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The Complete Submission Special Edition Hardcover Set

980 pages
Heat Level: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
Original price $130.00 - Original price $130.00
Original price
$130.00
$130.00 - $130.00
Current price $130.00

What can I say? It's smashing.

Eight novellas wrapped into three novel-length books, all three in fab-leather, each stamped with its own gold design in the Art Nouveau style, edged in sprayed gold. The interior is special-special too. But the best part is the slipcase, which is stamped in three colors of foil and full of the BEST Jonathan quotes. If you missed the Kickstarter - you can get it now!  

From the Complete Submission Kickstarter Campaign.  

A BROKEN BILLIONAIRE MEETS A STRUGGLING MUSICIAN

"The minute I told you to spread your legs and you did it, you were mine. When I told you to beg for it and you did, you were mine. When you put your hands behind your back without being told, I owned you."

It should have been easy. Two consenting adults exploring pain and pleasure for a few nights together. Nothing to gain. Nothing to lose.

"Your body is my plaything. Your ache is mine. Your orgasm is mine. Your hunger is mine. Your dirty thoughts are mine."

Jonathan's obsessed. Monica's falling for him. He insists that she's the perfect submissive, and she insists she will never submit to any man.

"An honorable man would have given her up before she fell in love, choosing a small hurt over a bigger one later. But I wasn’t that honorable."

Family drama. Brushes with death. Brutal honesty and savage, sexy BDSM bedroom scenes. Promises made, broken, sewn back together and kept forever. 

"My lips on your body trace the story of my love."

Illustrated chapter headings. Duplex cover. Matte finish. Submission, the first book, will be signed.

5.5" X 8.5"

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At the height of singing the last note, when my lungs were still full and I was switching from pure physical power to emotional thrust, I was blindsided by last night's dream.

Like most dreams, it hadn't had a story. I was on top of a grand piano on the rooftop bar of Hotel K.

The fact that the real hotel didn’t have a piano on the roof notwithstanding, I was on it and naked from the waist down, propped on my elbows. My knees were spread further apart than physically possible. Customers drank their thirty-dollar drinks and watched as I sang. The song didn’t have words, but I knew them well, and as the strange man with his head between my legs licked me, I sang harder and harder until I woke up with an arched back and soaked sheets, hanging on to a middle C for dear life.