readers to
characters who remain with her long after their tales are told.
When crafting a story, Nia draws upon a rich diversity of life experiences,
which include singer/songwriter, prize winning needle artist, private pilot,
Reiki Master/Teacher, crystal healer, psychic fair reader, jewelry maker,
physician's assistant, factory worker, waitress, genealogist, period reenactor,
and children's author. If this life isn't enough, there are plenty of others to
choose from. Otherwise, she devotes hours of research to subjects outside her
realm, determined that her stories ring true.
Nia lives on a farm in Southern Illinois (far, far from Chicago, in the heart
of "Little Egypt"). A seventh generation Illinoisan, she is descended
from Mayflower Pilgrims, American soldiers from the Revolutionary War to World
War II, and Scottish nobility. She enjoys playing in the past and visits Ren
fairs and historical reenactments in period attire, sharing her love of history
and her passion for music. While her husband and two grown daughters may only
read her nonfiction work, she appreciates their support in pursuing her dreams,
one of which is being published in erotic romance.
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