Praise forThe Siren
âA beautiful, lyrical story ⦠The Siren is about love lost and found, the choices that make us who we are ⦠I can only hope Ms Reisz pens a sequel!â âBestselling author Jo Davis
âTHE ORIGINAL SINNERS series certainly lives up to its
name: itâs mind-bendingly original and crammed with more sin than you can shake a hot poker at. I havenât read a book this dangerous and subversive since Chuck Palahniukâs Fight Club.â âAndrew Shaffer, author of Great Philosophers Who Failed at Love
âTiffany Reisz is a smart, artful and masterful new voice
in erotic fiction. An erotica star on the rise!â âAward-winning author Lacey Alexander
âDaring, sophisticated and literary ⦠exactly what good
erotica should be.â âKitty Thomas, author of Tender Mercies
âDazzling, devastating and sinfully erotic, Reisz writes
unforgettable characters youâll either want to know or want to be. The Siren is an alluring book-within-a-book, a story that will leave you breathless and bruised, aching for another chapter with Nora Sutherlin and her men.â âMiranda Baker, author of Bottoms Up and Soloplay
âYou will most definitely feel strongly for these characters â¦
this was an amazing story and Iâm so happy that itâs not over. I canât wait to jump back into Noraâs world.â âhttp://ladysbookstuff.blogspot.co.uk
TIFFANY REISZ lives in Lexington, Kentucky. She graduated with a BA in English from Centre College and is making her parents and her professors proud by writing erotica under her real name. She has five piercings, one tattoo and has been arrested twice. When not under arrest, Tiffany enjoys Latin dance, Latin men and Latin verbs. She dropped out of a conservative seminary in order to pursue her dream of becoming a smut peddler. If she couldnât write, she would die.
Also by Tiffany Reisz:
SEVEN-DAY LOAN (part of 12 Shades of Surrender: Bound)
THE SIREN
(Original Sinners 1)
Watch out for the third book in
The Original Sinners series
THE PRINCE
Available in December from
Mills & Boon>® SPICE
âFudge.â
Mostly upside down with her head hanging off the bed, Nora saw the ominous slant of sunlight sliding through the window and across the floor. Søren pushed into her again, and she flinched with pleasure.
âEleanor, are you thinking about food at a time like this?â Søren thrust hard once more and came with a controlled shudder.
Laughing from her recent orgasm and the absurdity of having this conversation in her current position, Nora finished her thought. âYouâre the one who told me I wasnât allowed to swear on Sundays anymore. So, fudge, Iâm going to be late for Mass, sir.â
Søren dipped his head and kissed her neck.
âI have it on good authority that your priest would be quite displeased if you were late,â he whispered into her ear.
âThen my priest needs to untie my leg from his bedpost.â
Søren raised up and glared down at her; she innocently batted her eyelashes at him.
âBeg,â he ordered, and Nora started to growl. Arrogant son of a bitch.
He never said anything about not swearing in her mind. Just that she could never curse out loud.
Søren put a finger over her lips.
âNo growling. Begging.â
Clenching and unclenching her jaw, Nora took a deep breath.
âPlease, sir, will you let me go so I can drive my asâbottom home, take a shower, eat breakfast for once this week, throw on some clothes and drive back to church so I can sit in my pew looking prim and proper all the while imagining you naked as youâre giving some homily on sin and how, shockingly, Godâs against it? Pretty please with you on top?â
Søren slapped the back of her thigh hard enough she yelped. But still he reached up and unknotted the black silk rope from her ankle. With obvious reluctance, he withdrew from her and rolled onto his side.
Now free, Nora started to crawl out of his bed.
Søren propped his head on his hand and stretched languidly across his white sheets. She wasnât going to look at him. If she looked at Søren, sheâd crawl right back to him.
âIn a hurry, little one?â
âTo leave you? No. To not be late for Mass and earn yet another beating this week? Yes.â Søren caressed the back of her calf and Nora turned back to stare daggers at him. âAre you trying to make me late ⦠sir?â
Sighing, Søren pulled his hand away from her. It wasnât fair. The rectory stood all of two minutesâ walk from the church; being male and not having to worry about what outfit to wear, Søren could get ready in ten minutes.
âA vicious accusation, Eleanor. Of course I would never try to make you late. You are a role model for the young people in the church after all.â
Snorting a laugh, Nora started picking up her clothes. She pulled her shirt off the top of the bedpost she been tied to last night while Søren had flogged her senseless. Her skirt lay in a crumpled heap on the floor where it had landed after Søren unzipped it and let it fall before bending her over his bed and strapping her ankles to a spreader bar. Somewhere under his bed she found her bra, and her underwear was at home in a drawer. She rarely bothered with underwear around Sørenâcounterproductive really.