About Little Dancer
Twenty-year-old dancer Abby Williams has only ever felt truly herself while she’s onstage. It’s the one place she gets the firm direction and focused attention she craves to keep her whimsical thoughts in order. Offstage she feels out of place, forced to give up her girlish treasures and bombarded at every turn with adult responsibilities. But one missed dance cue in front of the intimidating theater director could take all this away.
Summoned to Rufus Kingsolver’s office, Abby is terrified the darkly handsome, commanding man is about to end her dream. But Rufus has other ideas. He wants to be her Dom. He wants her to call him Daddy.
Abby is shocked, but the spark of curiosity and taboo desire have her wanting more. Under Rufus’s firm hand, they explore the erotic depths of their unconventional, yet beautiful, relationship. Abby is falling deeper in love with Rufus and the Little/Dom lifestyle, but it’s not long before she comes face-to-face with her darkest fear—judgment from the outside world.
Daddy knows best, but what if, this once, he can’t protect her?
Release Date: April 17, 2018
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About Princess Brat
When Father’s away, with Daddy Dom she’ll play
Throwing tantrums may be childish behavior, but it’s the only way Adrienne Westley feels she can be heard. In the middle of a tabloid scandal, her father cares more about his career than the threats to his mouthy daughter. So when bodyguard Dieter Vanderbroeck enters her home, she’s shocked by his dominant presence.
Try as she might to defy him, Dieter doesn’t give in to her bratty attitude. Instead, he challenges it with a commanding voice and a firm hand. His authoritative tone calls to a part of Adrienne that she’s long kept hidden—and as Dieter begins to unravel her submissive nature, it becomes harder and harder to keep things professional.
Adrienne’s about to find out just where bratty little girls go: over Daddy’s knee. Because he no longer wants to be just her bodyguard—he wants to be her Daddy Dom.
Release Date: June 26, 2017
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About Brianna Hale
Brianna Hale couldn’t live without her notebook and an assortment of glitter pens, and when she’s not writing she can usually be found with a book, fighting video game monsters and aliens or attending the theatre. She believes that pink and empowerment aren’t mutually exclusive, and everyday adventures are possible. Brianna lives in London.
Little Dancer Excerpt
I collect my satchel, head out of the dressing rooms, and climb the staircase deep into the theater. It’s silent now as everyone’s gone home. At the top of the stairs I see the wooden door with Rufus Kingsolver, Owner emblazoned in gold letters. I knock, and then turn the handle and push the door open.
Mr. Kingsolver is sitting behind his desk, writing. His sleeves are rolled back to reveal strong forearms, lightly dusted with dark hair. The pen looks slender in his large, square hands.
His eyes flick to mine. He doesn’t look pleased that I’ve opened the door without permission, and my insides clench. “Wait outside,” he directs.
I close the door and stand on the landing, fingers twisting together. With each passing second the butterflies in my stomach multiply. My sneakered heel bounces silently against the floor. What can I say to make him change his mind about firing me? Is there anything I can do to convince him?
Ten minutes later I hear his command. “Come.”
There’s nowhere to sit, so I stand in front of his desk. The room is darkly masculine. Lamps with green glass shades cast pools of light.
Mr. Kingsolver laces his fingers together and sits back in his leather chair. He’s taking his time, watching me. I want to fidget with my skirt but I force myself to keep still. Just because I’m afraid all the time doesn’t mean I want anyone to know it.
“Put your bag down,” he orders.
My bag slumps on the carpet.
He taps his knuckles with a forefinger, and I remember the feel of them against my throat. “I’m good at reading people. I pride myself on knowing how to get the best out of those around me. I demand it at all times. The best.”
I don’t know what to say. Is he firing me or not?
“You were late today.”
He waits, glaring at me. Am I supposed to say something?
I take a shallow breath. “The train was delayed and—”
He cuts me off with an impatient gesture. “I don’t want your excuses. The director doesn’t know how to discipline his girls so I’ll have to do it myself.” He pushes back from his desk. “Come here.”
I stare at him, not understanding what he wants. The last thing I want is to get any closer to him.
He raises his voice. “I said come here.”
Look, you don’t want to get fired, I counsel myself. Just do what you’re told, take your lecture, beg for mercy and then never, ever make a mistake again. Slowly, I walk around his desk until I’m standing by his chair.
“Mr. Kingsolver, I—”
But before I get any further he grabs me by the forearm and pulls me face down over his lap. I struggle to get up, pressing against his thighs, but he’s strong and he holds me down. “What are you doing?” I gasp, grabbing at the desk to steady myself.
“I am teaching you that there are consequences when you break my rules.” His hands shove up my skirt.
“Consequences?” I squeak. “Are you firing me?”
He forces the denim up and my underwear is exposed. They’re white cotton with pink hearts, I remember, and even through my confusion this makes me embarrassed. They’re so childish. I’ve changed in front of the other dancers before but a man has never seen me naked, or even in my underwear.
“What would you learn if I just fired you?” His large hands rest on my behind and I go still because no one’s ever touched me like this before.
“You’ve disappointed me, Abby,” he continues, squeezing my flesh, “and I want you to understand the gravity of the situation. I gave you a chance to prove you were trustworthy and well-behaved, but you broke my most important rule. You were late. And because you broke a rule, you need to be punished.”
My eyes widen. He’s put me over his knee so he can spank me like a child. Have I really done something so bad that I deserve this? “Please, Mr. Kingsolver, I won’t be late again.”
I look around for a means of escape and my eyes land on the door. It isn’t locked. Someone might come in at any moment. Panic flares in my chest and I start to struggle.
“Abby!” he reprimands, easily holding me in place. “Are you trying to make me angry?”
“No—please—I do understand. I’ve disappointed you. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s too late for please now.” He yanks my underwear up so it’s tight between my cheeks and he hooks two fingers around the fabric. It pulls tightly against my parts and my mind goes somewhere that has nothing to do with punishment.
“I don’t like being disappointed.” He sounds like he did in the wings the previous day, and I realize that, like then, he’s not going to stop until he has what he wants from me. He lifts his hand, then brings it down with a sharp, stinging smack.
“Mr. Kingsolver!” But my exclamations and excuses aren’t enough, and the more I wriggle about the angrier it seems to make him.
“Keep still,” he snaps. “You’re not getting up until I say so. We can do this the long way or the short way, but either way it’s going to be my way, have you got it?”
He had such an effect on me in the wings, and after, I felt so centered as I danced. I want to tell him yes, that we can do it his way, but I don’t know if I can take the punishment he’s meting out. I’ll try, though, because I want him to be as pleased with me as he seemed then.
He shakes me slightly when I don’t answer. “Have you got it?”
“Yes, Mr. Kingsolver,” I whisper.