What happens at Volare STAYS at Volare…
Ever since her relationship with Mark crashed and burned, Chloe's been unable to take off and reach the big O. Enter Damien Walters, a deliciously unconventional sex therapist. Damien's therapy sessions take place at his nightclub, and Chloe quickly sees why admittance to Volare is by-invitation-only. Volare's patrons, who are Damien's satisfied and discreet former clients, leave their inhibitions at the door when they walk past the bouncer. Anything goes on Volare's dance floor…
Using a few key accessories and some hands-on help from Volare's regulars, Damien enables Chloe to reach her full sexual potential once more. And he has a special proposal just for her: Chloe can join him on the Volare crew as his accountant and therapy assistant. It's an offer Chloe can hardly refuse, especially given the fact that Damien's the man with his hand on the throttle.
With the pulsing beat of Volare's dance floor, the seductively suave Damien bent on pleasing her, and her newly restored sexual prowess, Chloe's position at Volare seems like a dream come true. However, she's going to have to help Damien get over some of his own issues in order for the two of them to soar together.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of exhibitionism/voyeurism and the use of sexually enhancing toys and accessories.
General Release Date: 18th March 2013
Monica eased her Accord into a kerb-side spot and turned off the motor. Even though the sedan’s windows were raised and its doors were closed, the thumping bass from the dance club pounded through the car like a racing heartbeat. A glowing rectangular sign proclaimed the club’s name, 'Volare', in bright blue letters on a black field. "Volare. It means 'to soar' in Italian," Monica noted. "So, is tonight your night to soar, Chloe?"
Chloe brought her hands to her face and took a deep breath. "I can’t believe I let you talk me into this." She laughed uneasily. "I mean, seriously? A freelance sex therapist? He’s probably a pimp, or, like"—she made air quotes—"a movie producer." Chloe snorted. "And what kind of name is Damien anyway? Are we dealing with the spawn of Satan here?"
"Chloe, you’re ridiculous. We’ve been over this a million times. My own therapist recommended him to me, and Donna’s totally legitimate. Part of Damien’s thing is that he won’t actually touch you at all. He’s very professional. Damien completely solved my insecurity problem. I’ve never felt better." She placed a reassuring hand on Chloe’s shoulder and squeezed gently. "Trust me. I promise I wouldn’t steer you wrong."
"Yeah, well, I agreed to this way back when I had a job," Chloe complained. "Two hundred bucks is a ton of cash considering my current income level. Just start the car again, Monica. This was a dumb idea."
Monica pulled the keys from the ignition, dropped them into her purse, then closed it with a snap. "Look, Chloe, it’s a big deal that you can’t reach orgasm." Chloe exhaled with a whoosh as Monica continued, "Just because Mark was a total dick and made you feel like a loser when he dumped you, your sex life doesn’t have to end. It’s been three years and you haven’t gotten off. That, my friend, is criminal."
"Yeah, well, lots of women don’t reach orgasm. It’s not the end of the world," Chloe protested feebly.
"Yeah, and lots of women settle for elastic-waist mom jeans, low thread-count sheets, and flabby frozen dinners. That doesn’t mean that these things are actually okay, Chloe! You are a woman of discriminating taste. A woman who enjoys the finer things. Fine food, fine wine, fine friends"—she flipped her wavy auburn hair off her shoulders and cleared her throat—"and fine sex. Trust me you’ll thank me for this. And with your, um, new employment situation, you’re going to want some hot, satisfying sex with a new guy. It’ll definitely help with the job hunt. You’ll be all loose and limber and raring to go. Think of it as an investment in yourself. The price is totally worth it, and besides, Damien has a satisfaction guaranteed policy."
"But this guy"—Chloe bit her lip—"is he, you know, nice? Is he creepy or pervy or anything? What’s he going to do anyway?"
"He’s a nice guy, for sure, but I don’t know what treatment he’s going to suggest for you. It’s all very personalised," Monica answered. "For my problem, we did some exercises that boosted my self-esteem and made me feel like the hot, sexy woman that I am. Your problem is entirely different because you know you’re hot, right? You just need some help hitting it out of the park when you get up to bat. All the strike-outs you’ve been having in bed are making you afraid to play ball." Monica grinned impishly. "You know, if you’re that worried about getting help from a stranger with your orgasm problems, I’d be happy to offer my services as a friend. I’d even do it for free!" She gave Chloe’s nipples a quick tweak.
Chloe swatted Monica’s hands away with an indignant cry and unsnapped her seatbelt. "Fine," she acquiesced with a laugh. "Fine. If my options for becoming orgasmic again are you"—she paused as Monica batted her eyes and pursed her lips with theatrical glee—"or a total stranger who’s a freelance sex therapist, I guess I’ll go for the total stranger." Chloe opened her car door. Thumping techno music flooded the vehicle.
Chloe turned back to Monica and spoke over the music, "Why is his office in a nightclub anyway? That’s pretty weird."
Monica shrugged. "Damien likes to have his therapy appointments in his office at Volare because it’s convenient. He owns the club, you know. Besides, sometimes the setting comes in handy."
"Huh? How does it come in—?" Chloe attempted to ask, but Monica had already left the car and was headed towards Volare. The ground level dropped dramatically from the front of the club to the back, so that the main entrance was on the ground floor, while the rear exit was on the basement floor. The long, boxy brick building was nestled between two busy streets. Its frosted windows provided no clues about the interior, and as it was her first visit to Volare, Chloe was curious about what lay within. Rumour had it that it was a 'by invitation only' establishment.
I live in a teeny-tiny town in the southeastern United States, surrounded by rolling hills and lots of cows. My house is brimming with my rowdy sons, hot husband, and more pets than I can shake a stick at. When I close my eyes, though, I'm in a white stucco villa on the Mediterranean, sipping a Pimm's Royal and watching the turquoise waves crash at my feet. Next to my hot husband, naturally.
I love to read and write erotic romance, fantasy, and sci-fi because of the escape factor: I want to leave the ordinary and travel somewhere exotic, unusual, and sexually-charged in a book. My characters are thrust into unpredictable situations, and they respond with humor, open-mindedness, and loads of scorching passion. I hope you enjoy escaping with me into the sultry world of erotic romance.
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