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You're Tops
You're Tops
You're Tops
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You're Tops

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When her husband ran off with a perky, much younger woman, Regina Cox got the house , a decrepit car, and her freedom. Divorced, she plans to remain man-free and focus on her career as a writer. Trouble is, the skinny boy next door who used to tease her about her braces is now a handsome hunk and features as the hero in her latest romance novel. Tucker Owen is a Dom with his eye on the new divorcee next door. His fantasies center around draping Regina over his spanking bench. Too bad she’s a strong woman and not submissive in the least. But when he learns she writes erotica romance and is having trouble getting the research right, he offers a week-long tutorial that’s bound to teach them both a few things. Regina can't refuse all the research she could ask for and no strings sex on top. And with the sassy sub, Tucker soon discovers the pleasure that comes when the topper is topped.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 11, 2016
ISBN9781509204212
You're Tops

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    Book preview

    You're Tops - Sydney St. Claire

    You

    You’re Tops

    by

    Sydney St. Claire

    A Candy Hearts Romance

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

    You’re Tops

    COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Sydney St. Claire

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

    Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

    Cover Art by RJ Morris

    The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

    PO Box 708

    Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

    Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com

    Publishing History

    First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2016

    Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0421-2

    Published in the United States of America

    Dedication

    To my own Valentine hero of 37 years.

    Love you, Lynn. Thanks for sharing the ups and downs of life with me.

    PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

    Sydney St. Claire

    CINDERELLA & PRINCE DOM

    Whew! …dust off the fairy tale and check the battery stash! Sydney St. Claire has given Cinderella some glass slippers with BDSM heels… While this is her first entree in the (erotic romance) genre, she pulls together a great story with an equal ‘hot factor’ and love story. Great read!

    ~Snarky Mom Reads

    RED & HER BIG BAD DOM

    *thud* *head desk* *faints* Yep, that’s Harlie after reading this one. Damn, I thought my Kindle would combust. Literally… You will need a cold drink, your partner, or a cold shower...

    ~Marika Weber, Harlies Books

    ~*~

    Instead of treating BDSM like just another man-controls-woman-for-his-pleasure encounter, author Sydney St. Claire really gets it that it’s always a matter of give and take, of dominance and submission wrestling for control, even as the Dom is ostensibly the one wielding the power.

    ~Laura Roberts, Buttontapper Press

    SNOW & HER HUNTSMAN

    I absolutely adore this series. If you are looking for something extra hot with intriguing story lines, this series is a must-read.

    ~Nulery, Books N Pears

    ~*~

    …an absolutely wonderful mix of the BDSM/kink and the lovey-dovey stuff that saps like me enjoy reading about

    ~Lauren Seiberling, Romance Novel Giveaways

    Chapter One

    "How many ways can a writer write insert tab A into slot B?"

    Sitting on her balcony, Regina Cox reread the sex scene she’d just finished and groaned. It was awful, the worst she’d written. It was flat. No pizazz, no heat, and totally boring. A frustrated growl escaped as she hit the delete key, trashing yet another scene. She wanted hot-hot-hot. Sizzling, scorching, wowza. All she could manage was blah.

    She reached into a crystal bowl and pulled out a small heart-shaped candy with the words, True Love, stamped into the center of the sweet.

    Yeah, supposed to be writing about true love. Instead, she had pure dreck. What was wrong with her? She was a romance writer, had a dozen published books beneath her belt. So why was this story being so difficult? It wasn’t even a full-length book. Just a nice, valentine novella for next year. Easy, she’d said when she signed the contract. "Whip that little puppy out in no time."

    Ha! She held out the tiny heart, words facing the laptop. "See this, Jake Robinson. You are supposed to be falling in love, and you are not cooperating. This is your fault," she accused her hero, then popped the treat into her mouth and crunched down.

    Your problem, babe, not mine. I got the goods. Your bad if you can’t figure out how to use them.

    Ha! I blame you. You’re not talking to me. What makes you tick? Being a Dom isn’t enough. Wanting or needing power and control isn’t enough. I need to know you. Well, she knew he was stubborn, closed mouth, and very choosy with his women. What’s wrong with the subs I give you?

    She ran a hand through her hair, the silky strands fluttering around her face. I’m losing it, she grumbled. She was arguing with a character as though he were real and sitting across from her at the table.

    Yep, losing it.

    Yet, every writer in her critique group would understand. Dammit, the book was due in three weeks, and so far, she’d tossed out nearly everything she’d written. Twice.

    So, yeah, it’s your fault, Jake, she muttered. You don’t even have a heroine anymore. None of them are good enough for you. The last one just ran off screen and jumped into the delete file in tears. Glaring at the words on the screen, she swore Jake was smirking at her.

    Not my fault. She wasn’t heroine material. Not worthy. Not a true submissive. Gotta do better, babe. I’m worth it.

    Watch it, Jake, or you’ll end up in the trash folder. Maybe I need a new Dom.

    Fictional character and Dominant Jake lifted an arrogant brow and turned his back on her. At least that’s how it felt to Regina. She dropped her head in her hands.

    The cool, morning breeze plucked at her hair, a teasing tug. She loved writing on her balcony with her laptop in the mornings, even during the winter, though you’d never know it was winter in Los Angeles. Today’s forecast was mid-eighties, which was much warmer than normal for February. It was peaceful, the early quiet

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