Book Review of Masks of a
Tiger
Written by Doris
O'Connor
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Blurb
:
Neeve doesn't understand why any normal person would choose
to wear a collar like a common house pet. So, the collaring ceremony of her
best friend's sister-in-law is the last place she wants to be, even if the hot
men watching her send her insides aflame.
Never one for missing the opportunity to teach a bratty sub
manners, Grisha intends to show the fiery little redhead the error of her ways.
He doesn't expect to see her drawn to the flame like the proverbial moth. When
she hurts herself in ways that even a Dom of his experience finds hard to
witness, he knows he needs to help her.
Will their sexual chemistry be enough to chase away their demons and
burn away their masks? Or is the submission Grisha demands too much for Neeve
to accept?
About the
Author:
Glutton for punishment would be a good description for
Doris... at least that's what she hears on an almost daily basis when people
find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler
and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust
bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess
she is not.
There is always something better to do after all, like
working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more
than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend
to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris
burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and
quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.
She likes to
spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and
heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to
F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
Contacts:
Buy Links:
Find Doris on the web
here:
Website:
http://www.dorisoconnor.com/
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/mamaD8
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/dorisoconnor/
Excerpt:
"Good girl, drink
it all." His voice had dropped an octave, and Neeve's skin tightened in
need. She tried to scoot away from him, but he anticipated her move, and in the
flash of an eye he was sitting on the couch with her on his lap. His strong
arms tightened around her when she tried to get off. "Stop it. You will
just hurt yourself, and I can still put you over my knee."
He chuckled into her neck when she
snorted in frustration, and she glared at him.
"Sure, use your superior strength
to make your point. Get off on beating up on women, do you?"
She regretted the words almost the
minute they left her mouth, and she didn't dare look at him. He went so still, she couldn't be sure he was
even breathing.
His arms tightened around her for an
instant, and then he sighed. One of his large hands trailed slowly up her side,
until he reached her neck. He gently massaged the knot of tension away.
"Look at me, sweetheart."
The growly whisper was impossible to
ignore. She forced her gaze upwards, and the grim determination on Grisha's
face took her breath away.
"Who hurt you, Neeve? Give me the
name of the fucking bastard, and I'll tear him limb from limb."
The steely determination in his eyes,
and the controlled, almost careful, way his chest rose and fell sent shivers
down her spine. The tight grip he had on his emotions and the quiet way he
studied her made her feel as though she was the prey he was about to pounce on.
Rather than fear coursing through her veins, it was an entirely different
emotion making her breath hitch and her nipples tighten. He noticed of course.
He seemed to notice everything, and his gaze dropped briefly to her breasts.
They ached under that quick visual as though he had run his hands over them,
and Neeve shook her head.
"I wouldn't give any man the
satisfaction of being able to hurt me. I told you, I'm not a sub."
Grisha closed his eyes for a moment, and
when he opened them they glittered with barely suppressed fury. His smile
didn't reach his eyes.
"If that is truly the way you feel,
then why are you still sitting on my lap? Should you not be running away
screaming?" He lifted his hands away from her, as if to make his point.
"Yet here you sit. Why is that I wonder?"
"I … I… I'm not. … I mean…"
Neeve hated how wobbly her voice sounded. Why was she still sitting on
his lap?
"I'm sorry." The words flew
from her mouth before she knew she was going to say them. "I shouldn't
have said that. I don't know why I did, really."
Grisha nodded, once. That was his only
reaction. Hands placed on the couch either side of his legs he didn't move,
just watched her with that unwavering attention that pinned her, as though he
had tied her to him with invisible bonds.
"Thank you for taking care of
this." She lifted her wrist and tried to smile at him, but her attempt
wavered as his expression darkened. He took hold of her hand and turned it
over. He bent his head and pressed a kiss into her palm. His hot breath sent
tingles up her arm, and she clenched her hand into a fist. He kissed her
knuckles, one at a time, before he pressed his lips against the bandage. He
licked a path up her inner arm, leaving the most delicious tingles in its wake,
and Neeve could almost forget who this man was and what he stood for. When he
finally raised his head and looked at her, Neeve struggled to draw breath into
her lungs.
"Why do you feel the need to
mutilate this beautiful skin, sweetheart?"
"I … you wouldn't understand. And
it's none of your business."
He raised an eyebrow and smiled—a slow,
sexy as sin, I-can-see-straight-through-your-bullshit-smile—that broke
through every one of Neeve's carefully constructed layers of witty comeback,
years of pretense, and cut right into the pain she carried with her, lest she
ever forget what happened.
"Trust me."
The whispered statement hung between
them, and Neeve shook her head.
"I don't know you. How can I trust
you?"
"Because sometimes it's easier to
tell someone you don't know." He cupped her chin and dug his fingers into
her skin hard enough to hurt. "And because I get the whole need to mark
skin thing, but you need to do it in a safe manner. I leave marks that fade,
never scar. Marks that tease, and arouse, and get you so damn turned on, you'll
have the hottest sex you ever had. Marks that will proclaim I own you, at least
whilst in a scene. Think on that, sweetheart, next time you stare into the
flame."
He let go of her so suddenly she felt
bereft. As smoothly as he'd placed her on his lap, he moved her off it, until
she was sitting on the couch looking up at him. He pulled a card out of his
trouser pocket and placed into her hand. He leant down to do so, and Neeve's
stomach flipped over as he drew so close their breaths mingled. Her eyes
fluttered shut in anticipation of his kiss—a kiss she suddenly craved with
every fiber of her being—a kiss that never came.
"Look at me, sweetheart." His lips hovered over hers, when she opened
her eyes, and he smiled. Arms either side of her body, he obliterated her view
of anything but him, but her senses drank in the sight and feel of his powerful
body. He'd rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and opened a few more buttons on
his shirt, exposing a smattering of dark hair on his chest, and Neeve's mouth
watered. The contrast of the white shirt against his dark skin mesmerized her.
She took in the play of muscles as he straightened away from her. With his tie
loose around his neck, and his hands now pushed into his trouser pockets, he
was the image of disheveled elegance.
"When you're ready to trust me,
look me up, Neeve."
Review
“Masks of a Tiger” is a hot, sexy
read. While the idea of someone who is
opposed to being a sub, being coerced into being a sub is something I don’t
like… I have to admit that even though she objected Neeve is never forced and
she is turned on by everything that happens.
The book has explicit sex scenes and
it is seriously hot. It is not for young
people. I give this book 4 out of 5
clouds, and a chili pepper rating of 8.
This
product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my
opinions or reviews.
