In the world of kink authors, sheâs the top.
Notorious Nora Sutherlin is famous for her delicious works of erotica, each one more popular with readers than the last. But her latest manuscript is differentâmore serious, more personalâand sheâs sure itâll be her breakout bookâ¦if it ever sees the light of day.
Zachary Easton holds Noraâs fate in his well-manicured hands. The demanding British editor agrees to handle the book on one condition: he wants complete control. Nora must rewrite the entire novel to his exacting standardsâin six weeksâor itâs no deal.
Noraâs grueling writing sessions with Zach are drainingâ¦and shockingly arousing. And a dangerous former lover has her wondering which is more torturousâstaying away from himâ¦or returning to his bed?
Nora thought she knew everything about being pushed to your limits. But in a world where passion is pain, nothing is ever that simple.
Advance Praise for The Siren
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
âThe best erotica either leaves slut-marks on your back or a bruise on your heart. The Siren does both and I wish Iâd written it.â
âScarlett Parrish, author of By the Book
âProvocative, smart and downright cheeky. The Siren put me through my paces and had me begging for more.â
âEmma Petersen, author of Reign of Pleasure
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
âThe Siren is a powerful, evocative tale of discovering who you truly are. Tiffany Reisz nails the complicated person inside all of us.â
âCassandra Carr, author of Talk to Me
âDaring, sophisticated, and literaryâ¦exactly what good erotica should be.â
âKitty Thomas, author of Tender Mercies
To Jason Isaacsâ
otherwise known as The Most Beautiful Man Alive. Thank you for being my Zachary and my Muse.
To Alyssa Palmerâ
mon Canardâif yours were the only eyes that read my books, I would still write for you alone.
And to B.
1
There was no such thing as London fogânever had been. The London Fog of legend was only that. In reality London fog was London smog, and at the height of the Industrial Revolution it had killed thousands, choking the city with its poisonous hands. Zach Easton knew that in the offices of Royal House Publishing, he was known as the London Fog, the disparaging nickname coined by a fellow editor who disapproved of Zachâs dour demeanor. Zach had no love of his nickname or the editor whoâd coined it. But today he was eager to earn his epithet.
As he knew he would, Zach found John-Paul Bonner, the chief managing editor of Royal House Publishing, still hard at work even after hours. J.P. sat on the floor of his office, piles of manuscripts stacked about him like a paper Stonehenge in miniature.
Zach stopped in J.P.âs doorway and leaned against the frame. He stared his chief editor down and did not speak. He didnât have to tell J.P. why he was here. They both knew.
âDeathâshe comes to me on an Easton fog,â J.P. said from the floor as he sorted through another stack of books. âA poetic enough way to die. You are here to kill me, I presume.â
At sixty-four and with his gray beard and spectacles, J.P. was literature personified. Usually Zach enjoyed playing word games with him, but he was in no mood for repartee today.
âYes.â
ââYesâ?â J.P. repeated. âJust âyesâ? Well, brevity is the soul of wit after all. Help an old man off the floor, will you, Easton? If Iâm going to die, might as well die on my feet.â
Sighing, Zach stepped into the office, reached down and helped J.P. stand. J.P. patted Zach gratefully on the shoulder and collapsed into his chair behind his desk.
âIâm a dead man anyway. Canât find that damn Hamlet galley for John Warren. Should have had it in the mail yesterday. But happiness is good health and a bad memory they say, and I am a happy, happy man.â
Zach studied J.P. for a moment and silently cursed him for being so endearing. His affection for his boss made this conversation far less pleasant. Zach walked over to J.P.âs bookshelves and ran his hand along the top of the case. He knew J.P.âs habit of stashing important papers where even he couldnât reach them. Zach found a manuscript and pulled it down. He threw it on J.P.âs desk and watched it kick up a small cloud of dust.